Monday, January 31, 2011
The Psalmist
She sits directly in front of me with her guitar. Her eyes are closed but her heart is open. From the soft strumming of her guitar to the soothing words of her songs she worshiped the King of Glory. She sung the psalms in perfect harmony. Her smile is radiant as she sings about her beloved. In between songs she gives her testimony. He found her in her brokenness and emotional deficiency. I feel a knot form in my throat. I want to cry, not out of sadness but from a heart of love and gratefulness. He found me in brokenness and emotional deficiency too. Her words stir my heart. I want to worship him, so I sing with her. Her voice is soft sweet and in harmony. Mine is loud and off key. He loves her voice; he loves my voice.
She went on to tell the story of growing up feeling as if what she had to say wasn't important; her parents being emotionally unavailable and not listening to her when she wanted to voice her emotions. One year leaving bible camp she ran to tell her Pastor of the wonderful worship in a parking lot. Like her parents he stops her, he tells her he already heard. That incident devastated her; she walked away crushed, no one thought what she had to say was important.
Jesus met her in that hurt and devastation he told her he wants to hear what she has to say no one else can express it like her. She went on to say we all are unique and special to Jesus and equally as important. I heard people say things like that before but I could tell they really didn't believe it. Most thought they were much more important. She was honest and her words pure. I loved her instantly. After the service I ran to her to hug her and blurted that I wanted to write about her. I don't know why I'm so socially awkward and strange sometimes. She just smiled and said something like "that's sweet".
Her name is Kathy Fisher she sings the Psalms in full, the only known artist that actually gets the whole Psalms in her songs. You worship and learn the word at the same time. She's truly an awesome and anointed blood washed daughter of the Most High God. You can email her for one of her CD's at kathykenny123@att.net
Fearless
Friday, January 28, 2011
The Ladies at the laundry mat
I finally made it to the laundry mat yesterday. I had three huge hampers full. I think laundry is my least favorite thing to do other then dishes or cooking. Lets just say I'm not the most domesticated women alive. I'll do it eventually but not with pearls and a smile like Donna Reed. I'm more like the one with the frown and mustard stain sweats. I live alone so it's permitted if not required.
At the laundry there were two women that captured my attention mostly because they smiled and spoke to me. One, a young woman with a baby that looked to be in her early twenties, the other, an elderly women that looked to be in her seventies. The baby looked to be about seven months old. The young women fed or attempted to feed the baby in between loads. The baby was more interested in smiling at and watching me. Since I was behind them it was difficult for her mom to feed her with her head turned around. I made some nonchalant statement about the baby, the mom smiled and said she was very curious baby. What really captured my attention is the patient way in which the young mom dealt with her duties. Even though I could see the how much of a struggle she was having the kindness never left her continence. She was my hero. I was once a young single mother and unlike her, I was the epitome of shrew. She seemed to do everything with such love and kindness. She put the baby in the basket with an Elmo doll that keep saying he was ready to go home. I was amazed at the way between folding she would tenderly touch her baby.
The older woman came in and sit beside me and started talking. She told me she had a washer and dryer at home but was having some plumbing problems. She explained that if she uses her washer her kitchen sink will flood, but she paid 140 dollars for plumber then another 350 dollars to have her backyard drained. I asked why didn't it worked after all that work..she said, "That was the bathroom and it didn't have anything to do with the kitchen plumbing!" I gave her my best I'm not confused by this conversation look and said, "Oh." She told me to remember that lesson so that if I ever have any plumbing problems I would know. I said "Okaaay." She went on to tell me about her trip up north and getting stuck in an airport, the name and ages of her children, grand children and even an eighteen year old great grand. Meanwhile the young woman had her baby in one basket and was filling another with clothes from the dryer. The baby started getting curious so I decided to watch her, she started to stand up and was reaching for something on a seat next to the basket. I was intently watching the baby so that I could catch her if she started to fall. The elderly woman noticed I had stop listening to her and was watching the baby. So she said in a loud voice, "She's not watching her baby?" I said equally as loud, "it's hard when you have a small baby", mainly to let the young mother know I was not being critical. She looked at us and I smiled at her letting her know I'm on your side.
The young woman turned to look then she grab her baby and held her in her arms as she continued. I walked up to her and asked if I could help her. She was hesitant but smiled and said, "yes." and I did help her, me the one that hated laundry. I helped her because loved required that we lend a hand when we see a need. It's something about love that spreads like a wildfires. In the midst of my helping I turn and see the older woman holding the baby as the young woman and I put her laundry in the car. My grandmother used to say that whatever virtue or non-virtue you feed would be the strongest. I chose to feed love and not criticism. I do however thank the older woman for saying what she said, it gave me the courage to look beyond my own self-centered thoughts and do what needed to be done.
Fearless
At the laundry there were two women that captured my attention mostly because they smiled and spoke to me. One, a young woman with a baby that looked to be in her early twenties, the other, an elderly women that looked to be in her seventies. The baby looked to be about seven months old. The young women fed or attempted to feed the baby in between loads. The baby was more interested in smiling at and watching me. Since I was behind them it was difficult for her mom to feed her with her head turned around. I made some nonchalant statement about the baby, the mom smiled and said she was very curious baby. What really captured my attention is the patient way in which the young mom dealt with her duties. Even though I could see the how much of a struggle she was having the kindness never left her continence. She was my hero. I was once a young single mother and unlike her, I was the epitome of shrew. She seemed to do everything with such love and kindness. She put the baby in the basket with an Elmo doll that keep saying he was ready to go home. I was amazed at the way between folding she would tenderly touch her baby.
The older woman came in and sit beside me and started talking. She told me she had a washer and dryer at home but was having some plumbing problems. She explained that if she uses her washer her kitchen sink will flood, but she paid 140 dollars for plumber then another 350 dollars to have her backyard drained. I asked why didn't it worked after all that work..she said, "That was the bathroom and it didn't have anything to do with the kitchen plumbing!" I gave her my best I'm not confused by this conversation look and said, "Oh." She told me to remember that lesson so that if I ever have any plumbing problems I would know. I said "Okaaay." She went on to tell me about her trip up north and getting stuck in an airport, the name and ages of her children, grand children and even an eighteen year old great grand. Meanwhile the young woman had her baby in one basket and was filling another with clothes from the dryer. The baby started getting curious so I decided to watch her, she started to stand up and was reaching for something on a seat next to the basket. I was intently watching the baby so that I could catch her if she started to fall. The elderly woman noticed I had stop listening to her and was watching the baby. So she said in a loud voice, "She's not watching her baby?" I said equally as loud, "it's hard when you have a small baby", mainly to let the young mother know I was not being critical. She looked at us and I smiled at her letting her know I'm on your side.
The young woman turned to look then she grab her baby and held her in her arms as she continued. I walked up to her and asked if I could help her. She was hesitant but smiled and said, "yes." and I did help her, me the one that hated laundry. I helped her because loved required that we lend a hand when we see a need. It's something about love that spreads like a wildfires. In the midst of my helping I turn and see the older woman holding the baby as the young woman and I put her laundry in the car. My grandmother used to say that whatever virtue or non-virtue you feed would be the strongest. I chose to feed love and not criticism. I do however thank the older woman for saying what she said, it gave me the courage to look beyond my own self-centered thoughts and do what needed to be done.
Fearless
Sunday, January 23, 2011
My Aunt Patsy Jo died a few hours ago. She's a thousand miles away from me like most of my family. Patsy Jo is my mothers younger sister. My mother called and left a me message on my cell phone crying. She lost a sister last year too. It's a very difficult time for her. I have rarely heard my mother cry. I think this is only the fourth time in my life. I missed her call because I was carrying a hot pot of lamb stew to my car, I was taking it to my sister Jill. Before I make it to the parking lot of my apartment complex my brother Pete (he informs me of Patsy's death) and my sister Gina call. Gina is crying. I don't feel anything, I'm numb. Patsy has been battling cancer for over a year this is expected. I'm the strong one. I get to Jill apartment (which is only five minutes away) and she's crying. I have dinner with her and wash the dishes. I'm strong and there to comfort her, all we have is each other in Florida.
I get back home and now I'm alone with my thoughts. My memories of a very special woman that I have known all of my life. The memories are quiet and sneaky like an ally cat; purring to life in my psyche. One by one they creep in uninvited. I can't think about her right now. I'm the strong one, I'm a christian and we're suppose to rejoice when someone dies. I don't feel like celebrating. Every selfish motive and thought that I possess comes out of hiding and run through my heart as the tears run down my face. I want my aunt here with me for when I need her again. I don't want her in a better place. I find no comfort in that.I want to hear her laughter and look in her face. No, of course I didn't want her to continue to suffer, I wanted her to get better. I wanted her to beat cancer's ass.
When I was two and three years old I had a small problem with streaking (I used to like to do it). My aunt who lived a on the same block as we did would walk behind me picking up my clothes, protecting me but allowing me to be me. My mother would ask her why didn't she put my clothes back on me. She always said she didn't see the point I was on my way home. I remember her wedding day, and what a beautiful bride she was surrounded by her beautiful sisters; her brides maids. A year later she came to our house and announced that she killed the rabbit and my mother hugged her and I asked her why would killing a rabbit make her happy(I thought it was pretty vicious myself) She had to explain to me that she was having a baby. As I got older I used to babysit for her and spend the night. Her husband used to make me giant pancakes in the morning.They would be as large as the cast iron skillet he used. As a teenager I almost lost my virginity on her couch( I stopped him before it happened). I told her about it that next morning,she was the only grow-up in then family that I could tell the struggles of my new and strange desires. I was a girl and I was a woman. She advised me not to rush myself to stay focused in school, but if I didn't think I couldn't control it to tell my mother so I could get on birth control. I wish I would have taken some of her advised...any of it.
I went home twice last summer. The first time I only stayed for six days. I went looking for her every day. She was never home. I missed her on that trip. My mother went with her to her chemotherapy sessions and was amazed at her cheerfulness. Her spirits were always so high the doctor thought she could beat cancer even though it looked bleak. I went home the second time last summer after my health problems started. I got in home in time for our annual family reunion (I missed the last five). Patsy was there with some of the other older women in the family. Waiting to hold me. I had just had a defibrillator put in my chest. They were worried about me and I could see it in there eyes. I told them not to worry I now have a "Heart that can't be broken." She hugged me and said "That's right baby," but my heart can be broken, because it's broken right now. I'm sure she knew my heart would probably break again she just wanted me to remember to find the good in every situation. She did.
I have cried for the last four hours. I was seeking good in losing her but the good isn't in losing her it's in loving her and having had her in my life. It's the memory of her laughter, in her love for life and the courage she showed facing death. We had a heart to heart after the family reunion. She had no regrets, bitterness or anger. She encouraged me, she loved on me. She was still walking behind me picking up my clothes.
She's gone...
I miss her.
Friday, January 14, 2011
The Great Transgression
Psalms 19:12 Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults.
Psalms 19:13 Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me: then shall I be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression.
Psalms 19:14 Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer.
I attend a Friday night worship service. We call our meeting "One New Man Arising," We are Jews and Gentile coming together to worship; Jesus having broken down the wall of partition between us and made into himself one new man. I have been with them for five years, we are not perfect people, though outwardly whole inwardly we're not. We come together like the lame, blind and the leper seeking Jesus. Each searching for love and acceptance; looking for our place in a world that has little tolerance for differences.
We come from all walks of life and background, professionally and personally I have little in common with any of them. I am one of two black women in the congregation the other being a dentist. I dropped out of college. We're the only blacks. The other black women asked my to read a piece that I blogged that I named "Never Alone Martin," in memory of Martin Luther King Jr. being that tomorrow is his birthday-I gladly said yes.
I read my piece with shaking hands and throbbing heart mainly because I don't share my heartache and struggles as much in the meeting as I do on my blog. After I was finished reading the room got deathly quiet. I wrote about prejudice and pain. It's easier for me to have strangers in far away cities peer into the dark and secret places of my soul. I like to believe that would make any rejection and judgment less painful. It doesn't!
Tonight during worship I looked around at everyone there. Everyone's eyes were closed in adoration of our Heavenly Father no one paid attention to my observation. I looked at one young lady totally immersed in worship; last year during worship every time her eyes closed her face would fill with tears. She was going through a painful separation from her husband. Her sadness filled my heart and I would go to comfort her, we became one in her sorrow, like Jesus I shared in her suffering.
Every face I looked upon a different memory came to me. We have seen each other through so much. The death of our fathers, loss of jobs, sickness, our pastors moving to Israel, delinquency and alcohol trying to rob us of our children. We are broken people bringing our fragmented hearts as a offering to our Heavenly Father, and each other. Our love is not perfect; it's sometimes zigzag and jaded.
As the meeting ended tonight the other black women read Psalms 19:12-14 and said we should all search our hearts that she believed there was prejudice among us and that she had discovered some in herself and she thinks that prejudice might be "THE GREAT TRANSGRESSION." The thought of that makes me so sad. I certainly don't want anything That sinister and insidious hiding inside of me or the people I love. I think God made color differences just to see how many of us would get beyond it, and see him in each other. He remembers our frames and knows we're but dust. There's no superior dust. These bodies are just a place he chose to put his spirit to mock his enemy. He put his spirit in dust and made us his children. We are the children of the MOST HIGH GOD. Each uniquely different and precious in his sight.
Fearless
Psalms 19:13 Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me: then shall I be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression.
Psalms 19:14 Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer.
I attend a Friday night worship service. We call our meeting "One New Man Arising," We are Jews and Gentile coming together to worship; Jesus having broken down the wall of partition between us and made into himself one new man. I have been with them for five years, we are not perfect people, though outwardly whole inwardly we're not. We come together like the lame, blind and the leper seeking Jesus. Each searching for love and acceptance; looking for our place in a world that has little tolerance for differences.
We come from all walks of life and background, professionally and personally I have little in common with any of them. I am one of two black women in the congregation the other being a dentist. I dropped out of college. We're the only blacks. The other black women asked my to read a piece that I blogged that I named "Never Alone Martin," in memory of Martin Luther King Jr. being that tomorrow is his birthday-I gladly said yes.
I read my piece with shaking hands and throbbing heart mainly because I don't share my heartache and struggles as much in the meeting as I do on my blog. After I was finished reading the room got deathly quiet. I wrote about prejudice and pain. It's easier for me to have strangers in far away cities peer into the dark and secret places of my soul. I like to believe that would make any rejection and judgment less painful. It doesn't!
Tonight during worship I looked around at everyone there. Everyone's eyes were closed in adoration of our Heavenly Father no one paid attention to my observation. I looked at one young lady totally immersed in worship; last year during worship every time her eyes closed her face would fill with tears. She was going through a painful separation from her husband. Her sadness filled my heart and I would go to comfort her, we became one in her sorrow, like Jesus I shared in her suffering.
Every face I looked upon a different memory came to me. We have seen each other through so much. The death of our fathers, loss of jobs, sickness, our pastors moving to Israel, delinquency and alcohol trying to rob us of our children. We are broken people bringing our fragmented hearts as a offering to our Heavenly Father, and each other. Our love is not perfect; it's sometimes zigzag and jaded.
As the meeting ended tonight the other black women read Psalms 19:12-14 and said we should all search our hearts that she believed there was prejudice among us and that she had discovered some in herself and she thinks that prejudice might be "THE GREAT TRANSGRESSION." The thought of that makes me so sad. I certainly don't want anything That sinister and insidious hiding inside of me or the people I love. I think God made color differences just to see how many of us would get beyond it, and see him in each other. He remembers our frames and knows we're but dust. There's no superior dust. These bodies are just a place he chose to put his spirit to mock his enemy. He put his spirit in dust and made us his children. We are the children of the MOST HIGH GOD. Each uniquely different and precious in his sight.
Fearless
Thursday, January 13, 2011
What iniquity part 2
Jeremiah 2:5 Thus saith the LORD, What iniquity have your fathers found in me, that they are gone far from me, and have walked after vanity, and are become vain?
I took a few days off from blogging, but I am back. Anyway the rest of the story:
RECAP: That Friday night I get thrown off the alter and probably for good reason. I was annoyed at the stinky breath pastor that was praying for me. I never spoke louder then a whisper but I did challenge her so called spiritual authority. I didn't like anyone twisting my words. She disliked my challenge. So off the alter I was thrown.
I left the church that night feeling vulnerable, hurt and embarrassed. I couldn't sleep that night. The Lord is talking, my spirit is troubled. the LORD tells me he caused the scene that left me shaking my head and troubled because I compromised. I told him that I didn't find it in the least bit humorous. He let me know it wasn't funny and he gave me that scripture (even though I didn't know until later that it was scripture) and told me to go back and ask them "what iniquity did they find in him that they would go far from him and walk after vanity and become vain. I wrestle with him all weekend. He would listen to my protest but not relent. I said I wasn't the right person to send I just got out of rehab, they wouldn't listen to me. I beg him to send some holy vessel that they would respect, they threw me off the alter, they would probably stone me like Stephen( I mention the stoning of Stephen every time he sends me on a mission; it's my hold card I try to play a mind game with GOD it's my way of saying if you love me you wouldn't send me to a hostile crowd..It never works! I was chosen. He has chosen the weak thing of the world.
Sunday morning comes. I wake-up shaking; my stomach is nervous but I'm determined to do as instructed. I'm on the way to the church. The closer I get the more the butterflies in my stomach dance. By the time I get to the door of the church I'm sure they're having a rough and tumble break-dance contest. I walk in to the church wondering if anyone remembers I was the horrible person thrown off the alter just a couple of nights ago. No one greets me. I'm a stranger, a lone soldier and once again I don't belong.
I sit and silently pray. I don't know when or how to say what I have to say. Do I say it during praise and worship? Do I stand to give a testimony and say it? Do I scream out like a crazy women like I did when they grabbed the injured guy? I don't have an instruction manual. I change my mind about saying it. LORD please don't be mad at me but I don't want to say anything bad to people.. Give me something good to say. He said "Everything I say is good." I tell him I don't know when to say it, so I ask him for a fleece like Gideon. If you really want me to say it then make a way for me to talk to the apostle. The congregation is singing a beautiful song. I can't remember the words verbatim. The song was of deep longing to see Jesus face to face one day. I started crying. The tears were running uncontrollably down my cheeks. I didn't want them to see Jesus with their hearts far from him. I have to say it!
After praise and worship and testimony it was time to give an offering. I walk up to the front of the church in a nice neat line that the ushers had formed. I'm in the midst of the crowd. The Apostle reaches out to me and grab my hand as I give my offering and ask me am I "OKAY." I tell him I am fine but I need to talk to him. He says "Okay after service we will talk."
I started going over in my mind how to say what I had to say to him. Do I say the words and walk away? should I write it on a piece of paper hand it to him and run? do I say thus saith the LORD like I imagine Elijah would do? If they try to stone me can I call down fire from heaven?
Service end and I go to the Apostle he beckons the pastor and his wife that's over the congregation and ask them to talk to me. I wasn't aware that he didn't pastor the church. I never saw these two before. I turn to go with the pastor and his wife and she dismisses me with a wave of her hand and say "I don't have time for this. she walks away. Her rejection didn't bother me much. I was too focused on my assignment.
The pastor takes me to this little room slightly off from the alter. There's three or four others people in the room. I asked if we could go somewhere private he says it was okay to talk where we were at. I first asked him was he at the church on Friday and he said no. I asked did he know about the guy that got thrown out he said he heard about it (he probably heard about me too). I asked why they threw him out of the church in such a cruel manner. He said the Lord lets him and the apostle no what spirits to put out of the church. So I asked him if the LORD made the difference in which demons to cast out and which persons to cast out? Was he beyond deliverance? I said he never did anything? Why would he get cast out of the church, what was his crime? He told me he wasn't there it wasn't him. I said but you told me that the LORD lets you know whose beyond deliverance or not. So, tell me does the LORD tell you whose to far gone? He started getting loud and aggravated I see spittle shoot out of his mouth and there is fire in his eyes. I was no longer afraid. I was surprised by the wisdom that comes out of my mouth and the calm of my demeanor. After a little more discourse (I don't remember the words) He yells, since you're so smart tell me what the Lord said. It strange how you can fear a situation until you confront it. I looked in his eyes with my hands on my hip, head rolling, colored girl don't play attitude voice and said. "HE said ask my people what iniquity they found in me!He never let me finish, he shouted "that's stupid there's no iniquity in GOD". The Lord told me to walk away. I walked away in a hurry. I said Lord he's not the one that I should have talked to.
As I was walking out the door who but the apostle is sitting where I could walk right by him. That was not to be. He stopped me and asked if I was satisfied now that I had talked to the pastor. I sit down beside him and asked him if the injured guy had previously come in a caused a problem? He said no, I asked what did GOD mean when he said ask if they found iniquity in him. He said God is holy there's no iniquity in him. He said I belong at that church and demons was trying to stop me from attending. I asked him if in the future he threw someone out can I go behind them to check on them. He got angry and said "NO, THAT'S MY SIN." The Lord told me to walk away and don't go back until they ask me back. Years and years later I still haven't gotten an invite. I never went back and somehow I don't think I was missed.
Fearless
I took a few days off from blogging, but I am back. Anyway the rest of the story:
RECAP: That Friday night I get thrown off the alter and probably for good reason. I was annoyed at the stinky breath pastor that was praying for me. I never spoke louder then a whisper but I did challenge her so called spiritual authority. I didn't like anyone twisting my words. She disliked my challenge. So off the alter I was thrown.
I left the church that night feeling vulnerable, hurt and embarrassed. I couldn't sleep that night. The Lord is talking, my spirit is troubled. the LORD tells me he caused the scene that left me shaking my head and troubled because I compromised. I told him that I didn't find it in the least bit humorous. He let me know it wasn't funny and he gave me that scripture (even though I didn't know until later that it was scripture) and told me to go back and ask them "what iniquity did they find in him that they would go far from him and walk after vanity and become vain. I wrestle with him all weekend. He would listen to my protest but not relent. I said I wasn't the right person to send I just got out of rehab, they wouldn't listen to me. I beg him to send some holy vessel that they would respect, they threw me off the alter, they would probably stone me like Stephen( I mention the stoning of Stephen every time he sends me on a mission; it's my hold card I try to play a mind game with GOD it's my way of saying if you love me you wouldn't send me to a hostile crowd..It never works! I was chosen. He has chosen the weak thing of the world.
Sunday morning comes. I wake-up shaking; my stomach is nervous but I'm determined to do as instructed. I'm on the way to the church. The closer I get the more the butterflies in my stomach dance. By the time I get to the door of the church I'm sure they're having a rough and tumble break-dance contest. I walk in to the church wondering if anyone remembers I was the horrible person thrown off the alter just a couple of nights ago. No one greets me. I'm a stranger, a lone soldier and once again I don't belong.
I sit and silently pray. I don't know when or how to say what I have to say. Do I say it during praise and worship? Do I stand to give a testimony and say it? Do I scream out like a crazy women like I did when they grabbed the injured guy? I don't have an instruction manual. I change my mind about saying it. LORD please don't be mad at me but I don't want to say anything bad to people.. Give me something good to say. He said "Everything I say is good." I tell him I don't know when to say it, so I ask him for a fleece like Gideon. If you really want me to say it then make a way for me to talk to the apostle. The congregation is singing a beautiful song. I can't remember the words verbatim. The song was of deep longing to see Jesus face to face one day. I started crying. The tears were running uncontrollably down my cheeks. I didn't want them to see Jesus with their hearts far from him. I have to say it!
After praise and worship and testimony it was time to give an offering. I walk up to the front of the church in a nice neat line that the ushers had formed. I'm in the midst of the crowd. The Apostle reaches out to me and grab my hand as I give my offering and ask me am I "OKAY." I tell him I am fine but I need to talk to him. He says "Okay after service we will talk."
I started going over in my mind how to say what I had to say to him. Do I say the words and walk away? should I write it on a piece of paper hand it to him and run? do I say thus saith the LORD like I imagine Elijah would do? If they try to stone me can I call down fire from heaven?
Service end and I go to the Apostle he beckons the pastor and his wife that's over the congregation and ask them to talk to me. I wasn't aware that he didn't pastor the church. I never saw these two before. I turn to go with the pastor and his wife and she dismisses me with a wave of her hand and say "I don't have time for this. she walks away. Her rejection didn't bother me much. I was too focused on my assignment.
The pastor takes me to this little room slightly off from the alter. There's three or four others people in the room. I asked if we could go somewhere private he says it was okay to talk where we were at. I first asked him was he at the church on Friday and he said no. I asked did he know about the guy that got thrown out he said he heard about it (he probably heard about me too). I asked why they threw him out of the church in such a cruel manner. He said the Lord lets him and the apostle no what spirits to put out of the church. So I asked him if the LORD made the difference in which demons to cast out and which persons to cast out? Was he beyond deliverance? I said he never did anything? Why would he get cast out of the church, what was his crime? He told me he wasn't there it wasn't him. I said but you told me that the LORD lets you know whose beyond deliverance or not. So, tell me does the LORD tell you whose to far gone? He started getting loud and aggravated I see spittle shoot out of his mouth and there is fire in his eyes. I was no longer afraid. I was surprised by the wisdom that comes out of my mouth and the calm of my demeanor. After a little more discourse (I don't remember the words) He yells, since you're so smart tell me what the Lord said. It strange how you can fear a situation until you confront it. I looked in his eyes with my hands on my hip, head rolling, colored girl don't play attitude voice and said. "HE said ask my people what iniquity they found in me!He never let me finish, he shouted "that's stupid there's no iniquity in GOD". The Lord told me to walk away. I walked away in a hurry. I said Lord he's not the one that I should have talked to.
As I was walking out the door who but the apostle is sitting where I could walk right by him. That was not to be. He stopped me and asked if I was satisfied now that I had talked to the pastor. I sit down beside him and asked him if the injured guy had previously come in a caused a problem? He said no, I asked what did GOD mean when he said ask if they found iniquity in him. He said God is holy there's no iniquity in him. He said I belong at that church and demons was trying to stop me from attending. I asked him if in the future he threw someone out can I go behind them to check on them. He got angry and said "NO, THAT'S MY SIN." The Lord told me to walk away and don't go back until they ask me back. Years and years later I still haven't gotten an invite. I never went back and somehow I don't think I was missed.
Fearless
Friday, January 7, 2011
What iniquity
Jeremiah 2:5 Thus saith the LORD, What iniquity have your fathers found in me, that they are gone far from me, and have walked after vanity, and are become vain?
Some scriptures I read speak to my heart and some remind me of times, places and people. Jeremiah 2:5 will always remind me of the first time the LORD told me to go tell, "His People," something. To say it wasn't easy is the understatement of the century. I was scared!
I was only a few months out of a Christian based drug rehabilitation center. I had been out about a month and decided AA and NA wasn't what I needed. I had finally decided to stop running from GOD. I had been running for several years I ran and he followed. He didn't seem to mind following me. He said if I make my bed in hell he'll be there. He was. Like my sister Claudia said, "I made many beds in hell, I was the chambermaid of hell".
There was this ministry that would come in twice a week to minister to us in the center. I fell in love with them mainly because it was started by people that were broken, wounded, ex-con, reformed drug addicts and alcoholics. They were far from the self-righteous group whose hypocrisy helped me in my decision to run from Jesus. I had found my place in the body of Christ or so I thought.
My first visit the Apostle and founder of the ministry took me aside and spoke to me like a tender and loving father. I couldn't wait to get back, that was on a Sunday. The following Friday I went back. They had a guess speaker a doctor, not only of Divinity but also a medical doctor. He was speaking about the heart, his terminology went straight over my head and I have extensive knowledge of medical terminology. I was confused as to what any of this had to do with Jesus. I had one of my conversation with Jesus in my head that I oft have. "What is he talking about?," I asked, Jesus said he didn't know, his people always complicate, he gave them the simplicity of the gospel. He said the cross is simple.
By then a full fledged deliverance service had begun. Several ministers were casting out this demon and that demon at the alter. One man had the demon of heart trouble cast out. He was told to run and he did. Then it happened!
This man walked in past these two big burly guys at the door. I watched as he walked in. He looked as if he may have had a problem with alcohol but he didn't look drunk. He was limping and he looked as if he had been recently beaten. He didn't say anything he just walked in the door and headed toward a seat. Before he could find an empty seat the two burly guys grabbed him one under each arm, he cried out in pain. Without thinking or intending to I cried out "Stop it, what are you doing?" All hundred or more set of eyes were on me and what was going on. I made a mental note to myself (self remember not to scream out in the middle of a church service).
The Apostle whom I thought the world of spoke up, "What's going on?" the whole church got quiet the focus was off of me. Surely he will put an end to this madness. The injured man was the first to say something, the two burly guys still had his arms but my outburst seemed to have confused them. They didn't appear to know what to do, continue with their assault or let him go. They looked to the Apostle for an answer. The injured guy asked if he could say something, his voice was soft and pleading. The Apostle said, "Throw him out!" I was more then just appalled. I was physically sick but I didn't want to make another scene. I fought back tears and this horrible disgusted feeling in my stomach. Know one else seemed to be bothered by it and service went on. More demons were being cast out.
The Apostle came to me and said I needed prayer and gently lead me to the prayer lined that had formed. I didn't want to make more trouble so I didn't mention what had happened or how I felt until I got in front of the woman Pastor of a sister church that beckoned me to her for prayer.
I went. She asked me what I wanted her to pray for. I asked her to pray that I wouldn't continue to dislike some church folks. I meant it..that was what I needed most at that moment. Her breath smelled really bad like bowel. It made me sick but I waited for the prayer. She got real aggressive and said I had a demon that hated God's people. I told her I didn't hate anyone. I hated how some behaved. She once again said I had a God people hating demon. I said if that's the case shouldn't you be casting it out? She called the two burly guys to throw me off the alter. She said to get me away from her I was full of uncontrollable demons, she was loud and rude. They came to escort me off the alter. I had become like the injured man not worthy of prayer or deliverance.
I went home hurt and embarrassed and trying to figure out how I could have avoided that ugly scene. I was the official trouble-maker by mistake. I couldn't sleep that night. The LORD dealt with me. He told me he had me scream out but I didn't follow the spirit lead. I was concerned about what others thought of me. So he let what I feared happen to me. I told him that's wasn't funny! I didn't throw the guy out..THEY did!
He told me to go back and gave me that scripture in Jeremiah. I'll tell how that scene went tomorrow.
Some scriptures I read speak to my heart and some remind me of times, places and people. Jeremiah 2:5 will always remind me of the first time the LORD told me to go tell, "His People," something. To say it wasn't easy is the understatement of the century. I was scared!
I was only a few months out of a Christian based drug rehabilitation center. I had been out about a month and decided AA and NA wasn't what I needed. I had finally decided to stop running from GOD. I had been running for several years I ran and he followed. He didn't seem to mind following me. He said if I make my bed in hell he'll be there. He was. Like my sister Claudia said, "I made many beds in hell, I was the chambermaid of hell".
There was this ministry that would come in twice a week to minister to us in the center. I fell in love with them mainly because it was started by people that were broken, wounded, ex-con, reformed drug addicts and alcoholics. They were far from the self-righteous group whose hypocrisy helped me in my decision to run from Jesus. I had found my place in the body of Christ or so I thought.
My first visit the Apostle and founder of the ministry took me aside and spoke to me like a tender and loving father. I couldn't wait to get back, that was on a Sunday. The following Friday I went back. They had a guess speaker a doctor, not only of Divinity but also a medical doctor. He was speaking about the heart, his terminology went straight over my head and I have extensive knowledge of medical terminology. I was confused as to what any of this had to do with Jesus. I had one of my conversation with Jesus in my head that I oft have. "What is he talking about?," I asked, Jesus said he didn't know, his people always complicate, he gave them the simplicity of the gospel. He said the cross is simple.
By then a full fledged deliverance service had begun. Several ministers were casting out this demon and that demon at the alter. One man had the demon of heart trouble cast out. He was told to run and he did. Then it happened!
This man walked in past these two big burly guys at the door. I watched as he walked in. He looked as if he may have had a problem with alcohol but he didn't look drunk. He was limping and he looked as if he had been recently beaten. He didn't say anything he just walked in the door and headed toward a seat. Before he could find an empty seat the two burly guys grabbed him one under each arm, he cried out in pain. Without thinking or intending to I cried out "Stop it, what are you doing?" All hundred or more set of eyes were on me and what was going on. I made a mental note to myself (self remember not to scream out in the middle of a church service).
The Apostle whom I thought the world of spoke up, "What's going on?" the whole church got quiet the focus was off of me. Surely he will put an end to this madness. The injured man was the first to say something, the two burly guys still had his arms but my outburst seemed to have confused them. They didn't appear to know what to do, continue with their assault or let him go. They looked to the Apostle for an answer. The injured guy asked if he could say something, his voice was soft and pleading. The Apostle said, "Throw him out!" I was more then just appalled. I was physically sick but I didn't want to make another scene. I fought back tears and this horrible disgusted feeling in my stomach. Know one else seemed to be bothered by it and service went on. More demons were being cast out.
The Apostle came to me and said I needed prayer and gently lead me to the prayer lined that had formed. I didn't want to make more trouble so I didn't mention what had happened or how I felt until I got in front of the woman Pastor of a sister church that beckoned me to her for prayer.
I went. She asked me what I wanted her to pray for. I asked her to pray that I wouldn't continue to dislike some church folks. I meant it..that was what I needed most at that moment. Her breath smelled really bad like bowel. It made me sick but I waited for the prayer. She got real aggressive and said I had a demon that hated God's people. I told her I didn't hate anyone. I hated how some behaved. She once again said I had a God people hating demon. I said if that's the case shouldn't you be casting it out? She called the two burly guys to throw me off the alter. She said to get me away from her I was full of uncontrollable demons, she was loud and rude. They came to escort me off the alter. I had become like the injured man not worthy of prayer or deliverance.
I went home hurt and embarrassed and trying to figure out how I could have avoided that ugly scene. I was the official trouble-maker by mistake. I couldn't sleep that night. The LORD dealt with me. He told me he had me scream out but I didn't follow the spirit lead. I was concerned about what others thought of me. So he let what I feared happen to me. I told him that's wasn't funny! I didn't throw the guy out..THEY did!
He told me to go back and gave me that scripture in Jeremiah. I'll tell how that scene went tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Why I blog
I was blog surfing today. I read many Christian blogs. Most were teaching their understanding of the scriptures, others blog about their family and how the word of God works for them personally. Reading their blogs(I read many) made me question why I blog. I certainly don't try to teach, most of my immediate family live a thousand miles away from me, I spend 80% to 90% of my time alone. Why do I blog? I don't have followers. I wasn't even sure if anyone read any of it until recently. So really why do I blog?
I blog to laugh and cry, to liberate my soul and understand life, to see Jesus as he is. Not in theology but in the reality of my existence. To make him real to others not just a far off God of the scriptures, but as a friend to the friendless a Father to the Fatherless. To see him in all the circumstance of my life. To know his love that knows no bounds and really is endless. Everything I write is the truth. I have come to realize that the truth is not boring it's quite the contrary. It's wild and daring a hero with reckless abandon. The truth rescued me from the dope house and stopped me from self-destructing. He loved that teenage girl that was raped and beaten and left like trash. He refused to let me perish, he loves me. He cleaned the filth of my sins, he removed the pain of the sins that were committed against me. He called me beautiful. He set me free! Thats's why I blog.
Fearless
I blog to laugh and cry, to liberate my soul and understand life, to see Jesus as he is. Not in theology but in the reality of my existence. To make him real to others not just a far off God of the scriptures, but as a friend to the friendless a Father to the Fatherless. To see him in all the circumstance of my life. To know his love that knows no bounds and really is endless. Everything I write is the truth. I have come to realize that the truth is not boring it's quite the contrary. It's wild and daring a hero with reckless abandon. The truth rescued me from the dope house and stopped me from self-destructing. He loved that teenage girl that was raped and beaten and left like trash. He refused to let me perish, he loves me. He cleaned the filth of my sins, he removed the pain of the sins that were committed against me. He called me beautiful. He set me free! Thats's why I blog.
Fearless
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Rain
James 5:7 Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain.
It's raining today in Daytona Beach. The sun is hiding behind thick dark gray clouds. It's quiet, the whistle of the birds have ceased. The trees sway, the plants bend but don't break. I stare silently out the window watching each drop as it hit the window; some stick to the screen in massive bulk while others explode into minuscule particles, some strike and roll silently down leaving a trail of rainwater tears.
I love the rain, the sound of it on the roof or beating against the windows; the calm, peace and stillness it brings, but mostly I love the memories it brings to mind. Today the rain handed me a most precious memory. I was about five or six years old.
I come from a family that had an usual fear of thunder storms, all lights and other electrical appliance had to be unplugged or turned off, windows had to be closed and the curtains drawn and we would have to sit crossed legged in the hallway and not speak, as if we were in some kind of bombing raid or natural catastrophe. As always on this particular rainy day I was the last one in the house, mainly because I like the way the rain felt on my skin so I lingered outside until it started. When I finally reached the inside my grandmother sternly reminded me that "Dogs have sense enough to get out of the rain," she advised me to take off my wet cloths before I caught my death. I used to imagine that death was like a big red ball, large bright and easily caught. I remember the warmth of the towel as she dried my hair, the statically clinging of the fresh clothes. I remember sitting it that hallway, warm, dry, safe and protected, surround by a family that loved me. I think rain always bring me that feeling of security. It keeps the bad things out and closes you up in that blessed calm, it stills you to blossom you.
I loved that Jesus waits for the fruit of the earth. His multicolored beautiful blooms, the early and latter rain.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
One of my friends on facebook made a suggestion for the New year. She said this year we should own our crazy. I said to myself "What a great idea. I suffer from a mild case of OCD. I say mild because that's as much as I want to own. I came up in the church's word of faith era. We speak what we want and ignore the things we have and surely no one would ever own crazy, but here I am looking crazy in her wicked twisted face and saying "I owe you, you're mine."
Owning crazy is extremely liberating. Now when I leave the house and stand outside my door wondering if I left the stove on (even though I haven't cooked in a month) I know it's only my OCD wanting attention.I did lock the doors and the pilot light need not be checked. Or when I go into a shoe store I don't have to have every shoe on sale in my size(the eighty pair I have is enough). OCD you don't need a new pair of shoes, you will not end up barefooted, stop fussing you don't owe me I owe you! And no more scrubbing my toilet three times a day until the bleach burns my eyes. Once will do. My apartment doesn't smell bad so I don't have to buy scented candle, air fresher, febreze, carpet fresh, and plug-ins one or two will do. It's an apartment it's suppose to smell like onions, garlic and greasy food. This year I will owe OCD; it will not owe me.
Owning crazy is extremely liberating. Now when I leave the house and stand outside my door wondering if I left the stove on (even though I haven't cooked in a month) I know it's only my OCD wanting attention.I did lock the doors and the pilot light need not be checked. Or when I go into a shoe store I don't have to have every shoe on sale in my size(the eighty pair I have is enough). OCD you don't need a new pair of shoes, you will not end up barefooted, stop fussing you don't owe me I owe you! And no more scrubbing my toilet three times a day until the bleach burns my eyes. Once will do. My apartment doesn't smell bad so I don't have to buy scented candle, air fresher, febreze, carpet fresh, and plug-ins one or two will do. It's an apartment it's suppose to smell like onions, garlic and greasy food. This year I will owe OCD; it will not owe me.
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