Dead Monkey Babies

¹⁴ For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. ¹⁵ But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. 

Matthew 6:14-15

New International Version (NIV)

What does dead monkey babies have to do with forgiveness? Well, it's a story my sister Claudia once told me. She went to a conference where a priest was preaching on forgiveness. He told the story of of a monkey whose baby had died. The monkey refused to be comforted, or to let go of the dead baby. She fought the other monkeys that tried to get the dead monkey baby out of her arms. The stench got really bad, but the monkey still wouldn't let the dead monkey baby go. Flies began to gather around the monkey with the dead monkey baby. Yet she diligently held on to the dead monkey baby, cleaning maggots off of it, and trying to feed it.

Before long the rest of the monkey didn't want her to come near them because of the grossness of the decomposition of the dead monkey baby. Even though she was hurt and lonely she held on to the dead monkey baby. The priest went on to say that's what unforgiveness is like; holding on to a dead monkey baby.

The day after the door incident, I was more than a little angry at the woman who accuse me of not honoring Jesus in this season. I was also angry at  Ms. Nosy, mainly because she desires my friendship, but more then that she desires to control me. I see the way she controls a couple of other women on the council. She also ostracize another member of the council that she can't control. She tried to create a situation that would show me that she could do the same thing to me(oust me from a candle lighting ceremony that the council members were suppose perform). I got called to do it anyway by the building manager. She wants me to conform to her opinions and ways. It backfired in her face before I know what she was up to. She reminds me of a schoolyard bully, when what she attempted to cause me hurt backfired, she came up to me and gave me a hug after the program and whispered, "Thanks for being my friend," she might as well said, thanks for nothing! We both know I have no desire to be her friend.

The day after the Christmas party the members of the council met to pass out fruit baskets to the residence in the building. I could almost feel the chill coming from her. In my pockets were these two stuffed monkeys. I know I had two dead monkey babies that I was carrying. My friend Susan was also carrying her own unforgiveness. I told her the story of the dead monkey baby. She refused to carry the stuff monkey. My sister and I have used stuffed monkeys as a teaching tool in bible study for years. If someone says something that's bitter, angry or full of hate; we hand them a stuffed monkey and tell the story of the dead monkey baby. It may seem childish but it helps when you are conscious of the fact that you're holding on to a debt that a person can't pay back. Forgiveness is a requirement and not a choice. I carried my monkeys around, not to hold on to them, but as a prayer for grace to let them go. 

By the time we finished passing out the fruit baskets I knew it was time to let my monkey babies go. It was easy for the girl who accused me of not thinking about Jesus. She don't know me, and she's just forming an opinion without facts to back it up. I didn't expect people to understand my reasoning behind my decor. Susan called me to her apartment and let me know that my carrying the monkey babies helped her to forgive the one that hurt her. Abba can use anything as long as you do it with a sincere heart. To be honest I still harbored resentment toward Ms. Nosy mostly because she kept up her childish behavior. The next day after the program in typical Ms. Nosy style she knocked on my door, this time she had a beautifully wrapped Christmas gift. She asked me to open it because it was perishable. I opened it and it was a box of sausage, ham, and cheese from Swiss Colony. Attached to the box was a card once again thanking me for being her friend(or for nothing). I appreciated it, but I have come to realize that everything she does is calculated, and cunning. I wondered what her gift would cost me. I thanked her and told her I would would get back to her before Christmas.

I didn't have much money and hadn't thought to get her a gift. Susan gave me her whole collection of jewelry making supplies since she can no longer make jewelry with her eyes sight fading and arthritis in her finger. I have made beautiful jewelry for my family here and a few friends. I sat down to create something lovely for Ms. Nosy and couldn't do it. Every bead seemed too flawlessly  beautiful to give to her. I grab one of the stuffed monkey babies, and prayed, "Lord please help me forgive her, and love her. I need your help on this one."

The Lord knows how to show up in the most unlikely of time and circumstances. I had promised Susan and her sister that I would go to a craft making program they were hosting at their Church. I didn't want to feel obligated to buying Ms. Nosy a gift, but I knew that it I needed to get her something. I wanted to combat whatever her next move may be. I knew it wasn't from the goodness of her heart that I got the gift. When we got to the church there was one woman there that was setting up the food and door prizes. Susan walked up to a beautiful blue and gold gift basket. It had expensive chocolates, cookies, gourmet caramel corn(my favorite treat), coffee and other gift items. There were six or seven door drawing prizes with a thirty or forty people expected to turn out, the basket was the most desired. Several of the women present including Susan expressed desire for it. I thought it would make a nice gift for Ms. Nosy. Just as nice as the one she gave me. I said a silent prayer, "Lord if you want me to give her that basket then make sure I get it.

I got the basket.

Okay, there sometimes a fine line between doing the right thing and wanting to do it. I wanted to keep the basket. It was gorgeous and filled with mouth watering delights. I didn't want to give her beads and I was given plenty. That's the problem with dead monkey babies, after awhile the smell sticks to you. It was something really ugly festering in my heart. At first I tried to find a loophole. I prayed the prayer in my head, maybe it didn't count(I pray in my head regularly). Or maybe I can take a few of the goodies.  It just got worse and worse. It's times like these that I have to fight my flesh to wrestle away from it's ugly grip. I had to let go of the dead monkey baby and give her the gift.

I gave her the gift the next morning. She was reluctant to take it, at first. She asked if it set me back. I told her, "No it didn't set me back at all, but if she didn't take it, it would set me back." That was the truth, not financially but spiritually. I sit with her and talked for awhile. I told her I was starting a bible study in the building in the first of the year, and I wanted her permission as the president of the resident council. I had already asked the pastor of the church next door that run the building. I don't know why Abba wanted her to have the basket. I do know he used it to break through the rough places of my heart. I actually enjoyed sitting and talking with her. I realized that when you go beyond someone fault you start seeing their needs. She's just lonely, and being president makes her feel worthy and accepted. She need to feel needed. Her children doesn't visit often and she feels abandoned. I hope she joins the bible study. She did seem genuinely excited about it.

I'm glad Abba gave me the grace to forgive. What better way to let go of past hurts then to give something beautiful and mean it from your heart. Isn't that was Abba did when he sent Jesus to die in our place? He forgave us and gave us gifts.

Fearless

Sore Loser

Okay, I'm a sore loser. I lost the door contest. However I'm not a sore loser because I thought my door design the best, although it suits my personality. I'm a sore loser because of the way I was treated the night of the Christmas party. Tuesday night was the night of the annual Christmas party for our building, given by the church next door. They come in periodically to let us know what great Christians they are by doing something mundane for us less fortunate. Don't get me wrong I have nothing against missionary work, and I do appreciate their effort, it's just that their effort are to me a- little condescending. They make statements that says it's us, and then there's you people. I don't think they're aware of what they say. We're their mission field; the heathen, unsaved and society's undesirables. Some have even come to me and asked me if I "Live here?" One woman told me I don't look disabled, of which I replied, "Thank you." I had no other reply. I'm not sure what disable is suppose to look like. I'm not disabled. I refuse to accepted a label my Abba didn't give me. Which brings me back to the night of the Christmas party.

In the last week Abba has given me a great friend in the building. I knew when I met her she loved Abba and her light is bright. I met her on the day the OBC put on an arts and craft workshop. Her and her sister taught the workshop. I sat next to her and we joked and laughed together. I found out that day that she lived on my floor. I didn't see her again until the day of the Christmas tree incident. She's the one that called me a perfectionist. Then the day of the OBC meeting I saw her walking down the hall and invited her to sit in on the meeting. We have been inseparable since. She's very crafty and she taught me how to make jewelry. I loved every minute of it! She's helped me decorate my door. We made the chain in the center of my door decor with the things she had in her possession. She loved my loud pink crazy designed. She knows I'm an original one of a kind miracle of God. My door reflects my love for Jesus. I did my theme of frankincense I wanted it to have that royal mid-eastern look. I have not celebrated Christmas in many years. For one, it's my opinion that it's not Jesus birthday(in the sense that he was born that day), but despite all I have learned about the holiday or any religious belief, I decided I celebrate Jesus everyday. What better way to celebrate Jesus then to be who he created me to be, fearfully and wonderfully made. Even though my door was so beyond traditional Christmas (I didn't want the Nativity scene, Santa or reindeer). I didn't celebrate the baby Jesus. I celebrated the King Jesus. He's my King. I threw in) the bright reef to remember to replace his crown of thorns. I knew that only Jesus understood my reasoning, I knew I would probably not win.

I helped decorate several other doors with the infamous Nosy Lady(President of the OBC) that first knocked on my door. She's healing from her broken hip and not using her walker. I enjoyed meeting my neighbors and helping them out. As I went to each apartment that we helped out, I noticed that she would call them "One of the good ones." Since becoming the secretary of the building council it has become apparent that some in the building are considered acceptable(mostly veterans or people considered intelligent) by her, and some are ostracized (mentally challenged) and the rest ignored completely(physically challenged). The more she talked the more my spirit grieved. So I started suggesting we decorate the doors of the unacceptable in the building. For some reason she desires my attention and time, so against her silent protest we decorated their doors.

The day of the Christmas party it didn't matter to me who won the door decoration prize. However when the time came for the prize, a woman from the church who happened to confuse my action with one of the guys in a wheelchair for my husband. The guy in the wheelchair has from the moment I met him by the mailbox, felt as if he's in the way. He's sad and lonely and for reasons that are obvious to me feels less than everyone else. I simply made his plate and found him a place at one of the tables. She went on to call him my old man. Finally I told her that he's just a resident and neighbor, and my husband is dead. She seemed offended. Little did I know, she's the top judge for the door contest. Boy, did she ever get back at me for correcting her. For the Christmas party we had a live band, catered meal and, a present exchange.

The time for the door decoration prize came at the very end. The woman whose error I corrected got up and asked everyone whose door number is called to step up to the Christmas tree. My door number was called. There were four of us called to the front, Ms Nosy, the other two were women who are faithfully attending the church next door. One women decoration had a K.U. theme. Most people here in Lexington are K.U. fans. One woman's door was strangely nondescript  with Santa Claus, snowmen and anything she could find to put to the door, however she has a plaque that's beside her door with John 3:16 on it. It's been on her door since I lived here and not apart of her Christmas decoration. Nosy Lady did have a beautiful door, I helped her decorate. Her door had red sparkly paper, trimmed in gold. She put a card on her door, mostly because it was gold that said, Glory to God. The lady went on to say, that it was a difficult decision that the judges had to make. I suddenly felt as if I was on some reality series wondering if I made the cut to continue on the series.

I didn't...

Not only did I not make it, she wanted to give me the reason why I didn't make it. With her good Christian condescending facial expression, she looked me right in my face and said, "Your door decoration didn't win because, "you didn't put a scripture on your door. You didn't remember what the season was about. This is a Christian building, it has a scripture on the outside of the building, it's ran by a Christian organization, and it's all about Jesus." I was singled out as lacking a Christian perspective. Santa Claus, K.U, and Nosy Lady's red and gold just showed more love for Jesus. I was the filthy heathen in her eyes. Our good Christian Christmas party had a secular band, booty shaking dancing by the the younger crowd, and apparently me. Somehow only I was the problem. I needed to acknowledge Jesus in his season. I gracefully listened as she continued her assault against me, I realized it was no longer about my door, but my lack of love for Jesus. I walked away from her assessment feeling as if someone had dumped trash at my door. I'm glad I know Jesus, if I didn't I certainly wouldn't want to know the Jesus that she represented. Sometime we can preach another Jesus by or actions. No matter how we see this season the people that profess to be Christian, must show love at all time other than that we're just lying to ourselves, and we don't know Jesus at all.

Nosy Lady won, because she had scripture on her door. She's a good Christian.

Somehow in her assessment of me, I not only lost the door contest, I lost my love for Jesus.
That's what makes me such a sore loser.

She took all that I have....

Fearless

Love your neighbor

²⁹ “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. ³⁰ Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.³¹ The second is this:Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.”

Mark 12:29-31

New International Version (NIV)

I Still find myself avoiding people most of the time. Alone is easy for me. I can always immerse myself in something that doesn't require company; Reading, games, internet surfing. My mind is filled with people, places and things that are unreachable to me. I ignore those who may actually desire my time and attention. I'm mostly a prisoner of my self-centered nature. I didn't mean to get like that. Like a lot of people I know the information age has grabbed me in a choke hold and refuse to let me go. Friends on Facebook, Twitter, tumblr, and whatever new social network comes out is easier to maintain. I can write the words love and hugs in the comment section, it's easier that way. Don't get me wrong I have met many really nice people this way, but Abba wants us to love and hug the people close to us. He puts us in places or around people to be salt and light to them. We can't ignore those closest to us. I have been guilty of this very thing too many times to count.

Since moving into this building almost three months ago, I have mostly ignored my neighbors. When I do happen to run across a few of them, I speak and talk to them gracefully. I have helped with groceries, wheelchairs and doors. For the most part we are strangers forced together by circumstance. We can each shut our door and live separated by thin walls. There are a few that refused to let me shut them out. I thought them intrusive, and pushy, but I have come to appreciate them. The week I moved in a woman knocked on my door, and matter-of-factually stated that she heard, "You don't have furniture." I was a little taken off guard, mainly because I have lived in my own little bubble for so long. The last few places I've lived were not neighbor friendly places. We spoke and might have even formed an opinion of each other, but no bond. There was no borrowing sugar, or baking cakes welcoming new-comers to the neighborhood. We were one notch above random strangers passing without barely a glanced. Somehow I got used to that. We were the working class.

This building is different, very few of us still work. We are society's cast-off; the elderly, disabled, and handicap. Some have lost limbs, some have legs that were never able to carry them, some worked on jobs that were so physically stressful, they walk with crooked and bent backs, some are accident victims who never quite recovered, veterans that just saw too much and never forgot the pain, and like me some have been struck down non-expectantly by illness that left their heart weak and fragile. While others have gotten older, and living in this building makes them feel independent, and less lonely for the children that they spent their lives loving; whom now have lives apart from them. We're all sizes, colors and nationalities. The one thing we have in common is are need to be loved and accepted.

Before I lived out my first week in this building the woman that first knocked at my door invited me to our building committee meeting. All the women on the committee that attended that meeting were all older,  and either grumpy, or bitter and gossipy. Oh, did I mention bossy? I was the new kid on the block. I was on display and all eyes were on me. Before long they took me under their wings, because in their words I was "someone's child." I lost my mother, grandmother and adult status. You want to know how bossy old ladies make you feel- like a child. The one thing in my favor is the fact that I passed inspection. Of course I was asked a multitude of questions,(Are my parents alive? Where did I grow up? What kind of upbringing did I have? I guess my answers were satisfactory, because they not only approved of me, but asked me what responsibilities I preferred in the committee, secretary or treasurer. I chose to be secretary in a weak and timid voice, mostly out of fear, and my excessive desire for approval.

The truth is: I had planned on making one meeting, and dodging the committee members for the rest of my life if had to. I had learned to dodge the first woman in my first two weeks as a resident. It was easy she uses a walker for assistant. I would sometimes run or duck back into my apartment when I saw her coming. I tipped toed around my apartment if she knocked. I ignored her as if she were the Jehovah Witness at my door selling Watchtowers.

Since becoming the secretary of the "Old Biddies Committee" or OBC as I call them when out of ear shot or when I'm complaining to my sister. I have had to take on an active role in our little community. Since most in the the building are older or have debilitating illness, I appear to be one of the younger healthier ones. I recently did the majority of the decoration on two of the three Christmas trees. That's the thing about the OBC, they will not let you "NOT" be apart of things, unless they don't like you. What I didn't realize at first is that even the OBC is a blessing from Abba. He has been telling me that relationships are important and he wants me to develop relationships. For the last couple of weeks I decided to do as much as I can for my neighbors; little random acts of kindness.

At first it was rather difficult to sit and listen to some of them. I could feel the bitterness and resentment coming from them. Their mouths were like poison to me. They spoke of family members that had stolen from them or hurt them. They spoke against other residents. I tried my best not to interrupt them, and ask them to forgive. There is a time to keep silent, and a time to speak. I didn't think it was the time to speak yet. Listening is sometimes a problem for me, like most know-it-all's(nice term for dumb-ass). I'm learning that true wisdom listens more then she speaks. Not only am I listening to the people, I'm listening for instructions from Abba. I smile and listen and defended the other residents in the way I have learned to defuse gossip over the years. Love is kind. Instead of preaching to them I mop and clean for them that are not physically able to do it for themselves. I listen and love.

In the building every year at Christmas time we have a door decorating contest. Although it's been many years since I celebrated Christmas; this year I have thrown myself into decorating. It was the day after Abba told me that relationships are important that I decorated the Christmas trees in the building. It's also the day I learned something else about myself. I'm a neat-freak and still a perfectionist. I got together with five of the other women in the building to decorate the trees. One women spoke of her sister being a perfectionist and how much she hated it.  She went on to call me a perfectionist. I explained that I am NOT a perfectionist, I just have a type "A" personality. She refused to do anything without my permission. Neither would any of the other women, except one.  Almost every time the only one that helped did anything, I would either undo it or sweetly tell her it was wrong. She was annoyed with me and the others seemed too nervous of making a mistake to participate. So they unraveled lights or put the hooks on the ornaments. As annoyed as I was with the only one that would help; I realized that all of them must have been annoyed with me. It was that awkward moment when I realized that I'm annoying.

When the one woman that actually helped with the hanging of the ornaments asked me why I keep replacing colors and re-positioning tinsel, I replied, "Because I'm annoying." The next tree I refused to allow myself to be so annoying. Unlike the first (blue and silver) I just went with a multi-colored, anything goes tree. I didn't care if it was three reds in a roll or two many green in one area (okay, I didn't care as much). After that everyone pitched in the ornament hanging. It truly turned into laughter, merriment and relationship building. The women told me that in previous years it took them several days(five or six) to decorate for all the trees. We did it in a few hours.

Since that day many of the residents have asked me to help with their door decorating. Even though I'm annoying and meticulous, and the really bossy one, I'm still accepted. Isn't that what love does. It let you be you, and it realizes that we are all different and we all have something unique to bring to each other. Isn't that a part of loving our neighbor? Isn't loving each others a  proof of loving our God?

Fearless

Counseling God

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! “Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?”

– Romans 11:33-34 (NIV)

I was reading the book of Romans last night. I read from 8th chapter til the 11th chapter. I love the book of Romans. I used to believe that the early church was somehow more spiritual than myself. They did seem to knew the power of God. I thought they may have even feared Him more than we do. I'm not so sure anymore. If they were so much wiser than us, why did Paul have to teach the things he taught. 

Last night I got to the 11th chapter and the 33rd and 34th verse, and I could imagine Paul with his eyes closed in awesome wonder at the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God. Reading Paul's wonder put me in that same awesome wonder. How unsearchable his judgments, and his path beyond searching out. Paul asked the Roman congregation two rhetorical questions. "Who has know the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?

I have tried on a number of occasions to be His counselor. That didn't work out very well! Never! You would think I would have enough sense not to try to counsel God. I didn't. I got told off every time. For those that may not be aware of it(wise people who don't offer him counsel) Jesus has no problem putting you in your place. You usually find out you have some gross, ugly, sin behind your counsel. Case in point:

The Holy Spirit really is a counselor. A few years back I had backslid in the worse way possible-all the way. I was lonely for Jesus, but unable to get back to him. All hell broke out in my life. I cried out with a sincere heart to be restored. I was, but I was still concerned about my ability to walk away from Jesus. So I prayed for him to fix the broken parts of me that would cause me to walk away from such a loving, and good God. I didn't know how broken I really was. It took years for him to heal me. I'm sure there still much more work to do. Our counsel session usually started with some deep hidden pain. Those were some really rough session that left me crying for days, and sometimes weeks. Opening those old wounds hurt as much coming out as they did going in, accept this time I didn't try to numb them or hide them in my fragile heart(He wouldn't let me).

Back than the Holy Spirit used to say to me, I need you to give me this or that, usually some painful experience I didn't want to relive. The Holy Spirit is a relentless counselor. He gets what he wants. I used to beg Him not to make me relive experiences, I'd ask for a week to think about it. Tell him to cut me some slack, I'm not ready. I was a horribly non-compliant patient, the kind that I would clench my teeth at so I wouldn't appear as impatient as I truly was. I would finally give in. I would write about it or tell Him, and let the waterfalls begin. Like I said those days were rough on me. I would go to work with watery, red eyes and walk around like a zombie. One day after a particularly painful counsel session, I decided to offer my own counsel. I told Jesus that his way of counsel wasn't so hot, cause it hurt too much. He should try a better approach. I told him that "when other people hurt you, it can stay with you for years laying dormant. I think free will is the real problem. Other people sins against you will eat at you like cancer." He simply told me, "The only thing eating at you like cancer is your unforgiving."

Boy, did that scare the hell out of me(literally). When he said that to me, I was ready for a session, but this time I wanted the grace to forgive ALL who every hurt or sinned against me. I wanted that cancer out of me. Years later I finally realized that God never once asked me for my counsel. I'm starting to believe he doesn't need my counsel.

Let me reiterate,  every time I decided to counsel God, I learned something horrible about me. I would not advise it, but if your brave enough to try. Be warned...

Fearless

The Lie

I didn't start out that particular morning to create racial tension in my community. It wasn't premeditated. I would have never thought that by early afternoon, I would be the poster child for racial discord. I was.

 It was the mid seventies, I was a freshman in high school. And like most freshman's I was walking on foreign ground and grappling to fit in. I was a teenager, yet still a very much a child. I had reached the rebellious stage of life. I didn't want to be a treated as a child, but I was to immature to be treated otherwise. There was also a fence that separated the races in our neighborhood. It was a fence of racial divide. I don't know when it came to be. I do know children on either side were allowed to cross the fence. By the time we got to Jr and Sr high we were in the same school, but the years of the fence made us alien to each other. Like random strangers in a crowded park. You can look on the outside, but never know each other on the inside. All we saw were each others differences.

The day of the lie started out like any other day. I woke up, had breakfast groomed myself, and was off to school before it was light outside. I went to my first four classes of the day, did my work. Nothing was amiss that day at all. By lunchtime my friend Cassandra and I decided not to have lunch in the cafeteria at school. We left the school ground. Because Cassandra and I were silly, childish, and very competitive, we started tussling. We were only playing, but we were both determined to get the upper-hand. Looking back on it I realize that we were very immature for our fourteen years. Somehow in the scuffle my blouse was torn, and I got a scratch on my face. To make matters worse we were both late for our next class. I know this is no accuse for what I did next, but it is the truth. My uncle Bill a strict disciplinarian, and the only black member of the school board, is the person called when we get in trouble in school. Even the teachers would call me Bill Morris's niece and tell on me if I did anything out of line. I would spend the weekend cleaning his walls and baseboards, and listening to his slow, wordy lectures on being a productive member of society. I used to prefer a spanking from my parents than a day with uncle Bill and the walls.

So, we came up with a quick lie for our tardiness, my ripped blouse, and scratched face. We decided to tell my older sister and brother. That way when or if I got in trouble they would be a witness that I did nothing wrong. I was a victim of circumstance, and not the disobedient kid I really was. I had an earlier lunch than my brother and sister, so by the time I got back, they were in the cafeteria having lunch. I proceeded to tell them how these two big white hippie looking boys beat Cassandra and I. We had crossed the fence, and our parents worse fear had happened. We were beat, and if that wasn't bad enough, for drama affect, (and unrehearsed), I added "and they called me the "N" word." I looked over at Cassandra and she nodded her head in agreement. That's the thing about lies, they grow and produce more lies. You have no control over them once they're out your mouth. Boy, did this one grow beyond my wildest imagination.

My sister and brother took the news a little harder than I thought they would. I figured they would reprimand me for leaving the school ground, tell me it's all my fault for being disobedient and let it go. It didn't play out the way I thought it would. I just wanted an accuse, I got far more. My siblings were furious, so much so that they told not only their friends, but the school principle. Before the day was out, I had told that same lie to several different people. Mostly by nodding my head yes or no at the proper time. I pretended to be to distressed to speak, but actually I didn't want to keep lying, so I let my sister talk. I listened as she inadvertently spread a lie.

The next thing I know the lie had become a dark hole of racial tension in our quiet neighborhood. Strangers(black and white) would walk up to me and quietly ask me how I was doing. I wanted to tell the truth, but the lie had spread to wild, had gone to far. Before long that fence of fear, and hatred reached a fever pitch. The older kids in our high school, the ones that wore big Afros, with the Afro- picks, African freedom flags, and free Angela Davis tee shirts were ready to fight. My grandmother picked us up from school armed with a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson. I became a prisoner of my lie. I imprisoned our neighborhoods. There were community meetings, on keeping the children safe. The lie brought forth the hate and fear that was hidden in that fence.

Cassandra's family were one of the few black families that lived on the other side of the fence. She didn't have to witness the community meeting, the anger and fear that I witnessed. When we were alone we did discuss the lie, in a hushed whisper. We didn't understand what was in the fence. We didn't mean to unleash that beast. We never expected the anger, hate, and threats of retaliation. We had no way of understanding what that fence actually represented. She was afraid for the neighbors she loved. I was afraid for both sides of the fence. I cried myself to sleep, and prayed that no one would get hurt. Yet, we didn't retract our lie, out of fear of getting beaten worse than my torn blouse, and our tardiness would have warranted. I couldn't eat or sleep, my own conscious hurt me worse than my parents spankings, or uncle Bill lectures ever could.

Our neighborhood made national news. We became the neighborhood with the racial tension, and looming violence. The day the newsman came to visit our side of the fence, I didn't want to speak to them. They set up cameras in the park across the street from our home. My oldest sister and the neighborhood radicals called me out the house. I told my grandmother I didn't feel well. I asked her to let them know. She refused to do that. I cried. I remember her looking at me really funny. She told me I had to go out, that it was my story. I remember my legs feeling wobbly, and weak as I made my way across the street with tears streaming down my face. By the time I got to the park, some of the bigger kids were talking to the newsman. They were the most out spoken. I stood between the captain of our high school, football and basketball teams. They were the popular kids, they had the voice. I just stood there, full of guilt, shame and relief that I didn't have to tell the whole nation, the lie. I never had to speak to the newsman that day.

Yes, I was the quiet, lying child with the tear stained face on the news. The lie finally fizzled out after a few weeks. The next year after many meeting between both sides of the fence, the elementary children in both neighborhoods started being bused to the other side of the fence.

I learned that year, that my conscious is more of a disciplinarian then my parents or uncle Bill. I also learned that you can't control a lie once it's out of your mouth, and innocent people could get hurt by them. I put the incident far behind me and just thought of it recently. I was in the car with my sister and niece and out of nowhere I told the story to them. This time I told the truth. They laughed even though they were appalled at my actions. My niece asked me if I ever told the truth, and my sister said "yes, just now." My sister is right. I finally let the light shine on the lie.

Two days later, a classmate from the neighborhood, who moved right before that incident asked about that fence. He remembered us not being allowed on the other side. He asked was the neighborhood still divided. I told him the division ended with our class. That somehow we got beyond that dreaded fence, and formed bonds and friendship that have lasted to this day. I told him about the lie, and the busing the following year, starting in kindergarten. I remember being glad my younger siblings didn't have to fear the fence. I'm not saying the lie had anything to do with what happened they next year. I didn't put it together before, but when I told my old classmate the story I realized that segregation ended the following year for the younger children. I don't know  why segregation ended the next year. I do know that God can use anything to break down those fallow grounds of our heart; those horrible fears, and hatred we teach our children. Maybe the fence got to thick and dark for the adults too. Or maybe I just want to believe something good can come out of my worse moments, and greatest sins.

Fearless

The True Failure

Mar 16:15  Then he told them, "As you go into all the world, proclaim the gospel to everyone.
Mar 16:16  Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever doesn't believe will be condemned.
Mar 16:17  "These are the signs that will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues;
Mar 16:18  they will pick up snakes with their hands; even if they drink any deadly poison it will not hurt them; and they will place their hands on the sick, and they will recover."

I've been thinking(oh, boy) about the noticeable decay in our society. I have been people watching lately. What I've noticed is the lifelessness. So many people looks like the walking dead to me. Their eyes are dull, and they just look soul weary. Even the surrounding scenery looks sad. The restaurants and stores glass doors are dirty, even in area that used to be beautiful. The children are dressing dark or in apparel made for the opposite sex. Girls are dressing like boys and boys are dressing like girls far more frequently. I used to blame the decay of society on wickedness and moral corruption. Families are breaking up, and children are being reared by latch key, the internet, and television(horrible combination).

However, as bad as all those things are, the real problem is the church. We have walked away from the true gospel of Jesus Christ, and have adopted a watered-down, feel-good gospel. Not to mention we have turned it into our very own get rich quick scheme with the message of prosperity. No one wants to preach about a Holy God that without holiness we will not see. Or we took on the attitude of conservative, self-righteousness and superiority. Then theirs the liberal gospel of God loves us, and Jesus died for our sins, so there's no longer a need to repent. Live the way you want you're still a child of God. The truth is, only those that walk by the Spirit of God are truly His sons and daughters. The wages of sin is still death. Jesus did die for our sins. He paid the price to free us from death. He took took our sins to the grave. The church has lost it's balance. We have to get back to being centered in Christ and stop being self-centered.

I also believe that we have forgotten how to cry out to Abba in sincere prayer. It's time to rend our hearts and not our garments. A sinful- prayer lacking church- is a weak and ailing church. The world is failing because the church is failing. Wickedness has been here since the fall of mankind. Redemption is only two thousand years old. Jesus left us with instructions, and power(His Spirit) to help fulfill our commission. We walked away from His righteousness in pursuit of our own. We have failed society. We have failed the children, but worse of all, we have failed our Father. I've heard people complain about a God that would let people suffer. I heard all kind of hate speech against God. They don't know Him, but we do. How could you not love a God that stepped down from Glory, wrapped himself in human flesh and suffered and died in our place.

Sin still stinks in his nostrils. Judgment begins in the house of the Lord. I understand that scripture now. When my son was a baby, I don't see myself changing the dirty diaper of the kid next door when my son's diaper need changing. It's time to get back in balance with Abba. It's time to tell the truth without condemnation or compromise. Lets go back to the gospel in all it's simplicity. All of creation is groaning waiting on the sons of God to be revealed. Don't you see it?

Fearless

Praying for Our President

1Tim 2:1  I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men;
1Tim 2:2  For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty.
1Tim 2:3  For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour;
1Tim 2:4  Who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth.
1Tim 2:5  For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus;
1Tim 2:6  Who gave himself a ransom for all, to be testified in due time.
1Tim 2:7  Whereunto I am ordained a preacher, and an apostle, (I speak the truth in Christ, and lie not;) a teacher of the Gentiles in faith and verity.
1Tim 2:8  I will therefore that men pray every where, lifting up holy hands, without wrath and doubting.

I have been ill lately. I had some kind of nasty virus that left me bedridden for a few days, and sick for at least two weeks. Today is the first day I feel like myself in two weeks. During the time that I was bedridden Abba started dealing with me concerning the election in the USA. I didn't have much I could do so, I listen to what was happening. It got really ugly. I noticed a lot of race baiting and down right ugliness. I have been in the midst of racial division and a riot before. Trust me no one wants to go through that. There are no winners in violence and destruction.

I prayed about the election; mainly who to vote for. My biggest dilemma has been Israel. In the last few elections I was more of a critical spectator than an actually participant. I had decided no one really had Jesus best interest at heart, Democrats or Republican. I know Republicans stood against abortion and same sex marriage, that seemed to appease a lot of Christians, even though 55 million babies have been killed since, Roe vs Wade. Abortions continued, and same sex marriage is legal in several states, no matter who's president. Some chose the moral high ground of Republicans, while others chose the high road of the Democrats, for their stance and care of the elderly, handicap and poor. I'm sure there are other issues as well, big business, health care reform, economy, etc. I have been on both sides a time or two. Several years ago I decided not to exercise my right to vote. I got too sanctified or at least I thought I was, but the real word is self-righteous. I bad-mouthed, and probably cursed our leaders. I thought politics was wicked and worldly, and for the most part they probably are. However, it's not my call to judge whom God put in place to lead. Yes, that's right he put's leaders in place.

Daniel told Nebuchadnezzar in Dan 4:17  "This matter is by the decree of the watchers, and the demand by the word of the holy ones, so that the living may know that the Most High rules in the kingdom of men, and gives it to whomever He will, and sets up over it the lowest of men."

I listen to some Christian that were up in arms over giving to those in need. Even some people I know, at first it didn't bother me. I felt people should be able to voice their opinion, but after awhile it took on a dark undertone. It was said more time then I can count, how they didn't want their tax dollars going to the "lazy who refused to work and felt entitled." The word entitled was a key word in Romney's stance. I wondered to myself who feels the most entitled, the family with the low paying job, who may or may not get food stamps to supplement, and medical coverage for their children? Or the 1% of billionaires that feel entitled to make the 99% poorer? If Obama has tried to put things in place to help feed the poor, or take care of the sick. Does that really make him a socialist, or a fascist?  The craziness of it all, is the fact, that they're almost polar opposites. I'm not defending Obama or his politics, I'm just backing up and paying attention. Jesus set up funds for the poor, he even put Judas over it(the most worldly one). He healed the sick himself. How many of us are actually walking in the authority that he's given us to do the same?

What I have come to see is that the Western Church has gotten self-righteous and worldly. Jesus said render Caesar what is Caesar's, and God what is God. How much clearer could He be about taxes?. We're not of this world. The United States is not our home, we're sojourners. Called out, peculiar people that show forth the praise of our God.

After I had prayed and asked about the election, I had a dream about Obama. I knew he would win. Jesus also gave me the scripture to pray for kings and all in authority over us. I felt shame that I missed Abba's heart in this matter for so long. Paul said,  we should pray for kings and those in authority, that's it's good and acceptable to God our Savior. Paul went so far as to put his gift and calling as a preacher and apostle on the fact that he was speaking the truth in Christ and not a lie. I wonder if the early church was starting a revolt against the government, somehow I doubt it. Still the issue of government was addressed to the church.

I've even heard some talking of taking up arms and fighting another civil war. That may be right for the world, but Jesus never instructed His to followers to fight and kill. Who exactly is the enemy? The government? Obama? Romney? Blacks? Whites? Hispanics? Elderly? Poor? Women? Billionaires? Big business? I used to argue over who would get my tax dollars. I never begrudged the minority's(of which I belong), elderly, handicap or poor. My argument used to be, my tax dollars are going to a useless war that was slaughtering not only our sons, but innocent babies in the Middle East. I know some will say we went to nations and killed, to protect our freedom. What with the weapons of mass destruction and all. Are we really free? Our we a great nation or the police of the world? Don't we have enough blood shed on our hands? Now we want to kill each other. I'm guessing the rest of the world would love to see that.

Obama is re-elected and guns sales skyrocket. Really? Christians are living in fear and dread of the anti-Christ? News flash!.. the beast is coming and there's nothing we can do about it. The scriptures must be fulfilled, before Jesus can come back. Yes, some of us will be sent to prison and some will be beheaded, and Lord help us some will turn against God and worship the beast and his image. No matter what we go through we must remain steadfast in love to the end. Please people wake up, don't let anyone talk you into hate. Hate is not of GOD. In order to live quite, and peaceful we must pray for our leaders. Christian please get off your soap box and get on your knees. This is what Abba told me. I repented.... will you? This is Abba's will concerning us. Pray...Pray...Pray

Fearless
,

In His Presence

Gen 3:8  And they heard the voice of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees of the garden.

I wrote a post earlier about His presence. As I was typing it just disappeared. I got irritated and laid down for a nap. I woke up with a crook in my neck. I decided to take a walk, I needed to clear my head. For one I couldn't remember what I had wrote. At first it felt like I was just typing letters hoping they would glide across the blank page; come together and make sense. Then I felt a real flow. His presence had come, then I lost it all.
This is what I can remember:

Lately I feel as if I go in and out of His presence. I'm searching for that abiding place. I guess I have been searching for that place most of my walk. My journey has lead me down many strange paths. I used to go from ministry to ministry chasing after a feeling. Hoping that this would be the big one; the one were genuine change would take place. Where there would be no more fighting my flesh. I looked for victory over sin's smelly embrace. No matter where I went or who laid their hands on me, I fought and most time lost the battle over my flesh. With ever loss I hid from his presence. I was the scared and ashamed to face my Abba.  I guess I wondered if each failure was the one that would make Him realize, that I'm a big disappointment.

That one never came. When I was a teen in my rebellious stage and no longer the perfect child that got straight A's and made the honor roll. My mom in her frustration over having to leave work to pick me up from school after another suspension, once called me a big disappointment. I guess those words cut deeper then I knew. One day Abba told me I will never be a disappointment to him. Those words dug into that old wound. They were the balm of Gilead to my wounded soul. I think I cried for a week after that conversation. That's the thing about wounds. Abba has to dig deep and cut out all the infection, then apply the balm. Still I searched in vain for that feeling of perfection. My mind knew I wouldn't find it on this side of eternity, my heart just didn't understand.

I would go anywhere I heard the presence of the Lord was. If a minster said run, I ran. If they said give to I couldn't pay my rent, I did. No price was to high to pay. I once searched around for hours on the ground looking for jewels from heaven( Don't judge me). I never found one. Things just seemed to go from abstruse to ridiculous. Nothing satisfied me. After awhile I would sit in services asking, is this it? Like Jason Upton says in this song, "somewhere on the journey I think I lost hold of the truth. Nothing really satisfies Like when you speak my name. So tell me that you'll never leave and everything will be ok. In your presence is where I belong." The more I searched with man the more frustrated I became. The more I cried out to God the more I realized he is inside of me.

He told me I need to stop relying on my feelings. My feelings are slick and greasy and change without warning. It's in his presence where the real change takes place; it's in our intimacy with Jesus. It all in Him. Christ in us, our hope of glory. He said we can come boldly to his throne of grace, to obtain mercy and receive grace in time of trouble. I don't have to try and hide like Adam and Eve did. I can come to him naked and unafraid. My victory is not in perfection it's in the blood of Jesus. I realized there's only two kind of people. Dead in sin or dead to sin. I choose the latter. The more you dwell in his presence the least you want to sin.

Okay, that's not what I wrote earlier, but it's close. I think it may contain one or two of the same words. In defense of my memory "It's the same video!" Enjoy it, enjoy His presence.

Fearless

Worthy is the Lamb

Rev 5:7  He went and took the scroll from the right hand of the one who sits on the throne.
Rev 5:8  When the lamb had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders bowed down in front of him. Each held a harp and a gold bowl full of incense, the prayers of the saints.
Rev 5:9  They sang a new song: "You are worthy to take the scroll and open its seals, because you were slaughtered. With your blood you purchased people for God from every tribe, language, people, and nation.

 I have been getting many small visions. I say small because they come without notification and leave just as quickly. Usually I only see one or two things. The first was of a black horse. It was grand and beautiful. I could see all of it's muscle tone. It's mane was the darkest, shiniest black I have ever saw. It was perfectly beautiful. All I could say when I saw it is, "What a beautiful creature, he's waiting to do your will isn't he Lord." By the time I could give it more thought the vision disappeared. I probably forgot more of the bible than I should have, but I did remember there's a black horse in The book of Revelation of Jesus Christ. So I went to the 6th chapter of Revelation. It's about the breaking of the Seven Seals. Only the lamb was worthy to break the Seals.The black horse represent famine. This scared me. I didn't know what to do with it. So I did what I normally do when faced with impossible situations. I got crazy and unbalanced. First I told some good Christian friends, they laughed me to scorn(my worse nightmare). Then after that didn't go over well. I started stacking weird groceries; can good and nonperishable items. Stuff like beef jerky, tuna, string beans, fruit cocktail and dry beans an rice. This was two years ago while I was still in Florida. I had to leave my stash with my sister when I moved.

The vision stayed with me, but I tried to act more stable. I had no desire to get laughed to scorn again. So I devised different methods of delivering the message. I used subtle hints, and scare tactics. Mostly I feared being called a fanatic. That's probably why I have been getting the message of carrying my cross for two years. I need to really get over what people think. That's the reason a whole generation of Israel didn't make it to the promise land. They thought the giants saw them as grasshoppers. I have spent to many years being a grasshopper. Like Joshua and Caleb I have to learn to trust God.

About a month ago I got another vision. This time it was the black horse and the pale horse. It appeared as if they were in a stable just waiting, together. This time I didn't get scared and crazy. Even though the pale horse riders is Death an Hades. You would think I would be more afraid of dying. I'm not, because I know to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. My greatest fear was watching the suffering of those around me. I don't want my love ones to suffer. I don't want to see the murderous beast that hunger can turn men into. It was all so overwhelming to me. I had to give my fear to the Lord. I handed over my burdens. He told me, he will never lose control. Nothing shall befall me that he hasn't allowed, and he will give me the grace needed to deal with every situation.

I went back and read The 5 chapter of Revelation today. This time I got the whole message. John was crying because no one on earth or in Heaven was worthy to open the Seals. The angel asked him why he was crying and he replied because none is worthy to open the Seals. A lamb came from the midst of the throne, looking as if he had been slaughtered. He took the scroll from the right hand of the One who sit on the throne. He was slaughtered. With His blood he purchased people to God from every tribe, language, people and nation. Today my heart no longer feels faint, but rejoices, because Worthy is the Lamb that was slain for you and me. We're to sing a new song. He's coming to get his bride soon and:

 Rom 8:35  Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
Rom 8:36  As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.
Rom 8:37  Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.
Rom 8:38  For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,
Rom 8:39  Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Okay, I've been playing this song all day. Thinking about that abused, scourged, rejected and laughed to scorn Lamb. I'm no longer afraid, but I still need to warn others. Laugh me to scorn if you want to. I'm in good company.

Fearless

Stranger Next Door

I remember how I met him, the stranger next door. He was homeless living in the empty apartment next door. I had just moved into the building a month before him. I couldn't complain, I moved in while the building was being renovated. Mainly because I had escaped from an abusive relationship. The manager let me live there rent free until I finished school. He was the homeless nephew of the manager. I still had a month to go before graduation, and I still had to do an externship. Looking back I'm surprised at my bravery. He had left the door to his apartment open. I walked in as he lay sleeping on the bare floor. "What are you doing here, are you homeless?" I asked. "No, my uncle let me crash here until I get myself together" he replied. I asked him why he wasn't "together." he said it was a long story. I offered him breakfast.

A five year friendship started that day.

Gilbert Brown turned out to be my bestfriend. I still miss him. We had so many good, and bad times together. He saw me through many trying times. We included each other in everything. My graduation, new job, his new job, my wedding planning. He was an honor student and belonged to the Debois Honor Society, and my mentor. He's gifted and brilliant.  He taught me how to public speak; something that always frightened me. He would spend hours coaching me, until we were both annoyed at each other. Now when I do any public speaking people tell me I'm a natural, but really I had a great teacher. He loved art, literature and poetry, and taught me how to appreciate it. We used to call ourselves Pinky and the Brain. He once took me to a five hundred dollar dinner for president Clinton. No matter what he got involved in, he wanted me with him. We shared our deepest secrets, and craziest dreams. We loved each other with all purity.

Gilbert got his perfect job and girlfriend. He started writing grants, proposals, and new ordinance for the City of Detroit. His girlfriend was a new City Council Member. He asked me to dinner to tell me. I was so happy for him. His girlfriend is beautiful and sweet; we got along great. The City Of Detroit set him up in a new high rise apartment overlooking the river and Canada. They even furnished it for him. He was living his dream. Until it turned into his nightmare.

At the time I was the church secretary. The Sunday service had just begun. I heard him before I saw him. He was crying, not the soft gentle tears kind. His sobs were loud and deep, coming from his very soul. He cried out my name with a deep groan. Everyone in the church look to were the sound came from, and then to me. I was slightly embarrassed at first, wondering if he was drunk. When I saw his face I knew it wasn't an act or drunken escapade. I could see the agony in his face. He ran to me with his arms extended. I tried to comfort him, and get him to tell me what was troubling him so. At first all I could get is my name. I took him out of the sanctuary into my office. Finally he told me he had been standing at the riverfront all night contemplating  suicide. He said when he thought of me and how I would take it, he just started walking until he made it to church. We did finally go back to the sanctuary. He put his head in my lap and cried the whole time. I just comforted him with a touch. My friend was hurting and I didn't care what anyone had to say.

At his dream job, he said there's a lot of corruption. Others were taking advantage of his gifts, and credit for his work. Everything in his life that he thought was good wasn't.  He felt defeated as if life would always be unfair. We cried together. I begged him not to hurt himself. He said he didn't want to leave this world without Jesus, and when he did leave he wanted us to be together again one day rejoicing with Jesus. He promised me he would shake off the pain, and stand and make changes where he worked.

Five months later I moved to Cincinnati against his protest. He begged me not to leave. He said if that he doesn't have much time in life, and he wanted me close in case anything happened to him. I knew Gilbert could be a bit dramatic. I told him I'm only a phone call away and I would be back and forth, stop being such a baby. We talked regularly. He seemed stronger and his relationship seemed back on track. Two months later he was dead. I would give anything to have that two months back.

His girlfriend called me the night before the funeral. I was happy to hear from her, I hadn't heard from her or Gilbert in a couple of weeks. I gushed on about missing her and Gilbert, Then I asked where he was. She said, "I called to let you know he died a few days ago and his funeral is tomorrow." I was caught off guard and I didn't have words of comfort for her. I had no words at all! She told me that she put me and my sister name on his obituary as his family, because she didn't know his family and we were all the family he ever talked about. She offered to send me an obituary. I hung up without saying much. I just needed to cry. I went into the closet. I don't why closets has always been the place I would hide my tears.. I cried, and like Gilbert I cried his name loud and from my soul. I didn't have enough notice to go to the funeral. I went to work that following day. Several times I had to excuse myself as a cascade of tears rolled unashamed down my face.

It's been twenty years since Gilbert died. I never found out how he died. I was told his stomach was bothering him one day, he went to the hospital and the next day he was dead. I tried to get in touch with his girlfriend several times after the funeral, mainly to try to offer the comfort that I refused her that night she called. My phone calls were never returned. After a year I stopped trying. I haven't heard from her til this day. His death will always be a mystery to me. One thing I do look forward to, that's us rejoicing with Jesus. Like King David said, when his first son by Bathsheba died. "But now he is dead; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." I wait with expectation to see Gilbert again, just like we talked about. I don't know why God gave me Gilbert for only a season, but I'm glad he did. I do know that we have to find love where we can, and every stranger is a potential friend.

Fearless/Pinky

Salt and Light

Mat 5:13  You are the salt of the earth, but if the salt loses its savor, with what shall it be salted? It is no longer good for anything, but to be thrown out and to be trodden underfoot by men.
Mat 5:14  You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.
Mat 5:15  Nor do men light a lamp and put it under the grain-measure, but on a lampstand. And it gives light to all who are in the house.
Mat 5:16  Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in Heaven.

Late night as I lay half awake thinking of givers and takers. The Lord spoke to me these two words, Salt and Light. I'm not shocked by His words. Yesterday as I was writing about the givers and the takers I had no closure. The lesson seemed to haunt me. Mainly, because I didn't have a clue how to deal with the whole issue. It was like having homework and never quite understanding the lesson. Do I continue to give? Do I rebuke the takers? Do I stop giving? What do you expect of me Abba? I had many unanswered question.

Two little words. I have to be salt and light. No matter what anyone else does, I have to forgive seven times seventy times a day. I can't let my light hide or my salt lose it's savor. Takers have to see my light regardless of the circumstances. Takers need light to see their way out of the darkness. Abba told me people are watching me and that I'm a light to many. That was a scary thought. I can never understand why He trust me so much. I realized that even though people hurt you when they're being selfish, insensitive, and greedy they're still worthy of unconditional love. Was I putting conditions or expectation on them?

How can they ever change if they can't see in the dark? They will remain blind without light. The same with salt. Jesus said we are the salt of the earth. Salt does much more then savor meat, it was used as a preservative in ancient Greek and considered divine. We may read that scripture and think about our little salt shakers in the kitchen, but it goes deeper then that. We are called to preserve the earth and light the world. I have a responsibility in this life to the givers and the takers. Mostly I have a responsibility to Abba.

What would salt and light do in any situation? Shine and savor, radiate and preserve. It all hangs on love...Everything. Lets Glorify our Father!

Fearless

Givers and Takers

Luke 6:38  Give, and it will be given to you. A large quantity, pressed together, shaken down, and running over will be put into your lap, because you will be evaluated by the same standard with which you evaluate others."

Lesson number two: Another thing that the Lord has been showing me lately is that there are two kind of people, the givers, and the takers. I must admit it's a painful lesson. It's painful to watch others, and myself be reduced to what some can get from us. This lesson has come from some unexpected sources. It's always people we would go through heaven and hell to help that are takers. I whine when I see the way they use manipulation and selfishness as their tool of destruction. It's pretty sad to watch. What's even sadder is the fact that they think they're good people, just needy.

I want to understand them, maybe find some excuse for their behavior. I tried, honesty I did. I thought it came from feeling of never having enough. However, the more I watch their behavior, I see it comes from a different place. A place that's dark and fearful. It wouldn't look so bad if they didn't do it with the intent of manipulating a givers emotions. It's like they're playing a game with every pitiful tale, a game to control; to chain the soul of the giver. They think they have the upper hand if you give to them. They have no idea you see right through their game. Givers are not the losers. We're just givers, and givers give despite takers. When you don't give they take and tell themselves they deserve it. They make the giver the villain, the heartless one for refusing to be victimized and manipulated.

Taker is an ugly spirit that has no real love for anyone, It's selfish and cruel and reduces the giver to a office of nobody when they refuse or just don't have to give. Your worth is in how much you can give. Takers live in a place of selfishness, jealousy, depression, envy and greed. They take the joy out of giving and render the giver despondent. Don't get me wrong there are people with real need, and we should always give with a cheerful heart. I once read character is being able to give to those who can't give back. When I say give- it's not always monetary gifts. It can be the giving of your time and resources. Jesus said it's more blessed to give then receive. Takers miss so much, and have so much to learn about life and love. Takers know how to attach themselves to givers when it's convenient, and detach when it's not.

Lately I have felt the sting of the takers. It's sharp and brutal and wounding to my soul. I refuse to allow the arrows to pierce my heart though. I give with a heart full of love. I love the joy of giving. I reap the spiritual benefits and some. Just saying...I decided not to let the takers take my joy of giving.

Fearless

Nothing Wavering

 1:2  Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you are involved in various trials,
Jas 1:3  because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.
Jas 1:4  But you must let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.
Jas 1:5  Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives to everyone generously without a rebuke, and it will be given to him.
Jas 1:6  But he must ask in faith, without any doubts, for the one who has doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.
Jas 1:7  Such a person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord.
Jas 1:8  He is a double-minded man, unstable in all he undertakes.

Lately, I have run face to face with lack of faith. Not only my own, but a lot of other people. I don't know maybe the Lord wanted me to see this. That's how he deals with me. He's a God that can show you as he teaches us. I see why it's important to die daily. Everything has a price, every decision we make in life. If we decide to put our focus on ourselves; it cost us our faith, and ultimately our joy and/or blessings.

I did get the financial release that I have been praying for. It was a struggle in the midst of the process to hold on to my faith. I had to fight for my faith many nights, I begged people to pray me through. I learned that when you are in the midst of  a trial, we have to be like Jacob and refuse to let go of the Lord until he blesses us.We have to wrestle with God.  I had to dismiss every doubt that tried to spring up in my heart. One well meaning friend said, maybe God doesn't want this for you. I quickly rebuked that. I know the voice of the enemy, it tries to make you waver and doubt in prayer. James said if we waver in our prayer we should not expect anything from our God.

I pray for wisdom all the time, what I forget to do sometime is pray before I make a decision. I have walked into many lion dens and snake pits. However this time I did pray. At first I couldn't understand why my friend say it's might not the will of God for me. It is not immoral or illegal, it's a blessing! Why would it not be God's will? Why would God withhold a good thing from me. That's like someone saying it's not God's will to heal us. Yes it is! Jesus died for our healing. It's part of his grace and mercy. I don't doubt He desires to heal us. I think we spend to much time doubting our prayers. Even Jesus couldn't perform miracles in his hometown because of their unbelief.

A couple of prayer partners of mine one told me they didn't pray for healing because they prayed for it before and the people didn't get healed. The other told me prayer was a waste of time, she prayed and believed and God didn't do what she asked. I don't know why this happens sometimes, I do know it shouldn't make us doubt God's desire to heal or give. I asked the first one did she go lay hands on the person. She said no.  Maybe we should do it the way God said, knowing He is able to do what he says he'll do. He desires our trust. Trust says in the simplest term, I am your child and I know you are for me. It's childlike faith.  I know I want to see more healing take place, so I started asking more people if I could pray for them. I ask strangers in the mall, at the corner market. I decided to let go of embarrassment and fear. And you know what happened? God started healing them.

Two week ago my neighbor was in pain. He has suffered with this pain in his ribs for over twenty years; since an automobile accident. I asked him if I could pray for him. He said yes. I prayed for him. Today two weeks later he told me he hasn't had any pain in his ribs since. I know God healed him, because as I laid hands on his ribs, my hands felt as if they were on fire. My neighbor felt the heat. He's amazed that after twenty years the pain is gone. I'm not, I believe my Abba.

Hope and New Mercies

Lam 3:21  This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.
Lam 3:22  It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassion fail not.
Lam 3:23  They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.
Lam 3:24  The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.

I woke this morning to new compassion and more mercy. Today my heart is singing, "Holy is the Lord God Almighty." I'm so in love with Him. I'm in love like a joyfully giddy schoolgirl. He really is my first love.

Yesterday as I was praying, I decided to just worship the Lord for all that He is. As I prayed His ways just got greater, more wonderful, beyond awesome as I thought on Him. I had no words that I could describe Him. My vocabulary is to limited. I thought back on his unlimited mercy toward me.

I have been calling friends whom I know know can shake the heavens with their prayers. The problem with this is that it's always a struggle to get them to pray. I started thinking on the many insane conversations I have with them before the prayer can go up. One has a problem praying if she sees the people or person as sinful, one is prejudice and doesn't realize it because I'm black and her friend, one is more focused on preaching to her messy husband because she feels like the righteous one, and I sometimes get self-centered and unworthy; I miss the High Call of God in Christ Jesus. One by one Abba started showing me our sin. It's mostly self-righteousness which is pride. Yet he hears our prayer. He allow us to come to his Throne of Grace.

It's easy to forget that those we have been called to pray for are just like us, born in sin and shaped in iniquity. As soon as God start using you that subtle deception of pride always tries to sneak in the back door on you. I told them all that we are prayer warrior not judges. How did we manage to forget where we came from? That kind of makes us the worse kind of hypocrites. I prayed and called us out on our sins. I renounced them one by one as God showed them to me. Pride and deception has no place in our prayer circle. I just focused on the LORD'S mercies and compassion toward us. They are new every morning. We didn't get consumed! Sometimes we're just wretched and awful,  and those are the times we feel righteous. I don't know if they got mad at my prayer or not. It really doesn't matter. I know they love the LORD, and me, and will get over it. I'm just glad for new mercies. Thinking on His mercy gives us hope.

Thinking on His mercy today is overwhelming my heart with love for Him. I love Abba!

Fearless

Stumbling upon Faith...again

Heb 11:6  But without faith no one can please God. We must believe that God is real and that he rewards everyone who searches for him.

Yesterday I had a meeting that could bring some financial release to me. I really need it. I need it so badly I started thinking on everything that could go wrong. The night before the meeting I was suddenly gripped with fear. I woke with the same fear. After a brief (and I do mean brief) prayer I went to my meeting. I went into the meeting trying to fake a confidence that I didn't feel. Before long I broke into a cold sweat. Fear and dread accompanied me to the meeting. I hate when that happens.

I know that fear and dread have haunted me most of my life. My natural life anyway. I sometimes still struggle with that little girl of an alcoholic/drug addict father, she waits for disappointment and for the shoe to drop, the bottom to fall out. She's so insecure and afraid. Then in the meeting the unthinkable happened; a computer glitch! I have to wait two more days for any news. I left the meeting in a panic. I called Georgia, California and Florida to my prayer partners. I was desperate and emotional. They were all busy, one was in the bathroom, one at work and the other at the doctors. The one in the bathroom listen to the panic in my voice. I kept saying one word..."Pray!"

She told me to wait until she used the bathroom. Personally I didn't see anything wrong with her praying while on the john. Just because she had to take a crap doesn't mean God wouldn't hear her. Did she not hear the desperation in my voice? She hung up and told me she would call me back. I was left alone to pray for myself. It's hard to pray when you let go of your faith and grab the hand of fear. Fear really does have torment. 

I just started praying, mostly I repented and spoke only what the word of God said. In the meeting every fault I have came to my mind. I just wasn't good enough for God. I said a couple of swear words this week. I had the worse thoughts. I got to lazy to pray a few days. When that wasn't enough to condemn me I went back ten years of sin and messiness. The blood of Jesus stopped being enough for me. It was a vicious assault on my mind. I sometimes secretly believe I have to earn God's love, like the sad little girl of the alcoholic/drug addict.

He never tire of reassuring me of the contrary. He couldn't love me more, his love is perfect. I'm not hard to love, I don't have to be perfect to please him. He delights in me. I'm not a child of an alcoholic, but the child of the King. He has given me the keys to the Kingdom. I don't have to stand out in the rain when I have the keys in my hand. He said, that when I pray for anyone else I pray with great faith, but not for me. He said to ASK, and it will be done. He told me to ask and rest. So that's what I did...and you know what? Perfect love really does cast out fear.

Fearless for real

Proud Grandmother

Yes, that's right I'm a proud grandmother. My grandson Jason Hawthorne Jr, player of the year baseball. MVP for the last three years basketball and football. He's so cute too!

Prayer

1Th 5:17  Pray without ceasing.

This has been a very sad week for me. Sad in the fact that my friends and acquaintance are suffering and one died this week. She was not a close friend. I never had pleasure of actually meeting her in person. We worked on Sistahfaith together. She was my Facebook friend and a very large presence with her many funny, cheerful and colorful status updates. I could always go to my home page and see her beautiful face. She helped a lot of struggling writers. She seemed to be tireless in her work. Her death came as a shock to many. She left a twelve year old daughter. I can't help but feel bad her. I can only imagine the heartache she must be feeling right now.

The night she died I had a dream about her. She was giving CPR to a women, but she was to weak to continue. I guess that was the Lord's way of telling me, her journey is over, she gave until her last breath. Her heart was just to weak to go any further. She gave her all. The bible says, to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. She's with Jesus,and at rest.

The other day a friend posted on my Facebook wall that she missed our chats. I have had very little time to call my friends lately. I love our chats as well. We played phone tag for a couple of days, and finally connected. We talked for a long time. We had much catching up to do. I didn't realize it had been almost a year since we talked. What she shared with me about her last year broke my heart. Not because she sounded sad or anything, quite the contrary, she was joyful and praising God. Her three year old grandson had to have his eye removed. She has had several major surgeries to remove insidious cancer growth. She had to go to the doctor today, because they think she has more abnormal growth. As she was telling me all that she had been through in her sweet giggly voice I was feeling slightly annoyed.

I din't get annoyed at the fact that she praised God. I got annoyed because I used to work in surgical oncology and I know the seriousness of her diagnosis. I left surgical oncology a year after my husband death. I was emotionally drained and I felt like an empty failure. One of my favorite patient had died of the same cancer my friend is fighting. My patient and I somehow became friends. I used to have lunch with her. She comforted me during my husband death. The other staff hid her death certificate from me. When I realized I hadn't heard from her I pulled her chart to get her phone number, only to be met with her death certificate. I was devastated and inconsolable. My co-workers thought I got to close to the patients and their families. I never learned how not to  grieve for them. Or "not feel," as one of my co-workers put it. I burned-out of oncology after five years.

For some reason, before my friend told me of her diagnosis; I gushed on and on about the power of God to heal. For no reason at that point that I knew of. She let me know that she had a test coming to see if she has developed ovarian cancer, and that if we didn't see each other in this life we will definitely see each other when we're with Jesus. I song the lyrics to the song I can only imagine. She asked me to think of her every time I heard I the song. She gave me words of encouragement. She said to, "keep your eyes on Jesus and others so that I won't focus on myself, because that would lead to selfishness and selfishness lead to a loss of joy. Don't lose your joy." She helped me to realized that is what my problem has been. She made it plain and simple, where I tried to complicate it in my head. That's what my problem has been since I moved into this apartment. And just maybe she needed to hear about Abba's power to heal.

I hung up feeling slightly sad. She posted the video on my wall. I had two choices. I could cry, or I could call all the intercessors and prayer warrior I know around the USA, and pray for my friend. I chose the latter. I called Florida, California, Detroit, Minnesota and called for prayer watch. We prayed until we felt the heavens open it's ears to our cries.

She posted a prayer request on Facebook. We were already praying. The next day she got a good report from the doctors. I needed to hear how not to allow myself to become selfish, she may have needed to hear about Abba's healing. We all need prayer, we all need each other. I told the intercessors that she got a good report. They simply said, "we know."

Fearless

Sober and Vigilant

1 Peter 5:8  Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walk about, seeking whom he may devour:

Okay, I've been in the apartment for two weeks today. Two weeks without a clue as to how I would eat from day to day. I love these times in my life, the days I have to actually exercise faith to eat. But I'm going to have to be honest, I threw a couple of pity parties. No one showed up to celebrate with me. I was alone. I decided to walk around the building with the long face. I ran into my next door neighbor as I was walking. He's a really nice guy and the youngest person in the building. He's a couple of years younger than I. He's funny, kind and reminds me of my brothers. We met and became fast friends. He asked me what was wrong. I gave him my pity party song( I don't have any money or furniture, I'm poor and no one loves me, God probably hates me too) He looked at me and said "Woe it's me! Suck it up! I don't feel sorry for you, learn how to crawl before you walk, you have a roof over your head, you don't live on the streets."

He went on to read me the riot act, when he got through with me all I could say is, "You are not invited to MY pity party, since you have no sympathy for my plight in life! I walked away laughing. Sometimes it takes words that feel like a cold slap in the face to wake you up, from an attack on your mind, when you listen to the voice of fear instead of faith.

I thank my Heavenly Father that he places people in my life to that will tell me to snap out of despondency and despair, because it is not of our Father. The enemy of our soul is the master of deception and the father of lies and he wants to devour our faith and leave us feeling hopeless and alone. I called one of my intercessor friends and she gave me the faith talk. She told me to get my focus off of my circumstances and myself and be sober and vigilant. Sometimes we need the faith talk, I don't care how spiritually mature you think you are. We need each other. I for one am glad I have friends that will challenge my mindset and tell me the truth. I looked up the words sober and vigilant. To be sober nēphō in Greek

 (1) to be sober, to be calm and collected in spirit.

2) to be temperate, dispassionate, circumspect. 

To be vigilant is grēgoreuō

 (1) to watch

2) metaphorically give strict attention to, be cautious, active

2a) to take heed lest through remission and indolence some destructive calamity suddenly overtake one.

It's hard to be sober and vigilant when you are focused on your flesh and or your circumstances. It's really kind of silly my Abba has never left me or forsaken me. I wasn't even forsaken then. One of my dear neighbors said they used to give food from some of the grocery stores sometimes, but it's been a while since that happened. Twice in the first week  my favorite market Trader Joe's gave us food. Organic vegetables, sweet potatoes, avocados, and green and salad mixes. All the things I wanted to fast. Why it didn't dawn on me that my desires were being filled even as I cried like a spoiled baby, I don't know. I guess my mind got clouded. I know it wasn't by mistake the things I desired were given in the building. I know my Abba takes care of me. Now I just say a silent thank you Father. These are the times in my life he teaching me to be a women of great faith.

Fearless