Unfailing Love

I was visiting with my roommate the other day, having one of those long, lazy conversations that moves from subject to subject without much of a plan. I love those! Anyway, as we were chatting, I was playing with a bottle on our counter top that contains rolled up strips of paper with verses from the Psalms in it. We call it "Psalms in a Bottle." From time to time, I'd read the one I was holding out loud to her, and we'd talk about it for a minute. Then I came across one that talked about God's unfailing love, and I had a personal, spiritual epiphany. God's love does not fail.
You have no idea how badly I'd like to just stop this post there and leave you to chew on it for yourselves, but I'll unpack it the way it worked out in my head Sunday afternoon. I think I've mentioned before that I'm a "fixer" and I tend to be surrounded by "fixers" and often in our attempts to "fix" one another, we get into bigger messes in our relationships with one another than any of us ever dreamed of, muche less intended. The problem is rarely that we don't love each other enough, it's often that we love each other so much we just hardly know what to do with ourselves! :-$
As I thought about God's unfailing love, that's when it hit me. Sometimes, the messes in our relationships are because human love fails. It just does. We don't always do things correctly, even when we love, but God's love does not fail. Nothing in my life is the result of a failure in God's love for me. It is good and faithful and consistent, mighty to save. Unfailing. There's never been a time when God just loved me so much he couldn't help meddling and ended up making a mess of my life. He's never taken his eyes off of me for just a second so that in the absence of his care, I was in danger. He's never accidentally allowed anything to come into my life out of a failure to keep me. His love does not fail.
Today, I read Exodus 15:13. Check it out ...

"In your unfailing love you will lead
the people you have redeemed.
In your strength you will guide them
to your holy dwelling."

My 2 Cents

So, everyone's been writing about Valentine's Day today. Some are happy to celebrate their romatic love. Some are reminding themselves and others of God's greatest love. Some are bemoaning the reminder of their singleness. I thought I'd go ahead and throw my two cents in for the day. I don't honestly care one way or the other about Valentine's Day. I mean, I don't dread it, but neither do I look forward to it. I get a kick out of sending silly messages to my friends, and it never hurts to have a little extra chocolate around, but that's about the extent of it for me. Here's my secret.

I like being single.

There, I said it. I mean, some days, I get lonely, come home and want to talk about my day, cook for someone, wish for a shoulder to cry on, and I do hope for the opportunity to raise children one day -- sure. What single adult woman doesn't? But, on the whole, I enjoy my life and my freedom. Mostly, I think I can say that confidently because of what I wrote a few days ago ... God is good ALL the time. God's not just good to those of you who married your sweetheart right after college, got a job, bought a home, and started a family. He's good to those of us who struggled through grad school, lived in dumpy little apartments, and still drive beat up cars. He didn't put my life on hold to help you get started with yours. He's been writing my story right along with yours ... it might be a different genre, but it's still His work. So, for those of you who've cautiously wished me a half-hearted "Happy Valentine's Day" -- thank you. Thank you for thinking of me and for wanting me to know that I am loved. But, please don't pity me. I'm living a great adventure, and I am not disappointed. (see Romans 10:11)

Thank You, Snopes

I received an email today that attributed the following poem to Maya Angelou. After checking it out at www.snopes.com, I discovered the true origin of this poem was from another author entirely, but the beauty of the message still hits home.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not shouting, "I've been saved!"
I'm whispering, "I get lost! That's why I chose this way"

When I say, "I am a Christian," I don't speak with human pride
I'm confessing that I stumble-needing God to be my guide

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not trying to be strong
I'm professing that I'm weak and pray for strength to carry on

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not bragging of success
I'm admitting that I've failed and cannot ever pay the debt

When I say, "I am a Christian," I don't think I know it all
I submit to my confusion asking humbly to be taught

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not claiming to be perfect
My flaws are far too visible but God believes I'm worth it

When I say, "I am a Christian," I still feel the sting of pain
I have my share of heartache which is why I seek His name

When I say, "I am a Christian," I do not wish to judge
I have no authority--I only know I'm loved


Copyright 1988 Carol Wimmer

ALL the time

Recently a friend reminded me of a very simple truth with a new inflection. It was in the middle of a crazy week, and I was struggling with circumstances around me. She listened patiently, then stated simply, "Kristen, God is good ALL the time."
I've thought about that a lot ever since she said it. I've even repeated it to others. And, last night, as I lay down to sleep, I thought about it again.
You see, for a variety of reasons, I expected yesterday to be one of those really fabulous days from the Lord, filled with abundant jump-up-and-down-for-joy blessings. I just did. But, as the day closed, and I lay in bed before 10:00, with an all over ache that made me nervous about my own health, and I reflected on the day itself, I couldn't come up with anything particularly wonderful to say about the day. It wasn't a bad one by any means, but neither did it seem particularly remarkable. The words played through my head again. "God is good ALL the time." Even when I can't see it? Even when I can't feel it? Then, I thought about something I have told our Bible study many, many times. "Faith is believing that God is good despite all evidence to the contrary." Faith is believing that God is good when circumstances look bad. Faith is believing that God is good when His hand over a matter isn't apparent. Faith is believing that God is good when there's nothing extraordinary about a day that I expected to be fabulous. Faith is believing that even though I didn't see evidence of greatness yesterday, God was working for my good.

Crazy or Jesus?

I have decided that I need to start offering regular installments of this theme, stories about things that God does that have to be absolutely crazy ... or Jesus! When I was in high school, I used to pray that my life wouldn't make sense unless a sovereign God is in control. How God has enjoyed showing me what fun the answers to that prayer can be, I'm sure!
Yesterday, I got a call from my cousin, Sassy. She and her boys (6 months and 2 1/2 years old) were driving down a busy highway in their city when she had to hit her brakes to avoid colliding with a large Suburban. When she did that, the brakes locked, and she lost control of her vehicle, sliding from one side of the four lane highway to the other, spinning into a 180 degree turn, and landing on the other side of the highway facing oncoming traffic. She said that she'd braced herself to slam into that final guardrail and closed her eyes, only to come to a stop inches from the rail and see that all other vehicles and managed to avoid hitting her and gave her space to turn her vehicle around and get back on the road, her boys sleeping through the entire incident! I marveled when she said that the "landing" was like being tossed against a giant mattress, soft, and not even jarring, just inches from the guardrail. She was understandably shaken, even tearful, but then she told me the most interesting part. "Kristi, when I tucked the boys in last night, we said our prayers like we always do, only this time, I added a special request that each time we get into the car God would post His angels around us to keep us safe." She said, I don't always pray that, but I did last night, having no idea how much we would need that protection from the Lord today.
A mom of two in an SUV slides across four lanes of traffic -- twice -- and comes to a stop facing oncoming traffic without a single scratch on her vehicle, anyone else's car, or her body, and both of her young sons sleep peacefully through the entire incident. Crazy ... or Jesus???

Three Weeks Later

Okay, so I didn't forget that I promised an updated report about Papa's anniversary in Rio Hondo, I just have been overwhelmed at the thought of figuring out what to say. I think I'll just provide you with a list of the highlights as I see them:

1. Friday night, surprising Nana by having her brother and sister and their families show up a day early and join us for dinner at Peter Piper Pizza!
2. Saturday afternoon at the reception, seeing the Fellowship Hall bustling with people and reunions taking place all over the place before the 2 o'clock start time was even close.
3. Saturday night, family dinner and share time, hearing Nana's youngest brother talk about how the parents that raised him were so different from the household Nana described growing up in because by the time he came along, Papa had led Grandmother and Grandpa Gautier to the Lord.
4. Sunday morning -- wow. The packed out auditorium. Jerry Hartzog rewriting a verse of "Thank You for Giving to the Lord" to reflect Papa's role in his own testimony of salvation. Norris Nance being helped onto the stage between Papa and Uncle Vance, knowing that he was there against his doctor's advice but determined to bless and be blessed by participating. Travis' version of "Haven of Rest". Papa's singing "The Lighthouse" on his knees, overcome with gratitude. Nana dropping her dove during the symbolic dove release outside!
5. Sunday night, family chill time, the hokey Horton family sing-a-long with hand motions, watching Danny break dance, and hearing Nathan tell everyone about his disappointment in the Charger's loss.

There really aren't words to tell you what that weekend was like for us as a family, but I cannot thank you enough for your prayers and support in preparation for it. And, for those of you who've had to hear all of these stories in detail, in person --you're my heroes this month!

Report

Several of you have kindly asked for a full report of my weekend with the family and church in Rio Hondo as we celebrated Nana and Papa's 40th Anniversary as pastor there. I am still working on coming up with the words for that, but I thought I'd start by publishing the tribute I delivered during the worship service Sunday morning. It'll tell you a little bit more about who Nana and Papa are to me at least. Later, I'll work on coming up with words for the weekend celebration itself!

"Three" Minutes about Papa ...

I had a really great speech prepared for this morning that contained three points and a psalm. I mean, it was a perfect sermon. Papa would have been proud. But, it didn’t contain anything you didn’t already know about my Papa and Nana, and it wasn’t anything any of you couldn’t have shared, given the chance. I’d written about how I know that Papa prays, and what I believe that faithful prayer life has done for this family and for this church. I’m convinced that Papa’s consistent prayer life is the secret to all that we’re celebrating this weekend. Papa doesn’t just pray, he gets on his knees and calls our names before the Lord, often shedding tears on our behalf. Papa’s prayers are the most precious gifts I’ve ever received. I wrote about how Nana reads her Bible each morning at the kitchen table, and how I want to be a faithful student of the Word of God like both of them are. But, none of that conveyed what I’m really celebrating this weekend in my heart. None of it really told you who Nana and Papa are to me, to our family.

Then, I got a call from Jaclyn a few nights ago. She didn’t want to get up here and talk, but there were some things she wanted to be sure I said. - Now, I have a Spanish degree from Hardin-Simmons University, but Jaclyn, she went to College Station and majored in Speech Communication. Evidently, what a speech communication degree from Texas A & M University will get you is a seat on the front row this morning! Right, Jaclyn?

No, seriously. Jaclyn called me a few nights ago after I sent her my notes for this morning and asked me if I could add just a few thoughts from all of us grandkids collectively. I honestly think it was just what this talk needed, the personal touch that really does make it something only we can share. Because there’s something else about Nana and Papa that marks their character and changes lives forever. Nana and Papa love me. Well, they love Steven and Daisy and Jaclyn and Danny and Travis and Jill, and Gina, too, of course. My point is, they have loved us as a family in a way that none of us will ever be the same. In fact, we probably will love others differently, better, because of it. I actually have a quote about this from one of my friends. In writing to me about this weekend, she said, “One piece of evidence of you Papa’s legacy that speaks volumes to me is how close your family is. You and your cousins always talk and hang out and love spending time together. You all actually like each other...the good and the bad. You talk to each other throughout the year, and when you are together, you enjoy each other.” It’s true. I confess. We do.

Jaclyn went through the family scrapbook and letters we wrote to Nana and Papa for this weekend, and made a list of things that none of us will ever forget. It was so fun to see how many of us shared similar thoughts! The first thing that comes to mind when we talk about Nana is food. Nana loves to feed us, but she’s very careful to feed us the right kinds of food. How many other kids look forward to eating such delicacies as “crockpot chicken” “ak-mak crackers with ‘Papa’s cheese’” – that’s mozzarella, if you didn’t know -- or “avocado-bean sprout sandwiches” when they go to their grandmother’s house??? My personal favorite was the time she wanted us to eat oatmeal muffins, so she baked Reeses’s peanut butter cups into the center of each muffin. How long do you think it took us to figure out we could pull the muffin tops off, discard them, and get straight to the candy? ;-) Of course, we also dipped our crockpot chicken in ranch dressing, and Travis always found a way to get more than his share of pudding pops out of her, too. But, she did try, though!

Christmas is always a good time at Nana and Papa’s. As you know, kitty cats are a very important part of being at Nana and Papa’s. And, even though she pretends like she doesn’t love those cuddly little fur balls Papa’s always feeding on the back porch, Nana has a bright red Christmas apron with a kitty cat on it. She puts it on whenever she knows we’re coming over, and greets us at the front door proclaiming, “Merry Kissmas!” and stops us for a hug and a kiss before we can enter the living room. We love it! Nana’s house is also where you go when you don’t feel well and need to just lay on the couch and be taken care of. Nobody can fix a tray of comfort food like Nana can. Makes me think maybe she loves us or something.

Then there’s Papa. I know he said just 3 minutes, but since I’m the only grandkid getting to actually speak today, I figure I can take at least 5 (one for each of us), and if I go over, I’ll blame it on the spouses and the great-grandkids. In fact, at the rate this family’s multiplying, we could be here a while! ;-)

Papa, when we started thinking about things we wanted to share about you, we had a whole other set of memories. I’ve already mentioned your love for kittens, and your love for airplanes and flying is no secret. I think Steven, Travis, or one of our dads would have to talk about you love for all things remote control. But today, it’s the yearly trips to Wal-Mart we have to talk about. Every year before school started, Papa would load us up in his car and drive us into Harlingen to shop. Jaclyn and I tried coming up with a list of the things we brought home with us from those trips. We named everything from video games, watches, baby dolls, and camouflage pants to parakeets and hamsters! Ha! You should have seen our shock when those two “female” hamsters started multiplying! It was Steven and Travis who always pushed the limit. Jaclyn, Gina, and I, of course, have always been angels. ;-) Sometimes, I still have dreams about the five of us being kids and making our way through the mall in Harlingen, shopping with Papa. I’m not sure any of those gifts survived our childhoods, but I am certain the memories of those times with him and knowing that he loves us enough to brave such an outing – more than once! – will stick with us forever.

I wish I had time to tell you about gathering around the fireplace to read the Christmas story each year before we opened presents, quoting the familiar passages of Luke 2 together and being reminded what we really celebrate each December. I’d tell you about loading up in the old Suburban to go looking at Christmas lights, about airplane rides where we got to handle the controls for a time, and about our family ski trip to Red River. I’d like to tell you about playing “house” and “King of the Hill” in the storm shelter in their backyard and birthday parties by the pool. And, I wish I had words to tell you about what it means to each and every one of us that we never get off the phone without Papa telling us how much he loves us, how proud he is of us, and that he prays for us every day, that God will keep us safe, provide for all of our needs, and that we will live to please the Lord.

Since I do have the microphone this morning, I am going to take time to tell you one story that is just about me and Papa. It happened when I was a little girl, but the lesson lives on. As you know, my daddy was a football coach here in Rio Hondo. And, many Friday nights, Nana and Papa would drive Mama and me to the games. One Friday night, we were about halfway to Rio Hondo when I realized that I’d forgotten the bobcat paw tattoos that the cheerleaders had given Daddy for my face. I was distraught! Mama and I were in the backseat, and she was trying desperately to keep me quiet about it. But, Papa knew something was wrong. He asked me what was the matter, and I wailed, “I forgot my cat paws!” I don’t think it took him but a minute to decide to turn the car around, go back to the house, and let me get those silly cat paws. To this day, whenever Papa signs anything for me, he includes the tag line, “don’t forget your cat paws!” I asked him a few years ago why he turned around for something so trivial. His answer has stuck with me, and has probably influenced more decisions than I realize. He said, “Baby, I knew you’d get over it if I didn’t turn around, and soon enough, you’d forget about those cat paws. But, I also knew that if I did turn around, you’d remember it for a long, long time.”  There are a million different ways I know my Papa loves me, and the first one I’d point to is the cat paws. I’m so thankful he was wise enough to think beyond the 20 minutes it put us behind that night in order to see the opportunity to leave a lasting impression of his love on me for me and seize it.

This is a farming community. You understand the Law of the Harvest, right? Galatians 6:7-9 says, “Do not be deceived. God is not mocked. Whatever a man sows, this he will also reap. He who sows to please the flesh, from the flesh reaps destruction, but he who sows to please the Spirit reaps eternal life. Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not give up.” I came to Papa just a few weeks ago with some questions about ministry and some of the difficult people and situations I was seeing. I was weary, I confess, and I think I wanted him to tell me it was okay to wash my hands of it all and walk away. Papa didn’t answer my questions directly. Instead, he told me a series of stories from his own life and ministry. In each story, the conclusion, the result, the fruit of his decisions to love, to serve, to sow in obedience to the Lord was not made evident until many years after the initial seeds were sown. Sometimes as many as 35 years! I can be a slow learner at times, but I eventually got it when he looked me squarely in the eye and said, “Never give up. You don’t know how or when God is going to reward obedience, but you’ll never be sorry you obeyed.”

Deuteronomy 7:9 says, “Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commands.” I’m only the second generation removed from this great legacy, but in closing, I have to share a quote with you from one of the letters another of my friends wrote for this occasion. This comes from Erin, a young woman who teaches Bible study in my home each week. She writes, “The influence of Papa’s ministry isn’t going to stop with Kristen, or any of the Horton Clan, because more often than I’d like to admit, I have found myself starting a story with, ‘My friend Kristen’s Papa …” My only hope is that in sharing those stories, I too, would radiate the same passionate, ever-faithful, love of the Lord.”

I’m not much younger today than Papa was when he first came to Rio Hondo. (Steven’s even closer to that age! ;-) I think about that a lot, wondering what, if any, decisions I’m making today as I follow the Lord that will be remembered even five years from now, much less forty. I asked Papa about that not too long ago. How does one come to a town at 32 years of age and stay there, serving faithfully for 40 (and many more to come?)? He smiled, shook his head, and spoke deliberately when he said, “One day at a time, baby, you do it one day at a time.”

Embracing Accusations

For most of the last year, God's been reminding me that the Good News isn't all that good until the bad news really is all that bad. It's difficult to celebrate the Gospel and His provision of Jesus as my Savior until I understand how desperate my need of a Savior is. It's been a tough journey at times. Seeing your own darkness is never easy or pleasant, but recognizing that God knew all of that when He chose to save me has been unbelievably freeing! I think I've told most of you (and some of you have told me!) about the song by Shane & Shane called, "Embracing Accusations" which paints an incredible picture of just that. Today, I heard the following statements from a sermon by Matt Chandler.

"When all the accusations of your heart start stirring up, it all is true, but it shouldn't crush you that you are those things. You have not surprised God with how lazy and lacking you are. God did not die on the cross, but now in 2006 have all this regret, thinking 'If I'd have seen these fools, I'd have never done that.' That's not how it plays out. All sins for all time were covered for those who are being sanctified. Which means, I am a scoundrel, but you know what? Being accused of that sure makes me want to run into Him because Oh the LOVE, of Sweet God, who has loved us enough to lavish upon us grace enough for Today! For right now, for right where you are. It's such a freeing thing!"

"The kindness of God and his grace is what leads the saints to repentance. ... It leads us to press into Him all the more, and not run from Him. That's why accusations actually, eventually become your best friends. It's in those moments when you become aware of how messed up you really are that the fullness of Christ is made aware to you ... You'll never know the fullness of Jesus as long as you think you can bring an offering He likes. You don't bring stuff to his altar, you come lay down on it. You don't bring activity, you bring you, with all that you have, becoming a living sacrifice. He doesn't want your bull; He wants you."


Shane & Shane - Embracing Accusations

Father of lies, coming to steal kill and destroy
All my hopes of being good enough
I hear him saying, “cursed are the ones who can’t abide”

He’s right, halleluia, he’s right
The devil is preaching the song of the redeemed
That I am cursed and gone astray
I cannot gain salvation
Embracing accusation

The devil’s singing over me an age old song
That I am cursed and gone astray
Singing the first verse so conveniently over me
He’s forgotten the refrain.
Jesus Saves!

Comfort from Isaiah 51

1"Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness,
you who seek the LORD:
look to the rock from which you were hewn,
and to the quarry from which you were dug.
2 Look to Abraham your father
and to Sarah who bore you;
for he was but one when I called him,
that I might bless him and multiply him.
3 For the LORD comforts Zion;
he comforts all her waste places
and makes her wilderness like Eden,
her desert like the garden of the LORD;
joy and gladness will be found in her,
thanksgiving and the voice of song.
4 "Give attention to me, my people,
and give ear to me, my nation;
for a law will go out from me,
and I will set my justice for a light to the peoples.
5 My righteousness draws near,
my salvation has gone out,
and my arms will judge the peoples;
the coastlands hope for me,
and for my arm they wait.
6 Lift up your eyes to the heavens,
and look at the earth beneath;
for the heavens vanish like smoke,
the earth will wear out like a garment,
and they who dwell in it will die in like manner;
but my salvation will be forever,
and my righteousness will never be dismayed.

7 "Listen to me, you who know righteousness,
the people in whose heart is my law;
fear not the reproach of man,
nor be dismayed at their revilings.
8 For the moth will eat them up like a garment,
and the worm will eat them like wool;
but my righteousness will be forever,
and my salvation to all generations."

9 Awake, awake, put on strength,
O arm of the LORD;
awake, as in days of old,
the generations of long ago.
Was it not you who cut Rahab in pieces,
who pierced the dragon?
10 Was it not you who dried up the sea,
the waters of the great deep,
who made the depths of the sea a way
for the redeemed to pass over?
11 And the ransomed of the LORD shall return
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
they shall obtain gladness and joy,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

12"I, I am he who comforts you;
who are you that you are afraid of man who dies,
of the son of man who is made like grass,
13and have forgotten the LORD, your Maker,
who stretched out the heavens
and laid the foundations of the earth,
and you fear continually all the day
because of the wrath of the oppressor,
when he sets himself to destroy?
And where is the wrath of the oppressor?
14 He who is bowed down shall speedily be released;
he shall not die and go down to the pit,
neither shall his bread be lacking.
15I am the LORD your God,
who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar—
the LORD of hosts is his name.
16 And I have put my words in your mouth
and covered you in the shadow of my hand,
establishing[c] the heavens
and laying the foundations of the earth,
and saying to Zion, 'You are my people.'"

My Redeemer Lives

So, it's the end of the first week of January 2008. Normally, I'm better about getting things written at the very start of the year, but this New Year's came and went without much time to write. I do have a theme for the year though, and I'm excited about how it will unfold. Repeatedly, I have sensed the Lord prompting me to ask Him to show me who He is as Redeemer. What does it mean to be redeemed? How is it that He takes our "stuff" and brings Himself glory from it? I'm so excited about how He's going to answer this prayer. The words "redeemed" and "redeemer" seem to JUMP off the pages of scripture and shout from the lyrics of songs lately, calling out to my heart with great joy. Job, probably the oldest record in scripture, says, "I know that my Redeemer lives and that in the end He will stand upon the earth." Glory! This has been one of those weeks when I have needed to be reminded that my hope and confidence are NOT in this life, NOT in this world. There is a reality much greater than what I can see. God is good ALL the time, in EVERY circumstance. And, today, I am rejoicing because whatever happens here, I KNOW that my Redeemer lives and that He will stand upon the earth. He is the ultimate reality, and He is better than anything I am tempted to hope in here. This week, I have felt as though my faith in the God of Wonders has been put to the test. I have asked myself many times whether or not I really believe that nothing is too difficult for the God of all flesh? Do I really believe that the things that are impossible for man are possible with God? This morning, I heard the song "Never Underestimate My Jesus" by Relient K, and I just had to laugh. Those of you who know me very well know that one of my greatest pet peeves is to be underestimated. How much more disheartening must it be to the God who can do ANYTHING when we begin to doubt his power in our lives or the lives of those we love???

Am I at the point of no improvement?
What are the depths I still dwell in?
I try to excel but I feel no movement
Can I be free of this unreleasable sin?

Never underestimate my Jesus
You're tellin me that there's no hope
I'm tellin you your wrong
Never underestimate my Jesus
When the world around you crumbles
He will be strong; he will be strong

I throw up my hands
Oh the impossibilities!
Frustrated and tired
Where do I go from here?
Now I'm searchin' for
The confidence I lost so willingly
Overcoming these obstacles
Is overcoming my fears

I think I can't
I think I can't
but I think you can
I think you can!
gather my insufficiencies and
place them in your hands
place them in your hands
place them in your hands.

You will be strong (3x)

A Christmas Blog

I came home to Plano to spend Christmas with my parents (and my maternal grandmother). It's been a pleasant couple of days thus far. This afternoon, we attended a crowded but beautiful Candlelight Christmas Eve service during which we were poignantly reminded that Jesus truly is the reason we celebrate at all. Afterwards, we came home for a traditional family Christmas Eve meal of tamales and queso followed by a trip through our favorite neighborhoods to look at Christmas lights. It was a pleasant evening, and we were all feeling rather warm and fuzzy inside as we pulled back up to the house. That last just just until we noticed a man standing beside my car (parked on the curb in front of my parents' house) shining a flashlight on my license plate. I'm not really sure how the conversation went between him and Daddy while Mom, Mimi, and I huddled near the front door waiting to be let into the warm house, but i know it ended with me backing my car up along the curb about three feet just to be sure it wasn't across the property line in front of his house. I'm not gonna lie, I was annoyed. I did not wish him a "Merry Christmas" as he stood there watching to be sure I moved it far enough. I did not even smile at him. (If you know me, you know this actually took some effort.) I refrained from stomping back into the house. I was annoyed. But, when I got inside, Daddy sat on the couch to find a Christmas movie. Mimi and Mama got in the kitchen to whip up desserts, and we animatedly talked about plans for tomorrow, Christmas Day. That's when it struck me. Mr. Scrooge next door has nothing better to do tonight than stand outside his house with a flashlight and pick fights with his neighbors. I think I'll take him some cookies. ;-)

Love Me for Me

The last two weeks have been hard. I came to the realization a while back that I've basically been spiritually and emotionally numb for months now. I wasn't sad or angry, but I wasn't happy or joyful either. I just was. I moved through my days one at a time, rarely feeling anything. It's a terrible thing not to care, to have nothing in your life you feel strongly enough about to even get mad over. It's a horrible way to live. But, when you've done it for a while, you don't even realize you're doing it anymore. You just are. You don't live, you exist.
It's a difficult thing to admit, too. How do you tell people that you just don't care? "I know I should love you. I know I should feel something about you, the things you're going through, the place you're in, but I don't. I just can't." It's not really something your friends want to hear. It's really not something they can understand. And, why say anything about something you're not totally sure you can change or "fix." My friends are fixers. Do you have those? I'm a fixer, and I attract fixers, too. We're a bunch of fixers. So, when something's wrong, we do our best to fix one another. Usually, this just creates a bigger mess, but it hasn't stopped us yet.
Anyway, I think I hid my numbness pretty well. I'm a relatively outgoing person, and can pretend to be easily amused by many things. It doesn't take much to play the game. Act silly, make people laugh, have just enough of an answer to make them think you care about the conversation, then slip back onto the sidelines of life as it's passing you by. Scary how it happens.
Like, I said, I was making it along like this pretty well until very recently. Then along came "share time." I have a love/hate relationship with share time. I love to know what's really going on in the lives of my incredible friends, but I hate getting honest about my own messes. Love/Hate. The girl right before me really shared. I mean, there were tears and everything, and I felt so inadequate to follow that. I thought about making something up, something that sounded good, sincere, but nothing they'd want to pray about or worry about the next day. But, for some reason that night I couldn't do it again. I needed them to know. So, I just said it. "I'm numb. I don't feel much of anything. And, worst of all, I've been this way the better part of the last year, I think." Then came the praying. The hands clasping mine, the hands layed tenderly on my knee or around my shoulder, the hands telling me I wasn't alone, telling me whether they understood or not, they weren't going to leave me to go it alone. Those girls always say, "When we pray on Wednesdays, stuff happens on Thursdays." Well, they prayed.
It started simply at first, I think. A long day at work, a frustrating e-mail, a reminder that someone cared, and suddenly, unexpectedly, there were tears. It was comical really. Driving home on a rainy Thursday afternoon, the new mascara I'd been experimenting with burning the fire out of my eyes, making it difficult to see. Then, the phone rang. Ginger. She had a funny story. I laughed. (And I cried.) "What's going on?" she asks innocently. "I don't know!" I gulp miserably. "We prayed," she smiles into the phone.
I still can't explain it, but the feeling didn't stop that afternoon or when the tears subsided. The feelings (a whole broad range of them) have continued to come. Little ones, big ones, funny ones, sad ones, happy ones, teary ones, nostalgic ones, angry ones. Feelings for me, feelings for others. I'm honestly not sure I could say it's easier. Numb is very simple. But, feeling adds color. And, of course, complications. It's tempting every day to retreat back to numb. My carefully contructed emotional security system feels threatened, even compromised. But, maybe all really is just as it should be.
Here's the hardest part. Letting people love me. I mean, really letting them love me. Trusting that they can and do love me for me. Numb means not caring what they do. Numb means not really being able to feel loved or hated, so it doesn't make much difference. Feeling means being aware. Caring. Wanting more. Feeling is costly. It costs me, and it makes me more expensive for others sometimes. It's nerve-wracking wondering who's gonna be willing to pay the price on the tougher days. Feeling takes me back into the battle field. Feelings aren't bad, but they can't always be trusted, so they have to be weighed, measured, and applied carefully to the arguments in my head.
Most of you won't be directly impacted by this new flood of feeling, but for those of you who are, please be patient with me. Please remind me how blessed I am to have you in my life. Please try hard to just love me because Jesus does and he asked you to, not because you need or want something from me.

I Heard This Today ...

You Tell On Yourself.

You tell on yourself by the friends you seek
By the manner in which you speak
By the way you employ your leisure time
By the way you make use of your dollar and dime.

You tell what you are by the clothes you wear
By the spirit in which your burdens you bear
By the kinds of things at which you laugh
By the records you play on your phonograph.

You show what you are by the way you walk
By the subjects of which you like to talk
By the manner in which you bear defeat
By the foods you choose and the way you eat
By the books you select from the library shelf.

In these ways and others you tell on yourself
So there is not a bit of common sense
In trying to keep up a false pretense.






Marie Losavio

Celebrating Papa

During the weekend of January 19-20, my grandfather, Rev. Gene Horton (aka: Papa) and the Rio Hondo Baptist Church will be celebrating his 40th anniversary as pastor there. Our entire family will be together along with many friends from around the country, gathering to celebrate all that God has done in him and through him over the last 40 years. I have been sharing with a few friends recently what a huge milestone this is and how eager I am to be a part of this time with my grandfather. There is no way that we will ever be able to count this side of eternity the impact that his faithfulness in ministry at the Rio Hondo Baptist Church has had around the world.
Papa is the most faithful prayer warrior that I know, and I believe the secret to God's blessing over the longevity of his ministry and the secret to the well-being of our family has been the hours he spends calling our names out before the Lord. It's an incredible thing to know with all my heart that there has not been a single day of my life that Papa has not prayed for me, specifically, by name, with specific petitions. I am utterly convinced that much of who I am today and the ministry that God has allowed me to have is due in huge part to those prayers on my behalf.
So, I've been thinking a lot about how in the world I am going to do my part to express to Papa how thankful I am for his life and ministry and demonstrate (at least in part) the impact it's had on me. That's where you come in. Because so much of who I am comes from his influence in my life, if you've been touched or impacted in anyway by me, you're also part of his legacy.
What I want to do for Papa is collect from you any stories, quotes, thoughts about scripture or Christian living, etc., that you've have heard from me. I'd love it if you can think of things I've told you specifically about him over the time we've been friends, but even if it's just something memorable you've learned from me, it probably originated with him in some way, shape, or form.
I know the celebration is still a couple of months off, but I'd love to start assembling this special project very soon. So, please, take a minute or two even now to stop and send me your thoughts about this.
40 years ago, Papa was a 33 year old man, married with 3 kids. He had seen the Rio Grande Valley devastated by hurricane Beulah and felt compelled to move there and minister to the people there. I don't think he had any clue what God would do over the next 40 years, that his children and their spouses and their children and now, even his great-grandchildren would call Rio Hondo home. I don't think we'll ever know how many people have heard and responded to his simple presentations of the gospel week in and week out, from his pulpit and through his weekly television broadcasts. How I pray that we'd be so faithful.

Thanksgiving

If you've been reading my blog for long, you know that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I thoroughly enjoy the opportunity to stop and really give thought to the ways God has been insanely good to me in the last year and throughout my life. So, without further explanation, here are my ABC's of Thanksgiving for 2007:

A: Appendage Friends
B: Breaking Free
C: CCWJC, Crazy or Jesus moments, and my Chauffer (Erin)
D: D'Ann (especially unscheduled Monday visits)
E: Eleven Fingered Charlie
F: Freedom Writers
G: Godly parents
H: Holly Lake, Hannah
I: Isaiah 43
J: Jonah 2:8
K: Kindness that leads me to repentance
L: LittleHead (BigHead and LoveHead, too)
M: Mimi
N: Nephew (and Niece) Cousins, Nu Thangs
O: Online Florists
P: Podcasts
Q: Quiet Time Chair
R: Roses on my birthday
S: Super Group, Sibling Friends, Speaker of the Truth
T: Tuesday's at JJ's, Taryn's influence
U: Umbrellas of Grace
V: Volunteers!, Veronica, and Valerie!
W: Wonder Women (and Wonder Dave)
X: eXamples of Courage
Y: [YOOJ] and Yupp's
Z: Zephaniah 3:17

I Like My Eggs Scrambled

In the movie "The Runaway Bride" Richard Gere's character confronts Julia Roberts' on the issue of how she orders her eggs. He points out that each of her previous fiance's told him that she liked her eggs just like he did because she never bothered to have her own opinion, just ordered whatever the person she was with at the time preferred. I remember being facinated as I watched that scene and the one later in the movie where she goes into a diner, orders several different plates of eggs, tries them all the triumphantly proclaims exactly how she prefers her eggs. You see, I've always been more than a little bit of a geek, and particularly in my teen and younger adult years, I did my best to hide that by going along with what others deemed "cool" rather than just owning up to my own preferences. As I've matured, it's still difficult to be honest about the fact that I hate loud music, prefer to be in bed by 10:00 p.m., and genuinely enjoy breakfast meetings - oh, and country music!, but I haven't come across anyone yet who rejected me or my friendship over any of my goofy preferences. I had a conversation about this with a dear friend the other night, and I've been thinking about it ever since. Ginger wrote a blog last week about the things she loves but can't necessarily explain. Maybe it's something like that. And, maybe we posts lists like these in a place like this because we want to be known for who we really are. If you say you love me, I want you to love my inner geek as well. ;-) She's the one that likes to read way more than she likes to watch movies or television. She's the one that listens to sports talk radio and live broadcasts of games during football season. The one who checks the weather forecast and plans accordingly. The one who looks everything up on google maps and has more addresses, zip codes, and phone numbers memorized than she'd ever admit. She likes reading the newspaper and researches most of her purchases online. She enjoys any opportunity to take notes and try out new office supplies. She gets a kick out of scripture memory contests, and prefers just about any group activity to watching movies with a room full of people. She hates roller coasters, but rides them for the bonding experience. She kinda hates girls nights, except about three times a year and only when it includes doing something out of the ordinary. She likes singing, a lot, especially pop songs and old hymns. :-\

My friend John

I was reminded today of an old friend that helped me fall in love with British Literature as a college student and of a poem that should be read more often.

A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
by John Donne


AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.





--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Source:
Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 51-52.

Old Lyrics, New Blessing

"Thy Word have I hidden in my heart that I might not sin against thee." There are all kinds of things hidden in my heart, thankfully God's word is there, too. It's living and active, full of power, able to teach, admonish, rebuke and encourage. (Yes, I know I mixed at least two verses in that sentence.) Psalm 40 says, "I waited patiently for the Lord. He heard my cry and lifted me out of the miry clay. He put my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth that many may see and fear and put their trust in the Lord." This morning, I woke up very slowly, not entirely sure I wanted to get out of bed at all. The enemy was well ahead of me. It was as though he stood waiting beside my bed with a steaming mug full of guilt and shame, reminding me of all my failures. I didn't acknowledge him directly. It never does me much good. I did look to the Lord, though, full of questions. Why and How? Why in the world do you put up with me, Lord? How in the world do you continue letting me live, much less use me? That's when the song started. It was such an old song, sung by someone I'd written off, judged unworthy to sing such things, a "moral failure." But the song wouldn't be silenced. It was coming out of a hiding place, long forgotten in a dusty part of my memory. It was a soft humming at first, subtle. Then the lyrics came with it, and their import nearly took my breath away as I put my feet on the floor and began my morning routine. Stubborn love. It's your stubborn love that never lets go of me. Pefect love, embracing the worst in me.
It's true! It's so true. God's love has absolutely nothing to do with anything good in me. Nothing to do with anything I might have done to earn it. The bad in me far outweighs the good. The funny thing about His love, though, is that it is completely stubborn. Here's how the song goes ...

I'm caught again, your faithless friend
do you ever tire of hearing
What a fool I've been
guess I should pray what can I say
Oh, it hurts to know the hundred times I've caused you pain
Forgive me sounds so empty
when I never change
Yet you stay and say you love me still forgiving me time and time again

Chorus:
It's your stubborn love
that never lets go of me
I don't understand how you can stay
Perfect love, embracing the worst in me
How I long for your stubborn love

Funny me, just couldn't see, even long before I knew you, you were loving me
Sometimes I cry, you must cry too,
when you see the broken promises
I made to you, I keep saying that I'll tryst you, though I seldom do,
yet you stay and say you love me
still knowing someday I'll be like you

(Chorus)

It's your stubborn love that never lets go of me
I don't understand how you stay
Perfect love, embracing the worst in me
and you'll never let me go
I believe I finally know,
I can't live without, your stubborn love.

Wonders of Walmart

I journaled this morning about my fear that I'd lost my sense of wonder at the world. After reading a particular devotional thought, I realized that I don't spend much time at all contemplating things that are too wonderful for me to comprehend. If I can't get my mind around something, I'm generally pretty content to just let it be and recognize that God is so much bigger than my small mind. However, an afternoon trip to the ghetto WalMart today seems to have reawakened my sense of wonder.
Well, actually, I think it started this morning when I watched a very long funeral procession go by and noticed that instead of the usual parking lights turned on to mark them as mourners, they were all driving with their flashers!
Anyway, back to WallyWorld. First, there was the strange little woman in the parking lot that faked me out. She was putting a cart in the cart-keeper, and I mistakenly assumed she would finish her task in a timely manner, get in her car, and drive away. So, I paused and waited to take her space. (Ghetto Walmart is crowded even in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon!) However, when she'd put the cart away, she walked across the parking aisle to another cart, rounded it up, and put it away, too. By this point, I'd figured out that it was pointless to wait on her, but I was fascinated to see her heading for another as I turned down the next row. This was NOT a Walmart employee mind you.
As I parked my car, and checked my purse to make sure I had my list and my phone with me, I saw another "wondrous" site, a full grown man in a pickup truck pulled into the spot next to me. He looked normal enough, dressed in a gray t-shirt (the softest kind!) and khaki shorts, but I noticed something odd as he headed off across the parking lot (we were parked a significant distance from the entry). He wasn't wearing any shoes! None, at all! He'd driven his truck to Walmart, gotten out, and danced (it was black asphault on a 95 degree day afterall!) toward the entrance. I'm assuming they let him inside in his barefoot state because I didn't pass him coming back out as I headed for the door. How does one decide that it's appropriate to just go walking through Walmart (much less the parking lot!) without shoes on?!
I don't think I have time to recount for you the "wonder"ful sites I encountered in the Walmart aisles, but suffice it to say, I am duly convinced that there are very few things one cannot buy at Walmart, except for the rock shaped hide-a-key for which I was hunting, of course!
My excursion was only complete when I had made my purchases and stepped toward the exit only to be greeted by a sweet little man in a blue vest who interrupted his lively conversation with a man who was obviously an Elvis impersonator without his jumpsuit long enough to wish me "G'day!"
G'day indeed! :-)

Sin, Confession, and Mercy

So, on the way home from Holly Ranch the other day, we were talking about our experiences during the Prayer Lab on Saturday morning and I was telling the girls in Ashleigh's car about how as I sat at the confession table and began making a list of my recent transgressions, God just sort of pushed all that to the side, pointed right at the deepest sin issue in my heart and told me He wanted to deal with that first. Bluch! It was not fun, but having that uncovered before Him and out in the open between us has given me so much hope as I seek to continue growing with the Lord in this season of my life. That's when our resident "Speaker of Truth" - Emily - asked me an excellent question that has stayed with me ever since. "So, Kristen, how are you going to let God deal with that sin issue? What's going to be different? How's that gonna look?" Ugh! I nearly choked trying to come up with an answer. I finally admitted I wasn't entirely sure except that I knew I had to stay tender before the Lord because it's primarily been an issue of hard-heartedness and refusal to honestly seek Him. The question has stayed with me, and today, I keep thinking back to the following passage from Micah 7 that I heard John Piper preach on earlier this year. Here's what it says ...

7 But as for me, I watch in hope for the LORD,
I wait for God my Savior;
my God will hear me.
8 Do not gloat over me, my enemy!
Though I have fallen, I will rise.
Though I sit in darkness,
the LORD will be my light.
9 Because I have sinned against him,
I will bear the LORD's wrath,
until he pleads my case
and establishes my right.
He will bring me out into the light;
I will see his righteousness.

As Emily herself often reminds us, Satan is such a loser! He'd love for me to make my sin and my confession and my struggle to stay clean before the Lord to be about failure and about somehow letting him have victory over me, but it cannot be. When I sin, I sin against the Lord, the same God who has paid the ultimate price for me to be in right relationship with Him. What an incredible truth! I cast myself at His mercy today!

Jesus Loves Me

Some people would try to tell you that I'm a complicated woman, but I'm really not. It's truly the simplest things that bring me the greatest joys. A while back I wrote a post about the things for which I want to be remembered. During a Sunday morning service, the pastor had asked us to come up with what we wanted written on our tombstones, an activity designed to help us begin living with the end in mind. That was an easy one for me. Some time ago, more as a joke with my family than anything, I wrote down "funeral instructions" in a purple journal that included how I wanted to be remembered. When I am gone, I would like you to say, "Oh how she loved Jesus ... and oh how she loved me!"
This weekend, I spent about 24 hours on a retreat with the women who have been closest to me over the last year. On Saturday morning, we took time to write letters to each other in the journals we were given for the weekend. I read through the letters quickly on Saturday afternoon, but last night, when I got in bed, I took time to read them more slowly and really enjoy what my sisters had to say to me. It was so encouraging to find out that the things I've been striving to communicate in everything I say and do has been heard and felt in their lives. So many of them commented that they knew without a doubt that I love Jesus and several of them also commented about the fact that they felt very loved by me. And, in my heart, I thought "Victory!"
Saturday evening, in the course of testing a new database for work, a friend making up a bogus contact used the sentence "Kristen love Jesus" to test the field space. It was a simple, silly thing he probably didn't give much thought to at all, but it struck me that of all the things he could have typed in that space "Kristen loves Jesus" is what came to mind. And, I was thankful.
Today, another friend was making a joke about what each of us should have written on our bathroom mirror to encourage us each morning based on our personalities or funny things our friends belive to be true about us. His suggestion was that my mirror would read, "Somebody in heaven loves me."
That's when it really hit me. Yes, it's important that you know that I love Jesus and that I love you, but the greater truth is not that I love Jesus, but that Jesus loves me. This, I cannot do without.

Update

So, I know it's way past time to write, but I don't know where to start. God is doing a new thing, I'm just not exactly sure what that new thing is just yet. :-) It's been an insanely busy week this week at CCWJC, but I admit I'm learning lots every hour, and I'm thankful. Hopefully, sometime soon, I'll get around to putting some real thoughts down in writing and share them with you.

You Know He's Doin' It ...

Isaiah 43

18 Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
19 See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.

Sacrifice

While teaching last weekend, I was reminded of a definition I think we'd all do well to commit to heart.

Sacrifice - giving up something that I love for something that I love even more

Have you ever thought you were making a sacrifice to the Lord only to find out that giving up what you loved for Him, who you loved more, turned out to be more blessing and reward than you could have anticipated?

Let the Redeemed of the Lord Say So

If you're planning to attend Awakening in a couple of weeks, don't read this -- it'll spoil the fun! Or, read it, then skip my conference and learn from someone else on that day! ;-)
The title and theme of the conference I'll be leading comes from Psalm 107, where verse 2 commands, "Let the redeemed of the Lord say so!" I've heard that phrase in church life for as long as I can remember, but I don't know that I really ever gave it much thought until the idea for this conference began brewing a few months ago. What does it mean to be redeemed? And how does one say so? These are some of the questions we'll be dealing with at Awakening. Today, I just want to share with you a couple of the lists I've gleaned from this passage so far. See, the general idea of the conference is that if God has redeemed you, then you have a responsibility (a joy and a delight) to declare that to others who need to hear that message of hope and victory through Him. So, I began searching the passage for two things: From what kinds of things has God redeemed His people? And, what has He done for them?

Just check this list out, all of these are found in Psalm 107. See how many of these you can identify with. God's people are redeemed from:

enemies
wandering
hunger
thirst
trouble
darkness
shadow of death
being downhearted
fallenness
distress
chains, gates, bars of iron
sin
affliction
destruction
depths
melting souls
reeling, staggering
their wits' end
storm-tossed seas
having been diminished and brought low
oppression
sorrow
poverty

It gets better! Check out what God's done for His people:

redeems
gathers
delivers
leads
satisfies
fills
saves
brings out of darkness
breaks chains, gates, and bars
sends His Word
heals
commands seas
brings out of distress
calms storms
guides to safety
takes power over rivers, wilderness, springs, dry ground, barrenness, famine, fields, plants, and vineyards
establishes dwelling places
yields a fruitful harvest
blesses
multiplies
sets the poor on high and increases their family
shuts up iniquity

Anybody wanna shout "Glory!"??? Friends, if God's been gracious to you, thank Him, tell others about it, proclaim His goodness. Who are we to keep silent about all His wonders?

July 13, 1985

Happy Birthday to you!
Only one will not do,
Born again means salvation!
How many have you?

This was the song we sang in Sunday School whenever someone made a profession of faith in Jesus Christ when I was a little girl. It reminded us that birthdays were important, but celebrating being born again in Jesus was even more important.

Today marks the 22nd anniversary of my new birth in Jesus. I've been thinking a lot about that day of salvation and the grace of life in Christ this week. Wanna hear the story? You're not a captive audience, so I'll tell it. Read along if you like.

We'd been having revival services at the church that week where we talked a lot about the return of Christ. My babysitter and her family had been talking about something they'd seen on the freaky Jesus channel where some image of the Lord had appeared on the back wall of a church during a healing service and everyone was convinced His return was imminent. The most upsetting song in the world to me at that time was "Soon and Very Soon." You know how it goes ...

Soon and very soon
We are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon
We are going to see the King!
Soon and very soon
We are going to see the King!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
We're going to see the King!

I can remember standing in church, listening to that song, looking around the room for any signs of Christ splitting the roof and taking everyone with Him, knowing that I'd never invited Him into my heart and was not prepared for eternity. I remember being on my bicycle the next day in our cul-de-sac looking at the blue sky and checking the clouds for any resemblence to that picture of Jesus in my Sunday School classroom in case He was planning His return for that day.

That night as my daddy tucked me into bed, he walked to the door of my room and flipped off the switch. I can't honestly tell you what I said, but I remember I began to cry, I asked him not to turn off the light, and I told him Jesus was coming back and I was not ready. He called my mom into the room and together, they sat by my bed, talked to me about recognizing my need for a Savior and prayed with me as I invited Jesus to come into my heart, to be my Savior and my Lord.

July 13, 1985.

Gettin the Glory

My great grandmother was fond of reminding me that it never mattered who got the credit for something as long as God gets the glory. It was one of my earliest lessons in living all of life as unto the Lord.
This past week, my friend Jeremy and his family have been on quite the roller coaster as he battled a life-threatening bacterial infection. To read their story, go here. Jeremy's on his way home from the hospital now. He's been cleared by most of his doctors, and just a week after being admitted with a 108 degree temperature, he is going home to continue his recovery in familiar surroundings. The fact that he is going home at all is testimony of God's power over all things.
I've been thinking about and praying for Jeremy and Jodi a lot lately. Watching their lives lived out in this trial, wondering how such a young family can endure so many difficulties, - did I mention their house flooded a couple of months ago and is in the process of being refloored and repainted? - and thinking about how God works in and through it all, what purpose He has for them in these things.
Someone told me once that jewlers place diamonds against black cloths in order to display their brilliance most radiantly. In Jeremy and Jodi's life, these trials have been a black cloth, but the brilliant radiance of Jesus Christ at work in them and through them has shone all the more brightly against this backdrop. Not just their family, friends, and church, or even my family, friends, and church, but also doctors and nurses and specialists, and medical personnel around the country are hearing the story of this man and the things he's survived, and whenever the story is told, Jeremy and Jodi offer one explantion. God is BIG. He's so BIG. He is being made famous through their insistance that He get the credit AND the glory.
John chapter 9 tells the story of a man who was blind from birth, and the religious rulers of the day ask Jesus if the man's blindness was caused by his sin or the sin of his parents. In verse 3 Jesus answers and says, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life." What a beautiful display Jeremy and Jodi are of the glory of God at work.

Please Pray For My Friend

I was exhausted when I went to bed last night, so you can imagine my surprise and frustration when I woke up an hour before my alarm this morning. I lay there a minute before realizing that something deep inside was calling me to pray. I began running through the people on my prayer list, but never could identify what was so urgent. I got out of bed and began my daily routine, and for some reason, I picked up my cell phone and looked to see if I had new messages. Sure enough, there was a text message from Jodi sent sometime after midnight last night saying simply, "Just realized you don't know. Jeremy's in ICU. Call tomorrow." Yeah, that'll get your heartrate going.

I quickly finished getting ready, then jumped in the car and called Jodi.

I asked Jodi how we should pray and these are the things she told me.
Pray for Jodi to rest. She knows that she's going to need plenty of energy to care for Jeremy over the next few days/weeks, but sleeping in a hospital is very difficult. Her phone rings almost incessantly.
Pray for Jeremy's doctors to have wisdom, to get to the source of the problem and correct it quickly.
Pray for Jeremy's healing.

She also offered these praises.
Praise the Lord for the friends who have surrounded Jeremy and Jodi both, arriving at the hospital at almost the same time they did, caring for Emma, and looking after Jodi, too.
Praise the Lord for a small hospital with a very attentive staff who located an infectious disease specialist familiar with Jeremy's particular disease.
Praise the Lord that even though Jeremy's temperature spiked to 108 at one point, neurological exams report no brain damage.
Praise the Lord that even before they knew this trial was coming, God was working things out for them in ways they couldn't anticipate.

Many of you who read this blog will know how important these friends are to me. Others of you might not have been introduced to them, but hang with me a while, and you will be, it's inevitable.

Thanks for praying. For updates, visit www.meadowridgechurch.org and click on the link called Updates on Jeremy.
Kristen

My Spastic Adventures

Anyone reading this who knows me won't really be surprised, just amused by yet another shining example of the genius I am. The rest of you who think you know me but are really just finding out, get ready. I'm brilliant, I tell ya.
Our water bill was due last Friday. On Thursday evening, seeing that I was out late and had not put a check in the envelope alongside my other roommates, Christy left me a gentle reminder note asking me to do just that, so that she could walk it into the Water Department the next morning. Friday morning, I had a later than usual appointment before going into the office, and awoke well after Christy had left for work. Oops.
I quickly wrote my portion of the bill, put it in the envelope and scooped it up to take to work with me, hoping to catch Christy on our lunch breaks and get the bill paid. No such luck. She was stuck in court all day but assured me it could be paid on Monday morning without penalty. I felt bad, but there wasn't much I could do about it. Nothing else was said about the matter until Sunday night.
Again, I was out late, and she text messaged me on her way to bed. "Please set the water bill on the kitchen table, so I can take it in tomorrow." Doh! The water bill was laying on my desk, in my office, downtown, where I wasn't going to be until after 10:00 Monday morning. I don't know how Christy was feeling at this point, but I was completely annoyed by me. She tells me that she'll meet me between dockets on Monday and take the bill. Deal.
I get to the office on Monday morning only to realize that the bill was laying on the backseat of my car all weekend. For some reason, I carry it upstairs into the office with me. Christy calls and asks me to meet her at the courthouse at 11:30. I jump up and make it down the stairs before realizing the bill is still laying on my desk. Fortunately, I wasn't already in my car or at the courthouse.
11:28, I pull up in front of the courthouse. Finally, something I'd done right in this whole fiasco! 11:32, still no sign of Christy. I call. I say, "Hey, where are you?" She can't even hide the amusement in her voice at this point. She says, "I'm in front of the courthouse, where are you?" I say, bewildered, then with realization dawning on me, "I'm in front of the courthouse ... (long pause) ... but not the one where you work." She's not even trying to hide her laughter now. Fortunately, the two courthouses are just blocks from each other, and I was able to pass the bill off, finally! She just reached into the car, took the bill, and informed me, "Your new name is Spaz!"
When I'm on a roll, there's no stopping me!

Walking In the Truth

This has been one of those times in my life when knowing the truth and walking in the truth are not synonymous. I know that I'm to worry about nothing and pray about everything (Philippians 4:6-7), so why does it seem so much easier to worry about it? As though I could fix it anyway! I know that I'm to bear with others, to forgive as Christ forgave me, to clothe myself with compassion, kindness, humility, and patience (Colossians 3:12-17), so why do I keep ending up at odds with another of God's chosen beloved? As if I'm always so loveable! I know that God is able to do exceedingly, abundantly beyond all that I ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20-21), so why am I so surprised when things work out way better than I planned or expected? As if He needed my help! I know that God will supply all my needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19), so why do I keep going to him over and over again with a laundry list of things I think I need as though He might forget or be hardpressed to provide? I know that my struggle is not against flesh and blood but against the rulers, powers, and principalities of this dark world (Ephesians 6:10-19), so why do I keep treating others and enemies? I know that through God we will do valiantly, it is He who will trample our enemies (Psalm 108:13, Exodus 14:14), I need only be still, so why do I spend so much effort and energy trying to fight for myself? As if I'd actually accomplish anything!

I've been thinking about that guy in James that looks in the mirror, sees what's wrong, then walks away without making corrections and wondering just how often I do the same thing. What good is it to know the truth if I don't live in it, let it change my life? I'm such a work in progress, so thankful that God is patient as he continues to shape me.

D. Glo

Last fall, Dodie Davis Glover and I celebrated our "10 Year Friendship Anniversary" without much pomp or circumstance. We laughed and joked about throwing a party and inviting all of our mutual friends, those who've been most directly blessed by our fabulousness. ;-) But, of course, life happens and the time slips by, and now, we're more than six months down the road from that opportunity -- guess we'll have to wait for the 20 year celebration!
However, this blog isn't about me and Dodidra. It's just about Dodidra. When I was a senior in high school, preparing to leave home and head out to Abilene to attend Hardin-Simmons University, I prayed about a lot of things. One of those prayers was for a roommate, someone I would be friends with, someone who would love Jesus and help me continue to grow in my faith by getting involved in a local church. You know that verse about God being able to do more than we could ask or imagine? Dodidra is example number one in my life of how true that verse is. I could go on and on about all of the ways she (and our friendship) have exceeded any expectation I could have ever dreamed up in those early prayers. She wasn't just my freshman roommate. She was my next door neighbor sophmore year, my office mate at PDBC our junior and senior years, my housemate the summer before our senior year, and my roommate again for a year during seminary before she married Jacob. She's been a friend, someone I have laughed with until we cried. She's been a prayer partner, a woman who encourages me with the Word of God when all other words have failed. She's been a champion, sticking up for me when others sought to tear me down. She's been a sister of my heart.
Yesterday, I held her new born daughter. I sat in a chair with that bundle of sweetness and looked across at my precious friend resting from her labor, and there were no words. I thought back to the night we met as seniors in high school, to the letters we exchanged, to the day her mom almost made us go to HPU because our housing assignment had been confused, to crazy pledging memories, to silly college crushes and a few broken hearts, to the day we accidently wore matching outfits to chapel, to dances and dressups, roadtrips, and Christmas parties, Bible studies, prayer meetings, even funerals, losses, and of course, a wedding. Dodie is not perfect, I know that, and I'd never want to put that pressure on her. But, from someone who's observed her life up close for a long time now, trust me. She is a living example of how God honors obedience, and it is a joy to celebrate with her.

Praying for Healing

I have a friend who has been in chronic pain for a very long time. She's seen doctors, specialists even, and attempted a variety of treatments. Currently, she is at a crossroads. The specialist believes it is time to begin a new round of treatments that will cost thousands of dollars and may still lead to surgery. Earlier this week she called me. She said that after talking it over with her husband, she had decided to speak with her pastor and request that a team of elders in her church gather to pray with her and for her, for her healing, and she'd asked them to invite me because she knew I believed in healing, too.
I told her I would be there. And, then, I began to tremble.
Did I believe in healing? Of course, I believed in healing? What did it mean to believe in healing? What it immediately boiled down to was that I did believe God could heal, especially those who had the faith to ask believing, but I wasn't sure that I believed He would -- or that I had the faith to ask with confidence. Wow, that was so hard to admit.
Honestly, I kept picturing myself gathered in a room full of faith giants and prayer warriors in a scene out of the exorcist, only they had to stop the procedings and ask me to leave the room because one of them discerned my lack of faith which was hindering the healing. When I confessed this fear to my friend, she said, "Kristen! This is not a seance, for Pete's sake!" Even I had to laugh at myself that time.
In preparing for this adventure in prayer, I did two things. 1) I prayed. I asked God to remove my doubts and help my unbelief. 2) I read. I love me some www.biblegateway.com, and I wasted no time doing a couple of word searches on healing in scripture. I read many passages about God's healing, but the one that I kept coming back to was in James.
James 5:13-16 says, "Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise. Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective."
Was my friend in trouble? Yes. She should pray. Was she happy? Sometimes, and when she was she loved to sing songs of praise, but more often than not recently, the chronic pain she experienced hindered the happiness of other areas of life. Was she sick? Definitely. She should call the elders of her chruch to pray over her and anoint her with oil in the name of the Lord. So, she did. It was just that simple. Not magical or mystical, simple obedience that prompted this plan. I could handle that, couldn't I?
The gathering took place much like any other prayer meeting. We met, we heard about the need, we read the scripture -- wouldn't you know the pastor turned to James 5! And, we began to pray. Nobody prayed anything wacky or weird. Nobody hooped, hollared, or called out in a language I couldn't understand. They referenced familiar passages of scripture and prayed accordingly. They repeated the words of beloved praise hymns. They confessed confidence in God's sovereign goodness, his unchanging, unfailing character. They prayed for wholeness -- not just in her physical body, but in her spirit, in her mind, in her heart. They prayed that Jesus be glorified. We prayed. Although I began as a curious observer, it was not long before I recognized like-minded believers and entered into their fellowship before the throne of God Himself, and He was so kind and gracious to welcome us there, to offer us a sense of His presence among us, to direct and guide our prayers in line with His Word.
Many things about that evening cannot be described appropriately. Some times the presence of the Lord is too sweet to capture with words, and I would not want to take away from it by failing to do it justice. But, one lesson from the experience stands out clearly in my mind. As we began our time of prayer, the pastor said this. "Father, we don't know what you'll choose to do, and we leave all things up to your sovereign will. We don't know if you'll heal our sister in the way that we're asking you to, but we do know that we have not if we ask not, so we're asking." How many times do I wish for God to move in a certain way, but fail to ask Him for it? How much more might we see Him move if we faithfully gathered as His children and agreed together in His name for the desires He's placed on our hearts?

All Aboard

I've known for at least a week now that I needed to blog, maybe longer. I don't know why it's so hard to get started sometimes. The picture I carry of how things work in my head looks like an old train yard. There are multiple tracks and my ability to focus or speak intelligibly often has a lot to do with how many trains are moving at any given time. It's tough to pick one and ride with it when it comes to blogging. However, there is one train that's been blowing its horn louder than the others this week, so I figured we'd hope on that one today and see where it takes us.
I'm going to steal the title for this train from an article released by Relevant Magazine today called "Party Theology." It's been over a year ago that the idea for a ministry called "Overflow" first became a recurring theme in my life. I'd attended a concert with a friend who's coworker was playing in the band on a backyard patio at a bar near downtown Fort Worth. The bar scene was completely foreign to me, and I felt as though I stuck out like a sore thumb, and I fully expected to be pointed at and made to feel stupid for venturing so far out of my comfort zone. But, that's not at all what happened. I was completely facinated. In the hour we stood there, I had one woman strike up a conversation with me about the bracelet I was wearing, another offer to show me what was on her camera that was making her table laugh so loudly, and still another scoot her chair over so that we'd have more room to stand. On top of all that, I happend to be watching my friend's coworker when he spotted us in the crowd. The way his face lit up left little doubt in my mind that our presence that day was of great value and encouragement to him.
A few months later, I met with others from our singles ministry and we began working on "Overflow," an intentional plan to spend time in bars and other places we might have opportunity to encounter lost people. I freely admit, I was extremely excited, nervous, and naive. We calendared about three different "Overflow" activities, and while it definitely generated some interesting discussion in our group, the original idea never really took off.
A couple of weekends ago, I had several opportunities to hang out with my friends in a variety of places around town, including one of the karoke bars we'd originally marked as a target for "Overflow." As I sat with my Bible and journal that Monday morning, reading from the gospel of Luke, and presenting my prayers before the Lord, something strange occurred to me. I felt no guilt. I felt no conviction. What I did feel was a continued desire for the presence and voice of the Lord in my life. My time with Him was sweet, and His grace in my life clear. How could that be? :-\ I mean, it's not like I had been on a church retreat or anything.
As I continued to ponder these things, I was reminded of something that had happened the night before at the karoke place. Toward the end of the evening, one of the bar regulars was at the mic. (I know he was a regular because he was there the last time I was there for Overflow.) He had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and he glanced back at our table and declared, "these people know how to have a good time." We cheered and laughed, and my mind raced. What would he say if he knew who we were? Knew that we were Christians from a church just down the street? That our one common bond around the table was our love for Jesus Christ? Would he not be interested in our God? Would that not at least peak his curiousity? As the next song played, I continued thinking about the possibilities. I hadn't gone there to be intentional, wasn't planning to "witness" to anyone, but when I was there, celebrating with my friends, Jesus was there with us. I confess, I was more than a little surprised to find Him there, but so excited to recognize Him.
Today, I read Luke 15, the parables of the lost things found. And, I read about how Jesus went to the home of tax collectors and sinners and was numbered among them because he came to heal the sick, to rescue the lost, to save the sinner. I have pretty much spent my whole life avoiding places like that, country bars (that's a double whammy with dancing and drinking!), karoke bars, anything that might appear evil. And, all the while, people were lost and dying and going to hell while I refused to get close to them because I might be confused as one of them. Oh, how I must continually repent of that attitude.
I am not saying that all church members should run out and find a favorite local bar. I'm not saying that you should abandon any conviction the Holy Spirit may have put on your heart about alcohol or dancing or any combination of the two. I am saying that our salvation is by grace through faith, not by any works of our own. It is not earned by the things that we don't do anymore than it is earned by the things we do. The only thing good in me is Jesus, and if Jesus sat among thieves and tax collectors, who am I to shun them?
Going back to the term "party theology" which refers to the idea of partying with sinners, it's increasingly odd to me that we make evangelism a task or activity. For those of you who have ever been in love, did you ever have to schedule time in your calendar to tell your friends about your beloved? Of course you didn't! It was the most natural thing in the world to talk effusively about him or her. Evangelism, witnessing, sharing about Jesus is the most natural overflow of a life completely abandoned to Him. If you're finding it difficult to talk to others about Him, if nothing in you feels driven to seek opportunities to tell someone who hasn't yet heard the story of what He's been up to in your life, maybe you're not yet fully convinced for yourself that He is truly your very great reward. Can I encourage you to ask Him to show you how to find utter satisfaction in all that He is and to give you a story to share with anyone who will listen? I promise, it's a prayer He'll delight to answer. ;-)

Maybe today?

This morning, my Bible reading was from Matthew 23 and 24. There are several things about the "signs of the times" that interested me in Matthew 24, but I've just chosen the following passage as an example. I find it interesting that we all claim to believe that the return of Christ is near, that these are "last days" and that time on this earth is short, but I rarely, if ever, feel like I'm living that way. I feel like I'm shouting, "Hey, the robber's coming!" but I haven't even locked my own house down, so why would anyone take me seriously.

Matthew 24:37 As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; 39 and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. 41 Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.
42 "Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. 43 But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."

I guess my discussion question for today is this: How do our daily lives reflect our convictions that hell is real, time on earth is brief, and people I see every day are in danger of spending eternity separated from Christ?

Facing The Giants

So, I finally got around to watching the movie half my family is raving about, Facing the Giants. I expected it to be fully of cheesy acting and a predictable story line. And, it was. BUT, none of that stopped me from being completely moved to tears as the plot climaxed. You see, this movie isn't about a coach or a football team. It's about God, the invisible actor in the drama of all our lives, and the reason I think this movie works is that God plays Himself. The story is way too unbelieveable unless magnificent, sovereign God is the story writer, unless He truly is over and above all things, and the lessons of our lives: the football games, parental confrontations, opportunities for moral failure, longings to have children, and anything else that crosses our paths in a didactic manner are ultimately about our relationship with Him, His glory manifest in our lives. Then, and only then, is this one of the best films I've given my time to in a very long time.
My favorite scene takes place between Coach Taylor and the man who comes by the school each week to pray for the students by walking the halls and running his hand over their lockers, Mr. Bridges. Mr. Bridges tells Coach Taylor the story of two farmers who are both praying for rain. Even though both have prayed for rain, only one farmer goes out and prepares his land to receive the rain.
A couple of weeks ago, my attention was focused on I John 5:14-15 which says, "And this is the confidence we have in approaching God, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us, whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests which we have asked of Him." So, as I look at my prayer list, at the things I most long to see the Lord accomplish in my life as well as in the lives of my loved ones, I ask myself, "If I know this is request is according to God's will, then how am I 'preparing for rain?'" How am I waiting, not just in anticipation, but with expectation?

A Few Things I Learned Last Night

2 Peter 1:3-5

3 His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 4 Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.
5 For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge ...

~> Faith is the foundation of godly character.
~> Until, I believe that God is who He says He is, and that He can and will do what He says He will do, I will never consistently choose goodnesss (moral excellence).
~> Faith is living in such a way that God is the greatest reality in my life. His voice is louder than any other contradicting temptation. When there is a choice to be made, I choose Him, His way, believing that He sees what is done in secret and rewards what nobody else even knows.

Tribute

So, I’m headed to a funeral in a couple of hours for a man who touched more lives than I think we could accurately count. Tom is one of the first people I remember meeting at PBC when we first started visiting there my 7th grade year. He had gray hair pulled back in a long ponytail, bright blue eyes that always seemed to twinkle with a secret, and a very mischievous laugh. He played the guitar and sang Rock ‘n Roll songs with Jesus lyrics. I thought he was crazy. Then, I met his wife, Brenda. She is sweet and kind, not easily flustered, and very wise. Their son and I were in the same class from 7th grade through 12th. Brenda discipled me when I was in the 8th grade, Tom taught a Bible study in their home and when their daughter, got to junior high, I discipled her. Our lives were inextricably intertwined for a time, and the memories are buried deep inside of me.

I didn’t see them much after high school. I left most of PBC behind me when I moved to Abilene, or, at least I tried to. However, anytime there was a bridal shower or a baby shower to be hosted, you could guarantee Tom and Brenda would be at the center of it, continuing to celebrate life with the hundreds of kids that had come through their home over the years. I laughed a few years ago when I found out that the guys from my parents young marrieds’ class were attending a guys’ Bible study at their house. I don’t think Tom could have stopped investing in young lives if his life had depended on it.

But, there’s more to the story. Tom used to drive me nuts. He was rowdy and unpredictable. He said whatever was on his mind and seemed to take pleasure in embarrassing me by calling me out to pray or quote scripture in front of large audiences. If he heard I’d been on a date, those twinkling eyes would dance with glee as I sat in his livingroom, and, without regard to who was present, he’d ask for all the juicy details. Tom seemed to always be in trouble at church, too. He was forever ruffling feathers over some issue or another, being asked to step away from this ministry or that until things died down. People, including myself at times, weren't always ready for Tom's insistence on calling things like he saw them.

Monday morning, my best friend since junior high, Lauren, called at 7:30 a.m. Even though I was awake and studying my Bible at the time, I still consider that an ungodly hour, and I know she agrees, so I could only assume she had something important to tell me. Her voice sounded really confused as she told me what she’d just heard. Tom was dead. He died at home on Sunday afternoon, very unexpectedly. 52 years old. Dead. Bryan had called Kelly who called Amber who called Lauren. It was a long chain, but a tight one, and a reliable one. Still, it was too unbelievable. I called another friend with a close Prestonwood tie. She answered the phone with the words, “Yes, Kristen, it’s true. Tom's gone.” Evidently, he was working in the backyard and suffered a massive heart attack. The medical examiner who performed the autopsy says he shouldn’t have lived as long as he did based on the damage to his arteries.

It feels so surreal. Even today. But, the last few days of this week, I’ve had a good opportunity to reflect on his life. I expected to remember all of the things that drove me nuts. But, I didn’t. I could only remember the good things. You see, Tom Bailey is a part of my testimony. Three things stand out to me specifically when I recall his impact on my own life.

1) Tom never let a Bible study go by that he didn’t tell us repeatedly, “God always honors obedience.” And, I swear, everytime I’m tempted to take an easy way out, to willfully disobey, I hear Tom saying that over and over again. God always honors obedience. I hear myself saying it to others when I’m teaching or counseling. And, you know what I’ve discovered? God always honors obedience.

2) When I was 17, I began to seriously doubt my salvation. I was six years old when I committed my life to the Lord. How in the world could I have known what I was doing? I was a mess. I sat with Tom and Brenda at their kitchen table, distraught, confessing my worst fears. Tom just smiled at me and sent me home with instructions to pray, to ask the Lord to reveal to me if I was truly His. That night, I’ll never forget. The memories were so clear. I could see the afternoon before I was saved. I could remember how lost I felt, how convinced I was that Jesus was returning soon and I was not prepared to go with him. I could remember the night that my dad was tucking me into bed, and I cried out to him not to turn the lights out because I needed to know Jesus. Tom didn’t try to convince me of my salvation, he pointed me back to Jesus.

3) Finally, Tom was the man with the puzzles in my previous blog.

I still can’t believe I’m going to Tom’s funeral today. It seems so wrong. But, more than I’m sad that he’s gone, I’m so glad that he lived. I seriously doubt whether Tom or Brenda would remember any of those encounters, but they were life changing for me. God’s economy is so different from ours, isn’t it?