Beach Vacation

The family and I went on a vacation a couple of weeks ago, to the beach at Ocean City, Maryland. We had a wonderful time, hanging out, playing in the sand, going for walks on the boardwalk, and eating! Before going on this particular trip, I felt as though the Lord asked me to set aside some alone time with just Him. I was fairly excited about the thought that God wanted my attention, assuming He was going to teach me new and wonderful things! So each morning, I would wake up before 6:30, take my beach chair, and walk out to the beach to sit and be still for a couple of hours. I read a little, prayed a little, but mostly I just sat. At times I would "try" to hear God, assuming He had some things to say to me, but quite often I would only sense Him saying, "Don't strive - just be. Rest a while with Me." (Ha - that rhyme was unintentional.)

Many times the Lord instructs me as I read the word or through gifted teachers, even by just a sense of His voice throughout every day life. I so appreciate those times when I am a student of the Holy Spirit. I am used to God being a Teacher - it's quite often how I have related to Him in my walk throughout the years. I have to say though, during these times at the beach, He seemed to put down His teacher's chalk, and sit in His own big beach chair right next to me. This may seem kind of strange, but it was like He was on vacation too. Just chilling with me on the beach. He wasn't really talking in an instructional way at all, but He certainly was very present.

During each of these early morning visits, I was regularly impacted by two awesome images, both of which were significant illustrations of God's love.

The first is fairly obvious: I was impressed by the vastness of the mighty Atlantic. I would strain to see the edge of the endless sea and find myself getting slightly dizzy as I tried to see what was unseeable. So much water. The surf was kicking up quite a bit while I was there, which revealed only a fraction of the power resident in that huge ocean. So deep, so wide, so measureless. Yes, as you can imagine, it was easy to find insight into the greatness of the love of God while sitting by the sea. I was especially struck by the constancy of the rolling waves, always pushing towards me - always reaching out to touch the edge of my world. If I did not move my position, eventually those waves would wrap themselves around my feet as the tide would eventually and most certainly come in. It always comes in. Even more than that, if I got up from my seat and intentionally moved towards the water - meeting the wave at it's point of impact, I would surely be overcome by the force of liquid power. His love: so constant, so powerful, so persistently pursuing the object of His affection. Let the tide roll in - here I come, ready or not! SPLASH!

The other image that I often saw while sitting by the shore, was that of a dad with his little girl. It wasn't the same dad, with the same little girl - but various father/daughter interactions that for some reason, all seemed especially highlighted to me during my week on the beach. I was impressed by the willingness of one dad to get up so early in the morning just to collect seashells with his very wide awake daughters - seashells mind you, that would no doubt find their way into a forgotten mason jar in the basement of their home. This dad was not worried about the practicals of seashell collection - no, he was out there for one reason: to be with his little princesses and revel in their glee-filled squeals and delightful discoveries. I watched as one dad passed up surfing with the big guys so he could build a sand castle with the apple of his eye. The sandcastle was surely doomed for destruction with the next tide, but not before a joyful memory was made. And not just a memory - but I believe an investment was made into that little girl's heart - the assurance that she's absolutely cherished and always will be.

As I said - although I thought perhaps the Lord might use my vacation at the beach to instruct me in the principles of kingdom living, it seemed He was more intent on just hanging out and resting. I didn't take any notes. I didn't even bring a notebook. Instruction didn't seem to be on His agenda...

Hold on! Wait just one minute. In spite of all the rest and relaxing by the sea, somehow, I feel like I've come away from that time with greater understanding of my Father's love for me. Just how did He do that? I thought we weren't doing the instructional teaching thing. Huh. Maybe God was showing me that He wants to be more than my Teacher. Maybe He wants me to know that a Father's way of teaching, is sometimes less about instruction and more about spending time with His little girl doing the things that delight her heart. Ha ha ha...

Oh, we have such a good Dad, you and I.

Let there be light

Just read a headline: Sixth School Killing in China in under Two Months. Meat cleaver wielding man kills nine, injures eleven in kindergarten classroom.

Such shocking cruelty is hardly restrained to one corner of our world, but like a rampant epidemic, it has infected every country, every people group, and every community on the face of the planet. We here in America have also been devastated by the reports of too many senseless school shootings. Almost 16, 000 murders were committed in the U.S. last year. We here in the land of the free, have sacrificed the lives of over 50 million unborn babies since legalizing their early death in the name of convenience. 27 million people world-wide are kept as modern day slaves and a million children a year are exploited through global commercial sex trade. We read the headlines through squinted eyes, afraid to see what new depths of evil we humans are capable of.

"See, darkness covers the earth, and thick darkness is over the peoples..." Isaiah 60:2

"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." Psalm 27:13

As Christians, our hope has never been in our ability to do more good than bad, but rather our hope is in the goodness of the Lord. Our human kindnesses will never overthrow darkness in this world. Our victory has always been in ONE - Jesus - and that victory was absolutely won at Calvary. As promised, He filled us with His Spirit and we are considered aliens in this dark world. The Kingdom of God is within us and as citizens of glory, we are equipped to release the light of truth and hope into the dreadful night.

The other day, as I was thinking about some of these things, I believe the Lord showed me a picture that revealed to me, His heart for the world and His love for His bride.

I saw a painter's canvas that had been painted on over and over throughout the course of history. Most of the colors used were darker hues, but as the years went on, it seemed the colors became darker and darker until the paint was completely black. Hardly a beautiful painting, it looked like a black hopeless mess.

I believe the Lord revealed to me, that the painting was not yet complete. Like a great artist, He is not daunted by what has not yet manifested on the canvas because He "sees" the finished creation in His heart. The blackness was just the backdrop. Lined up in front of the canvas were several little jars of brilliant and beautiful paint colors. Each color represented various expressions of the Church - traditional, contemporary, Baptist and Pentecostal - each had its own glorious tint. It was actually pleasing to the eye to see all those pretty colors so neatly lined up in a row.

But that's not the purpose of paint: to stay in their jars.

I can even see Him now...I see a smile on the Lord's face as He grabs the handle of one of the paint brushes, and His bride yields to His beautiful plan! The Divine Artist, with easy skill, splashes light onto the blackened canvas. It's interesting how a dark background actully helps color look so much brighter and more beautiful. My focus is drawn NOT to the blackness, but to the dancing colors as they leave their neat jars and find joy in being released to shine. It's interesting to note that as the colors cross and mix on the canvas, brilliant new colors are created that seem to have a living quality to them. It's as though flecks of shimmering gold appear at those points where the colors come together and the whole painting moves and breathes with new life. Such glory is revealed when the Church fearlessly moves out of their comfort zones to relate with one another and spread the love of God to the world! What a privilege it is to be His Church in this day and in this hour!

At the onset of creation, darkness was on the face of the deep. While the Spirit hovered, Jesus spoke "Let there be light." And like a splash of new color - there was light.

The headlines of our newspapers reveal the sad indisputable fact - darkness covers the earth.
But as those who have been rescued from the kingdom of darkness, we put our trust not in the headlines of newspapers, but in the truth of God's Word and the assurance of His Promise.

"See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness over the peoples...

but the LORD rises upon you and His glory appears over you. Nations will come to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawn." Isaiah 60:2 & 3

OH, LET THERE BE LIGHT!

Fear vs Truth

I'm not much of a collector. No stamps or rocks or seashells for me. Seems like a habit that needs to be nurtured over a long period of time - and for what? More stamps, more rocks, more seashells? No thanks.

I did, however, possess an impressive collection of fears. I didn't collect them on purpose of course. I'm not even sure when I started accumulating them or how each became a part of the collection. All I know is that I had more fears than could be counted. Many of them were your average sorts of fears. You know...fear of the dark, fear of falling, fear of storms - that sort of thing. I also owned several hard core fears that were like huge foundational blocks laid in the basement of my heart. Honestly, after I trusted in Jesus as my Savior, I assumed I was a "new creation", and should therefore just ignore those old issues and concentrate on making sure the rest of my house was neat and tidy. I didn't realize that when Jesus walked into the front door of my heart, he was packing tools and had plans for an EXTREME makeover.

For many years, I lived a "normal" Christian life - until the anxiety surfaced. I began to suffer from severe daily panic attacks and found it difficult to function. Out of the blue, a rush of terror would sweep over me, catching my breath away, raising my heart rate, causing chest pain and tempting me to flee the source of the fear. Unfortunately, I had no idea what the true source was, which only made the fear that much worse! Eventually I was afraid of things like shopping at the store, or going to sleep or getting my mail. This monstrous collection of fears had overrun my desperate life. I cried out to God to rescue me from this horrible hell - and he heard me.

The Lord spoke to me, "Quiet your soul and face those hidden fears. Not the whole blizzard of lies coming at you in the midst of an attack - but go deeper. Look past the barrage of demonic lies that want to confuse your focus. What are those old foundational issues, firmly established in the basement of your heart? List them, and then with each delineated fear, find scripture that refutes each lie."

I was afraid to look at them. I was afraid the fears were true and there was no defeating them. But, I was also sick to death of living in terror. I reasoned that if I found out that these fears were true, then at least I would know. Perhaps in the knowing, I could find some peace. I sat down and did my homework and it proved to be one of the most impactful assignments I ever worked through.

This is the list of the hard core fears of my heart from that time. I was brutally honest and named fears that any well respecting Christian might find hard to admit to. That was my trouble. I was afraid God would be mad at me for not having the faith I should have. I learned however that what he prefers is simple honesty. He wants me to expose my doubts, not hide them. Bringing fears out into the light is always better than keeping them in the dark. As I worked on my assignment, the Spirit of God revealed that these fears were indeed lies from hell which had been ignored over the years and covered up with good Christian intentions. In the end, Jesus took His word like a jackhammer in his strong, capable hands, and destroyed each fear one by one.

Lie #1 You don't and won't ever know the truth. ("You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free." John 8:32)

Lie #2 Your sin is too wicked, God will not accept you. ("If anyone sins, we have an Advocate with the Father." 1 John 2:1)

Lie #3 God didn't choose you. ("You did not choose me, but I chose you..." John 15:15)

Lie #4 You are too weak to win the battle. ("Yet in all these things, we are more than conquerors." Romans 8:37)

Lie #5 God isn't strong enough this time. ("The Lord God Omnipotent reigns!" Rev. 19:6)

Lie #6 The Big Unknown - What if...?? ("Do not fear little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." Luke 12:32

Lie #7 You're going to go crazy. ("God is not the author of confusion, but of peace." 1 Cor. 14:33)

Seven lies - Silenced by truth.

"The Lord will cause your enemies who rise against you to be defeated before your face; they shall come out against you one way, and flee before you seven ways." Deut. 28:7

It's amazing how dealing with a few core fears means freedom from dozens more. (For instance, because I know God reigns, I don't worry about getting the mail any more.) Following this glorious breakthrough, the Lord revealed to me, the bedrock of all my anxiety. My fears weren't really lies I was believing about me - they were lies I believed about about God, himself. I truly found the very deepest freedom from fear and anxiety, when I finally embraced three profound, yet simple truths: God is love, God is good, and God is able. When confronted with those basic facts, fear has no choice - it flees. I will forever be grateful to Jesus Christ, for taking me by the hand, walking me down those stairs into the dark, cold basement, and causing me to confront those things that held me captive for so many years. He's so good. Ahh...sweet freedom.

Confessions of a Pharisee

I have a confession to make. I'm a recovering Pharisee.

My spiritual life isn't that complicated. In fact, I could divide it up into three parts: Birth to Salvation at 16; Salvation to Faith Crisis at 30; Restoration and Growing in Grace til now at 48.

At 16, I was very aware of my need for acceptance, identity and purpose and so, I walked forward at an altar call to officially and publicly accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. Somewhere during that second phase of life I found acceptance, identity and purpose in Christianity and in my involvement with my church, friends and family. I was happily married and raising my little ones in "the way they should go". Life was good - that is - until it crashed.

There was no moral or medical crisis that happened. No financial melt down. No natural disaster or legal nightmare that caused that fateful crash in '92. It's hard for me to say exactly what happened. I simply grew more confident in my spiritual walk, and less dependent upon the work of the cross. As confident and strong in God as I was (or thought I was), I didn't see that in reality, I teetered dangerously on the edge of a deadly cliff. That's one of the tragic symptoms of pharisaism: blindness.

I opened myself up as a target, believed a lie, forsook the true gospel and collapsed in on myself. My arrogance and superiority were utterly exposed and I lost all sense of acceptance, identity or purpose. My faith was shipwrecked - and it felt completely unfixable.

Recalling that second phase of my life, I've often thought: "Oh how full of yourself you were! All that judgmentalism just oozing out everywhere. It's a wonder anyone could stand to be around you! Who likes Pharisees? Even Jesus yelled at them!"

The other day I happened upon some notes from the year prior to "The Crash of '92". Some of the notes were prayers I'd written, but one page had notes from a discussion I'd led at a women's group. I cringed as I read through the points about sin and repentance - I'm sure blasting my poor sisters out of the water with all kinds of discouraging words and condemnation. Ack.

Then I began to read the prayer entries of that same year, and my heart softened a little towards the writer...me, the Pharisee. Nowhere in those entries did I read anything that said, "Oh Most Holy Father, Thank you that I am not like the lowly good for nothings around me." No. Rather the prayers seemed to regularly cry out for God to drive out the filth and sin from my own heart. "Gut out the garbage in my soul, God! Why am I so wretched??" Huh. The judgment laid up in my heart towards others, was also weighing down on me. I wasn't letting others see this terrified inner self at all. I was covering it up with glowing Christianity and if anyone were to challenge my motives, surely I would respond like a true self-protective Pharisee. "Not I!" But in the secret place, where I poured out my heart to God, my fearful soul was laid bare. I had no peace concerning the grace of God or freedom from my sin and selfishness. I was a Christian who declared Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, but had never truly opened my heart and received the free gift of His forgiveness and grace. Sad.

I don't know. It just got me thinking. Perhaps Jesus was yelling at these lost souls in order to get past the barricade of self protection. Perhaps He was shouting a loving but loud wake up call - "HEY YOU! WHITE WASHED TOMB - YOU KNOW YOU'RE TERRIFIED! COME HOME!" Maybe He was looking beyond all the prideful good works and seeing the frightened child in need of grace.

Revealing my still recovering judgmental heart, I will make one more confession: Pharisees bother me. You'd think I'd have patience for them since I'm still in recovery, however, I'm frustrated with exposed self-righteousness, the unwillingness to consider mercy, and the sense of superiority. But reading those old prayers of mine provided a bit of insight into what might be going on inside the hidden heart. I wonder if rather than finding fault with the arrogance of the Pharisee, and returning my judgement for theirs, perhaps I should consider the possibility that underneath that hard, prickly exterior is a very lost and frightened soul simply in need of acceptance, identity and purpose.

Mercy still triumphs over judgment.

Sticky Notes

"The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair."

I recently read this quote by American writer Mary Heaton Vorse, while checking out a friend's facebook status and it struck a chord inside me. "Huh. That's so true", I thought. But... that was the extent of my response. I couldn't click the "Like" button. I personally believed it to be true, but I wasn't sure I "liked" it. By no means do I consider myself an artist or a writer, yet this quote hounded me for several days after I read it. I went back and read it a few more times - still not wanting to commit myself to "Like" it.

Since I was a child, I've been encouraged to take the time to write. I've written little things here and there, but I've been terribly inconsistent over the years. A few months ago, I sensed the Lord say to me "You don't need a title, an outline or chapters - just sit down and write something - anything!" I'm not sure what I'm waiting for. I regularly have scattered questions and thoughts of God and His grace swirling around in my heart and mind - like a whirlwind of loose sticky notes trying to come into some order of understanding. On occasion, I find the time to sit down and apply myself to prayerfully study through those questions and wonderings, but I'm ashamed to say that I rarely take the time to put those things into writing. I journal when I can, but even those entries aren't very consistent and they're mostly filled with incomplete phrases and run-on sentences, processing through personal issues as God grows me in faith.

My daughter-in-law, Jennie, has a blog here on this "blogspot" and I so enjoy reading her "Mauer Musings", catching up on her life even though I'm usually already caught up. (We live just a block away from one another and get to see each other regularly - one of God's grace gifts to me.) She's pioneered for me, the way of "the blog". My 14 year old son, Sam, has helped me set this one up. I'm not at all convinced the "blog" is my style or will work for me, on the other hand, I'm willing to give it a shot.

I remember several years ago, that I wanted to set aside a room in my home as my special "prayer closet". Have you ever done that? I thought it might be a good idea because I was finding it difficult to set aside the time needed to give myself to prayer and I blamed it on the distractions of a very busy life. I thought having a special room in the house would help me stay committed and undistracted so I could spend hours in prayer. Of course you can guess what happened to my "prayer closet" - it quickly became a lovely storage space and the only prayer I prayed in that special holy place was, "Dear Lord, where did I put that purple sweater?" Honestly, that's kind of how I see this site. A special place reserved as a landing strip for all those swirling sticky notes. I will say right upfront however, that if I do not follow through and "just sit down and write something - anything", then I promise I will not place the blame on my very busy life. No. The sole cause will simply be because I lack the art of applying the seat of my pants, to the seat of this chair.

Lord, please grant me a sticky seat. (as well as sticky knees!)

PS - Sam just looked over my shoulder and said, "Ha. Mom, you're a blogger!" We'll see.