The subject line in the email was “I Wrote a Book”, and I attached a bio with background, art and a few words expressing I hoped the recipient and her family are well.
I’m remembering now my first years working with homeless families. She was our emcee and it was one of best fundraisers in history. Her beauty, poise and sincerity added to the success.
Over the years, she remained engaged with our agency and I had many opportunities to talk about tough things on her show.
This would be different. I “go by Grandma” now.
The morning of the Skype call, I moved slowly towards the time, I arranged the room and realized there’d be a toddler nearby. I thought of canceling. Instead, we talked about it, my granddaughter and I.
I moved her coloring pad and crayons to her parents’ bathroom. I changed from my uniform (exercise leggings and T-shirt) to a blouse in my daughter’s closet.
My granddaughter stood beside me as I curled my hair and then added mascara, blush, etc.
The interview began and she played with her “babies” close by.
I was worried about Skype, about the wrinkles on my neck, about my hair because my daughter had no hairspray, about talking too fast or too slow, or too much.
And some of these things are evident in the interview.
More evident though, is the graciousness of Jennie Montgomery, the peace God gave me, the joy over art and more than anything at all.
The surprise of my own voice as I spoke clearly of being loved by God.
The legacy I hope this book leaves, Lisa Anne Tindal is both strong and vulnerable,
I wonder if we’d talked about Heaven would I have been better at it.
There’s a memory of my pre-pubescent days that lingers, leaves a lot of questions.
Saturday morning, my older brother and I and maybe the baby brother reported for duty.
(Here’s where I note, the memories are my own, my siblings’ are sometimes different, less or more.)
But, we’d arrive at the church and there would be a little preparation, pep talk, bellowing prayer sort of meeting.
No pants for girls were allowed, only skirts or culottes. I was shy, I was uncomfortable in my female skin. I wanted to do right, be loved and accepted.
We were transported to some big parking lot of a store and we paired up or if we were bold, we approached strangers alone.
We gave out the gospel tract that may have had a ruby faded flame depicting Hell on the front or a big bold question mark, prompting us to confront others about their salvation.
I don’t recall being very good at it. I hoped somehow I was good enough.
Last week or the week before, I felt afraid again. Someone mentioned the rapture. Another wrote about being certain those around you are certain of heaven.
I felt my spirit crouching, looking for a safe corner. Fear rose up.
I thought about why.
“The faculty of memory is particularly exquisite. I think there’s a secret to why God provided it.” John Eldredge, “Get Your Life Back”
I am certain of heaven, talk of it doesn’t scare me. It was simply the Saturday school of witnessing to strangers that scared me, a subtle trauma.
I began to think of a better approach. Although we were young people, little soldiers, what if we had begun our conversations with heaven?
I envisioned us all being schooled in a circled gathering. Inquisitive ones, looking towards our teacher. I see myself captivated by the hope of heaven, inspired, uplifted, casting off my despair.
Excited and at peace simultaneously. God smiling.
What if, way back then I had been trained in hope instead of fear?
Some things may have been different. My story not as meandering to be where I am today.
“Your story matters. Your story will not be lost.” John Eldredge
Angels Near
Years ago, I bought a Bible from an estate sale. It bothered me that it had been left so long. I decided I would find the family of this woman, I was confident they’d be thrilled to be discovered.
No luck.
I’ve kept the soft worn leather Bible that belonged to a young woman who was an art teacher and became a school principal.
Treasures in her Bible are her membership card as a National Educator, her PTA card, a litany for children, a lesson plan on color, a newspaper clipping announcing her promotion and a photograph of my mama at my wedding I decided belonged here.
A Red Cross membership card
In 1939, Angela renewed her Red Cross certification. My mama was born that year, January 30th.
I’ve read all the notes Angela wrote about her journey of faith in the pages of her Bible.
“We have to open our hearts to the workings of God.” Angela
Heaven is restoration. It is no longer needing to revisit old stories. We don’t see yet; but, in heaven we will see them as God intended. God, both the author and finisher of us.
“Lest we despair, God has given us a “future and a hope” and to be quite specific, it includes the restoration of every precious day of our lives. Heaven is not a memory wipe.” John Eldredge
If I had a do over from my childhood evangelist days, I pray I’d have the courage to look another in the eye. I pray I’d have the sweetest soul penetrating eyes and that my voice wouldn’t quiver a bit.
I pray I wouldn’t be wearing culottes.
And I’d say “Hey, how are you…wanna talk about heaven?”
Today marks the year eleven since my mama went to heaven. Too soon, I’m nine years away from that age.
I’m certain she is joyous. I’m sure every pain and heartache she experienced no longer remains.
I thought of heaven in a new way yesterday. I pray I continue.
I envisioned the reunion with someone who harmed me, brought havoc and years of pain.
I saw us seeing each other and I heard myself say.
“I’m so very happy you’re here.”
Angela’s Bible
“For the Lord himself will appear with the declaration of victory, the shout of an archangel, and the trumpet blast of God. He will descend from the heavenly realm and command those who are dead in Christ to rise first. Then we who are alive will join them, transported together in clouds to have an encounter with the Lord in the air, and we will be forever joined with the Lord. So encourage one another with these truths.” 1 Thessalonians 4:16-18 TPT
I am certain of heaven. I believe in the rapture because I believe the pain and redemption of Job, of Paul, of the woman caught in adultery, the short man who stole from others, the flooding of the earth and the obedience of Noah, and the gracious decision of God to make heaven possible by giving His Son as a sacrificial death and glorious resurrection.
So, I believe in the rapture. Believe in Jesus. I am anticipating heaven.
I’m aware of the angels today, Angela and Bette. I see them celebrating my choice to see hope and no longer despair.
Wanna talk about heaven with me?
It would be great joy. I want to know you’ll be there too.
Yesterday I sat in the dentist chair wishing I had music as a buffer, a distraction to help me not think of what the hygienist was thinking about my aging teeth.
Instead, I chose the Psalm again, the 23rd one and I made it a new song.
On repeat.
“Lord you are my shepherd. You are right here beside me and you’ve always made sure I somehow had all I needed.
And sometimes you’ve given me abundantly more, so much more you surprised me.
I think you must know how much I love surprises, love it when someone thinks of something I might love and then there they are, gifting me!
Lord, you’ve been such a giver of gifts for me. You’ve been with me in the scary places I got trapped and the days of sorrow like a tunnel narrow and winding so the light seems it’s not coming.
You’ve helped me out. You’ve given me reason not to be afraid again.
And again.
Lord, you’ve displayed the best of me for others to see, displays I’d never create on my own.
You show me off, you don’t let the gifts you made in me stay hidden. You help me see what is possible.
You refill my creative cup over and over like a beautiful feast, I return to the paper, the canvas, the brushes in the jars of water.
And I create quietly and certainly.
Lord, thank you for creating me.
The me I am becoming. The one unafraid to honor you, to be an influence that causes curiosity over Jesus.
The me, deep thinker and no longer bothered by that often misunderstood depth.
You made me this way as if to say, ‘here’s who Lisa is, she’s a keeper!’
Thank you for shepherding me, for being so gentle and wise.
For being sure of me becoming me and for doing so very
Patiently.”
Amen.
“I delight to fulfill your will, my God, for your living words are written upon the pages of my heart.” Psalms 40:8 TPT
I sat with one last piece of watercolor paper in the pad, a pencil sketch of a woman’s face I had started was faintly there, not completely erased.
I added oval shapes of angel faces, a few more realistic and scattered to give an idea of angels all over the page, floating above the baby Jesus with his mother, Mary in the corner.
I’d had a moment earlier when a friend wrote about the “multitude” of angels and I couldn’t stop myself from the thought
Could it be? It seems so unbelievable, there are angels, they are real and as much as I prefer not to borrow a song’s lyrics, “there are angels among us.” (The band, Alabama)
And now I’m inspired again. It’s just that simple, no it is splendid, this new fervor.
“The Multitude”
My beliefs in such things mysterious to me are easy to hold as hope and not as reality.
Someone used the word “resplendent” in a message contrasting their feelings and faith as tender and yet, resplendent.
What a beautiful word, an adjective meaning brilliant, shining, impressive or magnificent.
I again thought of that unbelievable night, the night that Jesus was born.
I am thinking now of its significance.
The significance of seeing and believing in a way that is so much more than a poetically written ancient story of a mysterious man born to a young virgin.
The weight of believing or not. Faith that is not fiction.
“Redemption through the death and resurrection of Jesus must be considered fact, a deeply personal unwavering belief, otherwise that very gift of mercy, redemption will never be fully experienced, only vaguely hoped for.” me
So, I cradle the ceramic baby in a basket and I see it more than decoration, I see it truly, fully.
An old man in the Bible, Simeon had been waiting for the prophesied Messiah. He met Jesus with his parents and he worshipped, praised, and acknowledged.
“Lord and Master, I am your loving servant, and now I can die content, for your promise to me has been fulfilled. With my own eyes I have seen your Word, the Savior you sent into the world. Simeon cradled the baby in his arms and praised God and prophesied, saying:
He will be glory for your people Israel, and the Revelation Light for all people everywhere!” Luke 2:28-32 TPT
An elderly woman named Anna, both had been waiting their whole lives to see the Jesus their God had promised.
“While Simeon was prophesying over Mary and Joseph and the baby, Anna walked up to them and burst forth with a great chorus of praise to God for the child. And from that day forward she told everyone in Jerusalem who was waiting for their redemption that the anticipated Messiah had come!” Luke 2:38 TPT
Resplendent, the aged faces of these two must have been, like the sight on that angel and starry filled night of Jesus’s birth.
Resplendent were the colors, brilliant and vivid on another evening, the rich reds of the Son of God’s blood covered body, the darkest daytime night before the curtain was torn and God illuminated for all the reality of what occurred, a death for our sins, the reality of God’s offer of mercy. A vivid scene that must be believed and remembered.
Many doubted, many still do, honestly admitted needing proof.
“Then, looking into Thomas’ eyes, he said, “Put your finger here in the wounds of my hands. Here—put your hand into my wounded side and see for yourself. Thomas, don’t give in to your doubts any longer, just believe!”
Then the words spilled out of his heart—“You are my Lord, and you are my God!” Jesus responded, “Thomas, now that you’ve seen me, you believe. But there are those who have never seen me with their eyes but have believed in me with their hearts, and they will be blessed even more!” John 20:27-29 TPT
I suppose the choice is up to us, us earthly people. We can choose to believe or not.
A life of faith only faintly evident or one fully committed, resplendent!
Thankful today for the angels, the believers, the doubters like me.
Very surely grateful for redemption, for mercy unmerited, for grace.
Thankful for words and the peace of mind, presence of the Holy Spirit gently nudging my using them.
Continue and believe. He’s not finished with you yet.
“But Mary treasured all these things in her heart and often pondered what they meant.” Luke 2:19 TPT
Luke’s description of Mary’s reaction on the night of the birth of Jesus caused me to consider the God who knows me.
The same God who knew Mary, the young woman, a virgin who was visited by an angel and told,
“this is your assignment from God”.
You will give birth to the Savior of the world. You are a player in the miraculous plan of God to make an eternity of peace possible for all.
I’m humbled as I think of the tiny bit of peace giving I could give and yet, tend to be inconsistent, tend to often need more and more grace.
And God continues to give it, continues to understand me.
I sit on the rainy morning in a quiet house, thinking of which direction to go next, asking God to guide my painting back to the place that was His idea.
Asking forgiveness for time spent on comparison, for bitter doubt over unmet expectations.
Where are you feeling vulnerable or maybe you’re not?
Maybe you don’t think so heavily. Or maybe your vulnerability is not shared. That’s okay. God sees and comes near with understanding.
I sit a little longer, let the sounds be my comfort. I open my Bible to read about angels, drawn towards the reality of them. My interest is peaked.
I’m excited again. I may begin to paint angels again and not simply call them women.
God is near. God is doing a new thing in me today, actually continuously.
“Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared in radiant splendor before them, lighting up the field with the blazing glory of God, and the shepherds were terrified! But the angel reassured them, saying, “Don’t be afraid. For I have come to bring you good news, the most joyous news the world has ever heard! And it is for everyone everywhere! For today in Bethlehem a rescuer was born for you. He is the Lord Yahweh, the Messiah. You will recognize him by this miracle sign: You will find a baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a feeding trough!” Then all at once, a vast number of glorious angels appeared, the very armies of heaven! And they all praised God, singing: “Glory to God in the highest realms of heaven! For there is peace and a good hope given to the sons of men.” Luke 2:9-14 TPT
I imagine the sky that ancient evening as blue as coal tinted silvery. I can see the figures, angelic in form and with a beauty translucent. I see Mary cradling the baby she was chosen to deliver.
I sense her awe down deep in my soul and I know the same aching.
I know the awe of being rescued.
Redeemed, given grace towards restoration.
Have you heard about the alignment of the stars predicted next week?
Talk is it may snow here on Christmas Day, here in South Carolina we may get to sit next to windows and be quieted by the rare occurrence of falling snow.
We may be gifted with unexpected beauty.
Quietly now I’ve journaled notes to myself about God and me.
God cares about you. God loves you. God has a purpose for you today. God is orchestrating miraculous unseen things for your good and His glory. God is in control.
God can be trusted.
I think of Mary again, of the way she didn’t fully understand even after her baby boy was born and perhaps even through all His days on earth, she was simply a participant in a life chosen for her that was miraculously complex and simply required trust, acceptance and surrender.
I pray I embrace the ways of Mary, pondering so many things and still believing expectantly.
I pray the same for you.
Sitting longer than I felt I should today and refusing to call myself lazy, I rest a minute more
And then far off the geese approach and I listen to them as they make their presence known.
“Here they come.” I hear my mama and I ponder.
I wonder if the angels told her.
Your daughter needs reminding,
“She is seen and loved and known. God is for her.”
Continue and believe. Christmas came.
Christmas comes.
“For today in Bethlehem a rescuer was born for you. He is the Lord Yahweh, the Messiah.” Luke 2:11 TPT
All sorts of people and places are all conniving it seems in a way to keep me pressing on.
Unbeknownst to most, they are cooperating with God.
Yesterday, I turned my phone towards the window and captured this candy color view, the dashboard angle now making me think an angel must’ve been my passenger.
I parked my car, turned to one side to see the same orange horizon laced with branches and turned to see the brilliant circle of moon shining.
I thought,
“I’m bordered, one side sun and the other moon. I’m secure.”
Some point I stopped waking up with one palm raised and the prayer, “Woke up well, thank you God”
I’m afraid I must’ve grown tired of the affirmation.
Or it’s just shifted.
In my journal instead I scribbled.
I’m still here.
God is still with me.
Then opened the Passion translation of Psalm 136 and I John, the Book.
Scripture of the day now also messages from God just for me.
“Give thanks to the Lord over all lords! His tender love for us continues on forever! Give thanks to the only miracle working God! His tender love for us continues on forever! Give thanks to the Creator who made the heavens with wisdom! His tender love for us continues on forever!
Praise the one who created every heavenly light! His tender love for us continues on forever! He set the sun in the sky to rule over day! His tender love for us continues on forever! Praise him who set in place the moon and stars to rule over the night! His tender love for us continues on forever!” Psalms 136:3-5, 7-9 TPT
Then, the tone of continuing continued. A post on FB from a wise man:
“The greatest regret for a child of God will come from finding out that Jesus had to use someone else to do what He told you to do.” Cleve Walker
“Wow.”, my comment.
I sit in the warmth of Wednesday morning. The light landing the way I love it and I wonder if others agree, I love my home so much more at Christmas, I love the peace of the sparkle and soft light. I love the glimmer of blue against gold all mingled with evergreen. I could gaze there all day, accept this gift of peace.
“Woke up well, thank you.”
I’m still here, God is with me. I have things to do.
“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” Ephesians 2:10 NLT
Yesterday was a good day, restful but productive until I paused with early sunset on the sofa and allowed my thoughts to catch up.
The annoying squeeze of the unnamed anxiety was realized. I walked down the hall to use the stretch, “legs against the wall” and I felt the rope loosen, the one that was tight around my chest.
Stretching and then praying made it better, the place that my soul inhabits was opened up, restored, clearing out the clutter, making more room for my Father’s spirit to be fully known by me.
I’m beginning to believe God. Beginning to believe the prayer that children say has words that are more than a pretty promise, are true.
“Ask Jesus to come into your heart.”
Not as a child but as a thirty something year old, I said what is called the “sinner’s prayer”.
Jesus came near, planted His Spirit in my soul. It has been gradual, often half-heartedly that I believed this mystery to be so.
This mystery that by grace and patience is no longer so obscurely mysterious at all.
Because I’ve been asking God to come near, to fill me, to allow His river to flow to me and through me and it has begun to be so.
It is becoming well with my soul,
Will become even more so. I am certain. I continue to believe.
Believing God has good things for me, not just for others is a closer truth than before.
A couple of weeks ago the nearness of God astounded me. I’ve kept it to myself except one wise other person until now.
On a regular morning walk with my grandchild, music she loves coming from my pocket and stops and starts to dig in the sand followed by her bouncy steps running, I had a thought.
Surrounded by trees, I remembered the scary vertigo episode almost exactly a year ago. I thanked God for wellness, for no further episodes.
I looked on either side, trees with leaves falling, old tall ones and new branches and I wondered to myself, what would I do if one of these trees fell, if my grandchild was safe but I was trapped?
I imagined calmly, the dog would look after Elizabeth and I’d be able to call for help.
Although scary, it would be okay, I would be safe.
Strange, I know.
Even stranger or as I now believe, not strange at all, occurred the next morning.
I arrived to care for my granddaughter in the dark of morning. My daughter said her husband wanted to know,
“Did your mama see that big tree that fell overnight?”
“No”, I answered. She continued with the way it fell, not a loud sound and the tree with the trunk at least seven feet around, it fell perfectly against the fence row, didn’t block the road.
“Oh” I mumbled.
We walked later to see it, the baby and I. I saw the massive oak severed by something unhuman lying on the ground.
I admit, I thought heavily of it all day, wondering over the weight of my thoughts the day before. It felt very scary and then, supernatural in a kind and loving way.
I texted my friend, wise in spiritual strengths and truth.
She wasn’t astounded or afraid. She simply told me God wanted to show me He is protecting me. That wherever I am, He is; I embody His Spirit. I have an advocate. There was no shock in her tone, she didn’t think I was crazy or what happened was scary.
Later, I realized I could believe it too. God is very close to me.
He is answering my most tender prayers.
Before sleep last night, I read five psalms, a proverb and a message.
I remembered the random text from the friend mentioned above, the way her words sent a chill down my calf.
I slept with the certainty of being known and loved and when I woke I repeated what God told me overnight.
“You are a masterpiece. Keep creating.”
“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.” Psalms 4:8 NLT
Receive grace, we need it. We’re going to need it. Regardless of November, hopelessness is a wound not even close to being healed, the result of our lack of control, uncertainty, the open-ended question of the coming year, the apathy towards each other, the numbing that’s happening to us to the extent we don’t yet know.
“That’s a lot, Lisa…I thought you were a person of faith?”
I know. Today I prayed beside my bed, no words, just a position.
Surrendering the moment.
…and by Him, everyone who believes is freed. Acts 13:39
Belief is a very personal thing, prayer is too. God, knowing each of us completely and individually knows us “down to the very bones” and yet, sees us worthy of the very grace we received when we accepted the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus. We decided then I can’t fix this, in fact in my humanness I am unfixable.
Still, I work hard and with intention and a word we love, “perseverance” to see the measure of my faith be represented by works. It’s how we’re wired and we forget that physical wiring never is enough.
Praise, prayer and worship with music rein me back in closer. I find myself opening my hands to heaven when a song touches my tender wounds, thrilled to be uninterrupted on my knees beside my bed or joining others in prayer with both hands palm up to God.
Giving God the hopes, fears and thanks.
Today, I read “Receive His grace all day.” It struck me that the hands I open to give are rarely opened to receive from God. I forget that I need His grace all day long, every moment. More importantly, I forget that His grace is a reservoir that never runs dry. I forget that it is ours simply for asking, just by saying, I need you every hour. Again, I’m not able on my own and you know it God, still you wait patiently for me to remember.
We cannot put our hopes in this country. I’m sorry if that sounds unpatriotic. It hurts to know that and I worry that hopelessness is outpacing the destruction of the pandemic. Without hope, without God and His grace, none of us can sustain our own manufactured hope.
Open your hands as needed today. Receive grace.
“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16 ESV
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 