point of view

I’ve been pleading for rain for years for lightning, thunder, whirlwinds of power we all conceal a desperate need for healing and we want it NOW. Is this a bad desire? Nope.  Not at all. but lately there’s a lesson that’s been tugging me from my intended course to still and to bring knowledge: God works slow. you see, revival is like the newborn baby’s very first breath the doctors, nurses and parents breathe a sigh of relief Mom & Dad, do they leave the new little life, on to their next thing? Of course not.  A baby is a full-time job.  A baby requires work, pain, money, love, maturity – sacrifice.  And usually life-time commitment.  At least eighteen years or so. Do you know what it means to be involved in conversion?  Discipling and conversion are like fingers and hands. They're useless, separated. Think about it.  What is the Great Commission anyway?  “Go therefore and get everybody to call ...

the harvest-remains are tilled under and I find myself wondering, when did the summer night-noises hush their conversation? The soil feels barren in my fingers the warmth of life isn't there anymore and the chill in my lungs rests there in my palm, too yet the moonlit furrows stretch far beyond my view and I know this time of waiting dying clearing is beautiful too. The stars above, masked by transparent cloud they are the same and so is the Sower, the Potter. There is weeping in my heart when the Master plows deep when He clears the fields but as I sit here, hands and knees feel the earth and I know springtime, harvest and daylight will come in His good time. Sow for yourselves righteousness; Reap in mercy; Break up your fallow ground, for it is time to seek the LORD, till He comes and rains righteousness on you. -Hosea 10:12 He who continually goes forth weeping , bearing seed for sow ing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. -Psa...

If we never teetered to the edge of the nest if we never flew past our comfortable circle If we never did the uncomfortable the too hard the impossible I wouldn't be bleeding this way If I never knew, I'd never care It wouldn't hurt like heartstrings snapping My soul wouldn't be broken and bruised But If I never knew the sorrow of separation If I never hurt for another broken heart If I never felt the wild frustration of not being able to solve the problem I wouldn't know the wonder the elation, awe and joy The being overwhelmed to know There is a Savior There is a Solution There is a Healer I would rather love and bear the anguish By His stripes we are healed.

from my sermon notes, on Luke 10 open our eyes to the need of our neighbor reach out our hands to span the distance unplug our ears to the call of compassion teach us the dance of the beautiful feet make our hearts bigger and break them for sin strengthen our shoulders to carry others' burdens breathe into our lungs the breath of life to sing the song of love Lord teach us how to love

Child with the downcast eyes what's all this sighing for? Don't get so caught up in the battle that you forget we've won the war! You know these are principalities the powers of darkness and sin They're huge and they're scary but don't you forget who's the King! What silly little children who stand shaking their heads at the mountain they won't touch the shovel just sigh and shrug "that's that, then" Do you know that's the sun that you're holding, there in the palm of your hand? Why you haven't melted away long ago that's what I don't understand.

We are a broken people. But we do everything in our power to forget it. We are dead men walking. So we redefine life. We are drowning in pain. We pretend there's no such thing. We are hollow empty shells. We paste yellow smileys over our soul-screams and tell each other we're loving it. The soft, piercing notes of hope break into the clouds of death We put our fingers into our ears and sing loud "la-la-la"s to block it out. We are an incredibly stupid bunch. Thank God, There is a Redeemer! He pursues He hunts us down He shatters the bars of death He wakes us and breathes sunshine into our rotted lungs We are alive for the first time Captured and rebirthed by Healing We open our blind eyes We live, and our heart begins to beat out the song it was created to sing.

I do not mean for this to sound like I believe myself to be experienced, wise, dramatic, or to have anything figured out. I do not and am not (except perhaps the dramatic part, at least sometimes). I do feel the small things I have been through deeply, and I wrote this in sincerity I think. My eyes are bloodshot with tears I have looked and seen sin. My feet are caked with dirt and blood from the places I have walked. My arms are heavy from reaching unsuccessfully so far. My head aches with the echoes of the voices in my dreams. My shoulder scars are a little numb where the claws of sin went in. My hands are shaky from holding on My heart, well it's still bleeding I don't know how long it takes for letting go to heal. But I just got a much-needed reminder: One day I will see my Savior face to face every tear will be wiped away. Rev. 21:4 My Savior's in the foot-washing business. John 13:5 Underneath me are everlasting arms. Deut. 33:27 Some day His songs will forever ring...

Sometimes I know how to hate. Sometimes I wish I was an archer with the arrows of light. Sometimes I see a little bit of Satan's true colors, that's when it happens. Sometimes I see it when the sin in me has deeply wounded someone I love dearly then I hate . Sometimes I see it when evil men rob someone I love of what little pretense of hope she had left. Then I hate . When I cry tears of rage for the "babies underneath their beds" When I long to take the place of someone who has no hope to go through her pain and loss and trauma for her because my Hope & Comfort would get me through, in the end she has nothing That is when I hate . When I cry "what fools we were to choose this path!" thorns and thistles death and heartache. That is when I truly begin to understand what an illogical glorious breath-taking thing the Cross is. And my heart gives a great leap ...

"Today I met a traveler and something something was different about him. You see this burden on my back You've got one I've got one all our friends have one He didn't. He was carrying a cross instead. I'm not sure which looks easier but it was different. I asked him Who are you? and why are you carrying that? and how come you don't have a burden like me? He looked at me and there was light in his eyes. He said Friend, I used to have a burden but now I'm on the Way of the Ransomed some call it the Way of the Free the Narrow Path My burden rolled off as soon as I began my journey. I said Your cross looks heavy. He said It is but I have been given strength to match it's weight. When I watched him go his feet hardly touched the ground. I'm not sure but I think I might like to exchange my burden for a cross to walk that Way if I could have that light in my eyes. He told me to go to the cross He said that burdens are loosed there and slaves go free. Will ...

my arms feel awfully empty am I not needed anywhere? the wiggly bodies the eager arms the sweaty little hands that used to fill my heart and prayers they're gone there's a hollow ache in my chest are there others to love? show me other souls to embrace right now I feel awfully empty I'm glad Your arms are around and under me

Jaymie was only six years old last February. But she thought about being grown up a lot. When she watched Grandma, she thought being grown up was lots of aching and forgetting what happened last night. When she hugged Mama she thought being grown up was being trembly and staring blankly into nowhere in particular. When she listened to Auntie, who wasn’t even all the way grown up yet, she thought it was when your voice gets hard. When Roger came and she squeezed behind the stained brown sofa so that he wouldn’t notice her she thought being grown up was having greasy hands and slurry words. And when there were too many grownups and there was loud hollow laughter and shouting and crashes, she pulled her closet door tightly shut, and crawled back, back, back until her stiff little back pressed against the back wall. Then she shivered in the dark and tried not to listen. Times like that she didn’t ever want to grow up. Times like that she squeezed her eyes shut and th...