Any Place, Any Time, Any Manner - A Personal Invitation

I have so very much to tell you. I'd better start at the beginning. Last November, I participated in a coat drive with my church at a local apartment complex with a very large refugee community. I watched in astonishment as women and children from all over the world streamed to the World Relief clubhouse inside the complex, forming a line the length of a city block; I'd had no idea all of these people lived in my own city. Most of the women wore head coverings, and few of them spoke English.

Only a couple of women were allowed entry at a time, and they could only take coats for children who were present with them. No matter how ill-fitting a coat might be, or whether a boy had to take a pink coat, the children and their mothers were overwhelmingly grateful. Within an hour or two, we were completely out of coats, and I cried in frustration. Why had I not purchased more coats myself? 

Sometime during my brief shift that day, I felt a strong tug in my heart. I wanted not only to help these women, but to know them, to be a friend to them. Before I left, I spoke with a World Relief volunteer and picked up a brochure with the application information. 

I fully intended to fill it out and start assisting newly arrived families with adapting to their new surroundings, but I could never seem to find the time between working full time, cooking for my special dietary needs, and trying to keep my house somewhat clean. 

Around January, I started a Priscilla Shirer Bible study called Discerning the Voice of God with the women in my family. At the beginning of the study, Priscilla asked us to start praying about a specific situation in our life where we needed to hear God's direction. I decided to pray about whether to volunteer with World Relief. If I couldn't even find time to fill out the application, I wondered, how could I find time to volunteer? Still, I couldn't stop thinking about those beautiful women and their children. So I continued to pray as I did my homework each week.

"Is this the right time for me to volunteer?" I asked. "Or am I too busy? What can I do to make more time in my life? Would you please give me a sign about what you want me to do?"

One Saturday morning in early March, less than a week after I prayed for a sign, I had a burning desire to return a little drain cover to Ace Hardware. That part had been sitting under my kitchen sink for a year, maybe two. I'd run across it when my niece, Savannah, helped me organize the cabinets and pantry. 

When I walked into the hardware, a vaguely familiar woman in the checkout line out waved at me. "I know you!" she said. 

"Yes!" I agreed, as we both searched our memory for the connection. After a few moments, I said, "You were the table leader at some of my Bible studies." 

"Yes, that's right!" she said. "How long has it been since we've seen each other? Maybe 10 years?"

"That's about right," I said. "Man, I miss those Bible study days. We did so many great studies at that church." 

"Yes, the Bible studies were great," she agreed. "But there comes a time when you have to stop just studying the Bible and start doing what it says." 

"Yes!" I agreed, thinking of my discontentment with life as usual over the last several years.

We stood for an obnoxiously long time at the head of the line, catching up. Angie told me she'd recently retired and started a nonprofit organization benefiting Afghan refugees.

"Really??" I asked incredulously. "That's very interesting, because I've been praying about volunteering with refugees." I told her about the coat drive at the apartment complex.

"Oh, I go there all the time," she said. I know lots of families there."

"Wow!" 

We exchanged numbers, and I figured that would be the end of it. But within a few minutes, she had sent me a text:

"So good to see you again! I would love to take you with me to meet some of the families. I'm planning to go on Wednesday from 11-3 if that would possibly work for you."

I shook my head in amazement. Here was a personal invitation to participate in refugee ministry. I'd call that a sign, wouldn't you? 

Over the next few weeks, I visited an Afghan lady with Angie and helped a couple women with online applications. I wanted to do more, but work was very busy, and I couldn't take any time off. 

In frustration, I asked God, "Why would you connect me with a refugee ministry when I don't have any time to volunteer right now?"

The next evening, Angie sent a text asking if I'd like to do a prayer walk at the apartment complex that Thursday... at 6:40 a.m.!

If you know me very well, you know that I utterly despise getting up before dawn. I started to say that it wouldn't work for me, but then I heard a voice in my head asking, Didn't you say you wanted opportunities to participate in refugee ministry? This is outside work hours. What's stopping you from going? 

I confessed to Angie that my flesh didn't want to do it, but I told her I would do my best to be there. 

In the early-morning darkness that Thursday, Angie and walked around the parking lot and prayed with one of her friends from a discipleship class she was taking. His name was Caleb, and I learned that he lived at the complex. He planned to become a missionary in the near future, and he would stay there for nine months to acclimate himself to the culture of his chosen people group. 

"How does the program work?" I asked. "Does the organization have units here?"

"You just rent an apartment," he said. "You can have roommates if you want to." 

As the inky blue sky gradually became suffused with pink, an absolutely crazy desire steadily grew in my heart. After we'd said goodbye to Caleb, I told Angie, "I'd like to live here. I don't have to go overseas to be a missionary. The nations are gathered right here." As I talked, a plan began to take shape. "I could rent out my house. If I lived here, I could get involved with the ministry efforts without having to drive anywhere. I could meet with the women in their homes and invite them into to mine." 

She urged me to pray about it. 

The more I prayed over the next few days, the more excited I felt. As I contemplated the sacrifices I would need to make, though, two things hit me hard: not having a washing machine, and giving up my giant, light-filled kitchen with its wall of windows and many cabinets full of various beloved but seldom-used kitchen gadgets. Could I really be happy cooking in a tiny apartment kitchen? 

On Saturday morning, two days after the prayer walk, I read a passage of scripture for my Bible study homework that cut me to the heart: the familiar story in Matthew 19 about the rich young ruler who most likely decided not to follow Jesus because he was unwilling to part with his wealth. For the first time, I looked beyond what I always thought was the main point: that the man was greedy. No, the most tragic part was that this young man had the opportunity to walk with Jesus in the flesh, and he passed on that! He could have seen Jesus raise Lazarus and open blind eyes and feed the 5,000. Instead, he settled for enjoying his money. 

My eyes filled with tears as I applied the story to my own life. Would I seriously consider missing out on all the amazing plans Jesus had for me just because I wanted to keep my kitchen? My mind went back to a moment in the middle of the night in July, 2019, when I felt the call to evangelism. My response had been to fall to my knees in my prayer closet, saying, "Cualquier lugar, cualquier tiempo, cualquier manera" (any place, any time, any manner). 

Now, as I relaxed in my quiet time chair, I said aloud, "Yes, Lord. Yes, I will do this. If you open the door, I will live in that refugee community." 

TO BE CONTINUED

Why Am I Here?

My Bible study homework this morning was to spend an hour with God praying about my purpose, and to write down what He revealed to me. As I sat down on my back porch, I thought of Ephesians 2:10: "For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

Clearly, I was created with a specific purpose. So, I asked, "Why am I here?"

I'd been dreading this exercise, worried that God might not tell me anything. But what I discovered was that He didn't have to tell me anything because I already knew. My pen flew across the page as the passions He has put in me over the last 12 years poured out of their own accord:

• I am here to love others as Jesus has loved me, to let His deep love cover over a multitude of sins in myself and others. 
• I am here to serve God by using my gifts of writing and teaching, to help others discover and experience the love of Christ. I want to continue to share my testimony boldly, to tell the truth about God's grace in my life. 
• I am here to live life to the fullest, to enjoy one moment at a time, to live with eyes wide open so that I don't miss the blessings and treasures God has planned for me. I don't want to miss a single opportunity to love and serve another. 
• I am here to bring glory to God in all I do and all I say. I am a planting of the LORD for the display of His splendor. (Isaiah 61:3)

And most importantly:

• I am here to love God with all of my heart, soul, and strength, to enjoy sweet fellowship with my Beloved. 

I want to live today, and each of the rest of my days, in sharp focus. I need to look at my way too busy life and prioritize my activities. I don't want to waste my time doing things that don't move me toward God's purpose for me. I certainly don't want to waste a minute feeling sorry for myself or wishing that my circumstances were different. I want to really live, and to me, that means loving with all of my heart. May it be so.

Now I ask you to pray and ponder: WHY ARE YOU HERE? Can you tell me? 

This IS the Good Part!

I know I ended my last entry on a positive note, but I was back down the very next day, maybe even lower. We saw three houses, including a second look at the one Ethan loved with the upstairs man cave. As Allyson and Ethan walked through the house, they both exclaimed over every room. Ethan praised the granite countertops and even the kitchen faucet!

My friend Gentle agreed that this was a great house. Despite my lackluster response on the first visit, I found myself swept along by their enthusiasm. The master bedroom really was very pretty, and the bedroom Allyson didn't want would make a great office and spare room. Maybe it didn't matter so much that there was very little countertop space, granite notwithstanding. Or that the washer and dryer were in the (sweltering) garage.

So when Kim suggested making an offer, and quickly, I said, "Maybe I will. This is a definite... maybe." We lingered for several more minutes, and then she said, "Have you come to a decision?"

I opened my mouth to say yes, but I couldn't form the words. My heart constricted with fear. What if this wasn't the right house? Or what if it was, and I let it slip away? I was afraid to say yes and terrified of saying no. So I just burst into tears, resting my head against the wall and clutching it with both hands.

"This is so hard," I sobbed.

"I know it is," Kim said, folding me in her arms.

"I don't know what to do," I sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You've been through a lot. Buying a house can be very emotional."

I finally told her and the kids that I would pray about it, sleep on it, and make a decision in the morning.

But even the thought of praying about it stressed me out. How could I know what God was telling me when I'd heard Him wrong the last time? I wondered about all the other times I thought God had spoken to me. Maybe I'd been wrong those times too. Maybe all of it had been my imagination. I wanted to believe God was with me, yet I felt like I'd have to make this decision all on my own.

I told the whole story to my Celebrate Recovery group last night, tears streaming down. They cried with me. And then they assured me that God was with me and would never abandon me. I said I still felt sure that God had led me to make the offer on the other house, and that I just couldn't understand why I was going through this.

One of my friends gently asked a question that convicted me deeply. "Could it be that God is testing you so you can learn to trust Him and be obedient when things don't go the way you want them to?"

"But what about the flowers?" I asked. "You don't know what those flowers meant to me."

"Sarah, we'll all come over and help you plant your own oleander bush at your new house."

"It can be the symbol of your family's new life. It will mean more because you planted it with your own hands."

"We'll plant it right outside the window so you can see it when you're working."

I smiled through my tears. Yes, why not? I've loved oleander bushes for years, and it never used to matter which house they belonged to.

Although it was past midnight when I finally had a moment to pray, I went eagerly to my closet and fell to my knees. "Oh, God," I cried. "I'm so exhausted. I don't even want to think about the house. I don't want to ask for direction. I just want to be with you. Please be near me.... Oh, you are near me. You are Emmanuel, God with us."

I wanted to praise Him, but I was too tired to think of the words. Instead, I sang an old hymn that came to my mind. "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles.... Teach me Lord, teach me Lord, to wait."

I crawled into bed feeling perfectly peaceful and slept soundly. But my first waking thought was of that house. What if I bought a kitchen island, the kind with cabinets and working space and a couple of barstools? How much would that cost? Maybe I could make that kitchen work after all. I'd also need an area rug to cover all that ceramic tile, and maybe a flat screen TV...

I threw my legs over the side of the bed. Ugh. I'd been awake two minutes and I was already trying to figure out the plan all on my own. "Good morning, God," I said sheepishly. "I really want to spend time with you."

I sat at the kitchen table and started to flip to the next day in my current Bible study, Discerning the Voice of God, by Priscilla Shirer. But I didn't make it that far because my eyes fell on a prominent caption in a lesson for next week: NO NEED TO HURRY.

I eagerly read the paragraphs above and below the caption, which were conveniently underlined from the time when I did this study a year and a half ago. I had underlined:

When we feel rushed and hurried to make a decision not rooted in a deep confidence of inner peace, God probably has not spoken.... If you feel an overwhelming urge to act spontaneously, pull in the reins.... If you do not feel assurance in a decision, then wait.

And today I also noticed:

The Thief's voice, unlike God's voice, threatens and intimidates on the basis of fear: If you don't do this, you'll be sorry.... Do this now! If you wait, all will be lost! (Jan Johnson, When the Soul Listens)

My heart pounded. There in black and white on the page were the very thoughts that had been swirling in my head for the last few days!

Here was my answer, the same one I've become so familiar with lately: "Wait."

I thought about the message I'd received from my friend Kristi the day before, an excerpt from a devotional that made her think of me:

"Therefore will the LORD wait, that he may be gracious unto you...blessed are all they that wait for him." (Isaiah 30:18) 

The Lord has an inconceivably glorious purpose for each of His children. "If this is true," you ask, "why is it that He continues to wait longer and longer to offer His grace and to provide the help I seek, even after I have come and waited on Him?" He does so because He is a wise gardener who "waits for the land to yield its valuable crop" and is "patient...for the autumn and spring rains" (James 5:7). God knows He cannot gather the fruit until it's ripe, and He knows precisely when we are spiritually ready to receive blessings for our gain and His glory. Rest assured that if God waits longer than we desire, it is simply to make the blessings doubly precious....

Ahhh! It dawned on me then that I was hearing God's voice at last, confirmed through a sacred echo. I remembered my morning walk from the day before, how I'd reminded God of all those little signs of His love that I'd found at my lowest point back in the fall. "I could use some more manna now, God."

Here was my manna! But it got even better... and then better still.

Around mid afternoon, I was smiling at my desk and thinking about what an amazing author God is. Yes, this has been a roller coaster, but what a story it is, still unfolding. "I can't wait to get to the good part," I thought.

Another thought followed right on the tail of the first. "This is the good part!"

I laughed out loud. Yes, really. The good part is not getting the perfect house, or even the perfect neighbors. The good part is not getting free from all this stress. No. The good part is finding peace in the middle of the stress. It's breaking free of my fear and taking a leap of faith, knowing He will catch me.

Oh, if I can learn this lesson! I'll never be the same again.

When I shared all this at Bible study tonight, I explained how I'd felt so lost the last few days. "I felt deaf, alone in the desert."

One of the ladies reminded me that sometimes the desert is right where we need to be. It's there that God works on us, makes us grow. I nodded in agreement.

Priscilla Shirer's entire video, immediately after, was a sacred echo. It was a personal word to me (and probably to many others on both sides of the screen). Guess what it was all about? Yep, the desert! She recounted the story of Moses fleeing from Egypt and living in the desert for 40 years. After growing up in the palace with all the luxuries and the best education, he found himself a lowly shepherd. But it was there that he encountered the burning bush and heard the voice of God that changed his life forever.

"Bushes don't burn in the palace," Priscilla said.

"If your life isn't going the way you prefer it, if you find yourself in the desert, know that God is with you. [Emmanuel, God with us, I thought with a smile.] He has you in the desert for a purpose. He has a plan for you, and right now He's equipping you for that plan. Don't look at your circumstances, look up! Keep your eyes open for the burning bush, and keep your ears open. He will invite you to join Him in the personal plan he has for you, a plan that fits in with His plans for your generation." (my paraphrase)

Wow! As I said in my last entry, God's plans for me are so much bigger than a house. I have no idea what He's preparing me for, but I think it might have something to do with the call I felt to teaching about a year ago. In my current circumstances, going back to teaching seems utterly impossible. But is anything impossible for our God?

Thank you for reading. I can't wait to share the next chapter (and the next). As Gentle said this morning, I have no doubt that God will surpass my expectations in every way.

Joy Cometh

A couple of months ago, I heard a song in Pilates that made my eyes swim with tears, both because it was so beautiful and because it was painfully true. The song was In My Arms, by Plumb. Here are the parts that moved me most:

Your baby blues, so full of wonder
Your curly cues, your contagious smile
And as I watch, you start to grow up
All I can do is hold you tight
Knowing clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash around
But you will be safe in my arms
Storybooks
Are full of fairy tales
Of kings and queens
And the bluest skies
My heart is torn just in knowing
You'll someday see
The truth from lies

As I stretched and twisted, my heart truly did feel torn over that inevitable moment when my children will see for themselves that life is cruel and hard. And then I heard these lines, and my pain was for myself, for my own crumbled castle:

Castles they might crumble
Dreams may not come true

All the way home, I pondered the irony of how the high hopes we have as children are dashed by the harsh reality we discover as adults. I thought wistfully of Allyson's sweet joy, her assurance that she is a princess.

Princess Allyson and Her Cousin, Princess Katie - Dec 2008

Since I was already in a crying mood, I literally sobbed over her future sorrow. How's that for borrowing trouble?

Tonight, I watched a Beth Moore video that made me realize I have it all backward. It's a study called Living Beyond Yourself, Exploring the Fruit of the Spirit. In tonight's session on joy, Beth read Isaiah 60:4-5:

Lift up your eyes and look about you...
 your sons come from afar,
    and your daughters are carried on the hip.
Then you will look and be radiant,
    your heart will throb and swell with joy....

That's how joy feels, she told us, like a physical swelling of the heart. "When's the last time you felt that kind of joy?" she asked. And then she told us about the last time her heart had throbbed with joy: at a book signing for her children's book, A Parable About the King. All the children were invited to dress like characters in the book, and Beth came in a sumptuous princess's gown. She grinned as she recalled all the girls in their princess costumes and the boys in their knight costumes, complete with swords. What brought her joy was the realization that these children were not "in costume." No, this was who they really were!

Allyson's Mother's Day craft. Do you see it? She's a princess even without the dress-up clothes.

My Princess and Prince, Mother's Day 2013

Tears gathered in my eyes as I recognized the truth of Beth's words. Yes, children really do know there is more to this life than the everyday, ordinary world that we see. They know they are special and have an important mission. The boys believe they are courageous, and the girls know they are beautiful. They are proof that God "...has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart" (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Beth also reminded us of Jesus's words in Mark 10:14-16, that the kingdom of heaven belongs these little ones.

Thinking back to my own childhood, I'm sad to say I can't even remember what it felt like to be a princess. What happened to me? How could I have forgotten? And how is it that I am blind to the truth that Beth kept repeating, "There really is a kingdom!"

I know there is so much more to this life than what I'm seeing. I'm still a princess, and I am special and beautiful and I have an important mission. In all my struggles over the last year, I've been sustained by peace that surpasses my understanding, yet I can't say I've had a whole lot of joy. There have been moments of happiness, certainly, but not enough inner joy.

How ironic that I was feeling sorry for Allyson, thinking she was the blind one.

Nearly a year ago, God gave me a promise and later confirmed it through a card from a friend:

They will enter Zion with singing;
    everlasting joy will crown their heads.
Gladness and joy will overtake them,
    and sorrow and sighing will flee away. (Isaiah 35:8-10)

Tonight when Beth read the same passage, I felt that joy finally catching up to me. And then she read:

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. (Psalm 30:5, KJV)

It's almost morning. My joy cometh.

No Favoritism

For the last four weeks, I've been doing a new Beth Moore study called Mercy Triumphs, on the book of James. I've been dying to tell you about it. Each lesson seems to be specially written just for me: persevering through trials, believing and not doubting, being slow to listen and quick to speak, not only listening to the Word but putting my faith into action, looking after the poor and the widows. Two weeks ago, I finally came across a lesson I didn't think applied to me. I couldn't have been more wrong...
Excerpt from a letter I wrote to a loved one tonight:

...Allyson is vital part of what I consider my biggest ministry: visiting the nursing home. At first that was a chore, but it's turned into an enjoyable time that I actually look forward to. I was patting myself on the back about that, but recently I was humbled.

I'm doing a Bible study on the book of James. It's all about putting your faith into action by doing what God does: showing mercy. A couple of Sundays ago, I was reading about how we shouldn't show favoritism:

My brothers and sisters, believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ must not show favoritism.  Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in filthy old clothes also comes in.  If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,”  have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?
James 2:1-4

When I read that I thought I'd finally found a passage in James that didn't apply to me. "I don't give special treatment to the rich," I thought. But then I read on in my lesson and saw that we can show favoritism based on anything we value: intelligence, beauty, spiritual depth, influence, etc.

"Hmm," I thought. "What is it that I value?" I decided I like people who are most like me, people I feel comfortable talking to--because I am such a talker.

I thought of Jackee at the nursing home. "She's not like me. She can hardly even speak." I congratulated myself for pushing past the discomfort and building a friendship. Nope, favoritism was not a problem for me.

And then I clearly heard a quiet but authoritative voice in my head. "But what about those other patients that you walk past and pretend you don't see? The ones who can't speak, can't understand, can't keep from drooling?"

"Oh, yes," I thought. No argument there. "Please forgive me," I whispered.

I read on. One question had me list words describing how people feel when they are overlooked and neglected. "Unloved," I wrote. "Invisible. Alone. Worthless. Forgotten." As the list grew, my heart was pierced at the thought of those old folks lining the walls in their wheelchairs. Surely they could feel the loneliness and rejection even if they couldn't put it into words. And surely they needed a smile and a kind word more than anyone.

"Forgive me for not loving them," I said aloud, tears spilling down. "Help me see them as you do. Love them through me."

That day after church, Allyson and I drove to the nursing home. I told her what God had laid on my heart, and then we prayed that God would help us love everyone he put in our path. We agreed that we would be kind to all of them even if they couldn't talk back to us.

It was the most amazing experience! For that one hour, I felt God's love flowing out of me, and it gave me such joy. I could see the joy on Allyson's face too as she told everyone about her new hamster and gave out hugs all around.

We had the best conversations, including one with a woman who thought she was a little girl who needed to hurry home. The last man we saw was sitting in the hall in a wheelchair. I stooped over a bit and said hello. "What's your name?" I asked.

He smiled blankly.

"I'm Sarah," I said, "and this is Allyson. What's your name?"

He smiled and nodded. I smiled back and took his hand, which was soft and warm. "It's good to see you today," I said. I looked over at Allyson, and she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. His face was radiant, like the sun had come out in all its glory.

Tears sprang to my eyes. "We'll come visit you again," I promised.

On the way home, I told Allyson how proud I was of her. "We made that man happy, didn't we?" she asked. "And it was so easy."

Yes, it was easy. And to think we'd been missing out on that blessing all this time, just because I was afraid to talk to people who were different from me--people who reminded me of my mortality.

I'd like to say I've continued to pour out God's love on everyone I meet, but the truth is that it's sporadic at best. But my eyes have been opened. I am learning to yield my will to God's.

I ended my letter with a prayer request that I will pass on to you: Please pray for God to show me areas of my life where I haven't yielded. Pray that I will be saturated in his Holy Spirit. Pray that I will recognize the opportunities he gives me to share his love, and that I will love with actions, not just words.

Even in a Webinar

Have you ever been amazed at the unexpected ways you can hear God's voice? Each time I think I've seen the most amazing way--like God speaking to me through my Pilates teacher's instructions--He goes and tops that...

Last week I was sorry for my fall Bible study to end, but I have to admit I was looking forward to seven weeks off so that my evenings would be a little less full during the holiday season. Still, I scarcely hesitated this past Tuesday when one of my Bible study friends, Angel, asked if I'd do another Priscilla Shirer study with her over the Christmas break--Discerning the Voice of God: How To Recognize When God Speaks.

Here's how I explained it to all the friends whom I invited to join us:

If you’re like me, you need to focus on resting during the Christmas season, so
your first instinct may be to say, “I don’t have time.” But consider that
working on a study keeps you accountable to stay in the Word, which helps you to
rest in God. And getting out one hour a week with other ladies could also help
rejuvenate your spirit.

And that's how I ended up at the kitchen table yesterday morning, rubbing my hands together in anticipation as I cracked open the lesson for Day 1. It began with the story of Habakkuk, who initially questioned God, asking how long he would take to answer. God's reply took my breath away: "Look among the nations! Observe! Be astonished! Wonder! Because I am doing something in your days--you would not believe if you were told." (Habakkuk 1:5)

Priscilla invited me to list the personal circumstances that have been troubling me and then focus on how God is speaking to me concerning them. The first two came easily, but my pen stumbled over the third concern that came to mind; this was one I was trying to let go of, one I'd given up asking about. The last concern was another one that I hated to write down because surely God must be tired of my endless waffling over whether/when/how to finish my novel.

At the end of the lesson, Priscilla told me to write out a prayer expressing my confidence in God's control of my circumstances and my desire for Him to speak to me about them. Here is part of what I prayed: "LORD, you are kind and merciful. You are a God who hears, who calls, who answers. I praise you for what you are already doing [in these situations]."

Although it was a quick prayer, and I was in my kitchen instead of my beloved prayer closet, it was one of those times when I really felt the anointing of the Holy Spirit, and I prayed with fervor and anticipation.

Imagine my delight about 30 minutes later when I read an email that spoke directly to that concern that I'd hesitated to write down. As I checked the time of receipt, my heart skipped a beat. Yep, it was sent shortly after my prayer. Coincidence? Maybe.

Just a couple hours later, God spoke to me for the second time. I was in a webinar, an online presentation called "Training Online: Creating Visual Stories That Resonate." Now I do enjoy this type of presentation on some level, but I really much prefer the classroom environment over listening to a stranger's voice and watching PowerPoint slides on my computer. So I never expected to be riveted, utterly captivated by this speaker as she explained how to use the classic story arc to draw in your learners and motivate them toward lasting change. It wasn't exactly new information to me; I'd heard this before in my fiction writing classes. But there was something about the way she presented it that spoke to me personally.

She showed a fascinating analysis of two very different speeches that captivated audiences, Martin Luther King Jr's "I Have a Dream" and Steve Jobs's introduction of the iPhone. Both speeches began with what is, moved to what could be, back to what is, back to what could be, etc. And both speeches ended with a call to action.

She ended her presentation by modeling two of the strategies she'd suggested: anticipating and overcoming objections, and a call to action.

This phrase flashed on the screen in simple white letters: "But I'm just..."

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "You're thinking, 'I'm not Martin Luther King or Steve Jobs. I'm just a trainer, an instructional designer, a...'"

She paused for a moment to let us acknowledge the truth of her assertion, and then she went on in a voice low and heavy with emotion. "The truth is, you've been called. You have the power to tell your story as only you can. You can deliver your message in a way that will create lasting change. You have to tell your story, and tell it with passion."

Tears of wonder slipped down my cheeks. There were 999 other people on that call--the session maxed out at 1000--but I knew that Nancy Duarte was speaking directly to me. And the hair on my arms stood on end as I recognized the anointing of the Holy Spirit in her words.

How do you do this, God? How do you continue to surprise me? I wondered. You're not supposed to be this inspired by an ONLINE WEBINAR. Everyone knows online training is boring!

I was positively giddy for the rest of the day, and today too. I've got my passion back, and I can't wait to put pen to paper again!

But God wasn't through. There were two more requests on my list.

Tonight I was enjoying some Christmas music while I washed the dishes that couldn't go in the dishwasher. I sighed when the music faded out and the DJ took another one of those sappy calls about the theme of the night: the best Christmas gift ever.

I half listened as a woman fought to hold back sobs while she told how her family had fallen on hard times. Her husband had lost his job and drifted into destructive behaviors, and her marriage had been shaken. For a couple of years, she continued to love him and extend grace, all the while praying for his salvation.

I perked up at this point, my soapy hand hovering over the dishpan.

"And now, he has given his heart to God," she said, as I shared her happy tears. "We still have nothing, nothing. But this will be the greatest Christmas ever because now we can share.... He finally understands why we celebrate Christmas."

She went on to encourage everyone who was praying for someone's salvation not to give up. "Even if you've been praying for years, and you think it's never going to happen, don't give up."

A grin broke out as I realized God had just encouraged me about my last two requests. I can't wait to see how God will bring those two to himself. In the words of Habakkuk, "The vision is yet for the appointed time.... Though it tarries, wait for it; for it will certainly come, it will not delay." (Habakkuk 2:3)

Have you ever been flabbergasted at how God spoke to you? Would you please share your story?

Show Me the Beauty

I hesitate to share this story for two reasons: 1) I don’t want to come across as a saint. 2) I don’t want to come across as an uncompassionate clod. But here it is…

As you may recall, Allyson and I had been intermittently visiting a couple, Jack and Jeanne, whom we met at a local nursing home. I got to know Jack especially well while transcribing his autobiography—one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done.

They so loved having visitors, and Jeanne utterly adored Allyson, so I tried to get out for a visit now and then, but not nearly so often as I should have. After a particularly long absence, we found that Jack had passed away. My heart was pierced for Jeanne, whose dementia made it hard for her to remember why he was gone and why he never came back. I resolved to visit her much more often, but I seldom made the time to drive out there, even when Allyson reminded me that we really ought to visit Miss Jeanne.

I’m not sure how long it had been—months, I’m sure—but we finally went out to the nursing home last Wednesday. Someone else was in her room. My heart sank when I learned that she’d passed away just a couple Fridays ago. Oh, why didn’t we visit more often?

But I have to confess that a tiny part of me—the little part—felt relieved. I was sorry she was gone, but relieved that I wouldn’t have to make time for trips to the nursing home, or feel guilty about not making the time. I tugged Allyson’s hand and started for the front door.

But another part of me immediately said, “No, no!” And that bigger part of me pulled me over to the information desk. I waited in uncomfortable silence for what seemed a very long time until one of the staff members acknowledged me.

I explained how Allyson and I had been visiting Jack and Jeanne, and how much they’d enjoyed seeing Allyson. I cleared my throat. “Can you think of another resident who might enjoy our company, someone who doesn’t get many visitors?”

The nurse rubbed her chin and then replied, “Well, yes. I guess you could visit Jackie in room 54.”

And that’s how Allyson and I ended up on our new mission, armed with only a first name and a room number. My heart pounded as we walked down the long hall. What would I say to this stranger? Would she think it rude of us to barge in? I said a quick prayer asking God for courage and for the right words.

Jackie was nothing like I expected. She was quite young, maybe in her 50s. “Are you Jackie?” I stammered.

She nodded and mumbled something unintelligible.

I ignored the heat in my cheeks and plowed on. “Hi, I’m Sarah, and this is Allyson. We…”

“Ohh!” Jackie exclaimed, reaching one hand toward Allyson. “She’s uh-DOR-bul.”

“Thank you,” I said.

She wiped some slobber off her chin, and I looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said.

I leaned closer, trying to decipher her slurred speech. “Pardon?”

“I’m sorry.”

I felt myself turning even redder. I waved my hand, brushing away her apology. “No problem,” I mumbled.

Allyson hid behind my leg and stared at the floor.

“What’s she afraid of?” Jackie asked, and then repeated herself so I could understand.

“Oh, she’s just shy,” I said, brushing a knuckle over Allyson’s cheek. I stared at the ceiling, wondering what I could possibly say to this stranger.

“Allyson’s in Kindergarten this year. She’s learning to read. And she loves to draw,” I said.

“Oh,” said Jackie.

Allyson nodded and beamed.

“She’s getting very good at drawing because she practices so much,” I went on. “Her favorite thing to draw is birds.”

Jackie’s face lit up, and I understood her next words perfectly. “Oh, I love birds!”

“Allyson loves to draw owls and robins. What’s your favorite bird?”

“I like d-doves.”

I turned to Allyson. “Do you think you could draw a dove for Miss Jackie?”

“Yes!”

“And maybe we can get a book about birds and you could read it to her.”

“Yes!”

I promised Jackie we’d return in two days, after Thanksgiving. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you!”

I felt humbled and almost guilty about her gratitude over our very brief visit and the promise of a dove picture.

We headed straight to the library for a birding guide, and Allyson drew an astonishingly good dove as soon as we got home. (Wish I’d thought to take a picture.) For the next two days, she kept reminding me that we mustn’t forget to go see Miss Jackie on Friday.

On Friday we presented her with Allyson’s picture and a Happy Thanksgiving note she’d carefully lettered. And then Allyson sat on the bed next to Jackie and read her a book about birds, with lovely prints of various species.

This time, Jackie not only thanked us, but she gathered both of us into tight bear hugs. Again I felt unworthy of such profuse gratitude.

On the way home, I felt even less worthy when Allyson gave voice to my own thoughts. “It really stinks in there.”

“Yes, honey. Sometimes people have trouble controlling their bladder when they get old or weak. That’s just how most nursing homes smell.”

“Yes, but it smelled worse in Miss Jackie’s room. Do you think it was Miss Jackie?”

“I don’t know, baby. Just try not to think about it. Definitely don’t ever say that you think it stinks, or you’ll hurt her feelings.”

As soon as I had a chance to be alone with God, I poured out all my ugly feelings. I confessed that I don’t really WANT to go to the nursing home every week even though I feel that I should, and not just because I’m too busy. I complained that I feel awkward because I can’t understand her, and I feel uncomfortable looking at her—or not looking at her.

“Help me to see Jackie as you see her,” I pleaded. “Help me see the beauty in her. And help me to really LOVE her. I don’t want to just do good deeds because I know you expect me to. I want to be kind to her out of love. I want to fall in love with her and take delight in spending time with her.”

I didn’t give much more thought to Jackie until this evening, when I arrived at Bible study (Margaret Feinberg’s Verbs of God). Our study leader, Roberta, asked what I thought of this week’s lesson: God Calls. I admitted that I hadn’t even looked at the study since Bill’s been out of town and it’s all I can do to hold our family’s routine together. “Is it about God calling Samuel?” I asked.

“Ah, ‘Here I am LORD, your servant is listening’? No. It’s about Jesus calling the disciples.” She said she hoped that the ladies would be able to recognize how God is calling us in our daily lives, and that we would respond as the disciples did, by following Jesus.

Are you calling me, God? I thought. I heard one word in reply. Jackie.

Is this really my calling right now? I wondered. Or is this just something I stumbled onto?

I didn’t have to wait long for my confirmation. We started the study with a video about a woman who went on a mission trip to an Asian orphanage. The video cut to pictures of a baby in a crib, a baby with a horrendously deformed face. She had not only a cleft palate and cleft lip, but also a cleft face. A red crevice ran diagonally across her entire right cheek, her nose was in the wrong place, and her blind left eye bulged from its socket.

You could hear the sharp intake of breath as many of us gasped in unison. The woman explained how she was drawn to this baby who had no chance of a normal life. “All I saw when I looked at her was beauty,” she said. “I knew I had to help this child.”

I sobbed quietly as this woman recited back my own prayers to me. And I let the tears fall as she described her experiences with just holding this baby and loving her. “Help me love that way,” I prayed.

The missionary didn’t just give the baby a few hugs and go on her way. No, she refused to give up. She found a surgeon who could rebuild her face, and she went through all the red tape of a foreign adoption. Three and a half years after she met the baby, she took her home to America.

Tomorrow Allyson and I will visit Jackie again. We’ll bring her coleslaw, her favorite food, and Allyson will read her another story, probably about birds. And I will probably feel awkward, but I’m praying that God will go with me, and that He will let me feel his heart for Jackie. And maybe we will all begin to fall in love.

Please keep us in your prayers. Specifically, I need God to show me ways to make Jackie feel loved. Any ideas?

Get Your Feet Wet

For the last five weeks, I've been enjoying a Priscilla Shirer Bible study called One in a Million. It's about what God taught the Israelites during their time in the wilderness, and how He moved them into the Promised Land. I've learned many exciting truths over the last few weeks, and tonight I just feel compelled to share how God has been speaking to me.

Nevertheless People
When the Israelites reached the edge of the Promised Land (Canaan), Moses sent out 12 spies to see what the land was like and what kind of people lived there (Numbers 13).  Upon their return, all 12 spies reported that the land was flowing with milk and honey, just as God had promised. As evidence, they brought back a single cluster of grapes so big that two men had to carry it on a pole between them.

But 10 of the spies tacked something on the end of that initial report. "Nevertheless," they said, "The people who live there are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large.... All the people we saw there are of great size.... We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them."

So they saw the cluster, the sure sign of God's blessing, and their answer was, "Nevertheless."

What about the other two spies, Joshua and Caleb? "The LORD is with us," they said. "Do not be afraid of them."

But the Israelites listened to the report of the 10 spies. They saw the promise, but refused to believe. The result was 40 years of wandering for that entire generation. Out of about 2 million people, only Joshua and Caleb got to enter the Promised Land. (Each of them was "One in a Million.") Not even Moses got to enter, although God did allow him to view Canaan from a mountain on the other side of the Jordan River.

Priscilla urged us to consider the new territory God wants to take us to. She suggested that we make a "cluster keeper," a journal or some other record of the clusters of blessings God has already given us. When we feel afraid, when we feel tempted to say "Nevertheless," we should focus on our personal proofs of God's goodness and faithfulness. God has selected US to break through the barriers, to break out of our religious complacency and go where He leads us.

Wet Feet
After Moses saw the Promised Land, he died and Joshua became the new leader. The Israelites mourned for 30 days, and then they moved forward under Joshua's leadership (Deuteronomy 34).

• Joshua acted immediately in obedience to God. He didn't linger or procrastinate. "Early in the morning, Joshua and all the Israelites set out from Shittim and went to the Jordan, where they camped before crossing over." (Joshua 3:1) They camped there for three days, getting a good look at their impossible circumstance; it was April, and the river was swollen with melted snow from the mountain.
• Joshua acted fearlessly in spite of insurmountable odds. Right there on the banks of the raging river, he told the people, "Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the LORD will do amazing things among you." (Joshua 3:5)
  
  Just as God had instructed, Joshua told the priests to carry the ark of the covenant and go ahead of the people. At the beginning of the exodus, when God parted the Red Sea, the previous generation had stepped out onto dry land. But this time the priests had to step into the flood waters. They had to get their feet wet and trust that God would hold back the water as he had promised.
• Joshua acknowledged the presence of God. He instructed the people to watch the ark of the covenant. When they saw the priests carrying it, they were to move out from their positions and follow it. (Joshua 3:3)

So what does all this mean?

1. "The bigger your deep waters, the more enormous the opportunity for a miracle. Celebrate!"
2. Get up early, literally and figuratively. Start your day by seeking God's direction, and make Him your first priority.
3. As you look around at your impossible circumstance, or you contemplate the impossible task God has called you to do, anticipate miracles. Don't let Satan's stronghold of fear hold you back from pursuing God's will.
4. Wait for God to move before you move. Just as the Israelites waited for the ark of the covenant, which represented God's presence, we must watch for God's leading. And don't be distracted by all the good things around you. "Every good thing is not a God thing." If you get too busy doing good things, you won't be able to accomplish God's purpose for you.
5. Get your feet wet. When you see God leading you, go ahead and step out. God will hold back the waters, but you have to take that first step in faith.

As Priscilla shared all these truths, I felt a stirring in my spirit--excitement for the future and dissatisfaction with life as usual. But I can't just charge ahead. I have to know where God is leading me. I'm going to take Priscilla's advice and pray that God will heighten my spiritual senses and make me aware of His presence. I'm going to spend more time with God and find out what good things I need to pass up so that I can focus on doing only His will for me.

I fully expect to see evidence of God's leading in my life. I intend to get my feet wet as soon as He gives me the signal.

Beyond Beyond

If you've been following this blog for long, you probably know that I frequently struggle with doubts about my faith. I can be ecstatic one day over an answered prayer or a sign I believe God's shown me, and then the next day I'm wondering if it was just a coincidence, and if my faith is even real. I find this frustrating, exhausting.

I've asked God to help me with my unbelief many times, but I guess I didn't have the faith to believe He could! I mean, I knew that He could, but I really didn't think I could let go of my doubts. Now, everything has changed.

For the last several weeks, I've been doing a Bible study by Kay Arthur, Priscilla Shirer, and Beth Moore called Faithful, Abundant, True; it's a sequel to the study I wrote about last summer called Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed. 

In the first two weeks, Kay helped us see the faithfulness of God, and she challenged us to be steadfast in our faith. She reminded us that "without faith it is impossible to please God" (Hebrews 11:6). She told it like it is: "Unbelief is a lack of faith! And that is sin." The root of disobedience, she said, is unbelief.

I felt a strong conviction about indulging my doubts. I had always thought of my doubts as a weakness, but not as disobedience. When I read Kay's admonitions, I prayed and asked God to help me overcome these doubts.

During one of Kay's videos, I was so excited when I saw the key:

For indeed we have had good news preached to us, just as they also; but the word they heard did not profit them, because it was not united by faith in those who heard. (Hebrews 4:2)

Do you see it? It's not enough to just read the Word. I have to unite it with faith in order for it to profit me. And where does faith come from? By hearing--by hearing the Word of God. (Romans 10:17)

All these years of studying the Scriptures have resulted in a head knowledge that doesn't always translate into a changed life because I've been lacking a steadfast faith. In the next two videos, Priscilla Shirer admitted that she'd had the same problem. She inspired us to contemplate the abundance of God's power, to try to comprehend that God is ABLE. No matter what we need, she said, He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think (Ephesians 3:20).

I felt a thrill of recognition at that verse, part of my current memory passage. As many times as I have studied and quoted that passage, Priscilla still managed to give me a new perspective on it. She pointed out the way Paul stacked up the adverbs: not just exceedingly or abundantly, but exceedingly abundantly. Here's one of the examples she gave to help us understand how God can go not only beyond what we think is possible, but even beyond that....

Imagine you went away for the day, and you asked your teenager to clean his room. When you returned, you were shocked to find that not only was his room clean, but that the whole house was spotless. Now that's beyond what you would even imagine, right? But now suppose that not only had your son cleaned the whole house, but he had also drawn you a bubble bath and had your dinner ready on a tray to eat in the tub. That's BEYOND beyond. 

It's doubtful that any of us will ever experience such a thing with our teenage children, Priscilla said, but this is exactly how God works. He delights in surprising us, in giving gifts that are way beyond what we asked for.

The other thing she encouraged us to believe was that God wants to do exceedingly abundantly, above and beyond, for US. She said we need to get past looking at other people's answered prayers and thinking, I hope God has enough power left for me. God doesn't just have power; GOD IS POWER! He spoke the entire universe into being by the power of His word, and that power lives in us. We just have to unite it with our faith, as Kay said.

Priscilla also reminded us that God is interested in the little details of our daily life, and we should bring all our concerns and needs to him, not just what we think of as "big stuff." (To Him, none of our concerns are really big, anyway.) 

As I listened to Prisicilla's message, my heartbeat quickened. Yes! I thought. Yes, it's time to believe that God is able to work in my life, time for my faith to arise.

Afterward, she asked Beth Moore to pray over everyone in the audience, and we all prayed along. I don't really remember what Beth said, but it moved me to tears, and I felt something click inside. I believe I was set free from my doubts at that moment.

Beyond My Beyond
Over the next few days, I found myself praying differently. I prayed about something that seemed sort of trivial, and I prayed a big, bold prayer. I was planning a garage sale for this past Saturday to raise money for my 3-Day Walk, and I was hoping to make a big dent in what I needed to meet the minimum fund raising requirement.

On one of my training walks, I said, "God, I know you care about everything that's important to me. I'm trusting you to bless this garage sale, to go way beyond what I dare to expect, and even beyond that. I'm praising you for going beyond beyond!"

I didn't only ask for money. I asked for an enjoyable experience, and an opportunity to love others and explain why I'm doing the walk, because of Laura's story. I asked that His anointing would be all over that sale.

Well guess what happened? Yep, BEYOND beyond. I was sort of hoping to raise $200. Five families had donated items for the sale, but we didn't have many "big ticket" items. Most of the items were priced at 25 to 50 cents.

Toward the End of the Sale (There Were Mobs Around that Table)

Would you believe that all those little sales added up to $493?? I have to say it again: FOUR HUNDRED NINETY-THREE DOLLARS! My jaw dropped when Bill announced the grand total. With my company match, that puts me over the minimum! My walk is paid for!

And everything else I prayed for came to pass. It was an enjoyable experience (other than the sweltering heat). My sister Amy came over to help us with the setup, the sale, and the cleanup, and I so enjoyed working with her. I enjoyed watching the shoppers' excitement over each 25-cent shirt or pair of shorts, and the kids' joy over 25-cent toys. I enjoyed showing a picture of Laura and telling how she inspired me. And I even met a lady named Marge who's new to the area and who plans to join me on my training walks!


Ice Cold Lemonade
I especially enjoyed watching Allyson selling lemonade, something she'd been looking forward to for weeks and weeks. Would you believe that she sold about $30 worth of lemonade? And she donated over half of that to my walk.

Special Customers--Gentle's Son Liam and Daughter Grace

I never dreamed a garage sale could be so fun, or so profitable. It was a definite case of beyond the beyond.


What's Next? 
I've made a resolution, drawn a line in the sand. I know I will face doubts again (already have), but I realize now that I can choose how I respond. And I choose to believe. I choose to remember all God has done for me, and to unite my faith with what He promises in His word. That doesn't mean He'll always give me exactly what I want, but I have to believe He is able. And I have to believe that He knows what is best for me, and that sometimes going beyond what I ask or think won't look like what I think I need.

Would you hold me accountable? Please remind me of these truths when you catch me doubting.

Surrounded by Beauty

I'm sorry I've been so quiet. I've been overwhelmed with busyness lately, and I'm trying to slow down. My head is full of stories and news and revelations, but I only have time today to tell you one story. This time I'll try to make it quick. (I know you've heard that one before.)

If you're a long-time reader, you may remember my customary grocery store prayer. As I dropped by the Walmart Neighborhood Market on Sunday, I realized I hadn't been saying that prayer for awhile; I'd just been too busy, too frazzled to think about anything but my grocery list and all the chores waiting for me back at home.

Before I climbed out of my car this time, I paused and asked God, "Please, let me see with your eyes today. Help me to love someone while I'm here."

I'd already forgotten my prayer by the time I was pushing my cart down the second aisle, but God hadn't forgotten. As I dropped some apple cider vinegar into my cart, I looked up and stopped in my tracks. A lovely woman was approaching from the other end of the aisle, and I couldn't help noticing her beauty. It wasn't the kind of beauty you see on a magazine cover, though she was definitely pretty. It was more of an inner beauty, a glow, a visible peace that reminded me of the Proverbs 31 woman: clothed in strength and dignity. She was a tall black woman, maybe 10 years older than me. She had perfectly coiffed corn rows (is that still what they're called?), and she wore black heels and a white and black floral-print dress that was feminine but not frilly. It looked like she might be coming home from church, though it was 2:30 in the afternoon.

As I passed her, trying not to stare, a little voice in my head said, Tell her. Tell her she's beautiful. I literally shrugged it off, figuring she'd think I was weird. I slowed my cart to a crawl and edged past her, my eyes glued to my groceries. DO IT! the inner voice insisted, and I felt my heart speeding up.

I stopped the cart and spun on my heels. She happened to be looking my way, so I just let the words spill out. "You look beautiful today!" Immediately I thought, How crazy! Why would I say "today" as if I knew how she looked on any other day?

I don't think she thought I was crazy. But she was surprised, shocked even. She gave an audible gasp, and her hands flew to her throat. "Th-thank you!" she stammered, a wide grin making her even more beautiful.

My grin was probably even wider. "You're welcome," I said. "Have a good afternoon." And I ducked around the corner, a spring in my step. Laughter bubbled up inside, and I covered my mouth like Allyson when she's so delighted it makes her shy. I felt like I'd just surprised someone with a little gift, a just-because-you're-special gift. 

That's when I remembered last week's video from my new Bible study, Living Your Life as a Beautiful Offering. In the video, Angela Thomas recounts a story of a day when she was utterly drained, physically and emotionally. She'd been drenched on the way into the airport, and she was not having a good hair day, to say the least. She had recently gone through a divorce, and she was feeling ugly inside and out. As she walked to the baggage claim after her flight, an older gentleman with an Italian accent told her, "You are beautiful to me."

She felt as if God himself had spoken to her, and she was sure He had used that stranger to remind her that she was so beautiful in His eyes, that He was "just wild about her."

As I finished my shopping, I wondered if God might have just used me to remind that strange woman of His love, if maybe she'd needed that message just then. Despite the usual minor grocery store annoyances, I was still smiling when I got to the parking lot.

I'd almost reached my car when I looked up and saw a middle-aged woman and her teenage daughter. Both of them were smiling as if they might be sharing a joke. The older woman wore a pretty white and black blouse, and the girl wore a fuchsia blouse that looked striking against her flawless dark skin. They were both quite pretty, but what I really noticed was their strong resemblance. Looking at the mother was like seeing the girl in 30 or 40 years. I thought of how God had made each of them with such loving care, how he'd knit that girl together in her mother's womb.

This time I didn't even hesitate. "You two sure make a beautiful pair!" I exclaimed.

"Thank you!" they said in unison.

"Have a good afternoon," the mother said, and the girl smiled shyly at me.

I don't know what's gotten into me, but I can't wait to see what I'll do next!

Some Crazy Lady

Remember the time the Christmas before last when the kids and I handed out candy canes? We had so much fun that time that we meant to make it an annual tradition, but somehow we never got around to it this past Christmas. I thought of it again last Tuesday night, after a woman named Phyllis knocked on our door.

I was frantically trying to finish my fish tacos and get the kitchen cleaned up before Bible study, and I figured it must be Gentle arriving early to pick me up. When I saw the kind blonde stranger on the porch, I felt momentary relief, but when she held out a flyer my stomach sank. Ugh. A door-to-door salesperson. I don't have time for this!

"I'm starting a morning prayer meeting in my home, and I'd love it if you could come," she said with a warm smile.

I took the flyer and smiled back at her. But I frowned when I saw the time: 6:00 in the morning! 

"I made it early so people could come before work," she explained. "You can come and stay for a few minutes, or for the whole hour."

Gesturing to Allyson, who was clinging to my leg, I told her I didn't think I could make it that early.

"Well, I take requests," she said, pointing out her phone number on the flyer. "If you have any prayer needs, please let me know."

I thanked her and went back to frying the tilapia with a grin on my face. I'd just been asking God to help me relax and rest in His presence, to make me ready for Bible study, and then He sent Phyllis. My spirits were instantly lifted.

I couldn't stop thinking about her for two days. I was amazed at her boldness, to knock on a stranger's door and invite her to a prayer meeting! I wondered how many people were meeting in her home each morning. What if no one came? Maybe I...? No, it was way too early in the morning.

Then I remembered Priscilla Shirer's admonition on the videos at the Jonah Bible study. She urges us to "go to the Nineveh in our neighborhood," to show God's love to people who need Him. Hadn't I been asking God to show me how to love the people in my neighborhood?

I phoned Phyllis on Thursday to tell her I'd come at 6:30 on Friday morning, and she was ecstatic. She told me she'd handed out 30 flyers that Tuesday. "On Wednesday morning, I told God how disappointed I was that it was only me," she admitted. "But then He said, 'You're not alone. I'm here. Jesus is here. The Holy Spirit is here. That makes four of us.'"

In the morning darkness on Friday, I walked to her house, about eight houses down. We prayed for our neighborhood, and for our families. I loved the instant connection we felt as sisters in Christ. I told her I'd come back on Mondays and Fridays.

The way Phyllis had reached out to me brought to mind the candy canes, and I started thinking about what we might do for Valentines Day. On that same Tuesday, Gentle had given us a treat bag with a card that said, "We love because He first loved us." She said she was handing out bags to her neighbors.

So today I baked triple ginger cookies and filled six Ziploc bags with six cookies each. I took six of Allyson's leftover Valentines and wrote, "We love because He first loved us... The Broad Family... Bill, Sarah, Ethan & Allyson."
 
Allyson was of course excited to come; the candy canes back in 2009 had been her idea. I wasn't too sure about Ethan, but he agreed readily. When Allyson invited Bill, though, he said, "I think I'll stay here and clean the kitchen."


By the time everything was ready, it was nearly 8:00 and getting dark. We slipped on our flip-flops, and I put on a light jacket despite the unseasonably warm temperature today--in the 70s this afternoon after last week's dip into the teens.

We followed the same route we'd covered with the candy canes, so it wasn't so scary as the first time. Allyson rang the bell when we got to the house of the family who gave us the pumpkin pie. The moment the door swung open, she whispered, "Happy Valentines Day," and handed the man the cookies.

"Oh, you guys are so good to us always!" he exclaimed.

I blushed. "They're ginger snaps," was all I could think of to say.

"Well Happy Valentines Day!" he said.

The door was already half closed when I asked, "Is Elizabeth home?"

"Yes, she's right here," he said, pointing to the dining room table. I realized that once again I'd interrupted their dinner, but I plowed on, telling her about Phyllis's prayer meeting.

Apologizing for being in her pajamas, Elizabeth nevertheless came to the door with a tablet in hand. I told her the address and the time, as well as my phone number. She thanked me warmly and we wished them a good evening.

We had one more house left, an addition to last year's list. I wanted to take some cookies to Phyllis even though I knew I'd be seeing her at 6:30 in the morning. I wanted the kids to meet her, and I wasn't ready for our little adventure to end yet.

Her house was brightly lit, and there were two cars in the driveway. "She's home!" I said. "Now, Allyson, this time you need to say 'Happy Valentines Day' really loud, okay?"

Allyson rang the bell, and we waited for what seemed a long time. "She's probably looking out at us and not opening the door," Ethan said.

"No, she wouldn't do that," I argued. I knocked on the door, and Allyson did too. A moment later the door opened, and we were face to face with a strange man who looked to be in his 30s or 40s. Phyllis had told me she lived alone with her son, but this man seemed too old. For a moment I thought I might have the wrong house, but this was definitely it.

The man cocked his head and eyed us in confusion. Oblivious to the awkward silence, Allyson handed him the bag, shouting, "Happy Valentines Day!" He glanced down at the cookies, and there was another heavy silence. Then he sputtered, "Well, thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," I murmured. "Um, good night."

Back on the sidewalk, Ethan asked why I didn't tell him we were looking for Phyllis. "I was expecting her to answer the door," I said. "I was so surprised to see him that I just froze. I couldn't even remember Phyllis's name at that moment."

"Well, you should call her or something," he said. "He's probably telling her right now that some crazy lady is going around the neighborhood handing out cookies."

I burst into laughter. "Yes, he probably is," I choked out. "Oh well." And we laughed all the way home, just like we did when we handed out the candy canes. When we told Bill the story, he just shook his head.

I'll tell her in the morning. It was only a matter of time before she figured it out, anyway: yes, I am a crazy lady. It sure is fun!

There's No Gray

I've just started a wonderful Bible study by Priscilla Shirer on the book of Jonah. I was fascinated to take this study because I've never heard of a study on that book, and because Priscilla's anointed teachings during last summer's Anointed Transformed Redeemed study were so inspiring.

But I didn't expect to relate to Jonah so much. The study is all about how we think God's "interruptions" mess up our plans, yet actually these interruptions give us the opportunity to partner with God in the plans He specifically designed us for. So far, the lessons have challenged me to examine my life for areas where I'm running from God, areas where I've been disobedient.

Today's lesson really hit home: "There's no gray area in obeying God.... You don't have an array of options to choose from on how you will respond.... Choosing to 'do nothing' is really a decision to delay obedience--and the word for delayed obedience? Disobedience."

When I read that last sentence, my mind went back to the instructions God had given me a couple of days ago--which I still hadn't obeyed. And then I thought back to the first time He had given me those same instructions, a couple of weeks ago.

I was listening to a Christian radio station while I worked one day, and they were conducting a drive to raise funds for Compassion International's Water For Life program. For $55, you could provide a family in Haiti with a water filter that would produce clean water for life. I learned that in Haiti diarrhea is the leading cause of death in small children, and my heart went out to these families. I pictured my little Allyson suffering chronic diarrhea, dehydration, and malnutrition, and it broke my heart.

I should give, I thought each time the promotional ran again. But I didn't do it. Maybe I'll look at the budget later and see where I can fit it in, I thought. Then again, we were already supporting our church, and we had recently started sponsoring a little Indian girl named Saniya. Wasn't that enough? Sure this was a good cause, but you can't give to every good cause, right?

Fast forward to this past Tuesday morning, when I woke up at 5:00 with severe diarrhea and nausea. I spent the entire day and evening propped in a chair, perfectly still, trying to avoid throwing up--when I wasn't on the toilet. As soon as I realized I was sick, I reminded God I was supposed to be leading the first Bible study discussion at my table that evening. "I really need to be there, God. Please, please make this go away," I prayed. But I soon realized I needed to find someone else to lead the study.

It dawned on me that this was an interruption to my plans, just like Priscilla was talking about in the study. "What is the purpose in this, God? Why did I have to be sick today?" I asked. The answer came to me that night as I squirmed in my chair and tried to settle in for the night. I thought back to the children in Haiti and around the world who are DYING from diarrhea. Here I sat, moaning and whining over one day of discomfort while they suffered on without relief.

"Okay, God," I said. "I'm sorry I didn't obey when you first laid it on my heart. I'm going to get up tomorrow and find that Compassion website and send the money." It occurred to me then that I should write a blog entry about the experience, but I shrugged it off. No one wants to read about my diarrhea revelations, I reasoned.

So why am I talking about the unmentionable now? Because Priscilla got me again this morning. Immediately upon sitting down to enjoy my quiet time, I realized that more than 24 hours had passed, but I still hadn't obeyed God and sent that $55. "I'll do it!" I assured God, and I kept reading. At the end of the lesson, I had to talk with God about which ambitions, goals, people, and ideals have claimed more of my commitment than He does. One of them was our budget.

"Oh, forgive me, God!" I prayed. "I don't ever want to say I can't give because I have other priorities for the money you've given us."

I determined to find that website as soon as I finished with my quiet time. But then Priscilla's words echoed in my mind: "The word for delayed obedience? Disobedience."

So I went straight up to the computer and sent the money via a link on the Compassion International website. Take a look for yourself, and if God lays it on your heart, maybe you'll want to send a filter too. Just don't wait for a bout of diarrhea to help you make up your mind!

He Longs, Too

In just two weeks I'll be finished with my Bible study on the book of John, Called More Than This. I've so enjoyed this study, just as I knew I would. Shortly before I found out we'd be studying the book of John, I posted an entry about the amazing revelation in the first chapter of John: that Jesus is the Word, the same Word that created the entire universe, and when we meditate on the Word we can access the very power and authority of Jesus Christ.

When I posted that entry, my Aunt Carol sent me an email about it that so moved me. She shared the story of her own revelation through the book of John, which occurred decades ago when she read the entire book in one sitting. She said: 

It was like a personal revelation from God just for me.  He loved me! Everything I read had new meaning.  I would read and pray, read and pray and I could feel the power of God spiritually and physically. It colored all my life. This mountain top experience lasted not hours, not days or weeks but months. I can't think about it now without weeping.  But what I want to say was that John's revelation of Jesus as the Word of God, present from the beginning, the Creator of all things took on new meaning.  The Bible is the Word of God, Jesus.  And as I read the Gospel of John, it was so exciting.  John's teachings that Jesus is the Word, Jesus is the Bread of life and Jesus is the Vine are all related and intertwined.

After I read her message, I decided to read the book of John again. I couldn't manage to read it all in one sitting, but I read it quickly, as I would read a fascinating novel. I remember distinctly the day when I read John 17. In it, Jesus prayed first for himself, that He would bring glory to God by completing the work He was sent to do (to die on the cross for our salvation). Next he prayed for his disciples, that God would protect them by the power of His name, and that he would set them apart by the truth of God's Word. As I read Jesus's prayer for his disciples, I wished that I could have been one of them, listening as Jesus prayed over me.

And then I came to Jesus's third prayer. Guess who he prayed for? Me!! Here's what He said:

“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, ²¹ that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. ²² I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— ²³ I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.
   ²⁴ “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.
   ²⁵ “Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. ²⁶ I have made you^[e] known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.”
John 17:20-26 (emphasis added)

I can't express how thrilled I was that Jesus looked down through generations of believers to all who would believe in him, and prayed for us. At the moment when I read this, I could feel the unity with Jesus and the Father and all believers. It was glorious.

Chapter 17 was just as thrilling four months later, when we covered this chapter at Bible study last night. But this time something different captured my heart. At the end of the evening, we watched a segment of the movie The Gospel of John, a word for word enactment of all 21 chapters. I've been enthralled each week as I've watched the story come to life. But until last night, I could never really imagine that I was watching JESUS. It was just a movie.

I'm not sure what was different last night; probably it was the power of Jesus's words. Anyway, I forgot I was watching a movie. I heard Jesus praying for me and all the women around me, praying for our unity. When He said, "I want those you have given me to be where I am, and to see my glory," tears of wonder slipped down my cheeks.

For the first time, I realized that Jesus longs to be face to face with me just as much (more!) than I long to see his face. Of course, He can see me already, inside and out. He knows my very thoughts before I think them (Psalm 139:2, 4). But it's clear that He is longing for our reunion, and I think the reason for that is that He wants to watch as I behold his glory for the first time. Can you imagine?

When the movie clip ended, I didn't want to return to my puny "reality." I wanted to hear it again, and I will. I'm going to buy the movie and watch it with my family during this blessed Christmas season, when we celebrate our Savior's birth.

Merry Christmas!

Everything to Offer

Last Tuesday was the first night of my new ladies' Bible study, an intensive study of John's gospel. I've been looking forward to it for weeks, and especially to studying chapter 1. As you may recall, I had such an amazing revelation about that chapter during my last Bible study--about Jesus and the Word being one, and about how that Word is the same power that created the universe.

So far, the study is living up to and even exceeding my expectations. Last night Bill had a hockey game, and after I'd tucked Allyson in I had the house to myself for awhile. As I sat on the floor of the TV room and worked on my homework, the Word again came alive to me. This time what moved me most was the account of the first disciples meeting Jesus (John 1:35-51). I was struck by how He called them by name and said, "Come.... Follow me." And they did exactly that. They dropped everything and followed Him. The other thing that they did was to tell others about him. I loved Philip's words: "Come and see."

I tried to imagine what it must have been like to see and recognize the Messiah in the flesh. There in the quiet of the night, I felt that Jesus was calling me by name, saying "Come and see! Follow me."

One of the study questions asked me to mark my spiritual progress on this continuum:

Recognize-----------------Trust------------------Follow

I decided that I am just to the right of "trust." I definitely recognize Jesus as the Son of God, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Over the past few years, I've learned to trust Him like never before. But I don't think I've truly followed Him--followed Him out of my safe, comfy life and into the plan that He has for me.

I knelt there, with my forehead on the carpet, and professed my faith to Jesus. "I want to follow you!" I prayed. "Please make me strong enough and teach me to hear your voice so I can obey. Help me to let go of everything that stands between you and me. And show me the opportunities you're giving me to tell others about you, to urge them to come and see."

I immediately thought about my upcoming shift in the prayer room this morning. What a great place to share the Good News with hurting people!  I prayed then that God would prepare me for whatever needs I would encounter.

I prayed that again over breakfast, and again in the car on the way to church. When I got to church, I went straight to the prayer room, where I hoped to spend some time alone with God before the first service ended. I was disappointed to discover that the room was in use and that I'd have to wait in the volunteer check-in room instead. Now I know God is everywhere, and I can pray anywhere, but there's just something so soothing about that prayer room. Plus, I really wanted to be alone. I tried to pray in the other room, but too many people were coming and going, and I found myself feeling anxious and unprepared for the task ahead.

I lurked outside the prayer room door until everyone filed out, and then I hurried in to enjoy that last five minutes of solitude. I sank thankfully into a plush chair and started talking to God. "Why do I feel this anxiety in my chest? I know you are with me, but why do I feel afraid? I've got nothing, God. I need you to give me the strength to pray with whoever needs encouragement today. Help me to rest in you. Let your peace rest on me now."

Breathing deeply, I was just starting to relax when one of the other volunteers walked in and asked how I was doing. I groaned inwardly. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to someone. I needed to steep myself in prayer!

I decided to tell the truth. "I'm doing okay, but today I'm feeling anxious, as if there's going to be a really big prayer request and I won't know how to respond. Today is just one of those days when I wonder why I'm here. I wonder what made me think I was right for this job."

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Well, it's just that... I don't know. There are some people who have a gift of prayer, of faith, and they pray with authority. I don't think I really have that."

"I think you're very good at praying with people," he said.

"It's because the Holy Spirit reminds me of scriptures, and I just pray them out loud," I explained. "That's His job, you know: to remind us of everything Jesus taught us."

"So why do you feel like you're not right for this job?"

"Well, I usually get so nervous. I don't know who will come in or what requests they'll have. Sometimes people have such serious requests, and I feel like saying, 'Oh my gosh! What are you going to do??'" I put a hand on each of my cheeks, my eyes open wide in a pantomime of shock.

We both laughed out loud, and he said he understood how I felt. Just then, the other volunteer for the day came in. At his quizzical look, I repeated what I'd said about my reaction to some requests. The three of us laughed together, and I concluded, "But God always gives us the words, doesn't He?"

The tears of laughter were still in my eyes when the first man came in. Sure enough, his request was A Big One, but I felt perfectly calm. One of my memory passages came to me right away, and I prayed part of it over him. But then I began to pray some things that I hadn't planned to say at all, and I felt that trembling that gives me a compelling sense of urgency and yet total calm at the same time. I thought of a scripture I'd recalled during my Bible study homework the night before, and I also remembered a couple of Psalms that seemed to apply.

I'm not sure exactly which part of the prayer moved him, but when I said amen, the man grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed my cheek! "Wow!" he said. "That was amazing. That was exactly what I needed to hear."

Tears filled my eyes, and I pulled him into a hug. I went into the second service rejoicing, and every worship song held a special meaning. When we sang about soaring on wings as eagles, I really felt that I was flying. To quote the man in the prayer room: "Wow!"

It wasn't until later in the day that I really grasped how God had answered my prayer in such a delightful and unexpected way. What I'd wanted was to be alone so I could prepare myself, but instead he sent a friend to make me laugh. All of my anxiety melted away in just a moment of laughter, and I was covered in peace just as I'd asked. And though in my own eyes that first request was huge, to God it was nothing. I didn't have to feel ready; I just had to be obedient and make myself available.

This afternoon I spent a couple of hours with my sister Amy while Bill and the kids were at the baseball game, and we had a good talk about it. I told her how I feel I'm not gifted in the area of faith, and how I think that's more of her gift. "I think my gift is encouragement," I said.

Amy reminded me about the church being a body that's made up of many parts, with every part being essential. "God doesn't need a person with lots of faith--he needs someone who is available. That's you. You're there, and you're being obedient, and God can use the gifts he gave you." That was the second time in two days that someone had reminded me about the body having many parts, and I've decided to take that to heart.

I'm going to stop deciding what I think I'm good at and focus instead on being obedient. It's not about me anyway. I really don't have anything to offer anyone. But God... God has everything to offer.

Hallelujah!