The Runner's Perspective

I have hesitated to post this piece of writing for a little while now due to the fear of coming across incorrectly. However, I have decided to share it in hopes that it will inspire and bless in some way.  

I pieced the following words together a few months ago after a conversation with a friend about "gutter people" (those who go out to find the lost) versus "maintenance keepers" (those who care for the found). In my observations over the years, I have seen that both are mandatory in the Church of Jesus Christ, however there are also often misunderstandings between them. Those who tend the ninety-nine get nervous when their runner friends head off onto all kinds of dangerous escapades in search of the lost. In return, the runners get frustrated at all the well-intentioned but sometimes suffocating concerns handed to them by their maintenance friends. 

How to fix this? I have no simple answers, but if we would embrace our differences and find unity in Jesus' heart to further His kingdom through discipleship and evangelism, we could work together well. Not only that, we would work together powerfully. 

And so... hear the heart of a runner.  

Some are not meant to walk the halls of churches for a lifetime

Saying their prayers piously without a pause,

Wearing their robes of righteousness correctly,

Completely oblivious to cries from outside.

Some people really are meant to be runners...

Rescuers, saviours, embracers, deliverers.

Perhaps that is why some of us get bored and listless,

When we play inside too long and forget to see the sun.

We begin to wither without fresh air.

Our souls scream for lack of rain.

We join the choir but then get tired of singing soprano, when we were made for alto.

We try singing bass but discover we have a tenor octave. 

Perhaps it is time that we do what we were made for.

Without judgment, without a great ado, without a major flourish.

Just simply to go and be faithful in the places God has called us to. 

We may look crazy, a little disillusioned, but Jesus did too. 

He broke social barriers and protocol that would have made the Pharisees blush. 

They did get angry, but He kept on... In the name of love - in the name of compassion.

And some of us see the haunted eyes down the street. 

We never think about the cost to get to them. 

We simply know that we must go, lest they die alone. 

And in our breasts there beats a strong and daring melody that never quiets.

As long as we are alive, we must answer or be miserably unfaithful.

We go to bed with faces in our memory - faces of sadness and hopelessness.

We wake up with resolve to help and to find and to rescue,

Knowing it is by His strength, but knowing it is our calling.

And if you are one who maintains the church building,

The one who makes sure all the I's get dotted and the T's all get crossed. 

Please do what you're doing because we need you in your spot.

But when we are running, please send up a prayer.

Don't judge what we are doing, because your call isn't there.

You dust your corners, and we'll go to ours. And when time ends - 

We'll all hear, "Well done good and faithful servant."

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The Place of Desperation

A little while ago, I was talking to a friend of mine and recalling the two weeks of intense pain I experienced back in the fall. As I told the story, I remembered how I laid on the couch curled up in a ball with worship music right by my ear. Then the miracle happened. I have tried a few times to explain it, and keep falling short of words, so I looked at my friend and simply said, "I don't know how else to explain it, but it was like Jesus was right there with me. Ever since, He is just the most beautiful thing. Like just, SO beautiful. If I had to do those two weeks over again, just to experience that, I would." 

And I have come to see something clearly. Jesus comes to those who have reached desperation. He comes to those who have nothing left to give or to bring. That is where He wants us. In the words of Brother Yun, "It is not great men who change the world, but weak men in the hands of a great God." 

I read Luke 7 and see a mother aching with grief over her dead son. Jesus draws near, sees her desperation, and performs a miracle. In Mark 6, I see Jesus withdrawing to a desert place for a rest. But as He is leaving, people see Him and come running. I mean that's desperation. To drop everything and go chasing after a man disappearing in a ship? That means someone was determined and like I said, desperate. But then Jesus... Scripture says, "He was moved with compassion, because they were like sheep without a shepherd." (vs.34) So He begins to teach them. Not just a bit to satisfy them and get them out of His hair, but according to verse 25, many things - MANY things! He honoured their hunger for spiritual truth. He read the desperation in their souls, and He answered abundantly. 

And that is the life of the person desperate enough to run after God. The person who goes to sit at His well spring, when spiritual life seems bone dry. The person crazy enough to knock in faith on a door that appears to be bolted shut. The person who praises an unseen God, when the plan doesn't seem to be making any sense. The person who marches around the walls of his Jericho, until his God knocks them down. 

Are you desperate enough to find Him? He is ready and waiting as always, but how much do you want Him? How much do you think you need Him? He comes to the broken-hearted, the oppressed, the forgotten, the caught-deep-in-sin kinds of people. The ones who hang their head in shame at the list of deeds they have wracked up. But He never pushes His way into a life that doesn't want Him. Never once did He impose himself upon the performers, the do-it-perfecters, the I-have-it-altogether ones. Did He come for them? Oh yes He did, but He waits for them to see their true need. He waits for them to call on Him, and then He comes - comes in all His great and beautiful abundance.

In conclusion, we must see how lost we are. We must see how broken we are. We must see how impossible we are. We must see how absolutely unable we are. And then God will move. When we come with a simple word and call out to Him in childlike faith, He will answer - He will do it. ❤️

My Sister Upstairs

Today I have the privileged position of relaxing on a bed in my sister's basement and listening to the sounds of her mothering waft through the floor. I hear the crying baby, the scraping chairs, the clattering feet, and the chattering toddler. Then I hear one strong musical voice along with two smaller wavering ones sing the lyrics of their little noon prayer:

For balmy sunshine, for nourishing rain, dear Lord for Thy goodness we thank Thee. For food and Thy care. Rich blessings we share. The fruit of Thy love and we thank Thee. We thank Thee O God. Amen. 

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And I see my sister's faith, calm and steady through turbulent days, guiding her children to what is important. Is she perfect? No. She would be the first to say she isn't. But she is beautiful. Beautiful because she knows what matters and is living it out every day.

This post is for the mothers. Those dear souls who spend days doing the jobs nobody else would sign up for. The tenacious people who find themselves at their wits end for wisdom and strength many times over, but continue on in the Name of Love. 

Keep going my friends. Keep going. I have never been a mother, but I have been a teacher, and I see the absolute importance and irreplaceable value that a present Christian mother brings to her home and family. Blessings and keep your eyes up today. 🥰

The Life I Wanna Live

I don't wanna be led by Instagram,

I'd rather hear the Holy Ghost with clarity, than run in the confusion of a million jumbled voices. 

I don't want an empty religion,
I'd rather be baptized with fire and let the Holy Spirit make me one of His live wires.

I don't wanna run with the pack.
I'd rather sit still in the silence and listen... for that still small voice of truth that leads so clearly.

I don't wanna live a life of safety.
I'd rather run a rescue shop a hundred yards from hell and walk like those in the Hall of Faith. 

I don't wanna live in blindness.
I'd rather have eyes that see beyond the heavy facades suffocating victims in their pain.

I don't wanna judge people like a human would.
I'd rather love hard like my God and let Him send me in there to rescue all the people who got lost in the crowd.

I don't wanna live for my glory.
I'd rather live low like the Ultimate Servant and simply bring others to Him.

I don't wanna live a life that's wasted. 
I'd rather spend moments extravagantly on issues concerning my King. 

I don't wanna live life like I'd live it.
I'd rather let Him live in me and pray that every moment would become sacred as people see Him in clarity.

I wanna know the God who created me so well

That His character runs in my veins.

I wanna be so full of the Bread of Life

That those who are hungry will come and be sustained.

I wanna be so filled with Him that I get forgotten,
And all who look at me will see only the nails that bought them. 

My Favourite Family

I lie here with toes outstretched on a friend's comfy bed in the wonderfully wild country of Belize, and I realize again the beauty of God's people. I look back over my life and the life of my family and see them show up in so many places. 

The men that brought their tractors to haul manure when my dad was lying in bed for six long dark months. The women that would pull me aside after church to ask how mom and our family were doing and if there was any way at all that they could help. The friends who sat and listened without offering a word of advice, simply presence. The pastors and their wives who showed up with anointing oil. The ladies who made casseroles in their kitchens for our freezers. The board members that were always ready to help in whatever way possible. The people who became adopted family simply because they cared that much, and the souls of wisdom who saw and understood just enough to go home and pray.

And now I sit here in Belize with the showers of blessing raining once more. Meals with laughter, beds for the taking, excursions to new places, great conversations, and a lot of love all around. I am finding people that talk about the help my parents gave them years ago when they were newbies in our old province of Ontario. They talk about meals and babysitting and a lot of love passed around, and now they jump at the chance to pass that kindness on to me. 

I see this beautiful cycle and am convinced that God's family is one of the best families on earth to belong to. It is one where we take turns to serve, and turns to receive. It is one where we show up for each other even when it is inconvenient. It is one where we get bumps and scratches and have misunderstandings just like any other family, and we must work them out in order to function. We talk things through, share ideas, live beside each others' shortcomings, and drink from the Fountain of Life together. 

At the end of the day, there's no family I'd rather belong to - this glorious family made out of imperfect people from all kinds of nations, who are gathered together under the perfect umbrella of Love.

I May Have Begun to Like Dogs 🙄

I used to struggle with dogs. They seemed to be everyone else's favourite non-human except mine. I mean, I could handle chickens better. At least they stayed in their cages and produced eggs for my morning breakfast. I could be thankful for that, but I struggled mightily every time I walked out our front door cleanly dressed for school to find a muddy, scraggly belly rolled out in front of me for a rub. I mean, really?! Mocha didn't seem to get the fact that I was clean and had places to go. But, me trying to be good-natured and kind like I was supposed to, would begrudgingly find the cleanest spot in all that mud-infested fur and gingerly rub the toe of my shoe across it. After a brief minute, if that, I would retrieve my shoe back to myself and head off on my merry way to school. 

But then, some things changed. When I was in a lot of pain for a few weeks due to my knee injury, I would often find some place to lie completely flat. Since I am an outdoors person, I would pick places like the grassy front lawn, the porch swing, or even the solid deck floor. Then, something interesting happened. The dogs showed up. We have five on our property between all the family members and they would come over to see how I was faring. The first time, the three pups bounced all over me. Tumbling and bumbling completely oblivious to any pain it could be causing. My well-meaning siblings yelled at them, but they just wouldn't leave. Strange to think, since their was no strong attachment on my end. But they were puppies, and blissfully unaware of any rules of etiquette with hurt people. 

As the other two puppies finally listened and made their way over to my siblings, the third and most awkward and clumsy one, Waffles - yes you heard his name right, and no I definitely didn't pick it - climbed right up into the crook of my arm and laid there, belly-up, snuggling against me like an infant. Now I have never held such a hairy, snuffly baby in my life, but really, how can a person resist when a creature seems to think that you are one of the very best humans in the world and they have no other place they'd rather be than with you. I felt a little too much like the cantankerous grumpy Grinch who slowly got melted by acts of love from an innocent young child. Truly, it did melt some of my puppy prejudice and I began to see these wiggling creatures through slightly different eyes. 

Over the next few days, the puppies, my slowly becoming friends, would visit me whenever I chanced to make it a few steps outside the door. I remember one specific incidence where I was sprawled out on the porch steps with my blanket and the three puppies came to pay their respects. I lay there looking miserable and they mirrored the mood excellently. Carefully positioning themselves around me at various angles, they settled down to stare mournfully at me or off into the distance. I felt strangely akin to Job with his three friends sitting solemnly in the dust and misery. 

Now, it has been a few months since this tale happened, but I do believe I like dogs a little more than I used to. To the point that on our first snow day from school, I put on my snow gear and travelled out to the steps for a wild leap into a snow drift. As I landed with a poof of white powder, I felt a whole bunch of wriggling bodies join me in a tornado. And, it was hilarious! I giggled and tried to get them off of me and then we did it again - a couple times - until my knees had all they could handle and we went back to our Job-style positions in the snow bank. I sit and they sit. I think and they must be thinking too. I am silent and they are very still. 

So now, when I come home from school and get out of my red ride, my words go like this, "Hey Swaffles! Hey Oreo! What's up Shadow?" And they bounce around like the most delighted things. Perhaps we shall be friends after all.

Those Parents

I see them. They come to our classroom to visit and stand by their children's desks. Faithful fathers show up to bring devotions every Thursday. Moms pack school lunches and arrive at 3:30 to provide a ride home. They come in pairs and sit in two blue plastic chairs for our parent-teachers meeting. I talk to them after church sometimes, and they show up interested and delighted at school programs. 

I see them, and I know them. I know the way their hearts ache for their children who struggle. I hear the pain in their questions as they wonder how they can help. I hear them talk about prayer, and know there are many times where they wrestle over and over again. I also hear them talk about their failures and how they wish they could have done things differently. Sometimes I hear their song grow a little dim with discouragement and exhaustion, but I have hope. 

Hope, because I've seen many parents make it through tough seasons. I've seen teenagers come out of situations that could only be rescued by God's mercy. I've seen children mature when it looked impossible for them to arrive, and I've seen the light of God restore the most hopeless of people. 

I write this post simply to suggest that we ought to be more grateful for the ones who raised us. They have seen choppy water that our boats haven't reached yet. They are the ones pleading at heaven's gates, so that our boat can be guided by the same Master who led theirs. They are the ones trying to figure out when to give advice and when to hold their tongue. Sometimes they get it right and sometimes they get it wrong, but all they want is for us is to arrive safely and avoid some of the pitfalls they walked into.

Love your mom and dad, my friend. They aren't perfect. They've done things wrong. But they have enough love to fill a decent-sized ocean, and maybe some day when you are in their place, you'll come to realize the sacrifice, blood, sweat, and tears, that was put into your success. 

A Life of Purpose

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Many people tend to wander through life aimlessly, taking each day as it comes and letting things happen as they will. Others fly through it like a tornado, trying to find excitement in each moment before that grave day when their breath falls silent. And the question begs to be answered... What is our purpose? It breaks my heart when I observe people who have no passion for living. They simply exist. They breathe and take up space in life because that is all that they know how to do. They live the life of least resistance, blending in to the surrounding vibes with little thought of what matters or is true. They've never entertained the thought that they could make a difference in life and so they don't even try. Life is simply a set of events that happen as they will and need to be survived.

Then there are people who take life by the handles and make it work for them. They are the investors, the planners, the get-it-done-on-timers; always responsible, always volunteering, always making a difference. And yet catastrophe hits even them, and they are forced to ask, "What is life really about? Is success guaranteed by promotions, good job interviews, raising a large family, making a lot of money, or staying on good terms with the people around you?"

This past Thursday morning, we skimmed through the book of Acts during our school assembly devotions. We looked for places where the Apostles displayed a life of zeal and courage, and the instances were many. I asked my students, what made the disciples do those things? What made them risk their lives like that? One student replied, "Because of Jesus." And I have to agree. They had been given much and they were willing to give much in return. 

I am convinced that in order to live life well, one must have a vision, and, I think it's safe to say, that the higher the vision, the deeper the dedication. Everyone wants to be part of something important in life. Nobody really wants to reach the end of their life and realize it was wasted. Unfortunately, too many people wait until it's too late to begin living a life worthwhile. As our Saviour Himself stated, "Life is more than food and clothing." It was obvious in the way He lived. 

Were all the things He did grand and glorious? Were all the things He did oustanding? I would venture to say it depends on what scale of measurement you use. You see, He spoke. He cried. He gave. He blessed. He burned with righteous anger. He healed. He listened, and loved in the small moments as well as the great. And then He died the most influential death on the planet. Whether small or great, every single thing He accomplished was done for a purpose.

So, perhaps if you feel unfulfilled and unsure of what life is about, you ought to ask Him. He seems to have had a vision higher than any human I have ever met. The interesting thing is, that He is able to pass it on and his followers seem to end up in the same life of zeal and self-sacrifice that he did. Just ask Him. I think He'll have a pretty good answer for you. 

He Loves You...

Herod, the desperate ruler of Judea, privately called the wisemen to a meeting in that well-known year that scholars believe was around 4 B.C. Apparently a child had been born who was threatening his royal position, and he was going to make sure that no itty bitty boy would usurp his spot as king. He gave the wisemen this order. "Go to Bethlehem and search carefully for the child, and when you find him, let me know, so that I too may go and worship Him." Matthew 2:8

Go and worship him too? These words caught my attention and my brain shot out onto a thought path. How many people today also say they want to worship Him, but it's simply to please other people or to try to make themselves feel good? How many people say all the right words, but their hearts aren't in it? How many people attend church and look perfect on the outside but inside they are like caves of dead bones, to quote John the Baptist. 

A week ago yesterday, we had our Christmas Program at school. As teachers we put a lot of thought into how and why we select the words and songs we do, but this year my brain felt like a blank sheet of paper. Absolutely clueless. As I stood before the group of students one morning before practise, I told them the story. I proceeded to explain how I had been completely blank when it came to ideas for a program, and how typically I have at least a clue what it will be about in the summer or at least when school starts. But this year, the well was dry. I related how I had told one of my coteachers that I guess God knows my brain has enough to handle right now and will give the ideas when it's time. And so it came to pass on Monday or Tuesday of the week I took a break to rest my weary body, that I spoke to God and said, "Well Lord, maybe it's time for some program ideas." And just like that, as faithfully as He always does, He put the theme into my mind. Within a few hours, the entire program, minus a couple songs and some editing, was in order. 

Now you may smile and say, "Well, you finally had time to think, or it was just your imagination." Indeed, both of those were tools in the process, but over several years of teaching, I have come to know a God who understands and uses us in our weakness. He delights to fill us with His Spirit and give us guidance, inspiration, and passion if we will only yield our broken and empty vessels to Him.

As I thought about Herod's method of worshipping, I pictured him atop his jewelled throne, looking down at this tiny baby from his prestigious position, or at best, arriving at the place where Christ and his parents lived with a grand carriage, lots of servants, and quite probably a lot of honour and show directed at himself. Next, I pictured the wisemen, bowing with their faces to the ground, humbly prostrating themselves before a baby King. Completely surrendered and offering what they had to give. 

And I wondered about the kind of worshippers we are today. I believe there are those who want the glory for themselves. It is easy to fall into this selfish human trap of doing good deeds, and organizing charitable pursuits, all for the praise. They may ask God for selfish things and serve Him for what they can get out of it. Of course, when hardships come, they will be forced to make a choice, and find it quite easy to walk away from a God who no longer serves their selfish purpose. In the process, these people competely miss their true need for salvation.

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But then there are those who are broken. Humble and contrite, with eyes wide open to their desperate need for salvation and love. They come to the throne, confident that they will be heard because of the mercy of the God they have come to know. 

They are the type that break bottles of perfume and pour it on the Saviour's feet. They sing songs of worship simply because they are grateful deep down inside. The smile because they know they are loved and redeemed. 

I ended my story to my students, and looked at them. They stood their listening attentively as I spoke, "You know. You can do this entire program. You can sing the songs well and recite your part perfectly, but if you miss the point that He loves you, you've missed it all. He came for you. He died for you. He was mocked, beaten, spit on, and tortured just for you.

And so it is. He loves you. Nothing you can ever do, will change the fact that He died for you. Your worst sins, your ugliest pride, and your blindest selfishness, cannot get rid of His deep love. He's looking at you. He wants you. 

What will you do about it?

The Deborah's of Today

It was at the "Conference of Cults" in 1945, that a young couple, Richard and Sabina Wurmbrand, sat listening as one by one, various church leaders rose to express their allegiance to Hitler and his communistic party. Not a single one spoke out against the untruth of the Nazi regime. 

As the meeting continued and many other believers sat there afraid to speak up, Sabina turned to her husband and said, "Stand up and wash away this shame from the face of Christ! They are spitting in His face!" To which Richard replied, "If I do, you will lose your husband."

Her response was swift and sure. "I don't wish to have a coward as a husband." 

With that, he turned, walked up to the podium, spoke against communism, and declared Christ as Lord. As a result, some other church leaders also spoke up with courage.

I wonder how many of us as women today would have responded like Sabina in that situation. I believe the temptation to dissolve into a puddle of tears and beg Richard not to go up to the podium would have been very strong. I also wonder how Richard would have responded had Sabina become a crying mess. Would he have ignored her or taken her in his arms and missed the call of God. Sabina had the clear choice to encourage or discourage her husband, and ultimately to love herself or God. 

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    As women, one of our most important callings is to        encourage and support the men in our lives, be that 

    husbands, teenage sons, brothers, etc. My question        is, do we help them be more or less? When we      

    respond to them with negativity and fear, we pull 

    them down instead of building them up. A true 

    woman of God must be wholly surrendered and walk 

    in faith in order to build instead of destroy. If we 

    follow our selfish inclinations to maintain our own 

    safety, we can effectively dampen the impact our 

    leaders can have. 

    I have observed many women in my lifetime and have 

    seen some interesting habits. There are women who 

    take God at his word and stand behind their men 

    encouraging them to walk boldly. These faithful 

    saints effectively help their husbands and sons be all 

    that God has called them to be. Then I have observed 

    women who fret constantly and are often second-guessing their husband's ability or choices. These unfortunate men must either tune out their wife's negative tone or succumb to being manipulated into living a life that is far from the courageous one they were called to. 

I believe that it is very important that we as women train ourselves to walk in trust. If we want courageous men and leaders, it is very important that we walk in courage too. Let our voices be the ones that support men in spiritual battle and standing for truth. Let our deeds be the ones that enable them to fulfill their life's callings. Let our attitudes be the ones that remind them that they are capable with God's help. Let our surrendered hearts set them free to go wholly forward. 

We are the church of today. The battle is hot and we need warriors who will rise to the challenge. As women we have the power to encourage or discourage. We can choose to pray heaven's power down upon those we love or walk in discouraged defeat. We can choose whether to look at our difficulties or God's possibilities. 

You, my dear friend, are called. You are called to be a daughter of the Most High King. You are called to to fill the unique roll of a woman in whatever circumstance God has put you. Whether a grandmother, mother, teacher, youth girl, or auntie. You are called. ❤️ 

* Read more of Richard and Sabina's story at lifeonthealtar.com

What If You Wouldn't Be Afraid?

This morning I listened to a podcast on Anabaptist Perspectives in which John Ghanim shares his story of leaving his life as a Muslim in Yemen and becoming an all-out Jesus follower. You can listen to it here if you wish: https://open.spotify.com/episode

What is fascinating to me, is how this podcast was shared with me at this certain time. You see, I have already been thinking about fear over the last few week. To the point that, a week or so ago, I posted a sticky note on my prayer wall with the words "Break the Bondage of Fear" inscribed on it. 

Of course, when we pray prayers like that, God begins to answer. And answer He has; in multiple tiny ways. I won't forget the time that I held back from witnessing to a clearly unsaved man because I thought the person beside me should have the chance to lead out. When I got home, God clearly reprimanded me and said, "Never again do you wait for someone else to make a move. You must be willing to go first." So I died to the notion of trying to please others before my Saviour. 

And as He keeps working, I am beginning to wonder...

What if we would begin to measure our lives by His Word instead if others' opinions? What if we would dare share our thoughts and ideas for the furtherance of God's kingdom, without fearing criticism? What if we would embrace other people's new ideas with openness and humility, rather than shutting them down in fear of where the new path might lead? What if we would use the talents God has given us for His glory, instead of fearing failure and humiliation? What if we loved people so much that we would set aside any fear of persecution in order to bring them to Jesus Christ? What if we would be so convinced of God's calling on our lives, that other people's misunderstandings wouldn't hinder us? What if we would love Jesus so wholeheartedly that we would surrender our entire lives and any self-preservation to Him? 

I wonder what would happen in our lives... I wonder what would happen in our churches... I wonder what would happen to this world...

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The Art of Receiving

It's been a week. I've been humbled and grateful by turn. What else is there to do but lift your hands to the sky when the rain comes in torrents, but differently than you expected. 

Tuesday night, the wife of one of the board members said they were there. Putting in a chair lift so that it would be easier for me to go up and down the stairs each day and avoid some pain and crutch-hopping. Inwardly I cringed, and then sat there with my emotions empty, completely unsure how to feel. I felt hollow; the very last strands of independence had somehow escaped my hands and melted into thin air. I was grateful; really, I was. Actually, deeply, profoundly grateful for such caring and compassionate people in my life. But, I had no idea how to receive it well. 

I asked God to teach me and this verse came to my mind, "By love serve one another..." It didn't take me more than a few seconds to realize that in order to serve, there must be someone on the receiving end. So, I determined that it must be my turn to be the receiver. I turned my gaze upward, and asked for help to be a gracious one. 

It is hard though. Our insides (at least in the case of some of us hard-headed independent ones) kick at the very thought of being cared for or given to. We like to be in charge, in control, and serving others. God knew I needed a reset and so He let my knee hurt for awhile. I knew all along that He was teaching me some lessons, but I certainly didn't realize how deeply they would cut, or how much of my identity they would completely revolutionize. So, I sit here receiving, again and again, day after day. 

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I live on verses from heaven. God gives me one each morning as I wake up; my daily manna. When I lie there writhing in pain, I replay songs of worship over and over and remember the mercy of my Creator who carries me with His peace and strength. As I watch my friend do my laundry and clean my room, I am sad she must do it but glad that she does. I receive lunches from mothers and thank them for chicken, rice, and beans. Perhaps the hidden gift in this is that I get to eat Russian Mennonite food. 

On mornings when things just don't go, my kind and gracious father stands at the kitchen counter trying to figure out how to fold a flimsy wrap with extra chicken and mayo on it (his necessary manly additions), or building a sandwich so big I can barely fit it into the box. I sit there on the same counter watching him and eating my easy-to-make peanut butter bread for the second or third morning in a row. I feel a little too much like the helpless 11 year old girl he carried in his arms when her boot got stuck in the creek. 

I let my students carry my purple chair in and out. They carefully set it up and take it back in. They move their toes to make room for my wheel chair, and wait patiently as my crutches tap their way to class. My song book, bible, and pitch pipe travel upstairs for devotions in their well-tanned hands. The older boys carefully set my keyboard up, and water the plants too high for the little ones to reach. They make sure the game starts while I am still slowly travelling to the playground. On pain days, they gently push my unreliable wheelchair over the bumpy ground while I hunch up in in it tiny and ant-like. I rely on them each day when I think it should be the other way around. 

As I go to church on Sunday, someone holds the door for me. I used to like holding the door for others, but I guess what goes around, comes around. People ask how I'm doing. How weird is that? I used to make sure everyone else was ok. I tell them to the best of my knowledge, unsure of how to make it accurate without asking for a pity party. They carry on and I leave knowing I'm loved. 

I visit the NAPA parts store for my father on a Saturday and feel like a fragile princess among a tribe of brawny males. As I enter the store, every single man behind the counter is at the immediate assistance of this poor disabled woman on her crutches. Doors are opened. The welding canister lifted. Tailgates shut. You name it. All for little me. I feel well cared for and humbled. 

So I am learning to receive. One act of kindness at a time. Each, a drop of rain falling upon the ground of my heart. Each grain of mercy a reminder of God's love and His people. 🤗 

Extravagant Love

I picture Him standing there with the weight of a rugged cross pressing into His torn, ragged flesh. The excruciating pain fills His mind with a haze and all He can do is turn heavenward. Pain does that sometimes; reminds us of what's important and where our help comes from. 

But there is something in His eyes that halts us. The mocking passerby won't see it. The terrified children might miss it. The soldiers pounding nails and throwing lots for his clothes gloss over it. Only the one looking closely, perhaps his closest disciples, will see it. His eyes hold a heavenly light. A light that points to something so endearing and so enduring that it causes our breath to gasp and our bodies to still. "There is a purpose here," we say. Something so vast and infinite that we cannot wrap our minds around it, much less grasp it with our hands. 

His eyes hold the light of love. True, piercing, redeeming love. It is the kind that stops a sinner in his tracks, the kind that holds a panicked child still in strong arms, the kind that makes a haughty spirit bow down in surrender, the kind that lifts the hopeless to his feet, and the kind that breaks through mountains of defeat and humanly-manufactured walls of defense. It cuts to the heart of the most carefully guarded and softens the most violent anger. 

I know no other force on earth that can work so intricately and so strongly as this. It has caused me to sit back and marvel. Why for me? Why for you?

I asked God one time, why He did all that? I'm not sure that I'll ever completely understand the entire answer but one thing I came away with is that I ought to share it. 

And I see it. God's true people are full of this love. They forgive when others press charges. They love when others walk away. They give second chances when the first is blown. They keep investing when the results are grim. They walk into the lives of those who are down and out. Why? Because they were loved first. Because they KNOW the absolute life-changing, life-giving result of love and they want others to have it. 

You are loved. More than you can ever grasp, more than your biggest failures or smallest secrets, more than your defects and flaws; you are loved IN SPITE of them all. In fact, Your redemption was paid for while you were still in the middle of it all. Accept it. Believe it. It is finished. ❤️

The Lady Who Bakes Cakes

I saw her status again. She had baked another one... for Brenda this time. A carefully decorated guitar with detailed fondant features and a beautifully glazed surface. Could I make a cake like that? Perhaps... with a lot of practise. I do enjoy art myself. However, I have not been called to be a cake decorator nor to spend much time in the kitchen. My sister, who grew up beside me making luscious cinnamon rolls at the age of 11 and working as a manager at a Mennonite restaurant by the age of 18, knows full well that I don't have the inclinations or giftings for such a role. But I love that some of my friends do. 

You see, cakes, cinnamon rolls, and buffets have blessed many people on many an occasion. I am utterly grateful that God uses different people in various ways to run this world and establish His kingdom. I do believe that any small thing such as making cookies, doing the laundry, cementing a walkway, or framing a house (ok, that one's not small) are perfectly holy things when done to the glory of our Creator. 

Please have a great weekend and keep doing dishes, running excavators, mowing lawns, hunting deer, sweeping floors, milking cows, cleaning bedrooms, fixing tires, teaching Sunday School, scrubbing grass stains, doing schoolwork, and making breakfast with Your eyes on the One who called You. 

Oh yes, and I should probably order the yearbooks. 🤔

He Won't Give Up

Psalm 62:1-2 "For Zion's sake will I not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not rest, until the righteousness thereof go forth as brightness, and thy salvation thereof as a lamp that burneth. And the Gentiles shall see thy righteousness, and all the kings thy glory: and thou shalt be called by a new name, which the mouth of the Lord shall name."

And here we sit, wounded, broken people. This morning I am going to talk to my students about bubbles. They don't know it yet, but they will at 9:10 a.m. when the singing is over. I am going to draw a large bubble on the blackboard with a person inside. We will add thoughts and feelings to that person's bubble and it will represent their inner world. You see we all have one. A world where there is pain and hard things and also joy and happiness. I want my students to remember that about everyone around them. We really should all have a "handle with care" sticker on us. Especially the toughest and strongest among us. They especially need people to love a little harder and listen a little more carefully. When it comes down to it, we all need a lot of loving, caring, healing, mending and delivering.

Many people come into our lives. Some are safe and loving while some are hurtful. Some stay awhile and some merely dance in and back out. Each serve a purpose I do believe. But what if there were more of the healing kind? The ones that love when it's the hardest and stay when it would be easier to walk out? What if they would hold on in prayer when they see your lamp is dim and praise you when they see you need some encouragement? The world has enough darkness of it's own without those of us who are Christians adding more. Yet we are all imperfect. We all make mistakes and we all hurt others. 

And we must fall back on the only One who doesn't. He will find you, when you are at the end of your rope. He will rescue you when no one else can. He will heal your heart when you think it's past deliverance. He will love you when you are unlovable. And He will make you new and call you by a new name.

Lift your head, morning is coming, there's more to the story. He's not finished yet. ❤️

"And they shall call them, The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord: and thou shalt be called, Sought out, A city not forsaken." Isaiah 62:12

Is Deodourant Wrong?

What a title you say! Indeed what a title. 😀 I have had some very fascinating conversations with various people and realized that there are varying opinions on the topic of personal hygiene. It has intrigued me to say the least and so I have decided to try compiling a blog post on it. 

The actual definition of personal hygiene is "behaviors that can improve cleanliness and lead to good health (www.cdc.gov/health/about).

Before I dove into this topic, I considered the fact that the Christian life boils down to the root of love. In any given discussion, point of view, etc., it is always essential to be gracious, humble, and understanding of the other person's side. And so, with that in mind, join me on a little journey of discovering and looking into a variety of views. 

I have met people who wear a heavy scented perfume that fills a room and lingers long after they are gone. They often enjoy fashion and dressing up, which in their opinion,  includes a nice smell. I believe it is essential for these people to remember the people sitting beside them in church lest they create headaches or wound their brother with offense. 

On the other side of the ditch, I have met people who could use a shower and some deodourant in order to get rid of a repulsive sweaty smell. These people also should remember that they are their brother's keeper and would do well to make church or any other event a nice experience for them. It is not prideful or wrong to take care of our bodies. I mean, we trim finger nails, comb our hair, and wipe our noses too.

So the question is, what is the middle ground? As Christians we are to be salt and light on the earth. We are also called to be a sweet fragrance to God with our thanksgiving. Personal hygiene is not mentioned in the Bible much beyond Leviticus (correct me if I'm wrong!) and there it mostly refers to washing, cleansing, etc. 

Initially, I concluded that nowhere in the Bible do I find scents mentioned as being needed or essential, but I did conclude that their use actually occured in a number of places. Frankincense and myrr were given to Jesus as gifts. Incense was burned in the temple. The women brought spices to Jesus' tomb and the list goes on. In a simple conclusion, scents are beautiful and can be used to honour God if used appropriately. Now, on the other hand, it is biblical not to offend our brother. Which leads me to believe, that if whatever scent I am wearing, sweat or excessive perfume, offends or triggers allergies in whoever is around or beside me, it is wrong. 

Worship services, and life in general, should be intentional and places where we can focus. Anything that distracts should be taken away. 

So, if you need to get rid of a strong body odor, find something that works well for you and honours the others around you. I know people who use natural products, store products, baking soda, and the list goes on! And if you are someone who enjoys a heavy scented perfume of some kind, also remember the dear souls you go to church with and spare them a headache. 

Much love to all and wishing you a fresh, beautiful day! 🙂

In Croc-covered Feet

The folks were religious, or so they said.
They buttoned their shirts right up to their heads. 
Not a single blight in their church-approved look, 
They checked off each list in their long-winded book.

Their children were combed, their shoes were all shined.
Their Bibles and booklets prepared on the dime.
They hopped into cars that were beautifully waxed.
Polished and shined, their shoes nicely blacked.


Oh yes, they were perfect, God's holy elect.
All their T's nicely crossed, their I's carefully specked.
Their harmony perfect, oh yes they could sing!
Their four parts created a melodious ring.


When lo and behold, the back door gave a squeak,
And in walked a woman with crocs on her feet.
She looked out of place as she surveyed the crowd,
Feeling conspicuous like a bump on their log.


She turned around slowly while the parishioners stared.
She could feel the discomfort rise up through the air.
So she silently trundled back out to the street
Looking down grimly at her croc-covered feet.


And she spoke in a voice that was too low to hear.
I thought maybe Jesus could help me down here.
But it seems I'm too lost, can't be saved anymore.
I guess I'll just quit, should've known this before.


And back at the church, the singing resumed.
The folks were relieved with the old peaceful tune.
Their previous discomfort had left through the door,
Trudging so sadly across their church floor.


As they turned to John three and found verse sixteen,
They read it in gratefulness for what had all been.
Their Saviour had come and had shown them the way.
He could've ignored them and left them to stray.


And out in the dark, away down the street,
Walked a woman alone in croc-covered feet.

footwearnews.com

How Can We Stop Being Afraid of Each Other?

This question was posed at one of our youth discussions in reference to being open and honest with others versus carefully guarded about all things personal. 

I've done some thinking on it since, and it seems to me there are a number of factors that play into this dilemma. One, as I've mentioned on a previous blog post, Will You Be That Place?, is people who gossip and are not trustworthy. These types of people cannot and should not be trusted with anyone's personal life.

A second factor is the playing of the victim card. I have met people who believe everyone is out to get them and they are constantly feeling criticism that doesn't exist. Sometimes this is because they are overly critical themselves and expect the same in return. Other times it is caused by harsh treatment in the past where they were significantly belittled or falsely accused. Fear results, and they continue to live out of that wound of rejection. 

Then a third factor that I have come upon is the way we as humans judge. If we go back to the Pharisees and Jesus, it is quite easy to see a vast difference in the way they viewed and handled people. 

The Pharisees were quick to trample and criticize anyone who was even mildly different than their strict interpretation of the law. There were no grounds for mercy if an action went against what they had deemed to be correct. They watched with horror as Jesus came into a picture:

#1.He loved a woman caught in blatant adultery. 

#2. He healed lepers. 

#3. He asked a Gentile woman for a drink of water.

#4. He spoke to a searching ruler at night. 

Now let us view these activities through the eyes of the deeply religious. 

#1. The woman should clearly have been brutally stoned. 

#2. The lepers were desperately unclean and to be avoided at all costs.

#3. The Gentiles were absolutely untouchable and despised and women in that time period were typically seen as having a lower status than men. Any self-respecting Jewish man would never have stooped low enough, other than spitting, to associate with anyone in that category.

#4. This man was beginning to stray from his proper upbringing. He should have been severely reprimanded and brought back into the correct way. No time for questions when things were already clearly figured out.

And so, I'd like to point out that the Pharisees judged everything through their own hearts and eyes. They saw things from the outside and made judgement calls based on their own understanding. Jesus, on the other hand did not. Of course, He had the extra advantage of being God and being able to see into people's hearts, but it is clear that His entire method of viewing people was completely different than the religious leaders. He valued people for who God had made them. Not by what they did or didn't do but instead for who they could be. 

I wonder what would happen if we would all begin to view people with Jesus' mindset. I believe we would listen a little better, speak a little gentler, and offer a lot more kindness. Perhaps we would all begin to feel safer and more confident, and our churches would become places of healing instead of hurting. ❤️

Behind It All

This morning I asked Jesus how He could ever walk on earth where there were so many people who were broken and hurt. Then, for a moment, I entered His heart. I sensed the deep compassion He carries and the pain of watching His people suffer.

There was a reason He wept over Jerusalem and the unrepentant, blind Jews. There was also a reason He let Mary wash his feet with her tears and anoint them with perfume. He didn't care about the opinions of others or attaining a high level in the local pecking order. He cared about people and their hearts. He saw straight past religious facades, through tears on faces, beyond handicaps, and into the heart behind small offerings. He answered desperate cries for help and refused to get hung up on religious trifles. His heart was like His Father's, bent on redemption.

And I see us today, much like Jerusalem of old. Some of us are ensnared in religious fabrications and some of us lost in empty living. Others are sending out cries of desperation and a remnant bring their small gifts of thankfulness. 

Jesus' heart still breaks. Otherwise He wouldn't send us as Christians out into the world. In His own words, "I pray not that You would take them out of the world, but that You would keep them from evil." John 17:15 He wants us here to be the salt and the light, and to bring others back to oneness with Him. 

And yet, some of us need healing, forgiveness, and grace before we can go out. And in my experience, it takes the powerful cleansing blood of Jesus Christ to attain that. There is no substitute for His love, His grace, and His righteousness. I have watched Him open the eyes of the religiously blinded, heal the demonically oppressed, gently and gradually heal childhood wounds, and bring deliverance to those who were abused. He is able to reach into the lowest situations and bring restoration in miraculous ways. 

How about you let Him reach into yours? ❤️

Behind

Verse 1

He knows the pain you're holding 

Sees the tears that never fall 

He knows that you are breaking 

And afraid to lose it all 

It seems dangerous to trust Him 

'Cause everyone has let you down 

Letting go seems like a failure 

Turning your world upside down.

Chorus
It's a simple song of grace, 

A simple song of love
A song of healing mercy
A song from up above.
A song to say He's with You
He sees your hiding face
He knows the fight you're fighting
And He wants to be Your peace.


Verse 2

He knows the unsung heroes
The ones who held it all
Who fought until the finish
Then carried home the scars
He sees that you are hiding
Ragged wounds beneath your smile
He's saying you let go now
I'll take the extra mile.

                          - Corrine Horst

outreachmagazine.com

When Love Hurts

 Sometimes I've asked myself the question, "Why do I even care?" When I see someone that's near to my heart going through a time of struggle, loss, or confusion, it tugs on my heart and brings me to prayer over and over again. Love hurts. It is simply part of the bargain. We will hurt for and with people if we care. And yet, the opposite life looks shabby and worthless at best. Were I to go through life simply attending to my own needs and ignoring the hurting around me, what would I have to show for it at the end of life? 

My own Master's example was one of extreme sacrifice and dedication regardless of the cost. Because of His unwavering love, He brought many souls to new life and glory.

And so I will continue to love and love hard. The sacrifice may be great, but the reward will outweigh it. 

Pxfuel.com

"Let us love one another, for love is of God." - 1 John 4:7