CONQUEST: EPIC DAY
In the stillness of a cold spring dawn,
drop after drop of crimson agony
fell to the brown, caked ground
below the towering pine poles that
bore the most infamous King to ever live.

There was never a greater silence
than the earth’s collective gasp
when her Creator took His last human breath
while on her surface.

Angelic forces stood tense at every level,
completely filling all available space, surrounding
this place of desolation with raw energy
as all of heaven’s forces with tortured gazes looked on
the One they adored as He hung in
the worst humiliation His greatest enemy could devise.

And His most beloved friends and family 

stood by—impotent, scared, absolutely empty.
Feelings of complete abandonment,
hopelessness and despair
raged desperately in their searching hearts.
They could only wonder why He left them…
And there were no answers at that moment.


But then there was a small tremor,
followed by a greater one.
The droplet-drenched earth split open
to receive the royal blood
that spilled upon its surface,
hungrily swallowing it before
it could be defiled any further.


And the heavy, thick curtain that
covered the place of His Presence
began to loudly tear, ripping in
half in a way that no human could manage
as His presence began
to once again fill the galaxy.


The royal Lion’s silent roar was felt by
every body that lay in its grave in that
sorrowful city at that unforgettable moment.
Long-since dead followers
of their yet-unborn King began to awaken.
They rose from their tombs as
portents of what was yet to come.


Everyone in the city ran to hide.
No one could deny what was happening.
It was not normal. It was not explainable.
It was death’s victory—the Answer to
every question had just died.
But now the sudden baffling events began to
overtake the saddest moment
that ever occurred on the earth’s surface.

No one alive in human form—
not even the very offspring of the Creator—
could explain what was taking place
before their eyes and in their ears.
They were stymied into silence.
The overwhelming sorrow was
being replaced by terror and confusion.

Who was that Man?
Why did His death cause a shadow
to fall across the sun?
What blanket of darkness could
cover the brightness of His love—
the very act of complete sacrifice
that nothing else could heretofore accomplish?
He had won the final victory.
There were no more scenes in the play.

His sworn enemy could not believe
what his nefarious scheme was
becoming.
His greatest triumph was quickly being overthrown
as his most overwhelming defeat loomed before him.
And he knew there yet more ahead.
He could never win.
His punishment was empty and loathsome.
The crucifixion replaced
the need for death that
his temptations caused.
It was finished…then and there.

Now the whole creation impatiently
quakes and groans, eagerly anticipating
His offspring’s enthusiastic embrace of
the inheritance He—the living God, the One
Whose blood was enveloped in its cracks— bought for them:
“Step up, brothers and sisters. The time has come.”

Needing Help, Calling on the Answerer

Most of the time, I go charging ahead, shirttail flapping in the breeze, without a care in the world as I get to live out my dreams.  But sometimes, seemingly more frequently now than in the past, I’m pulled up short by someone else’s words or actions.  Once in awhile, the word is a kind or encouraging one that makes me pause and be thankful that I’m on the right path.  But more often than not, the words come as a disheartening and discouraging surprise.

I see through those words—or a raised eyebrow with a scowling eye on the opposite side and downturned lips below—that someone is disturbed by something I’ve done or said.  Very few times can I just keep moving forward when this happens, but sometimes I recognize that the sharpness has nothing to do with me and is just a reflection of the others’ negativity or sour mood.

On the rest of the occasions, I find myself before our King, asking if I’ve done something wrong—or blaming the other person for being in the wrong.  When I feel wronged, I often go on tirades to Him, telling Him what’s wrong with them, why they’re wrong and asking for Him to sort them out.

Once in awhile, I actually discover that He brought someone else correction, but more frequently, He sorts ME out (maybe you can relate?!).  I discover old wounds that have formed crusty, thickened scars inside my heart, or even fresher ones that are oozing with infection.  And I must open myself up to my Healer and say, “Here I am again, and I need surgery.  Please cut out the rotten parts and replace them with new ones that aren’t so riddled with darkness.”

He’s so kind and faithful, always loving.  He doesn’t chide me for being like a continually-errant child, but encourages me by saying that He’s so in love with me and so happy that I need Him to help me.  He never tires of my tales of hurt feelings or cries for help.  Just today, as I was pouring out my heart, I saw a “picture” in my mind’s eye, of me climbing up a rocky mountain-side—my Beloved Jesus right beside me.  I would slip, and He would grab me, preventing me from falling.  Or I would start to move too quickly and fall backward.  And—you guessed it—He was right there, hands up and on my back, shoulder s pressed against me so that I wouldn’t topple.  What kind of friend can always be so available —or even wants to be so helpful when we frequently mess up?  His faithfulness always surprises me, but less so than His abiding love.  He truly overlooks my wrongs so frequently, just waiting for me to come running (or crawling) and asking Him to help.  And it’s then that I’m face to face with my sinfulness and He’s there to pick up the pieces.

As difficult as it is, I’m thankful for the parts of life that cause me to stick close to my Maker.  These are opportunities to draw underneath the enormously powerful arms that shadow me from harm and keep me warm when the world feels cold.  As the prince of this world chases after us and tries repeatedly to knock us down, trip us, or just plain kill us, it’s an amazing feeling to know that my Hero never fails me and always wins.  He makes the battle all worthwhile, and knowing that He can go inside and treat what’s broken—no matter how long it has been that way—is deeply encouraging.   Even when I’m wrong, He helps me to find the truth and makes me feel loved and forgiven as quickly as I recognize it.

We’re getting ready to see the enemy of this world and of God’s creatures be trounced by the greatest Light that ever was or will be.  To know this in times of darkness is like being cared for as a small bud growing in dry and rocky soil.  He waters and feeds us; indeed, He takes better care of us than the best vineyard owner.  We are His investment and He won’t settle for anything less than stellar returns on us—guaranteed returns to what was given us as a new-birthright. 

What If I Don’t Feel Like It?

I’ve heard of people who arose every day at 4 am to pray for three hours—but I’ve yet to meet one!  Honestly, I can’t imagine doing this!  And though I have a “God day” once a week, this isn’t a day I dedicate to praying for others, but for spending time with my Hero, my Beloved, my Everything.    But I do sometimes find Him reminding me to pray for others on those days, rather than just for things I’m struggling with or rejoicing over.  (My favorite way to spend a God day is trying to grasp a mystery of the King of the universe—such as how He created the earth in such a way that it sits on an axis in outer space and doesn’t fall off!)

I sometimes feel guilty for not praying more than I do, but then I realize if it becomes hard—or a yoke—then it’s doubtfully from the Lord; feeling self-important or religious just doesn’t make me feel closer to Him.  However, there is something that prompts me to pray like clockwork—even for just a few short minutes.  The culture in which I live has a reminder five times daily to pray, which has also provoked me to pray more often.  I try to speak to the Lord—or better yet, just rejoice in His amazing love and wonders—when I hear this voice singing nearby, morning, noon and night.  Granted, I can’t always hear it, depending on where I am and where that voice is coming from, but I often do and try to stop what I’m doing—even for just a minute—to tell the Lord how wonderful He is, how much I love Him, how much I know He’s working on the earth.  I don’t want to make it into a big deal and try to sound holy or religious—it’s just my way of “speaking life” where I am, over the people I see every day, over the nation I live in. 

On one occasion, I was dragging myself upstairs to play my guitar and sing a worship song, and when I sat down to play, the Lord spoke, “If you think you’re doing this for me, you’re mistaken.  I don’t need you to worship Me.  But you need to do it for your own spirit to be refilled.”  I was shocked!  Here I was thinking I was doing the “right” thing by praying or worshiping along with the “call to prayer” when I discovered that worshiping our King a few times a day—even if just for a minute—actually filled my spirit.  Though I wasn’t consciously trying to impress Him, subconsciously, that’s exactly what I was doing.  And of course, He wasn’t impressed—He just knew I needed to worship Him in order to feel closer to Him!

Now when I hear that familiar voice praying in a foreign, unfamiliar language, I try to remember my need to pray and rejoice in Him…because He’s worthy and wonderful, and my spirit needs to be able to tell Him so in order to thrive.  For those who don’t have that reminder several times a day, I hope something causes you to sing (even just in your head) His praises.  I once met someone who had an alarm on his watch that went off two times daily just for that purpose!  Taking a minute in stress-filled lives to meet with our Creator is a great encourager in a discouraging world!

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”   (1 Peter 2:9)

Through It All

Through it all, You were there.

When I was a broken, misguided teenager, You were there...

Your arm wrapped around my sullen shoulders.

You drew me into Your glorious heart and transformed me.

And when I strayed, searching for a depth I hadn’t yet discovered—to be found only in You—

You were there, wanting to help, but giving me the freedom to fail.

When I harbored only anger, unforgiveness and ambition in my heart,

You were there beside me…waiting for me to find Your grace.

When I sought answers from the New Age, You were there…

Weeping with the knowledge of how far I was straying.

When I sought comfort in the arms of others, You were there…

Sitting patiently, knowing the end from the beginning—

and loving me through the middle.

When I came to the place where I knew my life was a hopeless shambles,

You were there, holding my sobbing face against your shoulder, encompassing me in Your love.

When I finally recognized I could go no further and that You were the Answer,

You were there, leaping and dancing around me,

Your joy turning my darkness into an incomprehensible light.

When I chased after You, Holy Spirit, You were there,

Responding with a continual outpouring of glory and truth…my Answer.

When I become disillusioned with people, you are here,

Reassuring me that my prayers for them are reaping answers.

When I become fed up and frustrated by my own dark heart, You are here,

leading me to the door of repentance and Your loving, forgiving embrace.

When I enthusiastically lunge forward, thinking I can be of some help to You,

You are here, joyfully lunging with me, keeping me from falling on my face,

And urging me to keep in step with You, the humble Servant.

You were there then and You are here now,

My Beloved, You are ever-present and ever-wonderful . 

Becoming a Vessel

I live near the sea and boats are a frequent sight.  I can also drive up the shore and watch the boats, birds and waves.  I’ve been looking at boats a lot lately, wondering what kind I would be, if I was made a boat.  For example, wouldn’t it be great to be a yacht, to travel wherever there are open ports, eating luscious food on board, watching brilliant sunsets.  But if I was in dry-dock all the time because I had beautiful shiny wood and cost a fortune to maintain, that would pretty much cut down on my usefulness, so maybe a yacht wouldn’t be the best boat to be…. 

So what about a fun little sailing skiff?  They’re great for short jaunts and just playing in the water.  But do they really serve much more purpose than that?  I watch the young folks here learning how to sail them, and as enjoyable as it looks, I realize they’re only good for short spurts in the sea.

Then there’s the warship.  Now its purpose is obvious—it’s made for battle.  It may carry fighter aircraft, or be loaded with guns to shoot at “enemies.”  But if I was a battleship, my focus would be primarily on fighting.  Ditto for submarines and nuclear weapons’ carriers.  Scratch all of those.  I don’t want to constantly focus on the enemy.

Have you ever seen a tugboat?  It’s made to help pull other boats through tough spots; now that’s a noteworthy purpose!  It’s not  beautiful to look at, but it keeps things moving because it makes sure no one gets stuck in a canal, port, or underneath a bridge.  They’re remarkably useful.  I like that idea, but still feel I haven’t found my dream vessel.

Sail boats are beautiful—sleek and fast, but only good for transportation when the wind is blowing.  If I want to spend my time enjoying life, resting and seeing the scenery, this is ideal.  But if I’m about my Father’s business, and if I must travel quickly, weathering lots of storms, this isn’t the boat to be.

So then I see a fishing boat.  I like this one because its purpose is to bring fish on board.  (Think bringing folks to faith in the Gospel they’ve never heard…)  Certainly I don’t want the fish to rot, so I'm gonna need a sharp crew.  They have to be able to deftly catch the fish, haul them on board and clean them when we get to shore. Yup, a fishing boat would be a good thing to be, but I don’t quite feel it’s my niche.

How about Coast Guard ships?  They sound really important, rescuing people who are in tight spots.  But I think that job has already been taken by One far wiser than me.  However, I like the fact that they watch the coasts, looking for the lost and to keep out the "bad guys."  Another noble cause up for grabs…intercessors and watchmen!  

A cruise ship’s purpose seems to be to support passengers motivated to party—or simply just to relax.  Nothing against that (at least the latter), but I’ve got time staring me in the eyeball, and so do many who haven’t yet heard the wonderful news I know.   So spending a lifetime carrying people around for frivolity seems decadent.

There are probably many more boats I haven’t mentioned, but what about the passenger ferry?  It takes people where they need to go (think discipleship).  I really like the sound of that!  It works with lots of others to be where it needs to be at the right time and its only purpose is to transport people from one place to another.  Yup, I think if I was to be a boat, I’d choose that one.  But maybe the most important thing is to stay in the sea, not in dry dock, or even at port.  Otherwise, I’m not going to be able to serve my appointed purpose.  Let’s get in the water, boat or no, and start swimming, shall we? 

True Love

”Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant ⁵or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

(1Cor 13:4-7)

It is a sad confession but true that it took me two years to memorize 1Cor 13 (which I just noticed for the first time is only four paragraphs and the last one is really only a sentence!). As I studied these words daily, I began to recite them as a prayer.  The longer I did it, the more discouraged I felt. 

Mind you, this all occurred when I lived in my “home” country (recognizing of course, that I am still a legal alien in a strange land no matter what country I live in!).  This came to a final explosion when I was driving to work one morning, telling the Lord I wanted to leave my job because my coworker was so mean.  in tears, I asked Him how on earth (literally) I was ever going to be successful at this “love thing.”  I knew I could occasionally live up to one or two of the descriptors for 24 hours, but I could never make it through a whole day doing all of them without stumbling—let alone live like this for an entire lifetime.  A sense of total failure overwhelmed me. 

Then, on that gloomy, traffic-packed morning, the Lord spoke, saying, “Who asked you to do this for a lifetime—or even for an entire day?” 

I was thinking, “You’ve got to be kidding, Lord!  Isn’t that sort of an obvious conclusion to the chapter???”

And He spoke again—in that very quiet, miss-it-if-you’re-not-paying-attention voice.  “You can’t do this, dear daughter.”

Okay, now we’re talking.  I already knew this, but was very grateful that my Creator also recognized it.  But He continued. “In order to love like this, you must come to Me every time you’re in a difficult situation with someone or are struggling in a relationship.”

I was flabbergasted—not because that’s an impossible task, but because it seemed too easy.   “I AM LOVE, dear child.  You have to be constantly connected to Me in order to love.  It’s not something you obtain once, then practice for the rest of your life; it only comes through ongoing relationship with Me.”

I was stunned and felt the most enormous burden lift off my shoulders!  All of the sudden, I no longer felt hatred toward my coworker, but  I felt compassion for her—like I hadn’t felt for a long, long time.  My two-year-old burden disappeared—in a second.  Love bought it and took it away.  He replaced my ugly, worm-filled heart with His blood-soaked one…and it felt so, so good. 

I can’t close without saying that it didn’t end there.  Another chapter is ongoing—having to do with people who aren’t very loveable.  After a number of encounters with people who are just downright unpleasant to be around (like I always am, huh?!), I was complaining to my Prince.  “Why must I have these unloving people in my life, Lord?  Why can’t You just bring me the kind and gracious ones?”

Duh.  The answer came as swiftly as the one before.  “If I only put loving, lovely people in your life, how would you learn to love?”  He got me again. 

I’m sure glad He’s always easy to love, always loving, even funny.  He’s my Perfect Husband, Knight in shining armor, Beloved Prince who makes loving easy, and Who wants to use me to love the unlovely.  I’m far from having arrived, but I have a feeling that being a stranger in a strange land has something to do with this. 

Like Little Children

This past week, I had the extraordinary privilege of hanging out with 14 young folks (i.e., less than 14 years old) who, when we started, had some great theology—better than mine in some ways!  They also had an extraordinary number of questions (not surprising!), ranging from, “When do you think the world will end?,” to “Do you think there are babies in heaven?”

If I’d been alone, I’d have been more than ill-equipped to answer any of these questions—indeed I would have been unable to do anything of much use.  But I went with my best Friend. In fact, He’s the reason I went.  He’s so in love with children, and so desperately wants them to be in love with Him, to experience all He has for them, to walk with passion and zeal for their First Love.  As the hours together progressed, I could see that many of the kids were amazing students, had been faithful to remember their Bible verses, and knew they were going to heaven.  But they didn’t know the intensity of God’s love for them.  They didn’t know the enormity of His desire to use them to bring Him glory on planet earth. 

These kids emanated from all over the world.  Some were Asian, some European, some American, and some had parents from two countries.  But they all shared one thing—they’re strangers in a strange land.  They know they’re different from the kids around them—and in more ways than the obvious ones, such as their heart language, what they like to eat, and what their religion is.  But they take it all in stride.  As we began the week, I told them my goal was for them to leave more in love with their Savior than when they came, and to know the enormity of His love for them more than ever.

As we pondered and discussed His magnitude, they proposed their thoughts and opinions.  But none really seemed to grasp that He’s as extraordinary as He is, that He has a purpose for them, and that He’s not mean and harsh.  As we went on, we talked about heaven and why they’re here on earth.  We pontificated on how they were made different in every way and how no one on earth will ever be like them—or ever was—because their uniqueness is a reflection of their Creator’s.  Finally, we came to the point where I realized we couldn’t talk anymore—because God had to prove Himself and could do far better than I could help Him to do it!

On the first night, the children’s homework was to ask God to make Himself real to them.  The youngest child in the group came back the next day, and excitedly announced, “I did my homework!” 

In all honesty, I’d been so busy, I’d forgotten what I’d asked them to do.  “Tell us about it,” I offered safely.

“I asked God to show Himself to me,” he shared. 

“And what happened?,” I asked.

“I had a dream and there was this big, big beautiful light,” he began.  “And then I heard a voice that said, ‘Come up’.”

All of the older children (me included) stared (mostly with jealousy, I think).  Then a teenaged girl shared that she had a dream about war on earth, then went up higher and shared with another girl who was struggling in her faith.  But as she saw the battle below her intensify, she went back down to fight.  Not bad for a first try, huh?

About five of the kids said God had somehow answered them that night, but the “brain-ee-acs” all looked a little taken aback.  Used to excelling in school and whizzing through their homework, they didn’t have much of a response to this assignment because it was with their spirits that they had to seek God, not their brains. 

On the final day, I sent a text to a friend asking her to pray.  I knew that the session the Lord was asking me to do depended completely on Him and there was almost nothing I could do to make it successful.  I was nervous because I knew that if He didn’t come through, the children would leave disappointed, and I would probably be even moreso!

I asked all of them to lay on the floor, face down (as people did in ancient days when praying, and as they still do where we live; my reasoning is that it just prevents us from becoming distracted by watching what’s happening with those around us).  Some were allergic to dust, so I got special cloths to put their faces on so as to cut down on the sneezing.  We began by inviting the Lord to come in His holiness, power, truth, and love, and to reveal Himself to these children.  The result was more than I could ask.

In the first place, not one of them moved much at all for at least and hour—and for anyone who knows children—this is almost a miracle in itself.  “They probably fell asleep,” some of you may be thinking.  I wondered the same thing myself, but knew that even there, our wonderful King could meet them. 

I prayed for each of them and read scripture as soft worship music played in the background.  Finally, I told them if they felt they were finished, to please quietly sit up.  Slowly, one by one, they arose—some almost in a daze.  I looked at their sweet faces and thought, “I believe, Lord, You did it again.”

After most were in sitting position, I began asking what happened.  All of them related something, with a deep sense of peace being the least of their responses.  The two most amazing came from the two who sat up last—and who were the youngest (10 years old).  The first was the one with the dream of the great light.  He said that he saw a waterfall and unsurprisingly, felt the presence of King Jesus. 

The second was even more astonishing, coming from the squirmiest and most talkative child in the group.  She sat up about 20 minutes after everyone else, and her eyes were far off--gazing somewhere the rest of us couldn't see.  I asked her what happened, and she said that she saw herself at a place where men hang out, discussing politics and drinking tea (very popular here).  That came as quite a surprise, and I asked her what she was doing there.  “I was talking with them,” she said.  “About what?,” I queried.

“About Jesus,” she responded.

Wow, that one threw me.  And then I realized how like our God that was.  People here love children and love to chat with them.  How like the Lord to use a 10-year-old girl to speak about Him to a bunch of men (where women and children—especially girls—are usually not permitted to go).  And all of this happened in her spirit, as she lay on the floor.  I won’t try to explain it because I can’t (but I trust that the Lord was in it because of what happened and because she said that she still felt really nice, like she was floating).

At that moment I knew—the mission was accomplished!  The Lord met His children and they were all touched. Some of them had more profound experiences than others, but all of them had felt His gracious presence, and know that He loves them. 

I received a card from them, and a sentence from one of the oldest boys sticks out, “Thank you so much for coming.  I had no idea how much I needed this.”

Having done much preparation, and then fighting through a lot of sickness and a full day of traveling and stress to get there, this made it all worthwhile.  What a great privilege it is to minister to “the least of these.”

If I stay out of hot water with their parents, that’d be nice, too!  I try very hard to stick with Scripture and things that happened in the Bible to point to what we’re able to experience and live today, if we follow the God Who made us for His glorious purposes. But ultimately, it’s not the parents I serve; it's our Father. If He is pleased, I am thrilled.  And if I cause one of the little ones to stumble, I shall be miserable.  I pray diligently this never happens, for His deepest longing is to connect with His children—whatever our age. 

“For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen.”

 (Rom 11:36)