Are You Certain Of Him?

 

"Certainty is the mark of the commonsense life - gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life.

To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring."

C.S. Lewis

The question is...

Do we fear this fact,

or do we look forward with a breathless anticipation,

knowing that it is of God and for our good?

Is there anything holding you back today,

or are you looking forward to 

the work and blessing He holds for you?

The Holy Spirits Sucker Punch...

I feel like I've been sucker punched. 

A sucker punch leaves us defenseless.

Hit under the rib cage, we lose our breath.

Maybe I'm reading too many twitter news feeds.

Maybe...

not.

Maybe, it's life and sometimes its hard, sad and anything but peaceful...

the words I cry out to God each morning. 

"Your peace Lord, that's all I need, oh and that other thing, and those things I mentioned yesterday and don't forget God."

Do we pray.

Or do we fret?

Here is my list, at the moment.

I found my knees this morning... cause we are in serious discussions.

A young, very young woman, diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. What?! Why?

A young man, very young, having his.. hopefully last cancer treatment this week. Why?!

Hopefully they will both finish college and build lives,

abundant lives.

A woman, young, very young, struggling with an eating disorder.

Please God, make the voices go away in her head. The ones that fill her with lies and hold her hostage.

A girl, very, very young, struggling with an undiagnosed illness, sometimes unable to go to school, get out of bed. The mama is bearing much of this. 

Peace Lord, answers, healing.

A boy, beautiful, nineteen, took his life.

Oh God.... why?!

He had so much to look forward to.

God... his parents. Protect his parents.

Young marrieds, some in the homeland, others oversees, building Christ centered lives, families.

Lord, protect them, for they are effective. May they trust wholly in you, each day.

My own sweet ones. 

Protect their souls, minds, bodies, provide... relationships where Christ is the center. 

No worries after that. 

You can conquer the world if you put Him in the center. 

The list goes on...

encourage those in my sphere to look deep and hard. Priorities, goals, desires... how we spend our days.

Hold our mates accountable and find others to grow with. 

No more Lone Ranger Religon.

It's too easy to pat ourselves on the back, when we need a swift kick in the butt.

The husband and I talk of life. 

He says, "Does it make a difference if we live to see 8, 18, or 80?

Our goal is Christ."

 He sees pain and suffering every day.

He hates it...

He follows it with Jesus words in John 10:10, 

"I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly."

Yes, the struggle of this.

 We know Truth,

yet we live in a fallen world.

We will suffer the sins of Adam.

Yet,

God wants us to have abundant life.

I believe that with all my heart... and yet I lost love early, twice.

 Didn't feel abundant...

but looking back, I see God's abundance in my life... His grace and mercy.

I learned to stop chasing...

anything other than Christ.

 We need a change agent in this whole mess called life....

to see clearly.

It's been around for years, but we seldom tap in.

 It's the key to life abundant, no matter the circumstances.

The Holy Spirit.

Boom.  

That guy, He will take you to your knees. 

 sucker punch you, taking your breath away, replacing it with wisdom, discernment.

You will bring nothing to the party,

so leave your degrees, your pride and accomplishments at home.

Let the Holy Spirit fill and overflow your soul.

He will teach us to pray.

He will groan for you when you can't find the words.

 He will lead us to Jesus, show us the Father, transform us, exposing lies in our life.

Pray... if you do nothing else today, pray.

Pray the Holy Spirit into your life.

That is where you will find Truth.

No. Where. Else.

Find your knees.

"Be Still and know that I am GOD."

Psalm 46:10

Just Nineteen... Still A Boy

 We spent the weekend with our sweet daughter and son.

My heart struggled to leave them... an emotional week, leaving me raw.

It seemed sadness and heartache, in our country and friends lives had formed a cloud around me.

I was holding my sweet ones closer, believing I could protect them.

Saturday night my husband and I had dinner with our nineteen year old son.

 A boy/man finding his way in the world. 

We talked life, relationships, his track team, encouraging the freshman guys to stay strong, remembering how hard it was for him to be far from home that first year. 

The newness of the new... the foreignness of the strange and unknown, adjusting to life as a college student.

We talked of his upcoming trip to Australia this summer. Being responsible for the cost and learning how to balance his many responsibilities.

The boy and dad talked of younger days, when dad would come home and the boy would wrestle him to the ground, before dad could change into clothes more suitable for wrestlemania.

 The dad quickly forgot anything besides the moment with his boy, as the groaning and crying would continue until someone cried uncle.

They talked baseball days. Little league, farm, suited.

 Dad and the boy loved baseball. 

Back then... neither of them imagined running would end up the son's college sport. 

The boy laughed as they reminisced about specific games, the outcomes, some good, some not so much. The boy remembered how hard it was running in cleats.

We didn't know he had feet made for thin running shoes, no room for a sock, causing blistered feet and mangled toes.

The boy shared his growing faith in God and his desire to serve him with his life.

Friday he had handed letters to the husband and I, through the fence, at his track meet. He shared how he appreciated the support and love over the years, hoping to be as Godly and supportive a husband and dad as his has been.

 He told me he desires a wife who loves her God, husband and kids as I do. I think he mentioned something about being fun too.

Tears in my eyes as I read this letter.

We walked away from dinner that night looking at each other, mumbling, "Who was that man we were with?"

Proud, yes. 

Grateful, oh yeah. 

Blessed, you better believe it.

Nineteen. Just nineteen. Still a young one, finding his way.

Truth is... he knows he is safe with us. He knows we have his back. He knows who he serves, the God of creation. 

He has the support of a team and friends who care for one another, holding each other accountable.

He knows we have set high standards for him. Not that he will never fall or fail, but that we will be there to help him up and set him back on the path... of Truth and light.

Nineteen.

Nineteen.

Still my boy.

I  think of another nineteen year old, who lays in a hospital room, because of his own hands.

A boy who followed his brother down a path, of destruction.

Who believed lies.

Who caused such grief and pain... to so many.

My heart aches for these people.

A boy whose parents think differently than us.

I have never been in their home, but I have read enough to know that life, discussions and beliefs were different than in our home.

I do not know how this nineteen year old became the monster he was on that day or in the proceeding days... but my heart aches... for that mother and her boy. 

Her boys.

Even if she is a mother with a warped sense of reality. 

She has lost her sons and no mother births babies ... thinking they will live this reality or come to this end.

My heart is heavy with grief for this boy/man who will never come to maturity and be the man he was intended to be, by the God of creation.

Did he know the unconditional love of a father and mother?

Did anyone share truth of a God who loves all people and whose definition is love?

 Was he loved, believed in, told he could be anything he wanted to be?

Did his dad wrestle with him, grab his cheeks and tell him he loved him?

I don't know. 

I am grateful that I could hug my boy this weekend, laugh with him, tell him I love him. To know in complete truth that I will never worry this could come of him. To know he loves his sister, and would protect her from harm. To know his feet are set on solid ground, in the light of Christ.

I am sorry for this boy and this mother and this family, destroyed... by their own hands,

and the devastation and pain left in their wake. 

My heart grieves... and I am reminded of God's love for His world and my role in sharing Him

with all I meet, no matter who, what, where. 

We are all in need of a Savior.

Feeling A Bit Bruised And Beaten Today?

I'ts been a gut wrenching 72 hours for us... we, who live in the land of the free and home of the brave.

Our hearts ache, cry out when little boys hold peace signs and die at the hand of evil.

A family changed in the blink of a finish line. 

A momma who may survive, but will never be the same.

A daughter who will not run to her father again. 

An older son and dad... left to pick up pieces, tatters, of a life.

I think of friends, in shock from the loss of a young friend. 

A momma, a friend, needed and loved by many.

Woke up Sunday morning and she was gone.

No goodbyes, wait, hold on, one more hug.

I see my son's Facebook post Monday morning saying he wished he was in Boston running the marathon that day. 

My breath catches, forever grateful he was not there.

Monday afternoon I am giving blood, in a red bus with too many people with nothing to do. People do not like to take time to give this precious liquid away.

It's life as usual for them, until one tells us of the events in Boston.

Thankful for the blood that flows from my arm and will enter the arm of another.

Perhaps they will feel the warmth I send along.

I watch the news and wish I could shut it off. 

Foolishness, as if this was a made for TV crime show... and we demand answers, when the hour ends.

I blame the media.

Remind me to never to go out in the ocean with them. I've no doubt they would sabotage the boat for a good story, even though we'd die telling it.

I think of the young man who is struggling with a cancer diagnosis. His life has been ripped apart, no warning. 

There is a wedding soon, and life to think of. Twenty five is too young for this.

His parents share their exhaustion, and their undaunting love for this boy/man.

We pray.

I look at my prayer journal. The pages full... needs never ending.

The prayers sent up to One who waits, who is always listening.

I look at another page. Answers.

Ah... this is why I journal. This is why I pray.

Reminders, proof, of His faithfulness.

I am bruised and battered today, but my heart cry is heard. 

My heart aches for the agony of so many.

Life is beautiful, yes, but so tragic....

We would not understand the beauty if we did not experience the pain.

I am sorry for this truth.

We find our beauty amongst the ruin.

Hold on friend...

just a bit longer,

and seek the light.

What's Love Got To Do With It, Got To Do With It?

Last week the hubs and I went to a dinner at Wichita State University, hosted by Interfaith Ministries. 

My husband had done some work with an engineering professor at the university. The professor, a Muslim had asked my husband a few questions about his Christian faith.

He was an organizer of this event, that has been ongoing for 10 years,

and thought we might enjoy it.

I did not know what to expect.

The food was fabulous... WSU put on the dog, or at least the puppy. No Bordeaux or Chianti as this appeared to be a Muslim sponsored event.

There was hummus and warm pita bread set out on tables. Hummus is a staple in most restaurants here.

Still surprised by the ethnicity of Wichita... the Greeks and Lebanese have found a home in the wild west.

 The speaker, a Muslim best selling author from Turkey. He has done it all in the speaking, writing world, from NPR to Ted-Talks. 

Well spoken and desiring to put to rest some of the misconceptions of the Muslim faith. Along with that, he was quick to add some of the grossly heinous crimes carried out in the name of Islam. 

He condemns and also points to extreme people doing extreme things. His book is titled,  

Islam Without Extremes.

He did not speak of the stoning of women, marriage of young girls, or lack of access to education.

Somehow, I thought these would have been important but maybe time did not allow.

He openly shared that he believes there is a freedom deficit in the Islamic world and my favorite words he spoke... You cannot institute a faith. You can only propose a faith.

There was a short, too short question and answer time.

An Indian man with a thick accent asked a question.. which ended up a long dialogue on his thoughts... on what, we were unsure. Awesome. 

An older french gentleman asked if the author was aware of certain groups with Islam ties in France. The author did not. I don't think they were nice groups. Could be wrong here.

Then my favorite.

A man. A Black man with the most beautiful deep baritone voice and beautiful smile... A man that looked like he might have been a left tackle for the Chicago Bears...

asked a question.

"How Does Love Fit In Your Faith?" 

The author hesitated a minute.

He shared that in the Muslim faith there are 99 characteristics of God and love is one of them.

He said his faith could do a better job with love, instead of focusing on the negative. He said it should be talked about more, shown to others more...

I could see he was feeling certain that love needed to be a main characteristic of his faith, but had missed the mark.

 I appreciated his words and uncomfortableness in this discussion.

We have all missed the mark when it comes to love in our faith walk. 

Love needs to be at the forefront of faith...

or we are a clanging cymbal and banging gong.

When I think of how love fits in my faith, it is this.

God Is Love. It is not one of His Characteristics. He IS Love.

My takeaway is this...

While I may have disagreed with some of his statements, I came away informed on some issues. I realize you can't blanket statement a culture or a people. 

I've met some ugly Christians, Jews, and atheists. 

I've met some beautiful Christians, Jews and Atheists. 

We are individuals.

While I believe it is difficult to come together as religions, without undermining and watering down our own beliefs, I do believe we can love one another, sharing deep respect for one another, as people.

We do not have to agree when it comes to our faith differences, but we do need to love, and it can be done.

And Love Has Everything To Do With It.

Just ask Tina.

Jesus Jukes And Being Fragile.

 There's a guy I read... John Acuff. 

He is bright, funny and tweets a lot. 

I watched him turn his dream into reality. Now he helps others do the same, and gets paid for it.

 The old, "Do what you love and the money will come" idea.

 It seems to be working for him.

A couple years ago

he posted a picture of himself packing for a family vacation. He has a wife and two young girls.

 He had 13 books in his suitcase. Okay, at least 7. Brownie promise.

He was going to the beach, for a week...

Seriously John?

I found the picture hilarious, recognizing I had been where he was, with young kids.

 Leave the books home.

So... I commented.

I wrote, "Take all but two of those books out. Make the second your book, and give it away. Then go play in the sand."

He had recently published a book and looked for opportunities to give a free copy when traveling. 

A good book. 

A book I bought. I am a fan.

He responded to my tweet. He said I kid juked him. I didn't know what it meant at first, but it sunk in.

A juke is when someone takes a joke and turns it serious.

I don't think he was kidding, but I could be wrong.

    It was interesting 

because

 the dude has tons of followers..

and he has never responded to other tweets of mine.

It was pretty funny, I laughed. I think he did too.

Similarly, the first tweet I ever received was from Don Miller, as in The Donald Miller. Gifted writer and a bit quirky, just the way I like people.

My daughter rolled her eyes at this, "Mom, it figures your first tweet would be from a famous author." 

I think she re-tweeted it... though I had no idea what that was.

The reason Don tweeted me...

I commented on one of his books.

 I said something like, the first part was slow, but so glad I stuck with it as it has turned into one of my favorites. I shared that I read the book to my high school small group and they pretty much fell in love with the ideas in his book. 

So, it was kind of a backhanded compliment.

He tweeted that he was glad I stuck with it. No big deal. No friend request, just a simple comment.

I thought it was cool.

The guy writes like a boss.

My take away...

We all want to be liked, appreciated and respected. We are all fragile and if you put yourself out there with words, be prepared. 

People will cut you and make you bleed in three words or less.

I have seen it.

It's ugly.

Have you been juked or back handed by a compliment lately? 

Do you Jesus Juke?

I have. It's dumb.

It looks like this...

 "Wow, those fans are awesome! They are so passionate!"

Response... "Yeah, wouldn't it be great if they were that passionate about Jesus and read their Bibles like fans."

or one of John's examples,

He tweeted about going to see Conan O'Brien and how big the crowd was and someone responded, "If we held a concert for Jesus and gave away free tickets, no one would come." Waa waa.

Who does this help, uplift, encourage?

No one. It makes us feel superior. 

No one is going to "Come to Jesus" through shame.

I have learned much through men and women I read. I see brilliance, giftedness, that I may never share with them.

Yet, we are not so different. We all want to be heard, validated and we can offer that to one another.

It costs nothing and offers everything.

Listen deeply to each other, offer soft words in response.

And... no juking allowed.

Contentment... A Bitter Pill To Swallow... Wednesday Rewind

Wednesday rewind... I need to read it again.
Maybe you do too.

 "A contented person has learned to accept the bitter with the sweet."

Contentment is a word I've struggled with my whole life.

It seems whatever is on the other side of that green pasture, it must be better. Richer, lovelier and calling out to me.

Just gotta hop that fence, even though it may be 9 feet high and strung with barbed wire.

  Contentment visits me through work. A project, a task. Something I can dig into and watch grow.

It makes me feel worthwhile............... for awhile.  

The act of doing, the exhaustion of finishing a project is contentment.

But there's the rub.... the finishing.... Then what?

At the moment, physical work, creating, accomplishing, but I sense it coming to an end. I am about done. 

Time to wrap this project up and move along....

What lies on the other side of finished?

Where do I look for my next "contentment high?"

I see the flaw in my thinking. 

You can cover stuff in busy for only so long.

True contentment is not being busy.

I know my value is greater than my next project. 

Ah, now I understand the familiar saying,

"That can be a bitter pill to swallow,"

I am choking on it.

Contentment doesn't need a cover. It is your cover.

"A contented person has learned to accept the bitter with the sweet."

I 

don't know

who said that...

but I'll be first in line to buy it.

The sweet...

 in the known, familiar, comfortable, joyous moments  of life.

That's easy, though sometimes overlooked, and maybe taken for granted.

The Bitter...

in the uprooting, unfamiliar and change of life.

It's not so easy and sometimes hard to swallow.

If

we wait, trust... we might grow.

Opportunity slides in, usually surprising us. Smiling upon us, warming us and giving life to where we had gone dormant. It reminds us of our worth, our gifts to share

Bitter can become better, but it may be a dark road that leads us there.

2 Corinthians 12:9 is a clear reminder to me.

"My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness."

Can't get much clearer than that.

I will always be weak, embrace it shall I?

Will I let Him, my Father use my weakness and what might seem bitter,

 to use me... for His glory?

What else am I here for?

I am going to play to my strength on this one.. and He is it.

 He is my strength in my weakness. He is my guide in the dark. He is my Warrior when I fear. He always protects me and never leaves me.... never.

That's the contentment I seek. 

He is my cover.

48 Hour Rewind... Track, Jesus And The NFL

 I have my own show... 48 Hours. 

Mine is mostly in my head, on repeat.
If I don't repeat, I sometimes forget.

You probably have your own version of this show.

Last weekend... those 48 hours 

went like 

this...

Drive a thousand (not really) miles, see the boy (Dan). See Dan run. See Dan run fast. 

See Dan pr. (personal record)

See Dan smile.

 See Dan hug his dad. 

Hear Dan tell his mom he loves her and thank her for driving a thousand (not really) miles to see Dan run less than 2 minutes. 

This is college track people....

Drive hundreds (really) of miles, half way back home

Dan's dad smiled all the way.
 Me too.

 Sleep for a few hours.

Meet sweet friends and their beautiful girls...

for Easter Sunday Celebration.

See Jesus rise.

It's Easter!!!

Had dinner with their family. 

His mom is beautiful, humble and gracious.

We enjoy a feast.

His dad is gifted. I see where the son gets it.

This dad works with athletes, men who need reconciliation with sons. 

It's a big job. He asks for prayer this week as he will be at the Final Four, looking for opportunities to support, encourage, heal... broken men.

At dinner is a soft spoken NFL running back, recently retired. He shares some statistics on NFL players after retirement.

Within 2 years 78% of retired players are bankrupt or in some type of financial distress.

The divorce rate is high.

No surprise here. The two seem to go hand in hand.

He speaks of backgrounds that many players come from.

Poor, hungry, without male role models in their lives.

He shares a time in his own life...

 He had signed on with a team and received a healthy signing bonus.

He had a memory...

of calling his mom while in college, asking her for twenty bucks so he could go out with friends.  

Her response, "Are you crazy? I don't have that kind of money."

He called the bank,

told them he was coming in with a large check

and was going to cash it.

The green paper stuff.

He walked out of that bank with two million dollars in a case.

He took it home, kept it in his house for two weeks...

before depositing it somewhere.

I did not ask where.

I did ask why.

He said,

"I wanted to see it, feel it, it was mine."

He developed the habit of having a large amount of cash in his pocket. If he spent two hundred bucks, he would go to the bank, replace what he spent.

It took him a few years to get comfortable with money.

He no longer does this.

He learned through a course on money management.

He sat at the table with his beautiful wife and handsome boys.

He is a grounded man now.

His boys understand the value of a dollar and earn their spending money.

From their earnings they save and tithe.

 The men at the table laughed and shared that they are happy if they have a twenty in their pocket.

We are more alike than different.

Those 48 hours...

Exhausting, blessed, joyful.

I love how God puts people in our lives...

to teach, remind and point us to Him.

Can't wait for the next 48 Hours.

What's on your calendar?

Moses, GPS And My IPhone...

My Iphone is a constant reminder of truth for me. 

It's weird, but it happens often.

Siri, you don't understand much, but God... He speaks even when I haven't asked Him a question.

This morning I was responding to a sweet person in my life. 

She texted me, "I really needed that!" 

I had sent her a word, one word of encouragement. 

The word was P R A Y.

I responded... or tried to respond, "God told me." 

What came up on my screen was, "GPS told me."

I caught it in time, but the message was not lost on me. 

Many times I follow my GPS which, truth be told, should be called, DPS... for Dale's Plan of Success.

It has no resemblance to God's plan for Dale.

This almost message of "GPS" was a quick reminder to me, to look up and not inward.

 To keep it real, as I shared with you in the past... when my spell check constantly corrected my name to fake instead of Dale. 

Ouch.

Yes, some of this may be due to my mad typing skills, but I believe it's a picture of God using my inadequacies and quirks to remind me of Him. 

I've been repeating this mistake longer than Moses in the dessert. 

What?!

Yes.

 Get the picture? 

When you make your plans, remember this... "Make your plans in pencil, and give God the eraser."

His ways are better than anything we could hope, dream, imagine.

What are your plans today and have you asked God about them?