2008 is already shaping up to be the wackiest year on record for me!
I began this year by asking the Lord to reveal Himself to me and to my friends in a special way as Redeemer and Provider. And, I asked Him to send a fresh passion for holiness among us.
When He reigns … it pours!
In January, I began to sense a strong call to formalize my personal teaching/speaking ministry. I’m still discovering what that looks like, but hopefully soon www.mariposaministries.com will display a purple butterfly logo and information about “Celebrating the Transforming Work of Christ in the Lives of Women” as well as teaching samples, and the verse God continually reminds me of, Isaiah 43:18-19, which says, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. Behold! I am doing a new thing. Now it springs up, will you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness, a stream in the desert.”
In February, I got on an exercise and work out kick that has led me into the realms of kickboxing, Pilates, and 5K races. Look out, world; I may become a “ninja” yet!
And, then, came March. I have been praying since last fall for a house that is “safe, affordable, and big enough to host [YOOJ].” Just a few weeks ago, during my time with the Lord, I had the strongest impression that I should look into purchasing a home rather than renting. So, I am. I keep telling myself I’ll just walk through the process until the Lord shuts the door, but so far, the doors keep opening.
Finally, Wedgwood takes trips to the Peruvian jungle 3-4 times a year, and Jake and Dodie have been trying to talk me into joining one of these trips since they first started going four years ago. It appears the time has come. Today I received confirmation that from May 23 – June 1, I will be serving as the interpreter for half of the newest REAP Peru mission team. Our work will primarily be discipleship in some of the villages previous teams have already reached with the Gospel.
Did I mention I have a full time job/ministry, too? Things at Cornerstone Christian Women’s Job Corps continue as well. We have just begun our second Life Skills and Job Readiness training class of the year, and the four women God has given us are doing splendidly!
So, here’s the deal. I need your prayers.
*Pray for Mariposa Ministries, that God would continue to give me the pieces of that puzzle in order. Specifically, I need to design/select a logo, and learn how to host the website. And, always, pray for God to provide opportunities for me to grow in the areas of teaching/speaking/writing.
*Pray with me about the purchase of a home. I’m so excited that God might bless me with such a thing, but tempted to be overwhelmed by all of the details and the responsibility of homeownership. Pray for the right home at the right price in the right place!
*Pray for this trip to Peru, for the finances, for physical health and stamina, for spiritual preparation, and for God to seriously bestow a gift of tongues on me, that I would be able to clearly interpret all that needs to be communicated. (If you feel led to give financially to this trip, checks can be made payable to Wedgwood Baptist Church with my name and REAP/Peru in the memo line.)
*And, please pray for CCWJC and all that goes on there in the lives of women who are coming to know the Lord in fresh and exciting ways each week. We are abundantly blessed!
Love,
Kristen
Friday, March 28, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Grandmother Moore
A friend is saying goodbye to his grandmother this week, and in looking for words of comfort for him, I began searching for the notes I made when my own sweet Great-Grandmother passed away a few years ago. I was thinking that I'd posted them on here at one time, but I realize now that I wasn't even in the habit of blogging before she died. I found the tribute that I wrote for her, and I want to share it with you. She was truly a wonderful woman, a huge influence on the woman I strive to be now. I keep my favorite picture of the two of us on the credenza in my office as a reminder of all that she prayed for me. Here's what I had to say on that day in December 2004 ...
For my whole life, a big part of my identity has been the very special blessing of being the youngest of four living generations of Hutcherson/Moore/Barrett/Horton women. My great-grandmother, Ina Rea Moore, was one of the strongest women I know.
She was fiercely loyal to her family, and more importantly to her Lord. She’s been a prayer warrior, someone who has never been afraid to tell me that she loves me or is proud of me. She was married for 55 years before Granddaddy passed away.
She moved to Corpus Christi when she was 80 years old to be closer to my grandparents and the rest of our family. That’s a big adjustment, but she met the challenge head on, joining the “joy choir” here and making friends so quickly that we had to use the church hall to host her 95th birthday party.
Grandmother loved to travel, and she’s always been great at knowing how to laugh. One of my favorite ways to spend time with Grandmother was when she was with her baby sister, Aunt Bea. They could giggle like school girls, and it’s the most wonderful sound in the world!
Grandmother and I talked on the phone regularly. I don’t remember a time that I called that she didn’t pick up the phone and know exactly who was calling. I never had to tell her. She was just that good. She was strong and stubborn and wonderful. My Grandmother liked to dress up. She got up every morning and found a clean, pressed skirt and a blouse with buttons. She insisted on making her own bed each morning – even after her stroke last summer! Oh! And, she made honeyballs every Christmas for my mom and my uncles, dozens of them wrapped up and placed under the tree – because that’s what they wanted!
Grandmother loved us all – faithfully. She supported our mission trips, remembered our birthdays, and shopped for us each Christmas. In face, about a week after she went into the hospital, I spoke with her over the phone. She joked that she was glad the hospital had QVC so she could still do her Christmas shopping!
A great-grandmother sounds like a distant relative, doesn’t it? Not this one. She is a piece of our hearts, and permanent part of who we are. I miss her terribly. I cried when I heard she was gone, but nothing prepared me for walking into her room and seeing her things just as she left them and knowing she wouldn’t be coming back to them – or to us. I sat in her chair to think the night we got here, to pray, and figure out what she would want me to say to you today. I knew two things for sure.
One, this is a time to honor and celebrate her life. She wouldn’t have wanted us to be too sad or cry too long. And, two, this is a time to glorify the Lord Jesus Christ who she served so faithfully with all of her life.
Grandmother told my dad a few years ago when he asked her about heaven that heaven was more real to her than earth sometimes because so many of her family and dear friends were already there I thought that was an interesting statement at the time, but I don’t think I truly understood it until this week, until Grandmother went there, to be with our Lord, to reunite with her family, and suddenly, my own longing to be there grew and my concept of the reality of a life beyond this world became more concrete.
When he heard about Grandmother’s passing, a close friend reminded me of I Thessalonians 4:13-18, which says:
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord Therefore comfort one another with these words.
I took my Bible and my journal with me into Grandmother’s room the night we got here. As I read over these words of hope sitting in Grandmother’s chair that night, I began to look around me. There was her walker, her medicine bottles, her magnifying glass sitting beside her Bible. That’s when it hit me.
Grandmother doesn’t need any of those things anymore. She is more alive this morning than she has ever been, and she is in the presence of the living Word of God. If there is anything that I think Grandmother would want me to tell you this morning, that’s it. That all of the things that she lived for, that the legacy of faith that she passed on to each of us is real, it’s truth, and it’s more glorious than we can imagine!
I Corinthians 13:12 says, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.”
Today isn’t the end of our tears, I know that. I will miss her and we will all feel the loss of her presence here on earth, but I know that those tears are not really for her but for me. I cannot be sorry for her, for where she is now, for all that she no longer needs here.
For my whole life, a big part of my identity has been the very special blessing of being the youngest of four living generations of Hutcherson/Moore/Barrett/Horton women. My great-grandmother, Ina Rea Moore, was one of the strongest women I know.
She was fiercely loyal to her family, and more importantly to her Lord. She’s been a prayer warrior, someone who has never been afraid to tell me that she loves me or is proud of me. She was married for 55 years before Granddaddy passed away.
She moved to Corpus Christi when she was 80 years old to be closer to my grandparents and the rest of our family. That’s a big adjustment, but she met the challenge head on, joining the “joy choir” here and making friends so quickly that we had to use the church hall to host her 95th birthday party.
Grandmother loved to travel, and she’s always been great at knowing how to laugh. One of my favorite ways to spend time with Grandmother was when she was with her baby sister, Aunt Bea. They could giggle like school girls, and it’s the most wonderful sound in the world!
Grandmother and I talked on the phone regularly. I don’t remember a time that I called that she didn’t pick up the phone and know exactly who was calling. I never had to tell her. She was just that good. She was strong and stubborn and wonderful. My Grandmother liked to dress up. She got up every morning and found a clean, pressed skirt and a blouse with buttons. She insisted on making her own bed each morning – even after her stroke last summer! Oh! And, she made honeyballs every Christmas for my mom and my uncles, dozens of them wrapped up and placed under the tree – because that’s what they wanted!
Grandmother loved us all – faithfully. She supported our mission trips, remembered our birthdays, and shopped for us each Christmas. In face, about a week after she went into the hospital, I spoke with her over the phone. She joked that she was glad the hospital had QVC so she could still do her Christmas shopping!
A great-grandmother sounds like a distant relative, doesn’t it? Not this one. She is a piece of our hearts, and permanent part of who we are. I miss her terribly. I cried when I heard she was gone, but nothing prepared me for walking into her room and seeing her things just as she left them and knowing she wouldn’t be coming back to them – or to us. I sat in her chair to think the night we got here, to pray, and figure out what she would want me to say to you today. I knew two things for sure.
One, this is a time to honor and celebrate her life. She wouldn’t have wanted us to be too sad or cry too long. And, two, this is a time to glorify the Lord Jesus Christ who she served so faithfully with all of her life.
Grandmother told my dad a few years ago when he asked her about heaven that heaven was more real to her than earth sometimes because so many of her family and dear friends were already there I thought that was an interesting statement at the time, but I don’t think I truly understood it until this week, until Grandmother went there, to be with our Lord, to reunite with her family, and suddenly, my own longing to be there grew and my concept of the reality of a life beyond this world became more concrete.
When he heard about Grandmother’s passing, a close friend reminded me of I Thessalonians 4:13-18, which says:
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord Therefore comfort one another with these words.
I took my Bible and my journal with me into Grandmother’s room the night we got here. As I read over these words of hope sitting in Grandmother’s chair that night, I began to look around me. There was her walker, her medicine bottles, her magnifying glass sitting beside her Bible. That’s when it hit me.
Grandmother doesn’t need any of those things anymore. She is more alive this morning than she has ever been, and she is in the presence of the living Word of God. If there is anything that I think Grandmother would want me to tell you this morning, that’s it. That all of the things that she lived for, that the legacy of faith that she passed on to each of us is real, it’s truth, and it’s more glorious than we can imagine!
I Corinthians 13:12 says, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.”
Today isn’t the end of our tears, I know that. I will miss her and we will all feel the loss of her presence here on earth, but I know that those tears are not really for her but for me. I cannot be sorry for her, for where she is now, for all that she no longer needs here.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
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."
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."
Thursday, February 14, 2008
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
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
Friday, February 08, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
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???
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!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
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.”
"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.”
Friday, January 11, 2008
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!
"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!
Saturday, January 05, 2008
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.'"
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.'"
Friday, January 04, 2008
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)
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)
Monday, December 24, 2007
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. ;-)
Monday, December 17, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
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
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
Sunday, November 25, 2007
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.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
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
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
Monday, November 05, 2007
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. :-\
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
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.
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.
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