Salvation

Who I Am, Alone

Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized

 

 

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Who I am, alone, the one who believes.

Perhaps, I thought…strongly perhaps, the thing we who believe should do is to believe more assuredly, more unwaveringly and more amenable to others maybe curious.

Perhaps, our beliefs unchangeable should display such a peace that others might come close enough to wonder why we’ve not budged, why we’re unphased by harsh and horrible accusation, rant or interpretation.

Not an expert in doctrine, not necessary, just simply a consistent thinker of thought, believer of my beliefs and faithfulness in my faith.

Who I am when alone, the most valid measure of my faith I’ve decided.

The morning after a wedding celebration, I drove home alone with a Sunday morning mix of quiet and jubilant on a road I’d never traveled.

It was phenomenal.

fullsizerender-21_kindlephoto-20427290Scanning static and station,I settled on Southern gospel praise with a boom boom rhythm about “Not lettin’ the devil steal my peace.. not my joy… not my soul…no,  no, no…I’m not gonna let him take my peace!”

My shoulders falling in a lean one side to the other and my free hand pumping with a confident keepin’ time.

My soul free and easy, my thoughts open and thankful.

Then quiet,  just moving through blue sky country towards home and noticing everything; I thought of stopping to see for longer,

A church on a grassy hill, a tree lined stretch of glorious shade and a cotton field gazed upon through open window.

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This morning, I’m back to early morning with Bible in my lap.

I read from Jeremiah; then a Psalm followed by two chapters in Romans.

Providence in word from Old and New.

The place of promise is revealed through faith.

It depends on faith and rests on grace. Romans 4:16

A return to the place my soul bare and at rest in simple yet astounding grace.

Because of faith.

In the quiet of morning and alone, I understood more than before.

I believe it shows.

My faith unmoved with noise of our day.

So unmoved and undaunted, perhaps inviting question.

 

 

Wearing my Cross

Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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Most days I wear it. It’s a simple gold cross, slightly curved on one side to help me know whether I’ve clasped it correctly.

A gift from my husband on a golden rope chain, it’s my cross.

Don’t remember when or where; but, not long ago I read an article by some well known theologian who questioned the habit of cross wearing.

He was curious about the wearers of crosses, big chunky gold or silver ones dangling like anchors around thick necks, fancy diamond faceted jeweled worn by fancy ladies, and delicate pendants presented to little girls.

He wondered if we all realized we were adorning ourselves with death’s symbolic charm.

It’s been months since I read this. I wear my necklace anyway, thinking “It’s important to me, I love it.”

This morning I read the story of the Samaritan Woman again.

Familiar with the narrative reminding me of Shakespeare’s young character marked with letter “A”, the imagery in the telling is one of the clearest.

A woman ashamed because she’s surrendered to the desires of multiple men finds herself caught off guard and meets Jesus.

She chose a time no one would be around to draw water from the well when the others had ventured into nearby city.

Jesus approached her and asked for water. Then he talked with her. Standing next to her, just the two of them, had a conversation about her life.

He told her about “living water” and about himself, The Messiah.

She left him, amazed that he knew her and still took time to have her know him.

She told everyone she could then, all of Samaria.

“Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” John 4:29

Sometime later, she and those she told would hear of his horrific and sacrificial death on the cross.

 For her, for them, us, me.

I’d love to know if back then, the ladies of Samaria wore crosses. I doubt that they did. I believe the times and the garb were simple, more functional and not at all fancy.

If they did, I envision the woman who met Jesus at the well wearing a cross, discreetly tucked under thickness of layers, her hand reaching to find it and remember mercy.

Death too; but, mercy more.

 I think she’d remember the unexpected and life-changing encounter, the “no secrets here, you are loved and known” not so chance meeting.

I’ll reach for my bracelet, wedding rings and gold pendant with simple cross as I get ready for meetings today.

I’ll find my fingers touching the cross and I’ll be assured that mercy’s still there

And be thankful it found me at my worst.

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story. Her beautiful image of a child’s feet blessed me today and prompted me to pray for Haiti.

Read it here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/stand-haiti-one-way-make-big-difference-today/

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October Morning with Bible

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized
Morning is mine

Morning is mine

I’m a stubborn woman; but, I’m quiet about it, so you might not know just how set I am on not being swayed.

If there’s something I believe, you can be sure I believe it with all I got.

I won’t believe because someone told me to believe, demanded I consider their perspective and accept their truth.

It’ll be because I’ve pondered and decided it is true and I’m better for its knowledge.

Too many times at the hands of too many people was my body demanded of and my thoughts, my beliefs coerced.

Years ago, I was chastised by a teacher. Told something akin to never being as good as you can be until you read your Bible every day.

Naturally, I resisted. “She’s not telling me what to do.”

When they’d ask for record keeping sake, “How many daily Bible readers do we have?” the number never matched the room and in silence, eyes scanned the semicircle set of chairs, I suppose they wondered who.

If they’d asked, I would have owned up and said why.

 I came to it on my own, eventually and unforced. I admit she was right, I only wish I’d come sooner and it been more peaceably presented.

My Bible is my place of learning, of comfort, of finding the scoundrels and the stubborn who finally gave up control and said,

“Okay, I believe despite question. I believe because you’ve shown me reason to believe.”

So, I journal. I read. I pray. I tell little Instagram stories of my God moments and I tell them quietly; hopefully, bravely enough to bend a listening ear, a searching eye, a longing heart.

Come and hear, all you who fear God, and I will tell you what He has done for my soul. Psalm 66:16

Far be it from me to make tremendous claims or to attempt to convince another as if I’m soothsayer or savant.

Certainly not saint.

I pray I not become boastful, pompous or judgemental.

I pray I only share with clarity my life with God and for the sake of humble remembering, my life before.

May I, every morning attempt to set the direction of my day in knowing more of God through his word and then saying “Okay, I see. I trust. I understand now.” because I stored up a word, an account of something similar and its unraveling from God’s perspective.

Mostly, though, I just hope to keep getting closer to who I say I am, a woman quietly confident in God.

Not what I write, a piece of art or a position in community.

Rather, a woman who God sees when I fall face down to pray and when I smile silently and contentedly as

October sunbeams fall sweetly across the pages of my Bible.

A woman who sees God so clearly others do too.

And discover for themselves, the poetry, love and lessons of their own Holy Bible.

 

A Handful of Quiet

courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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A room filled with women, we arrived and found our table. Five women can live at our homeless shelter at any given time. We’re always full, their stories always different.

One’s had a really tough stretch of days and she rode with me.

I told her on the way over about the way I sometimes write the word “trust” on my palm. I open my hand to look at it and remember or sometimes close my fingers in towards my palm, letting my thumb lie against the place I know the word rests.

She smiled and I drove, running late as usual.

When she realized we were going to the country club for dinner, she said,”Oh, we’re going to be at the country club?!”

I answered, “Yes.” and a added a little “whoop whoop hand in the air shoulder shake”

It’s my signature move. My daughter has built a whole “Snap” story around me.

She added, laughing out loud, ” Raise the roof, Miss  Lisa!”

And then, her eyes glossy, “I laughed. This is the first time I’ve laughed this week.”

We all sat together. The women who live in our shelter, myself and another employee.

When grace was said, I opened my hands on my lap and listened.

Softly and unexpectedly,she put her hand in mine and I covered our hands together as we prayed.

The warmth of her hand was indescribable.

The thought of it still now as warm.

I spoke about our program, remembering little of what I said except “Their stories become my story. It’s only the grace of God that has kept me from the same hardship.” Because I always say that, always.

Some of the women in the fancy dining room listened, really understood. Most likely only some were brave enough to try and understand if I’m honest.

Let’s be honest, many were thinking…Well, I’d never get myself in such a mess like that.

The room was filled with wealthy women and towards the end of the night, one in particular clearly shunned me.

I felt it.

I have experience with this feeling.

I woke up remembering it and almost let it linger; but, remembered more clearly her beautiful hand in mine.

How could I minimize the beauty of the one hand by sulking over the other?

Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and chasing after the wind. Ecclesiastes 4:5

So, I prayed, “Lord thank you that my life has been less than perfect. That I’ve not had the perfect dress for every function. Lord, thank you that you’ve placed me in places that I get to hold the hands of others. Thank you, Lord that she reached for my hand, knowing I’d reach back. Thank you for reminding me to stop chasing the approval of others.

Linking up for Five Minute Friday although, I always feel certain I go over. I’m not so great rule follower at all. 🙂

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To Know Him

Faith, grace, praise, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

imageI wonder if the skies were prepared to welcome him.

If the darkness of His death night was illuminated as magnificently as his birth night.

If the hierarchy of officials wept in regret over succumbing to the crowds who protested their decision, their desire.

Herod and Pilate, both longing to know this man, to experience his healing, longing just to meet him.  Maybe even excited to know that things could be different.

They must both have been longing for more than just existing, controlling, surviving.

Aren’t we all?

They had heard of  his power and love. But, embrace His love, abandon their power?

They caved to the maddening cries of those all around, the seekers of gore, of violence, of death, of spectacle.

I missed this part in the story until today

or perhaps, my heart’s more receptive or longing to be reminded.

When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see Him, because he had heard about Him…Look, nothing deserving of death has been done by Him. Luke 23:8, 15

I’m fascinated by Jesus.

I’m enthralled by the nuances of His life.

Life sacrificed for me, for them.

But, they demanded with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed. Luke 22:23

I believe the stars were magnificent that night, gave a new clarity, a regretful longing to wish they’d known him more.

Oh, for grace to trust Him more.

To know Him more.

Jesus, Jesus

How I trust Him.