Saturday, October 27, 2012

The Enemy of Preference


Some people prefer vanilla over chocolate (I still can't understand this).

Some men prefer blonds to brunettes.

I prefer flavored coffee over regular.

But when the Lord started nudging me to a new church different from the denomination I'd served in for over 20 years, I said, "But Lord, I prefer this denomination. I have grown up in, led worship in, and even preached in this denomination." I married, served, raised children within the walls of this denomination. It was like a part of my family.

So the Lord watched and waited. I fussed.

Then one Sunday when road construction kept me away from my preferred church, I decided to go to the other one instead. I slipped into a seat in the back as the visiting pastor gave his opening statement, "Preference will keep you from your destiny."

I was stunned. The pastor went on but my attention was riveted by that one statement. I pondered and marinated it in my soul and spirit for the rest of the service.

When service concluded, I was chatting with a mother when her two sons approached us. Like a slow-moving funnel cloud, the gift of discernment and knowledge swirled to the surface and I was able to see a gifting mantle on each boy. When I mentioned this to the mother, she started crying. "Yes! That is such a confirmation. Thank you!"

For years, my spiritual gifts lay dormant; not because of some dark hidden sin, or I was in the wrong denomination, but because I was in a season of fire burning, healing, and rest. I needed to let the Holy Spirit work without the distraction of ministry and active gifts.

My whole married life I was known within my preferred denomination as my Ex's wife. All ministry came out of being his wife. 

Not just by being me.

Now as I sit in my new church, just being me and being known as "me", the door of possibility swings open before me. Just like the mythical Phoenix, I am rising from the ashes of my past a new creation. The old me is still there - only refined by fire and pressed like fine grapes in a wine press.

I don't know what lay ahead, but I do know that I could have missed an important road on my journey by the enemy called "preference."




Friday, October 19, 2012

Trash Becomes Treasure


“Without your wounds where would your power be? One broken human being ministering to another can bring more healing to this world than an angel who has never known pain, fear, betrayal or addiction.” Abba’s Child by Brennon Manning.

In the last few months, the Lord brought a precious friend into my life that helped heal one of the great unanswered questions I’ve had for the last 24 years. Many questions haunted my heart like whispering shadows, but this one was the nagging, whining child that got much of my scattered attention. “Why did my ex do what he did over and over knowing it was ripping his family apart?”

This email from my friend addressed that whiney child’s cry. You ask after 24 years why can't he come clean and move into the light. The easy answer is he doesn't want to. THE REAL REASON GOES MUCH DEEPER. If he keeps the secret, control becomes his lifeline. He has wounded everyone who loved and/or trusted him, he has lived a life as a hypocrite, the shame and guilt are like a noose around his neck. The more he struggles, the tighter it gets till he just gives in and it becomes a self coping pattern that he has had for a long time.” Then he encased the truth in a nutshell.The heart of David wanted to obey God and did, but he and his family suffered the consequences of his sin.”

As I read this, the last vestige of hurt melted in the wake of this visual. It struck a deep cord of slumbering compassion buried in self-pity, offense and pain. I’ve heard it said, “Hurting people hurt people.” There is my answer. How many times do we demonize others because of pain inflicted by a wounded soul with a self-administered noose around their neck?

I proclaim myself guilty.

This precious, self-acknowledged, surrendered addict helped me see the broken humanity through my addicted ex’s eyes. What a gift! My hardened hurt melted and became pliable empathy in the Master’s hand. Compassion shaped itself into a beautiful crown of forgiveness completing a healing that started years ago.

And it took another addict to show me.

Not a self-help book…

Not a therapy session…

Not a well-orated sermon…

Not even Oprah...

…but another broken human being who has wrestled with God, the author of Truth, surrendered to Him, and who now walks with a beautiful limp.

Who am I to judge another’s brokenness as stinking refuse? Brokenness, surrendered in the Master’s hand during a spiritual wrestling match, is life and healing to other broken souls. As my new friend says, “God used my garbage and made it my gift.”

Do you know what happens when we take our garbage and put it at the foot of the Cross and light it on fire?

The remaining ashes become the main ingredient in our new-found anointing.