SelahV Today by hariette petersen

Defining Moments and Turning Points

Certain times in life define the course we take.  The actual time and date is not as pertinent to us as the character we have when a circumstance intersects with our lives. The people surrounding us in that very moment, and how we act or react to those circumstances, determines the course the next hour is lived, and eventually the next hour or decade.

I've lived nearly 64 years.  One would think I would have learned a lot by now.  I grew up in a strictly authoritarian home.  I loved my dad, as little girls do.  But my dad was a man who brooked no arguments.  His law was law.  No grey areas.  No wishy washy inconsistency.  When Daddy said no...it was no.  When he said yes, it was yes.  Whining and complaining got me no where.  Tears carried no weight.

Our dinner table was set for Daddy, myself, my younger step-brother and two elder biological brothers.  I sat across from my father most of the time.  My stepbrother sat to my right.  My eldest brother sat next to dad, and my middle brotherto his left at the of the table. We did not talk.  We did not share our day.  No one asked what we thought, or what had gone on in our day.

My step-mother never ever ever sat down to eat with us.  She placed the food on the table and served my father whenever he needed something.  If we had bean soup and she gave him a soup spoon, he'd push it across the table and grumble, "if I wanted a shovel I would have asked for it."  My step-mother cowered and scrambled to get him a teaspoon.  Some nights he wanted hot coffee; sometimes he wanted ice-tea.  Momma never quite knew what he wanted, nor did it seem, she felt free to ask.  One time she gave him a teaspoon to stir the sugar in his ice-tea.  It was too short for the tall glass.  He pulled it out of the glass, tossed it across the table and barked, "What good is this?"  Momma scrambled to find him a soup-spoon.  He wanted scrambled eggs each morning, but he didn't want to hear her beat the eggs.  He stood in the middle of the living room and say he needed a tee-shirt.  Momma got him what he stated he wanted.  He never asked; he ordered.  He never said thank-you.  He never said please. He never offered one word of affirmation or gratitude.

After each meal, my step-mother cleared the table; my brothers and I took turns washing the dishes from dinner and all the dishes accumulated throughout the day. Each night I either washed or dried, depending on which my brothers preferred doing.  It was woman's work, after all.  I knew my place.  Sometimes my brothers had other chores, or homework. And I would do both the washing and the drying, regardless of my homework assignments.  Daddy would read his paper, then leave home.  While we did dishes, my step-mother would eat a few cold leftovers. 

My father was an incredible man.  The entire community lauded him.  He was a hard working servant.  He worked as a plumber-pipefitter on the base in Quantico, Virginia by day.  At night he volunteered for the Fire-department and Rescue Squad.  "Such a wonderful father you have," I'd hear people say.  "Such a good man."  I had nothing to compare to "wonderful" and "good".  So I accepted that what Daddy did was what all men did.  They brook no arguments.  Whatever they want is what is done.  All the complaints in the world did nothing for my step-mother, but find her face to his back as he went out the door. She learned to walk on egg shells, and I watched her settle into her place in life.

Defining moments for me.

Defining experiences and circumstances.

Men do what they do.  Women submit.  Women serve in silence, or watch doors slam shut in their faces.  What they say must be acceptable and approved by men, or they'll see spoons they offer rejected, and words they utter rebuked.  They have no recourse. Rules are made by men, and rules are altered to suit men when men choose to alter them.  Women have no opinions.  They have no voice. That was my life as a child.

Somewhere between the orders barked for tee-shirts, and complaints for how eggs were fried, I resolved never, ever to have a man like my father as a husband.  God blessed me beyond any resolve I imagined.

No friends; we are not totally bound by yesterday, because our Lord says he gives us "new mercies each morning". Yet, each yesterday carries its own set of experiences that guide us, inspire and edify us, or...sadly..

destroy us...and put us in our place--without recourse.

No matter what success we have in yesterday to build upon dreams, and life-long ministries, today brings its own intersections of people.  And sometimes...

sometimes we find ourselves sitting at the kitchen table with the family all around us...silenced, without a voice.  It's these times we must choose to shut up or speak up.  To wilt and wither, or stand tall and deliver.  The choice is ours.  It's not always easy;  it's not always fun.  It's not always popular when all is said and done.  But growing in grace gives power to the flower, and strength for each hour.  One moment at a time.  selahV

 

I AM...

i am lowly and meek because i want to be;

i am mild and at peace because i'm conditioned to be;

i am brave and courageous because God tells me to be.

i am saved and sure because He died for me.

i am satisfied now, because life happens to be

                           totally fixed on eternity.

i am set apart as Christ sanctifies me;

i am chosen in HIM to live righteously.

i am grateful He keeps me consistently;

i am blessed to rest in Him peacefully.

i am happy to know He abides in me.

i am less than another who yearns to be

                    totally free of hypocrisy.

i am full of the faith God gave to me

        to hope in tomorrow's destiny.

i am granted peace that assuredly

        each morning brings more of His mercies for me.

i am all i am because God created in me

        a love for the cross that has set me free

        to worship the King, His Majesty.

"I AM", so you don't have to be...

whoever the world says you need to be." selahV

Who do you say i am?  Who are you?

[Who you are and who "I AM"/link]

Nobility

"A Christian worker has to learn how to be God's noble man or woman amid a crowd of ignoble things." Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

Ah...indeed, she does need to "learn".

She needs to study to show herself approved "unto God".  God.  Not man, not other women.  But God.  The rest will fall into place quite nicely.

What are "ignoble things"?  Dishonorable... base... mean.  Things which lack mercy, love, and peace.  Things that show themselves pious, full of guile, permeated by deceit and manipulation.  Things that originate in the flesh, that fuel the ego, that salve the conscience of man.  Things that build upon themselves a tower in the "name" of God for the pride and credit of man.  These are ignoble things.  A bigger platform.  A wider audience.  A controlled environment.  A place of personal pleasure, separated from the mind and will of God.  A higher pedestal.

"I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some." 1 Corinthians 9:22

Our intentions, though we deem honorable and pure, are but beams of pride in the sight of God.  He makes all things new.  Not us.  He creates new creatures.  Not us.  He turns water into wine.  Not us.  He rolls back the Red Sea, stills the raging waves, and builds His church on solid rock...from the likes of a lowly Peter, an adulterous woman, a doubting Thomas, a thieving tax collector.  God be praised that He has chosen me to stand in the gap and bloom where I am planted.  No matter how wide or deep the gap--no matter how dry or weed-filled the field may be, God abides within me and gives me strength and grace to carry on in His name. 

"Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God." 1 John 4:15 

Smacked Down, Rebuked, Admonished and WELL...

overestimated, I suppose.

FRIENDLY WARNING...this is longer than my usual 600 to 800 words.  Should you choose to stop reading and lodge complaint, do so in the comment box.  I may not respond, but I will read it.  Not promising I will publish it.  You see, that way I will not be accused of deleting or altering it. (tongue-in-cheek TIC)  On with my post:

Today I received a very very kind word via automatic subscription from a man I truly respect.  He is among many Calvinist ministers and reformed-thinking Christians I know and love.  In 2006, a former 5-point Calvinist introduced me to the wild and wooly world of internet blogging.  The first time I ever heard of a blog is when I heard of Rosie O'Donnell's diatribes of controversy over gay-marriage.  Imagine that!  I thought web-sites were for folks with tons and tons of money.  I had a computer, albeit an antiquated 1990's model which had been refurbished a couple of times to accomodate web connections with the world beyond my tiny sphere of AOL Instant Messaging and eBay selling.  I had no knowledge of Calvinism or their identification with the TULIP.  I did not even know my friend of many years ever wore a 5-point Calvinist badge of honor. 

Rambling and reminiscing ends.  Point begins.

I don't consider myself a "player" in the interworking machinations of SBC politics...or any politics for that matter.  I'm a lone voice in a very tiny space.  I speak for no one but myself (and my Lord on higher issues).  My friend who got me started in blogging did so because he thought I needed to write to purge the pangs of all-consuming grief over the loss of my 33-year-old son.  My longstanding friend also knew my heart and how deeply I loved the SBC for which I attribute a great deal of credit for my salvation of mind, body and soul. 

I'm going somewhere, I promise.

As I stepped into the baptismal waters of blogging, I discovered that sometimes the water is extremely frigid, and other times uncomfortably boiling.  Very rarely did I find any lukewarm or bathtub temperatures in which to wade, splash about, or drop a line into and sit a spell.  Rarely were there any nibbles on my line.  In fact, one dear Calvinist friend of mine told me after I'd been blogging for several months at the same fishing hole as he, that he'd usually skipped over my words of wit and wisdom.  Can you believe?  Then one fine day he got tangled in my line.  After that, he decided he'd always make an effort to read what I had to say.  We became fast friends, moreso because of God, but partially because I came to his defense in a discussion along the SBC watering-holes of life.  We were already brother and sister in Christ.  I often prayed for him in his ministry and in his studies at SWBTS. He shared concerns on being a young and eager minister in an "established" church.  I still mention he and his family in my prayers today, though I haven't chatted with him in a very very long time.  He got tired of all the quibbling amongst the SBC brethren and retired from blogging to minister to the sheep in his flock and seek the lost in the fields ripe unto harvest. (I know lots of men like him.)

I met other bloggers along the way in the midst of controversy and muddy waters.  Some, I debated ad nauseum.  One in particular, seemed to follow me around and snipe my every remark and comment.  She had this uncanny way of twisting everything I said to mean something I'd never intended it to mean.  She read every single word I wrote and accused me of some rather seedy things.  She presupposed every post or devotional I wrote, was written with her in mind.  I even had a special file-folder for emails she continued to write.  I stopped reading them and answering them, I simply deposited them in the file-folder of fodder.  I did my best to converse and communicate, but ya know?  Some folks ya just need to avoid...you need to ignore...you need to forgive, pray for, and accept as Jesus would.  Then kick the dust from your feet and move on down the road.

I was invited to write for every collaborative blog I was a part of.  I did not beg or push my way into those forums.  I was usually asked to be a part of them at their conception.  As they gained notoriety, and other contributors, my voice and presence was a little more than tolerated for my token view.  Most times, things moved along like a barge on the Ohio River...calmly, peacefully, steadily.  I tried to ignore the logs in the river and tend to the one in my eye.  Whenever I felt welcome in the area in which I wrote, I stayed.  And I wrote.  I even defended those with whom I did not agree at times.  Other times, I remained silent.  I met some very gracious and grace-filled folks along the way.  I've prayed for many I've never met...and they have prayed for me. 

Far more blessings and friends have come my way than warts and toads.  Even ones who might count me enemy, I count as brother or sister.  I may not see eye to eye with them on subject, style, and substance, but I will not question the probability that we will share space at the heavenly feast someday.  The best part about that is, we will each be perfected and complete--one mind--one spirit.  In full and perfect fellowship and accord.  Won't it be grand?

One time, early into my writing ministry, I found that my antiquated computer could no longer meet the needs of my perpetual pecking.  I wrote about it on my blog.  It was near the time, as I recall, that my husband had a major heart attack.  Simultaneously, our financial situation became so grave that I decided the internet connection and my web-service would have to go.  Our budget could not include such luxury.

Out of the blue, an internet friend (who happens to be Calvinist), invited me to lunch in Wichita Falls, Texas. After luxuriously dining at the Olive Garden, she took me to her trunk and presented me with a brand new computer, printer and keyboard.  Before I made it home I was penning a letter in my mind to another internet friend (and virtual stranger, who asked to remain anonymous). I'd met her when I encouraged her to hang tough in the SBC, there was a place for her.  This same person had already contacted me and was boxing up a refurbished computer for me to have "free of charge".  When I told her I was already given another computer, she told me I could let my husband have it for his ministry.  God provides, my friends.  He really really does.  I was privileged and honored to pray for her and her husband when the IMB commissioned them as missionaries abroad.

Within a few days of receiving the Olive Garden computer, a person I did not know sent me his book about his father.  In the book was three twenty-dollar bills.  I could not believe it.  At the time, it was the exact amount I needed to keep my internet connection.  Again, God provided.

The same person who sent me his book, asked if he could share my overwhelming financial strain and health problems with others.  I said, "Of course."  We needed all the prayers we could garner.  Within a few weeks, my husband received a letter from a church in the "southern" reaches of Texas.  The church informed my husband that they'd been contacted about us, and had a ministry for retired ministers in which they sent a monthly love-gift to them in gratitude for faithfully serving  Christ.  At that time, they supported over 179 retiree ministers.  Again, we were amazed at the generosity of God's people in the SBC.  Each month we cash their Macedonian-style gift to us to help us continue the study and writing ministry we each seek to follow as led by God.  There is so much more I could write about all this; it would fill a book or two.

Suffice it to say, dear friends...my journey in blogging far exceeds any one post.  It goes far beyond the import of any one comment in any particular stream. There are times I'd rather not write.  Times I'd rather just ignore the muse which clamors for voice.  Times I'd rather not read what I read about our beloved convention.  The squabbles.  The divisions.  The changes.

I am not perfect.  I do not pretend to be.  I am not wise or intelligent, educated,  knowlegable, theologically astute, or righteously pure.  I have faults and I admit them.  When I wrote a rather innocuous comment on a sister blog, to a particular post, I weighed the impact of its content, the possibility of it annoying some who'd read it and accuse some commenters of trolling and "watch-blogging".

Yet, I also thought that the simplicity in which I wrote it spoke volumes to the substance of the post I'd started reading.  Prior to and upon deletion of my comment, I read it several times.  It's okay that others found it unacceptable.  It's okay that a fellow brother wrote and told me he thought about deleting it before someone else beat him to the punch.  It's okay that folks do not agree with me.  It's a free country.  The first ammendment applies to us all.  And, furthermore, the dime in which another pays to keep a website afloat is theirs to choose who comments and who does not.  And it is, now, equally okay for me to voice my dissent for which my original utterance found itself cremated forevermore.  Below...BEHOLD the comment that seems so offensive it could not be left afloat in the stream:

"Well, Brandon, I didn’t read your post. My mind shut down at the introduction of who Steve is: Director of Acts29 Western Europe.  I said to myself, Acts 29?  I’m not in Kansas anymore. I checked the link to ascertain I was at “SBC” Voices.   Acts-29 is not a voice I am interested in hearing. No offense…".

Testy? yes.  Angry? no.  Pointed? yes.  Elaborating? no.  Snarky? a bit.  Harsh?  hardly.  Insulting? unintentional.  Unequivocable? Yes.  Unclear? No.  Succinct? unquesitionably.  Fallible? of course.  Substantive? debateable.  Without merit? Unlikely.  Pithy?  Most definitely.  Consequential? oh yeah.  Dishonorable?  judge not lest ye be judged.

Confession is in order:  Since I posted my comment, and before it's deletion, I finished reading the larger portion of the post on which I'd commented.  I concluded that my comment met the same criteria as I'd first written it to mean.

UNDERSTAND:

I was a "Southern Baptist" voice.  In a Southern Baptist forum of voices where "most" folks find liberty to confess they drink in moderation, rebuke those who abstain, support those who cuss, admonish those who cannot see beyond a flaw, find sport in calling some Georgia boys the "anti-Christ", yet embrace any and all who are anything but traditional Volunteer Fans, accuse brethren (who give invitations, hand out tracts, and sing Just As I Am) of fundamentalism, hypocrisy, legalism, heresy, and plain old ignorance and fuddy duddiness.  It's a place where SBC leaders are lauded for calling we who "see things", too, senile old bathrobed troublemakers in the twit-less-sphere.  It's where we are mocked for wanting bylaws adhered to, and convention messengers votes to be honored.  It's a forum where writers and contributors feel free to reduce the name of "Southern" Baptist to a racial slur and shameful epithet of heretical proportion which must be endured forevermore.

So, unless I moved to "Kansas" in the last series of tornadoes here in Oklahoma, that is where I dared to post an opinion of disinterest.  If I wasn't in the right forum for speaking as a Southern Baptist then, someone please send me a pair of "ruby slippers".  The yellow-brick road to Oz is more than my old hips can endure.  selahV (a.k.a. The Dragon-Lady)

ONE VOICE CRYING...

is all that's necessary at times. And sometimes one voice is unnecessary amongst the throng of other voices.  While some voices are meant to dialogue, converse, debate and discuss...others are bound and determined to contend.  For the latter, I tend to avert and sit on the sidelines.  Every now and then, I've stepped into the waters of controversy and (as I've stated many times), found the water above my head.  Such is my lot today.

I happened upon a post today that sparked an urge in me to stand against the current of opposition.  One portion stated: 

"As the song says, “it only takes a spark to get a fire going.” It only takes one man (or woman) to take a stand against authoritarianism to make a difference. When the right person begins to speak up and to put feet to their words, it’s amazing how quickly the floodgates open." Howell Scott

Lately, some folk shared concerns and questions regarding my thoughts on various posts.  Some have been "seeing things" change in me.  They are curious as to what is going on in my mind and my world.  Alas, there are some questions that cannot be answered...some arguments that cannot be countered.  No matter how close we've become to one another, some things must be left unsaid.  Or left to other voices to share.  I find I no longer have a desire to tread turbulent waters where floodgates seek release.

One voice crying amongst the throng is but a whisper in the wind when accusations fly and preconceived notions determine the volume of the voice.  Judgment has been rendered.  Case closed.  For me, anyway.

Suffice it to say, I am still me.  I am still standing where I've always stood.  I have not changed.  My eyes are opened a bit wider since 2006.  Some folks I've met along the way have been invaluable in helping me see and understand the changing times.  Others folks I've met do not know me.  They may think they do, but they do not.  They never have.  And, there is nothing wrong with that, nor is there anything offensive in that.  It is life.  It is the way life is.  C' est la vie.

It's definitely not worth losing sleep over, or even typing another word of dissent.  Nope.  Not worth it.  It doesn't affect me personally, anyway.  I am secure.  Sealed. Bought and paid for.  Sanctified and justified.  Holy and acceptable in Christ, my Lord.  I do not need man's approval, nor do I seek it.

Opinions are funny things.  Ones we agree with are acceptable.  Ones we do not, are unacceptable.  Yet even that is debatable to some.  Viewpoints are ostracizing or accommodating.  Attitudes are kind or unkind.  Intention and motives are only pure in the eyes of the beholder, I suppose.  Nevertheless...silence is what one wants, then silence is what one gets.  I am an accommodating kinda gal.  Squeeze me long and hard enough and I will fold like a deck of cards.  Not because I have no voice to cry out...nay, but because I have no desire to play the games some folks play and bend to every wind of doctrine.  I'll find another stream in which to dangle my line.  There are far more fish in the sea than in the streams around stocked moats, anyway.  If anyone asks, just tell them I've "gone fishing" in saltier waters, okay? saint selahV

[A Blogger's Comfort Zone/link]

WORDS OF WISDOM from DR. STEVE GAINES interviewed by SBC Today

Among so many words, it's hard to say what touches a chord more in my heart.  I picked these as my favorite from this interview with Dr. Steve Gaines:

"What good is a prayerless conservative, a prayerless preacher, or a prayerless professor? We must talk with God before we try to talk for God. We need daily prayer. Yesterday’s manna won’t feed us. Yesterday’s anointing won’t empower us. Yesterday’s prayers won’t help us make it through today." Dr. Steve Gaines, SBC Today

My spirit echos these words to add, what good indeed?

For that matter..."what good is a prayerless" blogger, prayerless writer, mother, father, Sunday School teacher, politician, or church committee member?

Sometimes I wonder how much thought goes into a person's email before they send it.  I wonder how much thought goes through a person's mind before they reply.  I wonder how much thought is given before one posts a comment, or into a post before one publishes it?  Do we test the weight of our words?  Do we examine our thoughts? our hearts?  Do we place them in the "light" of the Word?

"We must talk with God before we try to talk for God." Dr. Steve Gaines

Lord, teach us to pray.  Let us reach for You each morning before we do our coffee, before we grab our laptops and ipads.  Let us seek Your face before we link to facebook, a favorite blogsite, check an email box, or Twitter account.  Let us spend time before You and with You before we tip-toe, or charge, into the world beneath our feet...or, beyond our fingertips.   Let our thoughts be compatible with Yours, oh, Lord, our Savior and Redeemer.  Feed our thoughts with Yours.  Fuel our spirit with Yours.  Fill our minds with Your discernment.  And let as we go, let us speak the truth as best we know how.  selahV

Some Folks...Can't Be Friends

Some folks are friends, some are not.  Some are better friends than others.  Some folks are better off not pretending to be friends.  Friendship is so much more than facebooking, texting, and internet socialization.  I have some true true friends in life and I cannot begin to thank God enough for them.  They are the kind who will drop everything for you when you need them.  They'll sacrifice their time, and put their lives on hold, just to fly across the country and help you when you lose a loved one.  Friends who live near you will meet you for lunch a couple of times a week to listen to you share the grief in your heart--the questions in your mind.  They'll pray with you and for you.

You probably have friends like this, too.

Some friends truly care what we think about various things in life, and how we are when they ask.  I realize life has a way of revolving around our own thoughts and personal struggles, needs, joy and pain.  I try very hard to be that kind of friend for others.  I really want to be for them what they need.  I want to be this for them because I have so much myself.  God has truly blessed me.

I have one friend on the internet, whose blog I always read.  Even though I do not always understand where he is going with his posts, I do know from whence he came.  I know how much he cares about life and his relationship with our Lord. I know he endeavors to follow Him with every thing he does.  It's a blessing each time I pick up the phone and talk to him.  Or get an email from him wherein we banter about goofy stuff, or opine about serious stuff.  We do not talk every day.  We talk a few times a year.  But when we talk, it's like we were when we shared many a cup of coffee and bowl of popcorn over thirty years ago. True friendship never dies, even when geography separates and time prohibits interaction.

I have other friends who take time to be with me in a one-on-one visit and that is also a major blessing.  Of late, those times have been very few and far between.  Lousy health has kept me from socializing much.  I think I'm getting out of sync with the world.  I occasionally wonder if I've lost the ability to connect.

Ever have one of those odd conversations wherein you answer the proverbial "How-was-your-day?" question with a lot of stuff and someone picks out the most mundane thing of what you say and ignores all the rest?  Here's an exaggerated example: "How are you today?"

"Well, today has been rather tumultuous...I found out I had cancer, my dog died, I painted a picture for my living-room wall, and always chew gum when I paint.  I wish I had some chewing gum, forgot to buy some."

The friend writes back, "I bought five packs of gum when I went shopping today, I like Dentyne."

And that is the jist of the conversation.  It's weird.  You close your eyes and think..."gum?"...that's what they picked up in the reply to talk about?  Hmmmn.

What does one do when a person seems that disinterested in a conversation they begin?  Are we so consumed with ourself, that we fail to focus on the thoughts and the needs of others?  Or is it us at all?  Could we be too sensitive?  touchy to a fault?

It begs an answer, though...

When folks ask how we are, do they really want to know?  Does anyone actually want to know how we are?  I understand the insincerity of that question in the passing one another in the check-out line.  The clerk really doesn't want to know how I am.  And they do not really care whether I "found everything I was looking for" that day when I shopped.  It's just a question they are trained to ask.  I wonder if we've so conditioned ourselves in the way things are in the world that we only care when it is convenient to care.  When our minds are free of our own concerns.

Lord, I pray I am able to be more like Jesus.  To see through the chatter of a woman at the well--or laundry mat.  To feel the touch of needy fingers at the hem of my robe--or elbow, when they seek a moment of recognition.  To notice a person above me in the trees, while others clamor for my attention.  I want to see like Jesus.  I want Him to help me see, feel, touch and know...so none go through life as lonely as I once did.  How about you? selahV

WHAT I WANT, by hariette petersen

I want to know Jesus.

More. 

I don't mean I want to know about Jesus either.  I can read His words, His actions, His deeds, His history--birth, mission, death, and resurrection.  I want to know Him--fully and completely.  I want to be swallowed up by Him.

I want to be so intimate with Him that my every suffering is but a glory to enjoy with Him.  I want to be so close that when I sneeze I hear Him say, "Bless you".

I want to be so at one with Him that I see others with His eyes and from His viewpoint and perspective.  I want to have less answers for the world and more questions for my Savior.  I want to spend all my time at His feet, resting in His love.  I want to fall asleep with Him on my mind, and waken with Him on my mind.  I want to hear His voice the first thing each morning and the last thing at night.  When I look at a rose, I want to praise Him for its beauty.

I want to walk through my daily routine with Him by my side, following in His way ever-lasting... never wavering, always trusting.  Never balking.  Always hoping and waiting expectantly to hear His voice behind my right ear. 

I want to drink of His living water, and feed on His bread of Life.  His peace is my peace, His comfort my comfort.  His love is my love, His goodness my goodness.  His righteousness is my righteousness, His hope is my hope.   

Don't you want what I want, too? selahV

HOLY, HOLY, HOLY...WHERE ART THEE, O HOLY

Holiness is not how much we appear to live in accord with the Word of God, but how much room the Word has to live within us.  We crowd Him out with our whims, our baubles, our pleasures and displeasures.  We cover His glory each time we choose to follow our own way, to yield to our own deep-seated desires.  We do this just as surely as storm clouds cover the sun.

Holiness is less complex than we make it out to be.  It is not I who needs to be holy, it is I who needs to die and let I AM live more freely.  It is dying to the I of pride and self-sufficiency and my all-knowing will, then living to the great "I AM" Who dwells within/link and surrendering my will to His.  One day, one hour, one moment at a time.  selahV

Finding the Holiness of God./link

FREE to Choose

He escaped again.  For some reason, of late, Snappy the Red-eared Slider was no longer happy in his aquarium on my granddaughter's dresser.  He wasn't satisfied with greeting their fingers as soon as they came near his glass case.  It was so cute to watch him tread water and open his mouth the moment he saw their fingers with dried food squiggles.

Snappy began his life with Abby and Brooklyn, when they were just three and seven and he was little more than the size of a quarter.  (A story I've shared before.)

Snappy was instrumental in adding to my older granddaughter, Brooklyn's faith when she was just 7.  She and Abby were playing with him one day.  As children are common to do, they got distracted by something else, and forgot about leaving Snappy on her bed.  When they remembered, he'd simply disappeared.  They searched and searched for him.  Brooklyn was devastated.  She was certain their dog, Allie, had found him and eaten or killed him.  She was so worried she called me.  I assured her that her chihuahua had not eaten Snappy and said I'd pray about it. Within a few minutes, she called back and told me her mother had found Snappy beneath the bed in the corner of the wall.  Immediately she announced that she knew it was God, because she had just prayed that they'd find him and her mother came out and announced she had.

FAST-FORWARD Seven Years:

Snappy recently became rather testy about his environment.  He wasn't happy to stay in the plastic rectangle tub my granddaughter, Abby, had placed him in to await daily visits and water-changes and feedings.  He wanted more.  He wanted to explore the carpet. She'd taken him out of his larger aquarium because it was getting dirty too quickly and very difficult to keep clean.  Snappy had grown closer to the size of an I-Hop pancake and his water got dirty much faster than when he was tiny.  Again and again he'd escape and Abby would find him trying to climb her bookshelves.  Did he want to read?

About two months ago, Abby called and asked me if I thought they should let him go free into the turtle-friend pond near her home or if I wanted him.  I thought seriously about it.  I did want to keep him...but, I asked which she thought would be better for Snappy.  She chose freedom.  Thus a couple of weeks ago--when I arrived to pick-up Abby for a weekend visit--she wanted to know if we could take him to the turtle-pond that very day.  It was a beautiful day in Texas.  I took my camera and we fed Snappy some food. We placed the large plastic rectangle bin into an empty Huggies diaper box to avoid the slosh of water onto my car's carpet.

Emotions warred within me, as Abby battled her own when we got to the park.  I was tickled that Abby and Brooklyn saw the wisdom in letting Snappy go to live free in their town's public pond.  Yet sadness and sentimentality claimed a portion of my heart as she held his tub and stared at him.  After all we'd shared life with Snappy for a very long time.  During those nearly 7 years, the girls had diligently cared for him and watched him grow--just as I had watched them grow.  We researched red-earred sliders at one point and discovered he could live for 50 years, or more.  Because we found him in my daughter's swimming pool, hardly two months after their daddy had died, I think we all kinda connected the two events.

We did exactly what my son would have done, had he been alive when they found him squirming to get out of the pool's filter-drain.  We rescued him and vowed to protect him from the world.

At this phase of Snappy's life, I imagine Chad would have built a tiled pond in their back yard, so Snappy could grow happily.  He would have gone turtle hunting and brought Snappy some friends.  Alas, he wasn't here to build the tile-pond--or to find him friends.  So, we did the next best thing.  I really didn't want Abby to know the melancholy feelings surging within me as we went through motions of Snappy's release.  I made it a great event.  We chatted about how wonderful a life he'd now have with his new-found freedom.  She told me how clean the pond was because the park-attendants came and cleaned it near the fountain in the center of the pond all the time.  She got excited thinking about Snappy meeting other turtles, but wondered if they'd be friendly or mean.  I assured her that they would be happy to welcome him into their world.  Who wouldn't love Snappy?  I told her he'd meet a lady turtle and probably have baby turtles.  She'd return to the park some day and see Snappy again with his happy family.

My assurance carried a double meaning for my sweet granddaughter.  You see, she is moving soon.  Away from the home she's known since she lost her daddy.  She'll have to make new friends in a new school.  She wonders how they will treat her, too.  I am sure all these thoughts were rolling around through her mind, and heart, as she prepared to release her green friend into a strange new world.

Abby gave Snappy his last meal at the park.  He ate it all before she showed him his new domain.  She placed him on the ground near the edge of the pond and he sat there a moment, then took off faster than lightning into the water.  He moved so quickly my camera seized and I missed the shot of him scooting into the pond.  At first he popped his head up from beneath the water's surface as if to say thankyou and good-bye.  I barely blinked before he dove and submerged himself in the mucky water below.  I took some pictures of where he burrowed, barely visible, into the pond's muck.  His color matched that of the muddy bottom.  Abby dumped some turtle food on the ground near his entry point, and we took a few more photos.  As we walked away, the ducks came up and began eating Snappy's food.  Abby protested.  I assured her that God gave Snappy special instincts to know how to get food from the muck in his world. "He'll provide him food and friends and a happy time."

Abby chattered on and on about this and that while we drove the hour from Texas back to Oklahoma for the weekend.  I couldn't help but smile and think how my son was in his new Heavenly home.  I felt he was probably cheering us on as Snappy raced into the water and Abby learned a lesson in love.  If you love someone, you want the best for them--even when our choices are hard for us to bear.  Just as we were free to keep or release Snappy, God gave us the freedom to hold onto him and keep him all to ourselves, or let him go to live in a world where he'd be happier and free to be all he was purposed to be.  I think we chose the right path, don't you?  selahV  [Click on photos to enlarge.]

HUMOR IS...

IN THE EYES AND EARS OF THE BEHOLDER....I suppose.

It's difficult to joke around with some folks.  Then at times, with the very same person, it's easy.  I think it has to do with a particular person's circumstances at the time they receive what another tries to convey as humorous.  Other times, receipt of another's offering of humor is circumvented by some preconceived notion of the practicing comediene.  Humor is relative only to the point of what another's perpective is.  For instance...

Funniest Home Videos can be hilarious with one situation, or painfully bizarre.  I never quite got the slapstick humor of the three stooges.  I've tried my hand at the Don Rickles kind and had it virtually slapped at times.  Invariably it is when I try to be one of the crowd and find out I never was or never will be one of the crowd.

Whatever.  I've found that when I'm in a jovial mood, I tend to think everyone is feeling my funny.  Other times, I am quite sensitive to the possibility that someone will not find my offerings of humor very funny at all.  Folks who know me well, know I am one who likes to join in the frivolity of others.  Yet, even so, I hold back quite often because I do not feel safe in environments beyond my very tiny world.  Occasionally I step out of my comfort zone and find I would be far more comfortable back in my home-zone.  If you get my drift.

Ever think you're being funny and find that others do not appreciate your sense of humor?  Ever wish you'd never even tried?  Ever think that because you are connected in a tenuous thread of communication that seems rather binding--that you assumed was binding--as a Christian, a family member, fellow church member and thread unravels without a hint of warning?  Ever think that you have the liberty to kid around..., only to discover you have no liberty...that you've overstepped your boundaries as a fellow--, uh, well, anything...sister, brother?

I have.  As recent as today.

Sometimes I get a bit weary of always being serious.  I like to kid around like everyone else.  I like to goof off and join in the frivolity I see in the internet connections we have.  However...

(there's always however with me, remember?)

...however...times are tough right now.  People's lives are a hanging by threads of discord and suspicion.  One cannot always judge the timing of a punchline or the difference between a poke in the ribs, or a punch in the nose by another's virtual fist.

I think, for me, I shall crawl back into my shell of silence and simply stick to the serious side of life.  It seems to be better received.  And should I be tempted to take my fingers into another's territory of gay-merry-making, I shall bite my nails and paint them with pepper instead.  I'm sure the taste of hot pepper will generate less heat than my ill-timed piece of humor, anyway.

All things being equal, not all things are equally funny.  To some folks anyway.  selahV

HOW TO WIN BLUE-COLLAR BLOG MADNESS by Anonymous Guest Writer

1: Agree with as many people in the world as you can in three weeks and follow instructions in #5.

2: Compliment all the people who write on the reformed blogs.

3: Support the other reformed bloggers and link to their posts.

4: Write for any of the reformed blogs.

5: Beg everyone you know to vote for you.

6: "Friend" and "Follow" all the commenters at Founders, SBC Voices, and every other person you can.  Be very very nice and heed #4 and 5.

7: Be pro-nickname passage.

8: Write articles dissing Peter Lumpkins, and praising Mark Driscoll, Jonathan Merritt & the YRR and Dr. Al Mohler.  (Just kidding)

9: With any leftover time, try and write something that someone wants to read.

10:  And for pete's sake...be a man! 

[Disclaimer: I'm just kidding! selahV]

LIARS, INSURANCE SCAMS, and Vulnerable Folks Like Me

Friends, the last year has been a long arduous journey for me.  Until recently, I have been totally unable to afford any insurance whatsover.  After researching options offered by viable insurance companies, I know I have no alternative but to go without insurance.  The monthly premium I would pay out for a policy to cover my health is more than I could spend on any average six-month period for visiting a doctor for regular problems and preventative care.  Considering that along with the monthly premium, I'd have to pay a 5 to 10,000-dollar deductible before any help kicks in for me, it is beyond my or my husband's earning capabilities.  This coverage by the way, is without any benefit towards a doctor's visit, diagnostic tests, or prescriptions.

So what does a person do, like me, who is more than likely facing biopsies and possible surgery?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

I live with every-day aches, pains, and illnesses.  Other than my chiropractor, I haven't been to a bonafide doctor in about three years now.  I'm not a hypocondriac. It took me quite awhile to find a specialist who would see me and would take my money (up-front) for one visit to diagnose my situation.  I am so very grateful I found one.  

I do not blame health-care providers wanting insurance, or for needing money to pay for their monstrous education loans, offices, nurses, equipment, business operations, mal-practice insurance, and their own health-care plans.  I do not blame insurance companies for needing money to pay for premiums and high health-care.  I do not blame the government for not subsidizing any neglect I am responsible for in my normal, regular health care.  The government is the people of America, I do not blame you.  I do not expect my church family to pay for my health-care (though they have been generous to support us in many ways in the past--when my son and father died, when my husband had his heart attack).  However, I do wish there were someoptions for folks like me who need help when a medical condition is not a result of my lust for Oreo cookies dipped in milk...or, any other controllable factor on my part.  I don't smoke.  I don't drink alcohol. I take vitamins and avoid taking too many over-the-counter medicines.

I'm just getting older and the body is naturally deteriorating.  I have a plan for the after-life.  I do not worry about where I am going should my health threats become a reality.  But it behooves me to write about the skanks in life who prey upon people like me who need help and take what little money I have for a doctor's visit and a generic prescription and steal it with promises to provide help they have no intention of providing.  Those who perpetrate scams and fraud should be put in jail for the rest of their natural lives.  They have no place in society.  No more than a child-molester, rapist, or murderer.  They belong behind bars.  I don't mind paying my fair share to keep them locked in their well-earned cages.

Today I was contacted by, probably the twentieth person, trying to sell me an insurance plan.  I didn't want to talk to anyone else.  I'd heard all the pitches from those promising the moon.  I'd read all the plans offering little but wanting everything.  But for some reason, this guy...Gilbert, sounded so sincere.  He advised me to cancel my hard-sought doctor's appointment for March 29th and to move it past the April 1st point of when I could be covered under their Affiliated Workers Association health-care plan.  All I had to do was call him back (today), after I researched his website (wow was it pretty), and check for my doctor's name on their PPO list, and allow him to withdraw 408-dollars from my checking account for the first months premium and one-time-only enrolment fee.

Gilbert's plan offered me far more than I could ever dream of receiving.  I told Gilbert that it sounded too good to be true.  He calmed my fears with words describing how the new government regulations allow for them to help folks like me.  Yeah.  So as I go to his website, my gut growls and says "something just is not right".  I looked for the hard address of AWA and there was none.  How does one find out if this company is legitimate/  Well, friends...it's nigh onto impossible.  But, after several Google searches, and a call to my doctor's office, I did find that no one had ever heard of them.  And I also found a little website and the information shared by Dr. Stephen Barrett who offered warning signs for fraudulent insurance plans (see below after the break).

After realizing Gilbert's phone call and spiel about his insurance plan and association, fell under the majority of the good Dr. Barrett's warning signs, I decided to contact the BBB.  Well the Better Business Bureau couldn't give me any information without a hard address of the folks offering the plan.  So I am back to square one.  I decided to check with Oklahoma Insurance Commission--(ha..easier to stick a pencil in my eye and stitch it up afterwards).  However, I finally found a place to report fraud and they actually had a person to talk to on the other end of the phone.  They gave me a phone number to contact for high risk insurance availability for folks like me.  We were going over everything when AT&T dropped my call for the 100th time in 24 hours (I exagerate...it was more like 50th time.)  I tried to call the insurance guy back and my cell phone said I could only make emergency calls.  I gave up (I'll deal with AT&T tomorrow, say's Scarlett).  After I sat down and cried for about 2 minutes and had a 4-minute pity party, I decided to write all this stuff out and give you an idea of the kind of scumbags that are out there in this world preying upon the vulnerable, the desperate, and the needy.

Stay away from: AWA, Affiliated Workers Association/link and their claims to cover everything from hangnails to open heart surgery, and death benefits of 10,000 dollars to your loved ones for the low low cost of 305-dollars a month plus a one-time enrolment fee of 99-dollars.  Don't get swept away by their fancy dancy website and smooth talking, sincere blather.  Do the best you can with what you can and leave the rest to God.  He will take care of you.  He really will.  One way or the other...you will be comforted, you will be healed, you will be provided for.  selahV

Yeah....I Sure Am...

feeling good today.  Are you?

I sense a fresh wind blowing, a glorious dawning of hope. I see unfading glory on the horizon. Exciting expectation is in the air.

It's reminds me of the day I answered the knock at the door of my heart and found Jesus waiting to come into my life--to abide forever.  To dwell with me, and I with Him.  Everything was new.  Everything was brighter--the sky, the flowers, the eyes of my children.  Everything smelled better; honey tasted sweeter.  My husband's love proved invincible. Then, as now, I felt strength in my weakness.

My life was an absolute mess.  My health was not promising.  My marriage was in shambles.  Then came Jesus, and I was feeling good.  Just like today.  I pray you know the joy of the ever-present Savior in your heart and soul today.  I pray you rejoice in His grace, mercy and love.  Won't you join me in singing: 

JUMPSTART OF SBC Encounters

I interrupt my irregularly scheduled blog for this commercial announcement:

I have things that concern me about the SBC in general and encounters within the sphere of internet conversations. These things revolve around our Convention of cooperating churches and the mission to reach the world for Christ.  SelahV Today's serves another purpose in my writing ministry.  So...

I decided to jumpstart SBC Encounters once again.  There, my posts center on or have a connection to Southern Baptists I encounter.  If interested, check out my thoughts about Chris Roberts on "assigning Calvinist moderators to comment streams at SBC Voices".  I'm not offended...really...just a bit...well...wary.  So thought I'd share my SBC Encounter/link with whoever wants to chat on subjects I find noteworthy in SBC conversations.  Now...back to our regularly scheduled blog.  Coming Up Monday: Taming the Dragon Lady. 

FORCED

Ever feel forced to do something you didn't want to do?

I laugh aloud as I consider this question.  As a child, I was forced to eat what I did not like, wear clothes I was ashamed to wear, listen to teachers who never saw me, follow rules that made no sense, wash dishes I did not dirty, and sleep where I could not rest.  The list goes on and on.  From childhood to adulthood, I was forced to live with circumstances I longed for freedom to eliminate.  So?

Doesn't everyone experience things beyond their control?  Is anyone exempt from life's forces?  We are each forced to endure, face consequences, or give up.  Life is a learning experience.  It's an opportunity to grow, wither, or die.  It's a one step back and two steps forward kinda thing. 

Ever wonder why so many people give up rather than fight?  I use to wonder that.  I no longer do.  I've observed a lot of people in my lifetime.  I figure most folks who give up, have fought long and hard to deal with all the forces they've encountered in life.  Some do not give up living, they just give up the desire to live under conditions they cannot control.  They give up expectations.  They give up on joy, happiness, and dreams.  They wallow in self-pity and lack the faith to see beyond the moment.

I know.  I've been there myself.  It is not pretty:  Rainbows evaporate.  Sunsets fade.  Lilies die.  Nights last forever.  The world seems stacked against me.

However...

the beauty of life is we get to choose how we react to adversity.  We can balk, resist, explode, become bitter, hold grudges, yield, acquiesce, or trust in a God full of mercy, love, and comfort in the center of it all.  We are not alone on this planet.  The earth, though tainted with evil, is full of goodness in Christ.  There are far more blessings than curses and greater grace than judgment.

Though "all is vain and nothing is new under the sun", the common-place is comforting; vanity finds release in welcomed humiliation.  Once we are humbled, and embrace our dependency upon God, contentment and faith have room to grow in soil enriched by the Way, the Truth and the Life.  True Life.  selahV

A Stranger In My House

It sounds like some stranger is living inside me when I talk.  Who is that person?  She could sing bass for the Oak Ridge Boys.  

Will the real me ever return?  That is debatable.  Each morning my husband says good morning, and the woman who replies to him sounds more like Suzanne Pleshette than me.  Actually, I kinda like my lower voice-- if it wasn't quite so manly.  Would love to keep that raspy Suzanne Pleshette effect if it didn't come with so many other annoyances.  When I cough, it feels like someone is pulling my brains out through my left temple.  I guess that's one way to get my attention.

Perhaps it is a good thing to have a stranger in our houses at time.  It causes us to slow down and give more attention to details we rarely notice.  Sometimes we take for granted the everyday blessing of health.  We forget how blessed we are to think clearly, to speak without effort, to laugh without setting off a jack-hammer coughing fit.  Intrusions give us a deeper appreciation of normal.  Of routine.  Of balance.

I don't know about you, but sometimes I tend to forget how blessed I am when life rolls along with ease.  I get complacent.  I can become apathetic to what is really important...what really matters.  Perhaps it is good for God to allow Babylon to capture our well-being and self-reliance.  Perhaps we need a reminder to thank God in all things.  Paul reminds us to be thankful "in", not for, all our circumstances.

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." 1 Thessalonians 5:18 ESV

While Paul was encouraging us to be grateful to God in the difficult times, through our trials, I think we'd do well to remember His watchcare during the calm moments of life, rather than feel so entitled to be blessed.  The will of God in Christ Jesus for us is to give thanks and remember to Whom we owe due appreciation.  It's not our economy.  Our bank accounts.  Our pension plans.  Our doctors, or health insurance policies.  It's not our government --or a declaration-- that guarantees our right to pursue happiness, life and liberty.

It is the Most High God to whom we owe our gratitude--the Supplier, the Protector, the Shield, the Giver of and Anchor to Eternal life.  The Great Physician who heals all wounds, wipes all tears, and soothes all sorrows. 

I guess sometimes it takes a stranger in the house to show us how blessed we are with familiarity and common things--to point us to the "perfect will" we all, at times, fail to notice.  selahV

[THOUGHT TO PONDER: Today, no matter how pressed you are by life's circumstances, someone, somewhere else, is crushed, and facing far greater trials.  Sometimes we think the world is picking on us alone.  But life does not discriminate upon whose space it brings forces to move the earth beneath our feet, or the air around us.  Pray for those in life who feel like you do today--be it good or not so good. Then give thanks that God is with you in the midst of yours.]

Heart of Clay, A Whisper from God

Sometimes in life God whispers to me.  He solidifies my thoughts and affirms my walk with butterflies, honeybees, and well...this time, a clay heart.

Since my son died in 2005, I have felt an incredible burden to continue doing things I know he would want to do with his daughters.  Chad absolutely adored his girls and loved doing things with them.  He loved to take them to feed the ducks, bike-riding, the park.  He crammed more things into an hour than I normally do in 6.  He loved life.  He didn't just take his girls to the park.  He sat in the sand-pit and showed 3-year-old Abby how to push sand into a styrofoam cup with her little hand because it would crack if she tried to use it as a scoop.  He played on the monkey bars and slid down the slides.  He sat in the swings and swung high in the air.  He spent hours on the beach pointing out different crustaceans as he collected the shells with his girls.

Chad loved to take his girls to picnic on Mt. Scott in Wichita Mountains.  There, he would hike through the boulders.  When they tired, he'd rest beneath the gnarled trees and stare at the clouds.  He was infatuated with life.  He shared that infatuation with perfect patience when it came to his daughters.  He often stopped along the roadway and picked wildflowers with the girls.  He climbed trees with them.  He showed them the moon, the stars, and played in the rain and rain puddles with them.

I feel so inadequate in sharing life with his girls.  I want them to love life as he loved it.  I want them to see life with the same curiosity, pleasure, expectation, and joy that he did.  I want them to know that side of life in all its fullness.  However, as I age, there is less and less of me able to do this.  I often wonder if my efforts are enough.  I wonder if I am foolish to want this for them.  I wonder if I'm stuck in some kind of psychotic frenzy of grief-reconciliation.

When I took the girls on a walk through the woods at our new house, I wanted them to capture a chunk of joy and happiness as we went.  I didn't know if what I'd show them would matter at all.  I knew Abby, ten, would enjoy the fallen trees I'd discovered.  I knew she'd love to climb them.  I believed Brooklyn would, as well.  However, Brooklyn is now fourteen.  Her life is full of social interaction, soccer, track, basketball, and volleyball.  Grass does not grow beneath her feet.  Would a walk through the woods mean anything to her?  Would she be bored?  Was I foolish to want to share what I felt their dad would have wanted to share with them?  Could I  connect?  Chad's words echoed in my mind, "They don't need alot to entertain them, Mom.  They love little things."

Those are some of the thoughts running through my mind as they both climbed tree-trunks and balanced themselves as if on tightropes.  I showed them a thorn-tree with 6-inch thorns.  As we walked further, we found more thorn trees.

Brooklyn found a shovel at the shack in the woods that her cousin had built.  She found pleasure in digging into the thick layers of grey and adobe colored Oklahoma clay earth.  I snapped pictures of giant billowing cumulus clouds in the background of their explorations.  We laughed, we talked, we reminisced.  I felt happy.  I knew they were, too.

Just as we were about to leave, I spotted a rock on the ground.  It was tan with an imprint of adobe red in the center.  It was an abstract heart.  I felt like the Lord put that heart right there, just for me to find that very moment in time.  It was like God was whispering.  Yeah...Chad is glad you're doing this, my child.  Help his girls see the joy of little things in life.  Of quiet times.  Of nature's peace and My handiwork.  Remind them that I am good, I am with them in every area of their lives.  And remember: "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it." Isaiah 30:21  Remind them of that, too. selahV

AND BY THE WAY...I DISAPPOINT OTHERS TOO

Last week I penned a post which unveiled a bit of discouragement I felt at the moment of its writing.  It was picked up by SBC Today  as one of several top posts for the week.  I was honored that my writing struck a chord of interest with the editors, but I have to say, "disappointment" is hardly an emerald in my proverbial crown of personal growth experiences.  Being prone to write encouraging words, I see where my words in that post did little to comfort, edify, or inspire some folks. 

Just because I have been disappointed at times, doesn't negate times I have disappointed others.  It's not easy being us.  Each of us have a call on our lives by God.  For the record, I cannot fulfill your call anymore than you can fulfill mine.  There are times in our lives we must make decisions that affect others.  We cannot possibly know exactly how they will affect others, or what will result upon the execution of our decision-making.  We have a certain amount of information and experience at our disposal to make our decisions and after prayer, meditation, and searching God's Word, we make the best decision we can personally make.  When we seek God's face, we must rest in His grace.  My decisions will not always be popular.  Yours will not always be popular.  What we say and do may please a great deal of people, and still offend others.  It is the way of decisions.

When Jesus made choices, it offended the Pharisees.  When He healed the blind, touched the leper, and lived an absolutely sinless life, He offended some.  When He praised Mary for breaking a vessel of perfume and anointing Him, He offended people.  When He invited himself to eat with Zaccheus, he offended folks.

Having mulled over a lot of thoughts and information the past few days, I must confess, I see no room for being offended personally for what Christian leaders decide corporately to tread deep and troubled waters.  Men must do what men must do according to their own conscience, spirit, and wisdom.  God puts His anointing power upon the shoulders of some to lead us into Canaan.  Should we not yield our whims, emotions and desires to the authority He has placed over us?  Should we not follow the process by which God has put in place to follow?  Must we seek another cloud, another pillar of fire?  Look to another Moses?

I do not want to be a "murmuring Miriam" (Numbers 12:1-10), or the "other spies" (Numbers 13:1-33).  I do not want to disappoint my Heavenly Father.  I want to follow Caleb and Joshua.  While I want to be as bold as Naaman's servant girl (2 Kings 5:14), and as brave as Queen Esther, I also want to be as humble as the virgin Mary.

I do not know or understand everything.  I only know what God reveals to me.  That is where I wish to walk.  As far as I can see.  Beyond that, I walk by faith in His sovereign grace and trust in those He's ordained to lead me forward.  selahV

WHEN CHANGE IS INEVITABLE, GO WITH THE FLOW OR.../link

When Men Inspire You

You feel you can do the impossible.  You want to follow their lead.  You listen to their ideas and never question their integrity.  You do not have a queasy feeling in your gut that they have a hidden agenda, or an ulterior motive.  You never feel used.  You trust in and have faith in those men.

Sadly, not all men inspire me.  Many men disappoint me.  So do several women.  Those who inspire me will never lose my faith in their integrity.  You know why?  Because integrity, by its very definition, is unwavering and untaintable.  Integrity to me is something someone has after being tried and found true.  Can men of integrity err?  Well, sure.  But their very nature is grounded in their faith as men who seek God above all things.  They look to Him for purity in their values, for weight in their judgments, for wisdom in their decision making.  They earnestly long to be in the center of God's will.  While a man or woman of integrity may falter in other areas, their integrity keeps them straight.

Unlike our present President of the United States, a man of integrity has values consistent with the Word of God.  A man of integrity chooses to follow God and do the right thing according to God's teachings.  He does not lean upon his own understanding of his own set of values.  Pity us all if we trust in our own eyes for that which is pleasing to our Father.  

"In those days there was no king in Israel, but every man did that which was right in his own eyes."  Judges 17:6 

Sometimes I think America is living in "those days" when there was no "king".  Folks seem bent on doing things their way.  We need a leader who can help us see the best judgments are made based on God's wisdom, not man's logic and reason.  May we find someone who is willing to humble himself and confess his sins, and turn from his wicked ways and seek God's face.  May our leaders inspire us to do likewise.  selahV

Baptized Ambassadors 4 Jesus Christ or BA4JC

Sounds trendy, doesn't it?  Rings true, too. 

I like it better than Great Commission Baptists.  Why?  Well, because I can't find the term "Great Commission" in the Bible.  But I can find Baptized.  Ambassadors for Christ in the Bible.  And even though I understand and agree wholeheartedly we should all be about the "work" of the coined phrase for "Go ye into all the world...", I think GCB is simply not clear enough to the lost world.  So, I propose a new name for the Southern Baptist Convention to consider as a nickname.  What do you think?  selahV