Sugar, the Other White Heat

In yet another attempt to help me realize that HE really is my only comfort in life and in death...

I went to the doctor because I was falling asleep almost every time I ate white rice or sugar.  He checked my blood sugar levels, and despite losing weight, eating no gluten and exercising more, my levels have gone up.  I still don't have full fledged diabetes, but its getting there.  So, to help stave off the inevitable as long as possible, he started me on metformin.  He warned me there would likely be some digestive issues until my body adjusts to the drug.  Well, that was the ultimate understatement...kinda like, "holding this stick of dynamite will likely result in some muscular issues to your arm."  Why do doctors say stuff like that?  Seriously?  Its just "pressure," right?

 I'm convinced this is payback for that time I made fun of an elderly person I knew that sounded like a nuclear air assault in the lavatory every morning.  Has anyone else noticed that everything you laugh at old people for eventually happens to you?  I am waiting for that 2 inch chin hair to show up any day now...

The irony of all of this is that I went to the doctor because I wanted to be able to eat sugar without passing out.  Well...he definitely helped that.  Now, when I eat sugar, I am not sleepy, I'm running like FloJo to the closest little girls room where it takes every ounce of restraint not to scream, "duck and cover" to my poor housemates....nope, definitely NOT sleepy when I eat sugar anymore.

Okay, so why have I put you through this graphic description of my gastrointestinal distress?  The truth is, my Father will do ANYTHING to prove to me that HE is all I need.  When I'm stressed, I don't need bread or cake or donuts or cookies or Hershey's dark chocolate kisses in the beautiful purple foil wrapper that actually sing the Hallelujah chorus when they melt on my tongue.  No!  When I am stressed, I need Jesus, His promises, His salvation, His love....Well, I just need HIM.

Sometimes I can take the subtle hint.  Sometimes I can read the verse and get the point.  Sometimes I need a flamethrower to the intestines.  Point made.

Afraid of Missing the Point of it All

The doubt and jealousy hit me like 2 tons of bricks last night.

An acquaintance of mine recently made the difficult decision to go into full-time ministry.  She packed up her home and moved from the Dallas area up to the wonderful land of Fayetteville, AR to begin a new adventure with a local mission mobilization group.  

Yesterday she posted on her facebook, "I put my house in Texas on the market this week and received two offers the very first day!  Thank you God!!"  Understandably, her facebook friends, including me, are very happy for her.  I mean, that really is exciting and wonderful news.

What sucker-punched me was one person's comment, "Now that's God talking!"

It underlined everything I've been battling in my heart and mind about our own situation...watching our house sit empty with no interest at all for almost eight months now.

Last week, a friend posted their daily Bible reading from Lamentations 3, and one particular phrase really jumped out at me, "It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. (Deep, deep deeeeep sigh)

So as I lay there in bed last night, wrestling with thoughts like, "Why do you love her more than me?" or "Is this your way of saying we aren't supposed to be in this ministry?" I decided to just be quiet and wait for God to reveal Himself.  I stilled my body and quieted my mind and intentionally focused on the attributes of God.  I pictured myself sitting at His feet, listening and adoring.  I was consumed with peace and reminded of the way I felt when I first fell in love with Him.  

I do not need anything else from my Father than what He's already done.  There is no hoop for Him to jump through.  There is no wet fleece on my lawn.  I don't even care what His plan is for my life.  The ministry doesn't matter.  Missions doesn't matter.  He is all that matters, and for whatever reason...I am His.

I heard this song on the radio today, and some of the lines really struck home.  I hope it speaks to you, too.

I'm tired of the sound of my own voiceAnd I'm weary of adding to the noiseAnd I'm fearful of missing the point of it all
I remember the way it used to beThe way this love felt like the first day of springAnd I want that back more than anything in the world
It's as cold as winter in my veinsBut I long to feel the summer rainCan you take me back to where it all began?
Jesus I comeCome to you againLike it was the first timeI came to you for new life
I need you nowAs much as I did thenI need a new beginningSo Jesus I am comingFor the first time again
I'm jaded from all that I have seenI'm bitter, but I don't want to beI'm believing, can you help my unbelief?
Sometimes I think I know too muchBut even then it's not enoughCan you take me back so I can move ahead?
Jesus I comeCome to you againLike it was the first timeI came to you for new life
I need you nowAs much as I did thenI need a new beginningSo Jesus I am comingFor the first time againFor the first time again
Take me deep inside the grace that forgetsInstead of down the well worn path of my regretsI'm older than I've ever beenCan you take me back and make me new again?
'Cause I need you now, as much as I did then
Jesus I comeCome to you againLike it was the first timeI came to you for new life
I need you nowAs much as I did thenI need a new beginningSo Jesus I am comingFor the first time againFor the first time againFor the first time

Losing my Scales

Many years ago, I read the Chronicles of Narnia.  I can still remember reading the Voyage of the Dawn Treader and being struck by the image of Aslan ripping the scales off of Eustace who had become a dragon.  The Hollywood adaptation of this book didn't even come close to the mental picture I've had for a couple of decades.  In my mind, there is blood and tearing and pain, but it is all necessary to uncover the true person trapped within the scales.  (You really should read this book to get a clear picture in your own mind.)

2012 has been a year of experiencing God freeing me from the scales I so willingly put on, and 2013 is beginning very much the same.  Yesterday we came to the realization that I would either need to find a job, or we would not be able to pay our monthly bills.  The weight of this is terrible.  Our entire lives we have been taught to believe that keeping your word, honoring a contract, and following through on your commitments is a moral and ethical law that must be upheld to be a truly Godly person.  In a way, to an American Believer, good credit is the result of good Christian discipline.  It is definitely a cultural value that we have held since childhood.

Yesterday we came face to face with the question, "Can we obey God and have bad credit?"  The question seems ridiculous when I see it on this screen, but the essence of my weeping yesterday was definitely that very question.  

I know there are a lot of Christians who will judge me harshly for feeling this way, but I believe, at this point in my life, that God wants us to surrender our excellent credit to Him.  He wants us to choose to put His kingdom ahead of our comfort and status.  He wants us to trust that He will provide all we need.  I also believe that He does not love us any less if we can't pay our bills because we are attempting to obey His call.

And I promise you...this feels very much like the tearing and bleeding and pain of my scales being torn from my flesh.

Am I encouraging people to walk away from their commitments and turn their backs on their responsibilities?  Absolutely not.  This is where we are at this point in our personal journey with Christ.  I would, however, say to all of the young people who could possibly be reading this blog...listen to the words of the song below.  Read the Bible.  See God's heart for the nations.  Take the class, "Perspectives on the World Christian Movement," and DON'T WASTE A SINGLE MOMENT OF YOUR LIVES PURSUING THE AMERICAN DREAM THAT WILL LEAVE YOU HOLLOW AND EMPTY AND COVERED WITH SCALES!!!!!!  Please....don't let your blessings manage you....you are blessed to BE a blessing.

And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand. 
Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love, 

without, love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on. 
But I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning. 
Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart. 
Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent. 

All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain. 
All is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over. 
There's a light, there's the sun, taking all shattered ones. 
To the place we belong, and his love will conquer all.

A Slice of Humble Pie

My husband has a good job with a nice salary, and until April of this year, I brought in some income, too.  Christmases in the past involved many presents.  We've never been the type of parents to buy our children the latest/greatest items, but we were definitely generous.  We also made lots of cookies and treats for as many friends as we could think of.  Christmas involved a LOT of money and wrapping paper.

This year it didn't.  This year, I'm not working and we are paying for a mortgage in a house where we don't live.  This year I spent many, many hours hiding in our little space knitting and sewing frantically so I could have gifts to give our Hall children and our ISCA daughters.

I was a bit embarrassed to be able to give so little compared to the past.  We told our children we wanted nothing but their help with painting our house (neutral colors so it will rent) for Christmas.  It was a slim Christmas under the tree and in the stockings.

Despite being asked not to give us anything, my oldest daughter had asked me to set aside the day after Christmas to spend with her.  She wanted to give me a Christmas gift that required me to be with her.  I love to be surprised, so I  asked her not to tell me what it was.  Many ideas went through  my head; massage, manicure, tattoo....(HA)

When she announced at breakfast yesterday that she was taking me on an "update Mom's look" shopping day, I was excited, but knew that I couldn't afford to buy anything.  Still, it was a wonderful idea, and I was so excited to spend the day with her.  I got up to pay for breakfast, and she insisted on paying.  How sweet!

We drove up to the mall that houses my favorite (over-priced) store.  It was going to be so fun letting her pick things out for me to try.  Once the house rents, I could hopefully come back and find them again.  We narrowed things down to one item, and I prepared to leave the store.  Then SHE bought the item.  WHAT?  Wait one minute.  The shopping trip thing is my gift to the girls, not the other way around.

At first I was completely humiliated.  Had it really come to this.  My full-time student daughter makes more than we do?  Is my wardrobe so pitiful that she feels she has to spend her hard earned money to save herself from the embarrassment of being seen with me?

Then I swallowed my pride and looked at her face.  She was beaming.  She truly just wanted to bless me with a shirt...and another shirt...and two pairs of jeans...and breakfast and lunch.  Even though it was very difficult to do, I let her spoil me for the day.  The truth is, spending the day with her was the best gift, but I do like the clothes a lot, too.

This isn't a perfect analogy, but it made me think about my relationship with God a little bit.  I want to be able to point to things in my life and say, "I did this for you, God."  That way, I can feel like I earned His blessings.  I don't have to recognize that my gifts to Him don't even add up to the value of some cheap candy in a Christmas stocking.

The truth is, I have nothing to give Him, but He showers me with His lavish grace every moment of every day.  My attitude needs to be the same as it was at the end of the day with my daughter.  The best part is spending time with my Heavenly Father, but the blessings are nice, too.

Identity Theft

Sometimes my posts are very well thought out.  The topic I choose to write about has been stewing in my mind and heart for a while, and I've spent a good bit of time in thought and prayer before I strike the keyboard.

Other times, I write as a source of release.  Somehow seeing my less-filtered, gut reaction in black and white is cathartic.  On these occasions, I rarely post links or share the entry with others.  It is solely meant to be part of my healing process.

I think today I might be combining these two approaches.  I have not spent a lot of time in thought, because thinking about this brings up too many memories and, quite simply, hurts too much.  However, it is something that constantly hovers in the back of my mind, and world events often drag it kicking and screaming to the forefront, where I am forced to spend some contemplative energy on it. 

The shooting in Connecticut was horrific.  Most of what I know is from internet news sites and Facebook posts....followed by Snopes.com clarifications.  However, I know enough to realize this was an epic tragedy that has radically affected many lives and has upset a nation of families.

Each of us has life experiences that specifically prepare us to intercede for and comfort individuals throughout their trials.  Right now, I am led to pray long and hard for the family of the shooter.  I know how hard it is to love someone who does something horrible.  Every good memory of them becomes a source of guilt.  The happy times are blanketed in a thick coat of shame and heartache.  Every photo album and family video suddenly morphs from a walk and skip down memory lane into a lumbering funeral march of doubt and analyses. This family once known by their names or career, but now identified by the violent acts of one member, needs love and care and prayers and peace and mercy.  And hope...oh, how they need hope.

Please, Father, hold that family, too.

Dream a Little Dream

I will admit, for the most part I am a practical, 21st Century American.  As such, I find myself regularly having to challenge my worldview, values and beliefs.  One such belief is that the spiritual realm of angels and demons ceased to manifest itself among mortals when John penned the last word of Revelation.  Visions and dreams are merely hallucinations and our subconscious mind expressing suppressed thoughts and emotions.  Right?

Until last night, that was most certainly my belief.

Let me back up a week or so.  At this point in time, I am questioning almost every decision we have made this decade.  Why did we move to Arkansas?  Why did we change churches?  Why did I go back to work?  Why did we move out of our house before we sold it?  These and so many more questions have consumed me.

Yesterday was the proverbial "straw" that broke the camels back.  Due to our financial situation, I have been attempting to make everyone's Christmas gift this year.  Once again, I am trying to do a good thing, and therefore expect the process to go smoothly.  As I sat down to my sewing machine, it was anything but smooth.  The machine made horrific groans as I attempted to stitch a simple seam, and the thread that spewed forth was most definitely as "unsmooth" as it comes.

On top of all the other stress I've experienced in the past few weeks, now I can't make the presents I had planned....and there is no back-up plan B.  I realize my children are mature, Jesus-loving young adults who will completely understand the situation, and probably won't think I'm a terrible mother who doesn't give good things to her children at major Christian holidays when all their other friends are being showered with iCrap....but I just wanted to do this for them, dangit!~!!!!

So, after consuming an oh-so-healthy dinner of Chocolate Chex and rotting my brain with a few two many Netflix sit-coms, feeling like the sorriest excuse for a wife and mother and child of God ever to walk this planet, I went to bed.  That's when my belief system was blown wide open.  When my conscious mind was on autopilot, the spiritual world took the wheel.

Hear me now and believe me later...I simply don't buy into this stuff, at least not in America.  Maybe this kind-of thing happens in South American jungles or tiny villages in Asian mountain ranges, but it most certainly does not happen in middle-class, suburban, hipster towns like Fayetteville.  Right?

So there I was, in my dream, just standing on a bridge talking to a young woman.  I didn't recognize her in the least, but I felt like I might know her somehow.  She asked me how to know she's making the right decision, and I proceeded to tell her who Jesus is.

That's right...when I wasn't consciously choosing to think about God, I shared the Gospel with someone questioning life!

I know that might seem like a "coincidence," but I woke up absolutely consumed with JOY!  You see, my goal in life is to get to that point at which, when I am not distracted by this world, my default thought life is all Jesus, only Jesus, completely Jesus.  That dream, and the fact that I remember it, was a tiny little gift from my Father.

Even though things are so very difficult right now, and I'm having to make so many sacrifices and turn my back on so much  I once held dear, its all worth it to reach that goal.

God did speak to me through a dream.  It did happen....in America....to me : )

Fear and Finances

This morning a friend in full-time ministry posted that they found out they had lost a monthly financial supporter, and they have started the day with a pit in their stomach.  Boy! Can I relate to that feeling.

Rick and I entered this life with ISCA both accepting that we may be asked to sacrifice our credit and our finances for this decision of obedience.  We understood that was a possibility and chose to obey what we believed God was asking us to do.  In the back of my mind, though, I think I really believed that if we obeyed, God would "bless" us the way I wanted to be blessed: Our house would sell quickly and for a good price, and He certainly wouldn't ask us to face foreclosure or bankruptcy.  I mean, come on!  We're doing something good here.

Please do not misunderstand me.  Even though we are watching our savings dwindle away as we routinely go knock down cobwebs in our empty house, waiting for those calls from the Realtor that someone....anyone...wants to look at our property, we do not for one second regret our decision to move into ISCA house.  It is not easy.  There are stressful times.  There are "issues" living with women from different cultures trying to coexist peacefully while studying for difficult classes.  However, we do still fully believe that this is where God wants us to be, and we are very much at peace with the decision.  BUT...

The MONEY!!!!

Sometimes I really hate money.  Its such a source of stress, worry, anger, resentment....but mostly, FEAR.  Which brings me to the second facebook post that turned my morning around.

In response to my friend's post about losing a supporter, another friend responded with a lovely encouragement including one very simple phrase: "Fear does not come from God."

Oh, AMEN SISTER!

This fear that money instills in me is absolutely, 100%, completely and totally NOT from my Father.  He is the owner of the camels on a thousand hills.  He created the universe and all that is in it.  He has never, ever, ever, ever failed us in any way...financially, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally.  He has always provided every single need.

No.  This fear has another source, and I refuse to accept it anymore.  I choose today to remember who my Father is, and to face the uncertainty of our financial future as it truly is...an opportunity to watch my God bless me in ways that I simply never could have imagined.  I have faith, not fear, that He will surprise me with His goodness.  I have hope, not fear, that His grace is sufficient.

Phil 4 (all of it) is pretty awesome stuff.  But here's a little glimpse of where my heart and head are today:

⁴ Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! ⁵ Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. ⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.