Movies roll across big screens throughout our nation. We bring bigger and bigger televisions into our homes and buy into all the latest technologies which will make these movies more realistic. I love a great movie, but essentially I have to realize why I watch them. I want more!
I want the impossible dream. I want the childhood fantasy. I want the perfect love.
I want what Jesus offers!
In my errand run I did the unthinkable and wore a shirt I didn’t iron first nor did I don a hat to hide my rat nest hair day. It wasn’t important if I was going through a car wash. While my car idled under the water jets I remembered I still had another stop to make. The public was just going to have to suffer my outward assault on decorum.
Once at the local store, I saw a couple people standing outside the entryway. Instantly I lost track of my appearance and focused on what I was seeing. An elderly woman seemed to be concerned with the circumstance of a man who was asking for spare change. I too got out my wallet to offer him what change I had and asked him if he was hungry. He shared it’d been a couple days since he’d last eaten. I had him come inside the store with me to get some food.
Meeting great people in not so great circumstances is a delicate matter. What I say to them and how I treat them makes a difference. Not wanting to shame him, I tried to gently draw him into casual conversation while we got some items to nourish his immediate needs. Once outside I was sensitive to offer, but not insist, to pray with him and I was delighted he wanted me to do that.
I shared with him the love I have been given, and to my surprise he leaned down to kiss me on the cheek and thanked me. It was so sweet I knew I had been kissed by a gentleman and a prince.
“People come and people go, how long I say, I just don’t know….crackpot history, and the right to lie” *
This dude singing was just a guy in the punk rock eighties scene. No one paid him much attention beyond his music. He didn’t wear a suit or present himself in parliament. Yet….?
I have read dozens of history books, and a truth I have learned, they don’t teach truth in classrooms. In all the classes I was ever made to take to get a ‘higher education or certification’, none made me look at the real history of our nation or even our world.
What I was made to study was the evolutionary lie, and also a psychological frame work of the brain, based on a man’s obvious genius skewed by his drug induced state of mind.
Why are our universities afraid to pursue adamantly this truth? Education has always grown because of challenging ideas. When did we stop testing for truth? Our nation was founded on truth. Let’s go back so we can go forward!
* Adam Ant – Crackpot History (And The Right To Lie)Who are you? Really?
I have read the book You’ve written. Still I want to know more of You. I want to walk with You. I want to talk with You. I want to lay my head upon Your chest. I want to hear Your heartbeat. I want to look into Your eyes. I want to hold Your hand. I want to sit at Your feet. I want to hear Your laughter. I want to feel You breathe a sigh of contentment. I want to know Your name. I want to dance with You. I want to love You without any reservations.
Having lunch outside a friend’s house today, I engaged in conversation but my ears were tuned in elsewhere. I kept hearing the planes I couldn’t see doing various loops over our city. Knowing my husband was elsewhere to take photographs of these kept taking my heart to where he was, to wonder what he was seeing, to wonder what he was feeling?
We were of one flesh; I could understand that in these moments. Not as easy sometimes when we shared the same space. It was a question I was curious to ask the “Big Guy” when I had the chance.
Meanwhile, I sat in my chair loving those around me, while wanting to be with the one who loved me as his wife.
A strange occurrence has come from those on the “outside looking in” on my life. Too often I get comments about what a “woman of God” I am. I actually fear any day I would say, “yep I’ve arrived into that calling”. I never want to deceive myself into that kind of prideful thinking.
I suspect my “outside” observers would be surprised to hear the truth in my heart and from my own journal…”I feel like a stumbling fool before You God, where I keep reaching up my hand to say ‘Daddy please, will You help me up yet again'”.
And He does.
A simple note on my keyboard touching deep into the heart of my understanding, I added more notes to it. I didn’t write it down or record it. Some songs are too personal. I’ve never pretended to be a musician but I loved playing for my Father. My thoughts were drawn again to the deep calling out to the deep. I know my simple notes touch His heart. In those quiet places, I love playing for Him alone.
Grace…a word, a concept, a reality, a truth. While I tried to recover my balance, I bent over to hold my heart together. Grace finds goodness in everything. Meanwhile I looked at my bruises and held myself still so the aches wouldn’t crumple me to the floor. Grace offered me composure, but I reached for the tissues to soak up the tears I’d offer to its beauty. My brokenness left me feeling exposed and I opened the door wider to the truth of it all. Grace overflowed more through this open access. I quit fighting, weary of holding myself up, and finally laid down….drowning in a flood of grace.
“Are you ready?” A question I’ve been asked thousands of times in my life. This question hit my heart this morning with an understanding I’ve never felt before. I could see myself in a uniform but it was ill fitting. My supplies were scattered and in disarray. My orders were smudged and the destination not clear on my paperwork. I fell to my knees knowing this outer image was all wrong.
Raising my hands I cried to the heavens….”make me ready because I can’t do it myself”. A shift happened. I was stripped of my uniform and my supplies were vanquished. I was naked and in tears but I wore no shame; just a revelation of my great need. A piece of paper floated down from the sky and I reached out to catch it. I could clearly read the destination now….”You Are Mine”…
As I reflect upon my husband, I am taken into the awe and wonder of God. In thinking about our ages and where we were in time, I begin to realize we were looking at ocean waves breaking onto shores continents apart. The waves may have been different, but the sun and moon were always the same.
I never found a note in a bottle, but I was always searching the horizon for promises. He was but one of the promises to be found.
