What Linus and I Have in Common

At the beginning of the New Year, the Lord told me I would go through catalytic transition. I have never been friends with transition. But when the Lord tells you He will take you through a season of change, you sit down, shut up and hang on.

This prophetic declaration over me brought the usual fear, anxiety and hyper-vigilant attention – which is why I am not friends with transition. Thoughts hopscotched through my head. Was God calling me to leave my job? Was He moving me out of Washington? Was I moving somewhere different?

This faith walk through grief-filled caverns has been one of the most profound transitions on my life. I literally felt weights lift off and light spill in as each chambered twist and turn filled with His light and life. The more He spilled in, the more my creative gifts woke up and the more I shed those nasty grave cloths. I glanced down at the dusty, grimy, grayness of the sack cloth and wondered why, oh why did I think it was better to carry this around with me.

Why are sackcloth and old ways so hard to lay down?

Because they are familiar.

Linus can’t give up his dirty blanket. Addicts can’t let go of their chosen vice. Dogs continue to lay in dirty bedding; they even return to their own vomit. Now there is a visual! All because it is so familiar to them and believe there is nothing better - that it is a permanent part of themselves.

Sometimes ingrained comfort places are like grave clothing. And they must be “put off” so we can be clothed with gladness.

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness. To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent.

Oh Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.” Psalms 30:11-12

What is Your Delilah?

One thing becoming glaringly clear to me over the past 20+ years is that I have more than one Delilah. What is a Delilah? It is the thing we run to for comfort and escape, the things that “own” our emotions until we feel better.

Since I was a kid, my escape was day dreaming wonderful stories. When I wasn’t day dreaming, I was watching I Dream of Jeannie or That Girl. Ok, I just dated myself; but you get my point, right? Now, I have discovered the beauty of Netflix. It is always there for me. It always has the right thing to say and makes me feel better. My other escape is sugar and carbs. The combination of Netflix, potato chips and ice cream is a virtual comfort coma.

During the decades of stale grief and painful seasons, I managed to back myself into a cocoon of comfort that brought physical, mental and creative lethargy with fluffy puffiness (that would be the sugar and carbs). It was easy to see what my sugar/carb addiction was doing to me, but it wasn’t as obvious what was happening to my soul.

One day I stopped writing. Another day I stopped day dreaming. Then I stopped challenging myself mentally to read quality books. I stopped living and started surviving.

Eventually, I stopped praying.

Netflix, sugar and carbs became my worship, prayer, and Bible reading. Binge-watching shows became my go-to for problem solving. Sugar became my dopamine. Chips became a vegetable. (I’m still holding on to the last one…potatoes ARE a vegetable. Baby steps, Dana. Baby steps.)

Basically, I’d given my wounds over to my Delilah and I was suffocating. My creative voice was silenced and my back-side was growing.

As I climb out of the stale grief and allow the Lord to replace Delilah, my gifts are yawning and stretching like a cat unfurling from an afternoon nap in the sun. The suffocation of merely surviving left me gasping in my soul crying out “I want to live!” It has taken seasons of fasting and prayer to climb out of this dark hole. It didn’t just happen. So be encouraged, dear one. And be ignited. The enemy wants nothing more than for us to be unhealthy, distracted, and resting our head in Delilah’s lap.

It’s time to lift the head off Delilah’s lap and walk in our gifting. Living is worth the sacrifice!

I still stay potato chips are a vegetable. 

Whose Eyes do You Use?

There are so many things we grieve without realizing we are grieving. Maybe that is why my grief went undetected for so long. The next cavern the Lord brought to light took me by surprise, yet it really was at the core of so much self-perception. It was time to flush out the stale grieving of my self-worth.

Truth be told, this has taken me months to work through and the Lord and I just recently finished this “therapy session.”

As with all good co-dependents, self-worth is intrinsically knitted to how others see and treat us. It is connected to how we feel honored/dishonored or valued/devalued by others. True to my own humanity, I superimposed these things onto how I thought God saw me.

No wonder I was so messed up!

Humans make conscious decisions every day to honor or dishonor through word or action and when we superimpose other’s actions onto our very loving Heavenly Father, it grieves His heart. In reality, all of us start as broken pieces trying to find where we fit. Broken pieces cannot give complete, accurate composites of anything! Even in the light of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross, my myopic view of my self-worth was just as fractured and broken as the people whose eyes I was looking through.

This was not going to heal until I got my eyes off man and my eyes focused on HIS view of me. During all the years I’ve spent in prayer and worship, I always pictured myself leaning on Jesus’ chest for a hug or crawling onto my Abba’s lap. I never, NEVER looked into the eyes of my Jesus within my heart-imagination. 

Perhaps I was afraid because I thought I would see my mother’s perfectionism, or my dad’s alcohol-laden stare. Yet, how could I know how Jesus sees me…really SEES me, unless I look into His eyes and see His love for me reflected there. It took courage, why, I still am not sure. Perhaps it is because you truly share heart-intimacy when you look upon your love’s countenance when they gaze into your eyes.

But I chose that day to look upon His face. And it changed my life forever.

Starter Kit for Battling Shame

I have been battling shame in one form or another since I was a kid. Unfortunately, it comes with the territory of living with an alcoholic dad and codependent mother. But it wasn’t until the Lord showed me this picture of myself with the sticky residue of shame that I got serious about shedding this unwanted grave clothing.

There is no “formula” for going in to battle; however, if you are new to this, here is a starter kit:

1. Identify if this is conviction from sin that has putrefied into shame or if this is misplaced shame.
2. Put your big kid panties on and either a) repent or b) own your portion of the misplaced shame (i.e. are you behaving in a co-dependent way).
3. Along with your big kid panties, put on your armor, and pick up your Bible.
4. Choose to believe the promises of God and that all the efforts to put us to shame will fail. It really is a choice. Start proclaiming God’s word over yourself. Below are a few favorite scriptures.
5. Renounce Shame and the power it has had over your life.
6. Break it in the mighty name of Jesus!

Then, when shame comes at you again – and it will as it is a favorite tool of the enemy – repeat all steps mentioned above. Do as often as necessary!

We serve a mighty God. He has granted us mighty tools. He will redeem the shattering earthquakes in your life and recover the wasted years. He will replace these grave cloths with shining, pure robes. Instead of shame, He grants double honor! Praise Him!

“But Israel (I) shall be saved by the Lord with an everlasting salvation; you (I) shall not be ashamed or disgraced forever and ever.” Is. 45:17 NKJV

“Do not fear, for you will not be put to shame, and do not feel humiliated or ashamed for you will not be disgraced. For you will forget the shame of your youth and you will no longer remember the disgrace of your widowhood.” Is. 54:4 Amplified

“For the Scripture says, ‘whoever believes on Him will not be put to shame.” Romans 10:11 NKJV

“No weapon (shame) formed against you will prosper, and every tongue that rises against you in judgment, you shall condemn.” Is. 54:17 NKJV

Shame

I will never forget the news footage and pictures of victims running through the streets like phantoms from a horror movie when the twin towers fell in 2001. White ash and debris clung to their anguished faces, their clothes devoid of any color but that of the soot and dust.

Spiritually, I could identify with these precious souls. For over a decade it felt I was climbing out of the ruins of a life with ash and soot clinging to me like wet garments; or wet grave cloths as it were.

I couldn’t shake this caked-on feeling in my soul, so I asked the Holy Spirit to show me what was clinging to me after all these years. I’d forgiven. I’d let go. I’d even gone through deliverance (now that takes commitment!). Yet in my soul I felt sticky residue. After a time of listening, I sensed the phrase, “stale shame.”

So I guess this means that stale grief has a cousin!

There are two kinds of shame:

·    Well-placed shame (or conviction). This is due to one’s sin or wrong doing; an appropriate response followed by correcting the wrong.

·    Mis-placed shame. This happens when we take upon ourselves shame that has nothing to do with our own actions or sin; a dishonoring of God that we did not have a hand in. This is self-centered shame.

Apparently, while in the rubble of my life, I’d donned grave cloths of shame and they became stale. I read somewhere that much of what makes us feel shame is not that we dishonor God by our actions, but that we failed to give the appearance that other people admire.

Ouch.

Misplaced shame happened to Jesus and to Paul. The crowd called Jesus a temple-destroyer. They called Paul mad when he defended himself in court and even called him an enemy. In other words, I was in good company.

The Lord gave me a prescription for this shame – but you will have to read on in the next post for it. (Marketing 101, make them come back for more).

”O Lord you brought my soul up from the grave;

You have kept me alive that I should not go down to the pit.”

Psalms 30:3

We Are Their Example - and Sometimes the Sermon

I have grieved many losses over the years, but this one hurt deeply. And I avoided the Holy Spirit’s prompting to uncover this cavernous path. My weekends of cleaning out caverns with the Lord was usually met with childlike giddiness because I knew that when the Lord cleaned out an area, it was for GOOD. I received such sweet revelation and healing thus far, but this one…no, I knew this one would be different.

I stood at the top of this gaping cavern and felt a crushing weight in my soul as I saw my own responsibility of teaching my children offense with church leadership and spiritual authority. My precious gifts from the Lord watched as I wrongly accused church leadership of falsity and untruth. They watched as I showed them how to play the victim, carry an offense, hurl accusations, listen to lies, and dig wells of bitterness toward leaders in the Body of Christ.

This is not what I was called to as their mother. This was not the mandate of scripture and the heart of God when He granted me the honor of parenting these treasures. Instead of showing them how to speak the truth in love, reconciling misunderstandings, and how to walk in forgiveness, I showed them how to spew accusation, hurt, anger, and spread gossip.

I most certainly lost my mother-of-the-year nomination.

Pain, trauma, lies…changed me. But my bitterness, hurt, anger and fall out from the former changed them.

And I carried the weight of responsibility like a mother carrying her child into the emergency room.

The more I repented, the more light dawned in this painful cavern. The Lord and I spent many hours that day digging, cleaning, and changing my grave clothes. As I repented over my children and proclaimed a release of redemptive work, something shifted.

The Word promises He redeems our life from destruction (Psalms 103:4). Our life is an example to those who watch. A sermon to those who listen. Will we be an example of accusation? Or will we be an example of redemption, grace, mercy and His abiding love in ALL circumstances?

Cinderella Complex and the StraitJacket

“In my own little corner, in my own little chair I can be whatever I want to be.” (Cinderella, 1965)

Cinderella was always my favorite Disney movie. So when my therapist suggested I imagine a “safe room” for my bruised and battered emotions, this song danced it’s way across my psyche. 

In my “safe room” I had a bed, a nice rug in the center and a lovely breakfast nook in the corner. A fireplace in the center of one wall was a nice touch – after all, memories get cold once in a while. But the two most notable features (to me AND my therapist) was the front and back door. The front door was the kind I saw in movies. You know, the ones where the upper half of the door and the bottom half were split so you can chat with your neighbor while cooling a pie on the window ledge? (cue Leave it to Beaver music here).

The second thought-provoking feature was the back door. It led to a lovely meadow and forest. My therapist’s head tilted to one side, “hmmmmm, interesting.” 

“Because… ?” I asked.

He pursed his lips while looking at my drawing, “I have never had anyone draw a back door before.” 

So does this make me brilliant, fascinating, or ready for a straitjacket? I thought it might be wise to keep that thought to myself so I just said, “Oh, really?” 

“Well,” he explained. “This is supposed to be your safe room. Your front door is split so you can let people in just so far, and since you have a back door, this tells me that even in your safe place, you feel the need for an escape route.” 

I had buried pain so deep and had so many trust issues that even my safe room had an escape route! 

Well, this explained a few things. I wondered if a medium size straitjacket would fit.

In order to climb out of this cavern, I needed to learn to trust my Heavenly Father to light the way. His Word was a constant torch and guide on my journey.

“For in the time of trouble, He shall hide me in His Pavilion. 

In the secret place of His tabernacle, He shall hide me.

He shall set me high upon a rock.” Psalm 27:5

31 Days Through Stale Grief

Hi, remember me? I used to blog occasionally...then I didn't...then I did...then I didn't...you get the idea. I have been in a deep cavern for a long time, but am finally finding my way out to the daylight. Starting today, October 1, I am partaking in a 31-day challenge to write...ANYTHING! So I am going to do my BEST to rise to the call. 

It may not be good. 

It may not be edited. 

It may not make sense. 

But I am choosing to write. 

So I apologize in advance for dangling participles (what are those really...cause if they are like dangling earrings, I like them). I repent for unclear modifiers (I don't like modifying anyways. Except exercise. I like modifying exercise). Bare with me while I remember how to do this gift that God granted me, but has been sitting on a shelf. According to the rules, I have to write SOMETHING everyday for 31 days, so it may be short. Or it may not even make it to the blog and the masses of readers I have accumulated. Stop laughing. 

Just to be clear - I HAVE been writing, but it has all been in my private, locked away journal. This has been an intense year for many reasons. The Lord has taken me through a journey since January that has blown my insides out, my outsides in, and has granted me a fresh perspective. Now that the dust is settling, I am feeling life again. I am actually feeling LIFE!

The title above "31 Days Through Stale Grief" is just that. A journey to find out what was at the core of a functional depression that I couldn't shake. It wasn't a lack of exercise (I taught fitness 6 hours a week), it wasn't what I was eating, it wasn't that I needed medication. This was different. When I finally was ready to face the answer, I posed the question to the Lord, "What is going on?! Why can't I shake this?" His answer was so surprising to me. He said, "You have stale grief."

That's it. That is all He said.

He didn't say how to take care of it. He didn't give me a road map. He didn't give me a 4-part plan. He didn't even define what that really meant. So I did what any woman in touch with her feelings would do. I called my therapist. She was as surprised as I. She had never heard this term before; but as we unpacked some things, it started to make perfect sense.

Throughout my life, I had MANY earthquakes and shake ups. (Read previous blog posts for a few). When you have several traumatic events one after another, your grief cycle gets interrupted because you have to start processing a new hurt, heartache, trauma or transition. All these things take time to process to the human heart and often times, grieving is a part of that process. When it gets interrupted, that trauma can silently sink into a cavern in your soul and take up residence.

Eventually, it will start to stink.

That stink is often in the form of functional depression.

So, for my myriad of avid readers and fans (really, stop laughing), that is where I have been. And this 31 days of posts will show you how the Lord and I climbed out of the stale cavern called grief and found life once again.

Are You Wearing Your Waste?

I used to work for a jeweler and one of my favorite things was to watch through the glass as the jeweler pounded and twisted the metal into shape. If it wasn’t pliable enough, he would heat it until it shined a burning hot, glowing mass of gold or silver. When he was finally done with his masterpiece – after twisting, turning, pounding, shaping, more heating - he would place a jewel among carefully crafted prongs.

In order for his masterpiece to be successful, the jeweler must work with metals that have been rid of all the dross – what is left after burning all the impurities out of it.

Isn’t it ironic how when sin is in its unrefined state, safely tucked in our humanity, it looks like fun? Sometimes our dross resembles sexual sin, adultery, rage, alcoholism, or addiction. Maybe yours is anger, lying, or expressing feelings without guarding our tongue. Mine looks like fear of failure, fear of abandonment, and a host of random insecurities.

The only way to get rid of it is to have it refined out of us. Our Great Refiner takes us though seasons of purifying – heating up areas in our life that are useless to Him. I always pictured Him scooping the murky scum with a big ladle and discarding it in a heaven-sized trash bin deeming it useless, ugly, and unclean.

That is how my dross looks to me.

Proverbs 25:4 says, “Take away the dross from silver, and it will go to the silversmith for jewelry.”

What a great promise! Our Refiner doesn’t just use what is Ieft after a season of refining. He takes the waste from our souls, and gives it to the Silversmith (I picture this as the Holy Spirit with a big rubber apron) and He makes jewelry from it!

How is THAT for recycling!

He takes the ugliest parts of us – parts that we are ashamed of, parts that scare us, parts that make us cringe – and He makes jewelry from them! Only our Refiner can create this kind of miracle! Only our Master Silversmith can make something beautiful out of rubbish!  

Be encouraged! Seasons of painful refining create something beautiful from that waste. He will mold, twist, and shape your dross and place a jewel in it to create a new treasure.

“They shall be Mine,” says the Lord of hosts, “On the day that I make them My jewels.”  Malachi 3:17

Shaken...again...

The Lord has been talking to me a lot about being shaken in the last week. It reminded me of my post from April 29, 2013. (Click here to read the original post).

This Thursday, a devotional I wrote will be published with The Upper Room, a devotional magazine. Can you guess the title? Shaken. 

Coincidence? No. Divine appointment? Definitely.

This time the shaking had nothing to do with offense, irritation, or other catastrophes; but it was an emotional shaking just the same. There are times in our lives that the Lord authors divine shaking appointments. Not to scare us or challenge our faith, but to sift through that which He cannot use and rebuild from the scattered remains left after the dust settles.

To quote myself from two years ago, “God’s version of shaking brings down works of the flesh so that only the Spirit remains. Still not convinced? Here are just some of the benefits of shaking:

·        It reveals what our foundation is made of and brings us closer to it.

·        It awakens us.

·        It removes what is dead or useless.

·        It reveals weakness and breaking points.

So yes, shaking is necessary, and yes, shaking is Holy. I’ve learned the hard way what your heart clings will be the substance of all your building materials.

Bitterness - this material is brittle and compromises the foundation; so toss that one aside for the Trash Collector. Anxiousness - this one is just as unstable, but masks itself as fear, worry, fretting, and loss of sleep. Again, it is unstable material so leave that one by the curb, too. Hopelessness - this one turns to sand in the foundation so it is useless, put it in the recycle bin to be rolled into the Faith compost pile.

Dear one, we serve a mighty God who authored the heavens and the earth. Unfortunately, this includes earthquakes. Choose to look for - and cling to - His presence and salvation amidst the shaking. If you do, you will have strong materials for restoration.

I’m awake now, and He is pruning what is dead or useless. My weaknesses are again revealed within His loving embrace. Sometimes we have to be shaken and break in areas, just to be rebuilt. Luke 3:5-6

Be encouraged... for if you are in a season of shaking, a season of rebuilding follows. 

Changing Your Palate

I know…it’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post, but it’s a new year and a new season in my life and I hope to practice my writing discipline on a regular basis.

One thing the Lord has been working through me is regarding my palate. Did you know, what we eat in our childhood determines our default palate and this default palate determines our cravings? I was raised on sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. There was sugar in our cereal, the donuts we ate every weekend and the processed food we set at our table. My father also owned a vending machine business, so you know what that meant? A refrigerated truck filled with chocolate and candy. I was the envy of all my friends and neighbors.

I was raised in the 60’s and 70’s when we didn’t know the damage sugar could do to our bodies. I wasn’t really aware how this palate has slowly destroyed my colon and led to years battling with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). Decades of not being able to digest food properly has led to doctor hopping, supplement experiments, and just general ill-health. I didn’t notice it right away. It was a slow, gradual decline; kind of like putting a frog in a pot of water and turning on the heat. The frog doesn’t notice the heat gradually increasing until death is eminent.

It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with food allergies (one of them being sugar) and put on a specialized diet did I remember what it felt like to be whole again. My body came back in alignment with God’s original plan for my health. I also noticed I didn’t crave sugar any longer and my palate changed the longer I maintained healthy choices.

Then came Christmas. Adult children, Christmas cookies (did I mention I was allergic to sugar?), baking, holiday pot lucks at work, more Christmas cookies…you get the picture. My health went on a steady decline and I didn’t notice until two months later that I was back at square one (remember our frog?).

In God’s infinite wisdom, or sense of humor, He created us a triune being. So if our physical palate is determined by what we eat, our spiritual palate is determined by what we feed our spirit. What affects us physically is also an indication of what affects us spiritually. Are we in the Word? In His presence? Are we staying away from sinful or unhealthy lifestyles and decisions that taint our spiritual palate?

Our palate guides decisions, physical and spiritual, propelling us away from spiritual or physical health, or toward it. When my physical palate craves sugar and carbs, and I submit to those cravings, my body reacts with poor digestion, inflammation, pain, and malaise.

When my spiritual palate feels lazy, and I submit to what it craves, adopting old sinful or unhealthy habits, it also, will respond with malaise, indifference, and a slow, steady decline until spiritual death is eminent.

In Proverbs 3:7-8, it says “Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and depart from evil. It will be health to your flesh and strength to your bones.”

We can change our palate and what we crave - body, soul and spirit.

The Day Darkness Came – Oso, 2014

The County I live in has been in a dark place for the last week; dark emotionally, physically, and spiritually. On March 22, 2014, the beautiful town of Oso, just 15 miles from my home, was pummeled by a catastrophic mudslide. As I write this, there are still about 90 people unaccounted for.

Blissfully unaware a few hours after the slide hit, my daughter and I were just 5 minutes away from this sweet town. We didn’t even know there was a mudslide until we were evacuated. We didn’t see the mudslide. We didn’t hear the mudslide. But the darkness of pain and death was there nonetheless.

For the last seven days, a whole country has joined us in solidarity - crying out to God asking Him “Why?” “Where were you?” “Where are you now, God?” It doesn’t seem to matter how long a person has been grounded in Faith, we still ask Why when our world caves in. As hours turned into days, the rescue parties turned into recovery teams. In their own way, each one asked Why as they dug in the debris hoping and praying for a miracle.

We aren’t alone in our lament and pain. Even our Biblical forefathers went through their own darkness crying out Why. Moses wanted to run from the darkness of his journey through the desert. David wanted to run from the darkness of his son dying upon birth. Job wanted to run from his darkness when he literally lost everything.

As each Patriarch mapped their journey, they learned the same thing –that God is in the darkness just as He is in the light.

David actually had a name for his darkness: The Valley of the Shadow of Death. He wrote; Yea, thought I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For you are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. ¹

Moses drew near the thick darkness where God was, ² for inspiration and guidance.

All of them wanted to run from their valley, but couldn’t. They had to walk through it. And that is where they found Him - waiting to comfort, love, inspire, and rebuild.

Please continue to pray for our precious town of Oso.

¹ Psalm 23:4

² Exodus 20:21

Your Image of God – Is it an Illusion?

The God of my imagination is so small and finite.

I’ve spent too many years with the “God give me…Grant me…Bless me” relationship with my Beloved. How have I imagined HIM?

·         A task master unhappy with me if I don’t measure up.

·         The areas of darkness in me displease Him.

·         The same grace a new believer gets for their immature sanctification is not available to me.

·         The phrase “I should know better”, drums in my head following a fleshly or selfish thought for misdeed.

I imagine God drumming His fingers on throne’s armrest waiting for me to grow up.

For the last four decades, I’ve been led to believe that “feelings are not to be trusted”, or “You don’t really feel that way, do you?” as if my feelings are tainted, jaded, or just plain wrong.

After three years of therapy it is liberating to conclude that this is untrue! How glorious and liberating to be able to name and FEEL emotions!

When we deny our feelings year after year we become less and less human. I became a slave. A slave to other’s opinions, feelings, approval or disapproval because I was under the impression feelings should be placed under my feet and trampled; or better yet, just ignore them.

It is hard for me to imagine the Lord angry, happy, joyful, sorrowful, etc. I’ve always had “stern” as the emotional descriptive.

Brennan Manning summarizes the Love of God so beautifully:

“It is always true to some extent that we make our images of God. It is even truer that our image of God makes us. Eventually we become like the God we imagine. One of the most beautiful fruits of knowing the God of Jesus is a compassionate attitude towards ourselves…This is why Scripture attaches such importance to knowing God. Healing our image of God heals our image of ourselves.” Lion and Lamb: The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus.

Oh Jesus, show us who you really are…not who we made you to be.

Do You Know Your Value?

Most of us who call Christ Lord would quickly answer, “It is in what Christ did for me on the cross.” Or “I am a jewel in the Lord’s heart.”

That is what I thought of myself until a few simple words were uttered to me recently that shook my self-worth. They weren't meant to do so by the word-giver, but these simple words hit their mark in my soul and my value – in my mind – took a step down. Why?

Did I not know what Christ feels about me? My friends? Family? Of course I did. However, I still gave these innocent words power to tear down years of labor in my “worth” garden. By allowing those simple, innocent words power over me, I took my value out of Christ’s hands and put it in another’s.

But they were just words!

The Bible tells us that life and death are in the power of the tongue. Words have power to build or power to tear down. Words – once absorbed – had power to send me into an emotional vacuum for about 72 yours.

Words don’t determine our worth. Jesus does. Words don’t give us value. Jesus does.

Once I shook my emotional self by the scruff and smoothed my fir, I was able to put my value back where it belonged; right under Christ’s watchful gaze.

I have a saying posted at my desk; “He has no ambition to make you normal. The more your identity is rooted in God’s value for you, the less you are controlled and limited by what others think of you.” The Barbarian Way, Erwin McManus.

There’s the key. The Cross is not only our foundation – it is the guidepost to our value. I momentarily rooted my significance and identity in humanity’s words – not His.

Do you know what you are worth? Do you know your value to the Lover of your soul? If not, press into his heart beat and His Word because His Words bring life and value. 

A New Year Dawning

Over the holidays, I reflected on 2013 as it drew to a close like a curtained finale. It was a year of discovery, pain, awakening, heart ache, joy, chastening, growth, and learning how to rise from the ashes called “past.”

As difficult and heart-wrenching as some of the events have been, I wouldn’t trade the life-lessons for all the mundane peace on this earth. Don’t get me wrong – Peace is great! It’s an oasis. However, it does little to transform us into the image of Christ.

Pain, self-reflection, and time soaking in His presence brings pruning that leads to growth. Growth leads to wisdom. Wisdom leads to transformation. All of these lead to the Peace that passes understanding – the peace that guards our hearts and minds in Christ. It’s a roundabout way to get to His Peace; but once there, you notice spiritual muscles that weren’t present when the journey began.

What did last year change in you? Are you closer to His presence? Are your spiritual muscles stronger? Or have you stepped away from your journey willing yourself into the life you think you want?

I am grateful and thankful for all the pain of my past. ALL of it!

The molestation? Yes!

The betrayals? Yup!

The crushing end to a marriage and the fallout? Sure thing!

Heartache, loss, and walking away from the alter of sacrifice? Absolutely!

These things brought me face to face with the Creator of the universe. Tragedies showed me His love, comfort, and care and heart-wrenching situations showed me the way out from desert wandering. These opportunities provided the ashes needed for a magnificent sweet-smelling garden and the peaceable fruit of Righteousness that I would never have found without them.

When we get to know our Beloved in a deeper way, these occasions are not wasted. They are gifts. We just don’t like the wrapping.

As a curtain opens on this new year, I rise from ashes and walk out of the desert into new opportunities for growth and deeper digging at His well.

Will you walk beside me?

Does God Re-Gift?

The Blessing of Pain’s Work, Part II

Gift giving season is upon us. This is my FAVORITE time of year! My children are under the same roof, lots of fun food, movies, laughter, presents and TIME. Just to have time as a family is sacred and precious to me.

Then there are Christmas parties with fun, food, laughter, and the inevitable elephant gift game. I’m always looking through my house for an old, unopened gift that was passed on to me at another party. I was pondering such things when the Lord clearly said, “I re-gift”.

He had my attention. “You? Re-gift? What could you possibly re-gift, Lord, “ I asked.

“Your past,” He answered.

I don’t know about anyone else, but my past has some painful stuff in it and I would NOT want to open it again. Instead of visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, I had visions of me sitting at His Christmas tree with great anticipation as He hands me a beautiful silver-papered box with white tulle. I rip it open and look into His eyes with excitement as I tear open the box…only to see molestation. Shocked and confused, I grab another beautifully wrapped gift; this one has red shiny paper and a big white bow - betrayal.

This isn’t how I envision God’s gifts to me.

So I asked, “What do you mean by that Lord?”

He responded, “I give my children the gift of their past through My eyes and My perspective…if they are willing to accept it.” Ah, there it is…the caveat that we hear from our Lord so often - if they are willing to accept it. I reflected on what the Lord has brought me through. The last four years have been filled with naval staring, crying, reflection, therapy, more naval staring, and one thing I definitely have now is a new perspective.

I couldn’t tell anyone why the Lord allowed me to walk my walk, but one thing I can tell is the more I give Him burdens, hurts, pain, heartache, betrayal and my past mistakes, the more He teaches me about myself and about Him. I see parts of myself I never saw before. Gifts, hopes, dreams and wisdom gained and learned from my past - they are all there wrapped in beautiful, Holy paper - if I want to unwrap it.

So now when I unwrap my past I see it through His eyes and His perspective. In my beautifully wrapped past I see re-gifted molestation that looks a lot like a deep compassion and understanding about how one wounded person can wound another. In the re-gifted betrayal, I see redemption and deep understanding of forgiveness.  I now understand how to love a betrayer through my Savior’s heart. I see beautiful things rising out of the ashes that could not have grown without my past to fertilize and nurture it. I have compassion, understanding, and wisdom that I never had without my history reflected in His perspective.

So yes, God re-gifts. Are you willing to open it?

The Gift of Pain, Part I

To everything there is a season. A time for every purpose under heaven…Ecclesiastes 3:1

Christmas is coming. Have you noticed it arrives quicker every year? I remember as a kid the anxious anticipation of gazing at my packages under the tree and keeping my hands in my robe pockets for fear they would find their way to the ribbon before breakfast. That was a hard and fast rule in our house. Absolutely NO opening packages until we’d had breakfast.

Before I was able to figure out a gift by its shape and the way it rattled, I would tear into each one thinking “this is the gift I asked for,” or “I bet this is the toy I wanted.” Then with great disappointment, I found socks - or my personal favorite - underwear. I didn’t care that it was practical. I didn’t care that I needed it. It wasn’t what I’d wanted or hoped for.

Pain is a lot like that. It isn’t what we want. It isn’t what we’d hoped for. But it is sometimes necessary.

And it is a gift.

I had a teacher in middle school I never liked, Mr. Fowler. He was old, grumpy, he never smiled, and he wore a bow tie. Yes…a bow tie. Every day. He was my math teacher so it was a subject I already hated, so Mr. Fowler made it more…hateful. But he was a patient, long-suffering instructor. He would work with me until I understood. He wanted me to untangle a problem, understand, and learn. Mr. Fowler was a gift to a little girl that didn’t understand math.

Pain is like that. We hate it. We don’t want it. We try to run from it. But pain, like Mr. Fowler, is a perfect instructor. There are many examples in the Word of our Father using pain to instruct His children and not because He is mean or grumpy. Sometimes our own disobedience or a bad choice brings it on, or even situations we have no part in, like the death of a loved one or a job lay-off.

Whatever the circumstance, pain is an unwelcome friend and an effective instructor enclosed in a package we must unwrap sometimes. Why? 

Because it brings correction when needed, direction when sought, focus and clarity when pressed into; It gets our attention, and that is just the beginning.

Boundaries and Bridges

This has been a brutal two weeks for me. I lost the man I called dad for 25 years. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed his spiritual and fatherly influence in my life over the last four years until he was no longer here. I hadn’t spoken to him since before my divorce was final - we had both built a boundary of pain and grief around our hearts.

A month ago, that boundary was torn down by a chance FaceTime chat between my daughter, son and I. My daughter was visiting her grandparents and she put them on the screen. It was awkward at first - kind of like trying to remember how to speak a language you hadn’t spoken in a long time. Eventually words came, and it was as if bricks of time and pain didn’t exist.  I had the gift of moments’ with him to tell him I missed him, loved him, and prayed for him.

That was the last time I spoke to him. The last time I got to share my love for him. Our boundary was torn down and a bridge was built. Pain and tears was the wood and nails, but the bridge was finished and I am so grateful. He had ceased to be my father-in-law, but became my father-in-heart instead.  

During the myriad of family plans and funeral arrangements, I had another ‘gift of moments’ to talk to my former husband on the phone and express my grief and pain at our mutual loss. After four long years, we were on common ground with shared pain. The Lord birthed a sweet Agape-covenant-love with him during those conversations. There was no pain from decades of heartache. No anger, no hostility; only sweet Christ-centered, compassion, love and care for the man who’d granted me two of the greatest gifts I’d ever received - our children.

That was when I knew a perfect miracle had happened. When I could look past decades-old heartache, anger, betrayal, and pain and all I saw was love, care, compassion. There was a genuine desire to be an ambassador of healing and encouragement.

God is good.

At the same time in unrelated circumstances, I also had the opportunity to build a healthy boundary for my heart. Using pain and shed tears I had to build a boundary between myself and another – not because of betrayal, anger, or offense – but out of self-honor and self-love.

Boundaries and Bridges - both built with pain and tears. Boundaries provide safety. Bridges provide a path for reconciliation. 

Pain, tears, words, and time are worthy tools in the Master’s Hands.

The Orphan Heart

A few months ago I was privileged to take part in a spiritual deep healing retreat. I’d been to the retreat before and went as a spiritual “tune up” following a painful and challenging season. I really didn’t expect to get anything in particular out of it. It was just, you know…a tune up.

The tears started as they described the Orphan Heart. According to the retreat leader those with an orphan heart believe they are alone and do not belong. They believe they have to take care of themselves and their survival depends on their own efforts. ¹

The tears didn’t make sense to me as I never considered myself an orphan nor did I ever really believe I was alone. Apparently the Holy Spirit knows otherwise.

It all started with Adam and Eve. They abandoned God through their disobedience. They were afraid, were shamed because of their nakedness, and took control of their circumstances by hiding. They truly believed, because of their sin, they were without any help or support and had to take care of themselves.

Sound familiar?

Those with an orphan heart believe their survival depends on his or her own efforts, they don’t need anyone, and that it is not safe to be submitted to another. I still didn’t see where a wound came into my heart until they said ‘it wasn’t safe to be submitted to another.”

I’d been submitted to a father who molested me. I’d been submitted to a husband that lied. I’d been submitted to church leadership who told me there was nothing they could do to help me and that I had to be submitted and obedient to a husband who led a deceitful lifestyle.

The wringing began deep in my spirit and like a water-soaked towel, the Holy Spirit gently wrung out all the pain, fear, loneliness and even independence upon self - and the tears flowed.

How many of us are trapped by the enemy with this thinking? Trapped by a bondage that is so deep and engrained they can’t see that we are created to love, bond, and need one another and that WE ARE ACCEPTED just as we are.

Those with an orphan heart:

·         See God as a Master, not as a Father.

·         Feel like an outsider, not belonging to a family.

·         Strive to be accepted by others or a people pleaser, rather than just resting in their Abba’s arms.

·         Believe they have to earn God’s favor, rather than just delight in pleasing Him.

·         “Must” be pure and holy to have His approval, instead of wanting to be these things for Him.

·         Look to counterfeit sources (i.e. addictions or escapism) rather than find comfort in an Abba’s love and presence.

…and so many more.

Today, I lost a man whom I was privileged to call Dad for 25 years. He was the only healthy father I knew and he had a great impact on my life and gave my children an amazing spiritual legacy. All those orphan feelings rose again, but I had to remind myself:  It is written, “For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by Him we cry, “Abba Father.” Romans 8:15

We are no longer orphans. We are sons and daughters of the most high – and we need to remind the enemy of this.

¹Taken from The Cleansing Stream Retreat booklet.