Taking Risks for the Sake of Freedom

I was having some “play” time in prayer with the Lord the other day and to my surprise, he showed up in my mind’s eye on a bike. He wanted to go bike riding with me. What? Why? Of all the things we could do, why would he choose bike riding? Then I got it. He was trying to show me something. He was reminding me of the freedom I enjoyed as a child when I rode a bike - like the wind blowing in my hair, exploring places just beyond my normal boundaries, getting away from everything and everybody when things became too overwhelming. He then invited me to jump a ramp.  Whoa! Wait a minute! This was a whole different level of bike riding that I wasn’t so sure about. Remember those homemade contraptions? I do and I never once had the courage to jump one. I was perfectly content to have my feet planted on the ground.

Or was I?

Jesus said he would go first and he did – without incident mind you. He then motioned for me to go. I shook my head no. I was too afraid. I so wanted to feel the exhilaration of being off the ground, flying through the air without a care in the world, to experience something new, that appealed to me. It was the landing that put me off. 

What if I wiped out? What if I got hurt? What if I failed?

The thoughts that were running through my head were suddenly replaced with another image. I began to see things as Christ saw them.  I saw myself pedaling as fast as I could, bent down low toward the handlebars, with a fierce look of determination on my face and I was headed for that ramp. I went for it with all the gusto I could muster up. I hit the board with a “whomp” and was airborne. Oh, what joy! I was smiling and taking such pleasure in the experience that I temporarily forgot that what goes up must come down. Then it happened. The bike left me. It just flew off into the wild blue yonder and there I was flying through the air. 

I thought to myself, “See, I told you this wasn’t going to turn out good!” 

But it did. Standing on the other side of that ramp wasn't another board, it was Jesus. He had his arms held out and “whoosh,” that is where I landed. He was laughing, not at me, but for me. How do you laugh for someone? It is sort of like clapping or cheering except it is so deep and rich that it comes out as laughter. Musical, adoring, I could kiss your whole face, laughter! 

At that moment, I caught the vision. 

To gain freedom, and the inexpressible joys of it, sometimes you have to take risks. 

Is it scary? Yes! Is it worth it? Yes! 

Now granted, there have been times in my life where I felt like I took risks for the sake of freedom and the outcome was not as smooth as this vision. I did not land in the cushy arms of Jesus. Why? I believe one reason is that the sovereign God who created us gave us a free will and free will can be used for good or evil. There are times when we are airborne and someone comes out of nowhere exercising their free will, blindsides us and knocks us to the ground - hard. Sometimes, in exercising our own free will, we make tactical errors or use poor judgment and that gets us off course and we miss the target - can you say "crash and burn?" I can. Been there done that a few times. The fact of the matter is that neither of these scenarios changes the truth:

Jesus is still there. He is the constant factor that does not change. 

If we land in His arms, he rejoices with us. If we land on our faces, no matter the cause, He picks us up, brushes us off, and tends to our injuries. In both cases, from my experience, He says, 

“Go ahead, give it another try. I will be right here."

Now that's freedom!

Another World (not the soap opera)

Memoirs #4

Another favorite spot of mine was the small strip of grass that was in the backyard. It wasn’t much because the yard was small and cluttered with things and there was always the remnant of an old garden taking up space.  I would lie down in the grass on my back and be as still as I could. I would not move a muscle. 

I would open my eyes wide and stare up at the sky. I would watch the clouds drift by and marvel at their ability to change shape and disguises or to disappear all together. What power. What freedom. 

Sometimes I would stare into the sun instead. Blinding myself momentary so that all I could see were the funny specks flying around in my eyes and then waiting for my sight to return so that I could do it again. I marveled at the strength of the sun to take away my natural eyesight and make me see things that I could not see before.  

I liked lying on the ground, feeling it connecting with my body. I so wanted to be a part of something big, why not the earth? Could I just for a moment will myself to be a part of another world. Not really, but I could enjoy the itchy sensation of the grass on my arms and the tiny movements of things under me as I pressed into their world - the warmness or coolness of the earth creeping into my body as I waited for my desire to stay there forever to pass. 

My Burden Carrier

Memoirs #3

The focal point of my yard was not the house, no sir. It was the big tree just to the left of the front door. Out of its side ran a low, long limb, a strong arm just waiting to be used, daring me to take it on. “Look at me,” it said, “strong and able, so do what you will with me.” I accepted the challenge by using it to put up a swing made of old rope with a piece of scrap wood for a seat.“There, “ I said, “Can you handle that?” It replied “Yes, and more,” for which I was grateful because I had more to give. Over the years, not only did that swing bear my weight, it also bore the weight of the things I was carrying inside me. Secrets. Dark secrets. Heavy secrets. 

It was a grand tree and a loyal friend, one that I would leave behind when the time was right. I saw the tree many years later, after making my great escape, and I was heart broken to see how ravaged and tired it looked. Did my secrets do that? Did my burdens zap the life right out of my friend? I imagined myself tying a yellow ribbon around its base and telling it to die and find peace, that it isn’t needed any more, that I am okay. Let go. I did. All is well now.

Then I think, why would I want a faithful friend to die? Why not encourage it to use its roots to go deep in search of living water that it could use to create the strength and vitality of new life? It’s there, waiting to be tapped into, waiting to rush up its trunk and into it branches, giving it the power to stretch and reach into the sky as far as it dares - into the hope and promise of a new day.

It worked for me - Living Water. Shouldn't I offer the same hope to my withering, dried up friend? Shouldn't I introduce it to my new burden carrier? One that never grows weary or tired. One that can carry the burdens of the whole world with strength to spare.

Childhood Memoirs

I couldn't sleep one night so I decided to do one of my favorite things, read. I finished the book I was reading called "The Secret LIfe of Bees," but I still wasn't sleepy. There was an interview with the author, Sue Monk Kidd, in the back of the book, so I began to read it in hope that sleep would soon come. Instead, I made a great discovery, a real treasure! In the interview, the author made this statement in reference to her memoir writings:

"I think many people need, even require, a narrative version of their life. I seem to be one of them. Writing memoir is, in some ways, a work of wholeness."

A chord was struck in me and a sound wave of inspiration began to vibrate inside me, working its way to the surface. The thought of writing about my childhood had been something I had been toying around with for some time. However, I just couldn't find the purpose in it. To what end would I write about myself? 

Wholeness. 

Now that speaks to me of purpose. One of my long standing prayers to God has been "please make me whole."

Wholeness: "An undivided or unbroken completeness or totality with nothing wanting*."

If there is even a remote possibility of God bringing wholeness into my life by means of me writing my memoirs (memories), then how can I resist? I am an adventurer at heart and this would definitely be a grand adventure, as well as a huge leap of faith! 

I admit that I have been a little perplexed and somewhat overwhelmed as to where to begin. Over thinking things always bogs me down. So, I have decided just to jot down memories as they come to me and post them in bits and pieces.  I am not sure yet just how much the Lord wants me to reveal through memoir, but I want to warn you that sometimes what I share may be very "real" and sometimes raw in nature. Unfortunately, brokenness defined my life for a very long time and I can already see that evidence of it will seep out into my writing.

My goal - to  invite you to a view of just one of my many paths to wholeness, all which lead to the source of wholeness - Jesus - and to encourage you to seek out your own path to wholeness.

Here goes...

Snippet #1:

Most of my early childhood was lived out in a little obscure bayside town in Florida called Eastpoint. It was neatly tucked away between its sister towns of Carrabelle and Apalachicola. It was one of those towns that if you blinked while passing through it, you might just miss it all together. Eastpoint was easy to navigate. I never heard tell of anyone ever getting lost within its limits. It was divided up by a front road (also called the main road and technically called hwy. 98), a back road, and a few dirt side roads that had no names. Oh yeah, there was that extra road at the very edge of town that we called the dump road because that's where it led, to the town dump. By nature of its location, no one resided on that road.  At the intersection of the front road and one of those old dirt side roads is where my house sat. 

From this corner lot vantage point, this ninety-degree angle, I watched the world pass by me. Occasionally I would get a lift of the hand or a nod of the head, acknowledging my presence, evidence that I could be seen even though I had my doubts. To be fair, how much sight does a ninety-degree angle really afford passersby into the life of someone else? Can people be held accountable for their limited vision, their inability to see beyond what's right in front of them? Probably not, at least not according to my experience. Some days I wished someone would see past the facade, the smiling face and my own lift of the hand, to what was really going on around me and inside me. At other times, it filled me with great fear to think that someone would see the reality of my life. 

The good news is, even though I wasn't fully aware of it at the time, just catching glimpses of hope here and there, there was One who could see all things, not only what was, but what was to come - a full-circle view. Nothing was hidden from Him. Oh, how the hand of God plays out in such a bittersweet way in the lives of those that call upon His name and I did call, many, many times.

Snippet #2:

A fence surrounded my house. Not a very good one mind you. It was made from wire and wooden posts. My imagination would have it be a chain-linked fence with metal posts and a nice gate, but in my heart I know that isn’t so and, actually, I am glad. 

There's no character in a well-put together fence. A fence of good character needs evidence of having been climbed over dozens of times, leaning slightly here and there, toe holds a plenty, and spots sagging under the weight of blackberry vines and wild, running rose bushes. 

Another thing - what is a gate that doesn’t announce one’s coming and going with a faithful creak? Rude, that’s what. No, my gate was nice and polite, greeting those that came in and speaking farewells to those that left. In addition to its role as greeter, it also served as a sentry. It alerted me to the people who were about to enter my world, giving me time to think about how I was going to respond – a warm welcome or a quick exit out the back door. Sometimes, according to who was walking through that gate, it was very important that I not be caught unaware.

(*wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn)

The Enemy Within

Betrayed by your own body. 

This is the thought that came to me this morning as I recalled the reason I was up late last night. 

My little girl suffers from a tic disorder, not a blood sucking insect, but a repeated, involuntary movement. It has been under control for some time now, however, it came back with a vengeance last night. She came to me with tears in her eyes and a look of defeat on her face and said, "Mommy, I am so tired, but I can't get to sleep. I have 3 tics going on at the same time and if I try not to do them, it hurts."  "What can I do to help?," I asked. "I don't know," she said, "probably nothing."

Heart breaking words.

I thought about the other people I know whose bodies are not in alignment with their wishes - more than wishes - with their deepest desire and need to be made whole again - to have their bodies and minds restored to God's intended design.

The enemy within. 

Definition: An invisible agent doing its best to make itself known to the world through side effects and symptoms.

What does it look like? Does it have features - bulbous eyes and long, dirty fingernails? Is it slime green or fire engine red? Does it smell like sulfur or decay? Is it calculating or does it just run amuck in a drunken stupor of destruction? Is it a loud mouth or does it do its work ever so quietly. Where did it come from? Was it invited? Did it happen by chance - a cosmically unfortunate luck of the draw?

I know that I am anthropomorphizing sickness and disease (giving it human characteristics), but it seems so much easier to visualize the enemy and the ensuing fight when it has a face -even a made up one. We as humans know how to fight one another - having been doing it successfully for years - and even make believe monsters to some extent, but how do we fight a germ, a cell gone bad, a system out of whack? How do we make things right again when everything we throw at the enemy seems to fail?

I don't have that answer. But I do know this. There is something I can do with the experience of my suffering, of my child's suffering. 

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows."

2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (NIV)

The truth is that no one is exempt from suffering. Also the truth, the knowledge that when it comes, we can seek comfort from those who have gone through suffering before us. Suffering, sickness, disease are here to stay, but so are hope, compassion and comfort - given to each other as a precious and costly gift, given by God.

"Why do you say, O Jacob,

and complain, O Israel,

"My way is hidden from the LORD;

my cause is disregarded by my God"?

Do you not know? Have you not heard?

The LORD is the everlasting God, 

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,

and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary

and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary,

and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the LORD

will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint."

What did I do for my daughter last night? I sought the Lord out loud so that she could hear my hope in the Lord's ability to help her. I rubbed her forehead with a gentle touch and sang her songs from my childhood. Songs my mom would sing to me, even if the occasion was rare. The power of that comfort remained with me and I gave it to my child. I sang "You are my Sunshine," "Hush, Little Baby" and "Jesus Loves the Little Children" over and over again. She got a small smile on her face and her eyes softened. She settled down and it wasn't long before she was sleeping.

Comfort.

Strength. 

Hope.

Journey of my Soul

In the womb, I was given a gift. It is called a soul. It was placed inside me with great care and it was full of seeds of promise. When I was born, my soul entered a realm of possibilities. As I grew, my soul expanded and potential stretched and reached out to the world around me. 

Promises. Possibilities. Potential. 

Open to receive. Open to embrace. 

Slap! Smack! Whack! 

Went the world around me.

Retreat!

Confused. Cautious. Unsure. 

Long suffering. Perseverance.

The long suffering of my soul carried me through time and space and placed me at the feet of Jesus. The Maker of my soul introduced me to the Keeper of my soul. His presence was made known to me. His whispers called to me, coaxing and urging me out of darkness and into the light to try again. He spoke, the Lover of my soul, the language of my soul...

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." (Deut. 31:6 NIV)

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jer. 29:11 NIV)

"Behold, the former things have come to pass, Now I declare new things; Before they spring forth I proclaim them to you." (Isa. 42:9 NASB)

Patience.

Promises, possibilities, potential, perseverance, patience.

Walking in Fullness of Spirit

To anyone who has spent any time with me lately, it is fairly obvious that something has happened to me. Something divine. A "Lazarus" experience. A resurrection.

“When He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come forth.” The man who had died came forth, bound hand and foot with wrappings, and his face was wrapped around with a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go."

John 11:43-44 (NASB)

God has called me by name out of a dead place (a tomb) and commanded that I come forth (live), be unbound and let go!

Come forth.... Unbind her.... Let her go....

I still remember the moment when I understood that Jesus had called my name and I was brought out of death and into life with Him. I even remember being aware that there was more to be done. I needed help in removing those things in my life that were associated with death - my grave clothes and their stench - and God and I have co-labored together to this end. (Lazarus means "God is my help").

It is the "let go" factor that captures my attention now.

A friend* said to me just a few days ago that she sees me as someone who is free from grave clothes, that they are lying at my feet and the word "victory" came to her mind. She shared this scripture with me:

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place."

 2 Corinthians 2:14 (NASB)

Her words gave me a fuller understanding of what has been happening to me. I am FREE! Not just free, but FREE INDEED! The grave clothes (unbinding) part of my walk with Jesus is done! It is time for me to be let go! I am walking out of a new level of victory and I am putting out a sweet smelling aroma of Him in EVERY place. 

I have graduated into a higher understanding of the freedom and life I have in Christ. It has been a long road to get to this leg of my journey. I believe I am on the last segment of my earthly, natural journey with God and I believe it will be the most fulfilling time of my life. 

"Every man serves the good wine first, and when the people have drunk freely, then he serves the poorer wine; but you have kept the good wine until now."

John 2:10 (NASB)

I have to admit. I have viewed a majority of my Christian walk as a co-laboring "to change and heal me" relationship with the Lord. I have not despised this aspect of our relationship because I love process and growth and working things out. However, I have been missing a very huge part of my Father's heart. 

His original intent...

For me to walk in fullness of spirit with Him in this world until the day I am able to walk in spirit in the fullness of His glory unveiled.

How do I do this? First, by embracing the freedom and liberty that was so costly gained on my behalf. Second, by allowing Him to do the work that frees my spirit up from ungodly entanglements and distractions. Third, acting on the truth...

I was created to have fellowship with him. To enjoy him. To be like him.  

What does walking in fullness of spirit look like in my life right now? 

Writing. Art. Photography.

Cooking. Gardening. 

Playing. Working. 

Learning. Living. 

Loving.

What does it look like in yours? I would love to share in the knowledge, and when able, the experience of how you are manifesting God's spirit in your life. 

* Thanks Meredith