DebraBee

There is a book few read for the truth it speaks, yet everyone is looking to read the “walking book” you supposedly represent because of it. Eyes search everywhere for anyone semi-looking like they believe in something!

Virtually any god-like or religion base will do. You become fair game for the microscopic judgment opinion poll. Of course those who are weighing in on the matter may have an uncalibrated barometer for what they are judging. Without the full knowledge of what’s written in this book of truth, they are always loaded with buckshot (weak weapon with wide spread).

For those being written by the Master Craftsman of the ultimate book, you must have faith for spiritual boundary tape speaking loudly for your own walking chapters to say…”NOT YET FINISHED”. Pray it’s brightly lit in neon and blinks often so the tourists see it well!

The biggest question we have isn’t really about whether or not God is real; it’s the question of why doesn’t He love us like we thought He should. Disappointments shape our perception of God. We watch television to see time and again how the good guy comes at the hour of greatest need to save the day. This sets our expectation for instant delivery, but it’s not truth. How we see our hour of greatest need is not necessarily how the Lord sees our hour.

We forget how the Word tells us about trials and tribulations. About glory to glory. About perseverance. Without these foundations we begin to crumble with questions of “where were you when I needed you?” This is when we open the door to the liar and start to dance with the devil of deception. We begin to give thought that perhaps it’s something we ourselves can fix…..

what do I do to make you love me

what do I gotta do to make you care

what do I do to make you want me

what do I do to be heard

what’ve I got to do

what’ve I got to do  *

Truth is that nothing we can do will make Him love us more than He does. His word shares “In this the love of God was manifested toward us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him.” We all know the story from there. Jesus was put to death so we could have eternal life. What greater love can there ever be as proof, than to give all for love?

*    Lyrics from Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word by Elton John

Indoctrination is something all of us are exposed to in every aspect of life. What it means is literally the process of forming our ideas, attitudes and cognitive strategies. Nowadays we are indoctrinated from the time we are babies by media and culture. The military uses it as a tool to teach soldiers to come into alignment for training and obedience. Basically it’s all about repetitive exposure.

Our generations are bombarded with so much indoctrination it can be difficult to figure out what we are training for or what we need to be obedient to, if anything. Chaos seems to reign free in media. A prime example is the song lyrics, “carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done”. Wayward means to have no direction, wandering aimlessly. How can one find peace if you don’t even know what you are looking for or where you are going? Yet this song has been sung over and over by generations without a single notion for what we are singing into our lives.

Songs are fun but it only becomes scary when we remember how much they influence our thinking. They start indoctrinating us with ideas and influence, they become our ideals. Our minds begin to accept what they speak to us and we endorse them when we sing them over and over into our lives as though they matter.

In times of old, the records of history were carried by oral communicators in the form of song. Today, we repeat ourselves to communicate our history in song, but what are we communicating when we sing of ourselves? Are we regurgitating indoctrination of our culture or are we sharing the truth of life?

“That’s great, it starts with an earthquake….it’s the end of the world as we know it”…..my son knew something before I did…the truth! It was s song echoing out of his room years ago that didn’t capture my thoughts but it did his.

Looking around us now, everything that can be shaken is. Every security we ever thought was ours by right is being rattled by the quantum of unknown happenings.

A Roman philosopher known as Seneca the Younger from the time of Nero, wrote an interesting observation…“as often as I have been among men I returned home less a man than I was before”.

Almost two thousand years later this thought does not die away with the many useless words spoken over the centuries by names forgotten. The thought is alive and kicking in me. I wonder if Seneca was seeking things in men he could only be satisfied to find in the Lord?

“What do you see?” He asked.

Looking into the distance, she wondered why He asked. Concentrating, she squinted her eyes in thoughtful pose. The silence made her speculate curiously. He was only quiet when giving her time to contemplate something of importance.

The place she stood felt good but not familiar. She kept scanning the horizon more and her heart grew in hope with every new landscape she could make out. A realization began to creep into her understanding. These places seen were new places. These were places not explored. Excitedly she looked down at her feet. Looking forward and looking back she realized she wasn’t walking the same ground anymore. She was making new tracks into new territory.

Invitations come all the time for me to go here or there, to do this or that. I often look at these closely for the possibility of what may lie in the invitation. Sometimes I know the invitation is meant for me to be blessed, sometimes I am to attend as a blessing to another and sometimes it’s both.

What I have to pay closer attention to is the underlying invitation for distraction. It is easy to become busy, even in the good things, to such a point they are no longer good for me. When I give more attention to the invitations from men rather than the invitation of the Lord, I become unbalanced quickly.

Psa 95:2  Let us come before His presence with thanksgiving; Let us shout joyfully to Him with psalms.

Love drained from me in ways too many to count. I had grown weary of giving it away and could feel myself counting its costs. It was becoming awfully expensive and I didn’t want to lose everything I had. Pulling back, I gave thoughts to holding onto some of it for myself.

A reminder came to step aside and be alone with the One who fills me with love. Sitting in His presence I wept at my lack. Without judgment He filled me once more with the love I was meant to pour out. He pushed away all my fears, all my doubts. He held me in His mercy. My weariness served His purpose, I was drawn back into the cradle of His arms. Over and over I heard Him whisper to me, “love” and it filled me to overflowing.

An author I was reading made this statement, “Next to each one of us, there is an angel that writes, day and night, the book of our lives.” I took note of this author’s statement for a few reasons. The idea that angels walk with us everywhere we go has never caused me to blink in my beliefs, but sometimes I just forget about them being with me.

A couple weeks ago, a man I had never met before told me when he first saw me, he could see the angels around me. I have since kicked myself because I now want to ask him, “What did they look like?” I don’t for a moment buy into the artwork of angels looking like cherubs. Judging from the reactions of those in biblical times, I’d have to say angels must look quite intimidating to cause such fear in the hearts of those who saw them.

It comforts me to know my angels are with me always. That they are writing me into the Book of Life is something to ponder. What sentence will be written about me today, tomorrow or even next year? It’s enough to change the aspect of what I will do with the rest of my day and indeed the rest of my life.

The Message Rev 20:12  And then I saw all the dead, great and small, standing there–before the Throne! And books were opened. Then another book was opened: the Book of Life. The dead were judged by what was written in the books, by the way they had lived.

He lay upon the floor in front of the entertainment center watching some dvd at low volume. The afternoon was moving quickly into evening and I enjoyed such a quiet moment. A napkin was on the coffee table and I squirreled it away in my hands. Making sure he couldn’t see me, I tore the paper into four squares. Rolling each square back and forth in my palms, I made my weapons. One by one I fired them at his head, spacing them out evenly.

With patience he reached up each time to put the paper bullets back up on the coffee table. Not once did he look in my direction. I grinned, feeling the sweetness of my husband’s love. He allowed me to be childlike whenever I desired.