He's Given You the City

For six days the army circled Jericho.  One time around, once a day for six days.  The trumpets blew before the ark of the covenant, but the army was quiet.  They were told to not say a word.  They circled and they wondered.  Or did they pray to the Holy God of Israel?  I think they did.

On the seventh day they circled seven times.  They were quiet the first six times and then the seventh time Joshua commanded the army, "SHOUT!! For the Lord has given you the city!!"

When they shouted, the wall around the city fell.  It fell flat, except for one small part but that's another story.  The soldiers went in and took what they were told to get.  The enemy was defeated without anyone breaking a sweat.

I want my prayers to be powerful.  To knock down walls.  I want to circle those I love in prayer and shouts of victory.  Circle them and see God show His hand strong in their lives.

The girls and I go a couple of times a week to workout.  I walk on the track elevated above the basketball court while the girls work out on the treadmills.  Last week I was walking and praying.  The faster I walked the harder I prayed.  Telling God that I was circling Michael.  Circling my kids.  I looked down to the court below and saw them standing there.

I'm not crazy.  I'm visual.  I saw my boys standing proud and my girls bent over in grief from dreams unfulfilled or disappointments of other's actions.  I saw girls seeking answers and confused.  I saw wives who are called to show respect and husbands called to love their wives.  I saw my little grandbabies.  I saw Michael.

I prayed for those boys to show humility and the longer I prayed I saw them down on their knees bowing before the Savior, elevating others above themselves.  I prayed for girls to get past the sadness and hurt; and the longer I prayed I began to see them standing tall with hands in the air thanking Him for answers and peace.  I prayed for the wives and husbands and saw marriages sweet.

I prayed for the grandbabies and saw them as warriors for Jesus.

I prayed for Michael and saw him leading by example with a gentle spirit and God wisdom.  Leading his family and this body of believers to greater holiness.

On his knees.

I was walking on the outside but I was doing victory laps on the inside.  I was shouting because of a victorious Lord.

There is victory yet to be seen.  He has given the city.

No Imperfections

My eyes opened early this morning before the sun peeked through the window after a night of waking and sleeping.   Tossing and turning.  The girls come in after the carriage turned back into a pumpkin, so excited about their night of hunting.  So proud that "she took it down with one shot clean through".  At least that's what I think she told her daddy, I was trying to sleep.

Each time I woke, the heart was still beating too fast for sleep, the breath never slowed to deep.  The brain was already thinking, planning, figuring before the wake came in full.

Weight on the chest got heavier each time I looked at the clock.  Thinking of all that needs to be done - that should be done.  Yesterday's load of towels still in the washer, now needing another bath.  Lasagna pan with extra dishes still soaking in the kitchen sink.  Another vacuuming and mopping needed after mud and grass were tracked in after forgetting the water was left on in the horse trough.

Phone calls to return, prescriptions to pick up, meals to prepare, gifts to finish before I board the plane on Friday to head west.  And with all the preparations, still feeling unprepared.  Wanting to show those sweet ladies Jesus in a way that makes them want Him more.

Clutter.  My brain is filled with clutter.  Covering up the truth, and making me feel so imperfect.  The more I thought, the more the imperfection penetrated.  Now covering every part of my life - momma, teacher, wife, pastor's wife, daughter, sister, mentor, friend.  I'm a mess, I am.

Then I heard the rain hitting the roof and running off into the flower bed.  Thank You, Father for the rain.  My heartbeat slowed a bit.  Thank You, Father, for the rain.

Thank You for his arm holding me close like spoons in a tray, breathing deep himself, but still protecting.  For the girls asleep in their beds after their night hunting hogs and coyotes.  For the almost full moon lighting our way to the barn to check on water before bed.

The heaviness was lessening.  The breathing slowed.

Thank You for a washing machine - so that doing a load the second time isn't so difficult.  Thank You for animals to feed and a vacuum cleaner that works well.  Thank You for Italian food and for the smell of Palmolive dish soap.  Thank You for mamaw's love and how I think of her when I do dishes with that dish soap.

The clutter was gone.  Replaced with a gratefulness, a communication with the Sender of the rain.

Sometimes the clutter is all the things I know I need to do.  Sometimes it is sin in my life. The stuff I focus on instead of Him.  Idols made because of position in my heart.

The best things are not a clean house, perfect kids, great grades.  The best thing is sitting at His table, talking with Him.  And not always talking, but listening.

Hearing from His mouth that He loves me and that He made me.  And He is Perfect God.

Like a Ravioli

"We call him the Grandaddy", the neighbor man told me, speaking of the huge pecan tree at the edge of our sweet little homestead.  It was love at first sight for me, because I left Oklahoma with lots of trees and my kids, so if I couldn't be close to the kids at least give me some trees.  

It's not a place you go.  It's a place you enter.  With limbs bowing to earth, it's like entering a room.  A holy place.  I feel different when I'm in there.

 Hemmed in.

Even the hanging metal swing/chair my sweet hubby gave me wraps around me like a cocoon.  A metal prayer shawl, if you will.

Psalms 134 : 5-6  You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain it.

I've felt very loved on by the Lord the last week or so.  Over and over He has reminded me of His protection and love.  Of being hemmed in.  I'm so amazed by Him.

Over and over He has reminded.  Kneeling at prayer place with blanket over my head, He reminded me.  Hemmed.

Ravioli on the cover of a magazine makes my face smile.
Just like that !
Just like ravioli !
Tucked in and sealed in, safe and sound.  Pinched around the edges.  Hemmed.

Michael reaching over to tuck sheet in all down behind me so I have plenty of covering.  Tucked.  Hemmed.

Giving shoulder and wrapping arms around grieving grandma after holding the little one for the last time.   Praying she felt the comfort of the Comforter.  Hemmed in by Him.

Momma hen crawling on quilt nest, moving babies-not-done around to cook on the other side, then sitting full down. Hemming them in.  Sweet protection.

Not only does He hem me in, it says also that He lays His hand upon me.  

When my babies were little, after I rocked them to sleep, I would lay them down and put my hand gently on the side of their little face to comfort them until they were resting deeply.  Feeling safe.  Feeling hemmed outside the womb by their momma.

He loves me like that.  He keeps showing me over and over.

Because Monday had an interruption not expected and because Tuesday had a stomach bug not expected, I'm just now posting my list of thanks.

. . . Grandaddy tree

. . . boys' voices on the phone

. . . hope in voice

. . . letter of blessing from someone I love

. . .  reminders of love from Him

. . . clean bedroom

. . . clean laundry room

. . . seeing girl I miss

. . . talking to girl I really miss

. . . cocoon chair/swing

. . . prayer places

Pour It Out

A couple of weeks back when we were looking at the life of Samuel, it started with his mom in the temple praying for a baby.  In I Samuel 1:15 she was accused of being drunk by the priest because he couldn't understand her.

She quickly told him that she wasn't drunk but that she was "pouring her heart out before the Lord".  I have thought of that so many times in the last weeks.  What does that mean exactly?

Oh, I have desperately prayed for things on many occasions.  For the physical healing of those I loved and many I didn't even know.   For spiritual healing.   For marriages.   For wayward children.  For the protection of my children and others who could be in harm's way.

Desperately.

But have I really poured my heart out before the Lord?  

I looked up the Hebrew word for "poured".  Don't you cringe a little when I do that?  Seems to always put a different slant to a word.  Sometimes it is a slant that makes things a little uncomfortable.

This definition doesn't disappoint.

        Poured:  1) to pour, pour out, spill

       2) to shed (blood)

                     3) to pour out (anger or heart) 

When I come to the Lord, desperate in heart, fearful in heart, I must come to Him willing to pour it out - to shed the blood. 

 Ready to die to myself, my desires, my fears, my desperations.

Desiring Him more than I desire the answer to my 

prayer.

Oh my.  

Most of the time all I can see is the answer I want.  The answer I think I need.  

All He wants is for me to want more of Him.

Giving thanks today.

In Hobby Lobby last week Rachel and I found a wrought iron BLESSINGS wall hanging that I knew I had to have.  Especially because it was on sale.  I've been wanting something for a space on the wall that has been blank because I hadn't found the perfect thing to hang.

Found it.

Love it.

A constant reminder of the things God has done for us.  So many blessings.  So much to be thankful for:

   . . . flags blowing a different direction

   . . . Sam's heart that wants God to use his injury for His glory

   . . . piano

   . . . Keith's numbers back closer to normal

   . . . music that speaks to my heart

   . . . screen doors

   . . . breeze blowing from front door to back

   . . . calls every night from Hannah while she is away.

BLESSINGS.

 

Far Be It From Me

“Far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by ceasing to pray for you.”

Samuel the prophet/priest/judge said these words to the people of Isreal after they begged God for a king and He gave them what they wanted.  These people wanted a king because “everyone else was doing it”.

They were a whiney group.  Begging for something they didn’t need.  They didn’t trust their God Whom had delivered them from their enemies countless times before.  They thought their plan was better.

Just like the rest of us.

I personally am extremely grateful God didn’t answer some of my whiney prayers.  Like the one in Jr. High when I pleaded to be the wife of David Cassidy when I got big.  Extremely.  Grateful.

I don’t want to be found guilty of the sin of prayerlessness.   I also don’t want to be found guilty of dominating my prayer time with whiney, selfish prayers.  I want to be found faithful of bringing things to the Lord that really matter.  That are life changing for people.

This morning I woke up very early with a heavy, heavy heart.  A heart hurting over people hurting.

     * A 7 year old boy in the hospital diagnosed with depression because his parents decided they would rather chase after their own happiness than keep their family together.

     * A couple who grieves a death.  The death of their precious little one who came into this world with no life breath.

     * Couples who grieve a death.  Not one death, but a new one every month when the womb weeps red.

      * A young lady burying her fiancé today because he chose not to live in this world any more.  Family all questioning what they could have done.

     * A family hurting over actions and decisions of children.  Trying to find peace.

     * A young woman missing a daddy gone too soon.

Such a heavy heart over heavy things.  Then I remembered something else Samuel said.

“Now, stand still and see this great thing the Lord will do before your eyes.”

So,         

We pray.

We wait.

We watch.

Most of all we trust.  Trust that the Jehovah God cares when our heart is heavy.  Trust that He will give us what we need to walk through the things we have to walk through.

Please, oh please, don't stop praying.

Or trusting.

He is Worthy of our Gaze

Psalm 123:1-2

"To You I lift up my eyes, O You Who are enthroned in the heavens!
Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so
our eyes look to the Lord our God, till He has mercy upon us."

So beautiful. Can you see the maidservant standing in the corner waiting, watching for the mistress to look her way or ask for her assistance? She keeps her eyes fixed on her so she won't miss a gesture, a nod of the head, a whisper.

Can you see her sitting at the feet of her mistress? Can you see the servant looking to the hand of his Master?

The Master's hand provides, protects, guides, and rewards. We just have to keep our eyes fixed on Him. We tell Him what we feel and how we hurt. We ask Him what to do and how to serve. I read something from Charles Spurgeon the other day that truly spoke to my heart:

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear,
The upward glancing of an eye
When none but God is near.

Sometime my heart is so heavy I can't come up with the words to say. But I know where to look; and as the sigh slips from my lips or the tears from my eye, I know the One Who is worthy of my gaze is listening.

To You I lift up my eyes, O You Who are enthroned in the heavens!

Golden Bowl

Whenever the girls and I are going to travel somewhere I give them an approximate time of departure. Leah is usually out in the van anywhere from ten to twenty minutes before time, just sitting and waiting. She's a lot like her momma, trying to find any alone time (with her own noise) she can. Rachel gets out there a few minutes before time, then I come out with all my stuff. We wait a little while for Hannah, who usually is hurrying out the door with her shoes in one hand and a jacket or extra shirt, purse, and make up bag in the other so she can finish getting ready on the way. After all the doors are closed and we're heading down the driveway the power of the aroma hits me.

I started really thinking about it the other day. The aroma thing gets its start earlier in the day with three different scents of body mousse in the bath. Add to that three different kinds of deodorant, flavors of toothpaste, and lip gloss. Then comes the lotion, different scents, of course, and then the biggest hit of all: three different perfumes. Quite a bit of the different perfumes, might I add. Sometimes that is even added after the doors are closed on the van.

I keep ibuprofen in the vehicle.

I really like having girls that sometimes shower a couple of times a day and want to smell nice. I think that's a really good thing. When I think about it, it makes me smile.

Back in the fall, one of our students' truck wasn't working and his parents were out of town. They asked if I could pick him up from football practice and take him to his house to clean up and then to Open House at the high school. Hannah and I went to get him at the field house and as soon as he got into the van I smiled. He had that familiar locker room smell that I hadn't smelled in several years. Locker room smell isn't a bad smell to me. I immediately went back in my heart to when the boys were playing sports and how I missed that. It was a good thing. Made me smile.

The other day I read a verse in Revelation 5 that said, "And when He had taken the book, the four living creatures and the twenty four elders fell down before the Lamb, having each one a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints." I couldn't get that out of my mind. These golden bowls presented to the Lamb of God were full of the sweet scent of our prayers for our husbands, our children, our families, our church, our soldiers. Then my mind kept going and I started thinking that maybe when they pour it out He won't smell anything from me. Or not enough from me. Some days may be more than others, depending on the need.

Oh, sweet, sweet Jesus. I want to be so intimate with You that one bowl is not enough. To enter into Your Holiest place so often that the elders are scrambling for more golden bowls. My heart hurts at the thought that a bowl might be emptied at Your feet and You smell nothing from me. I want so bad for You to get a whiff of all the different scents from the prayers that come together and smell so beautiful. I'm desperate to hear from You that I've done a good thing. I so want to make You smile.