Tag Archives: God

The Maze of Ministry

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Growing up a PK (preacher’s kid) I had a front row seat to all kinds of things done in the name of “ministry.”

I saw religion, spirituality, atheism, agnosticism. I saw searching. I saw people who were “worshipers of satan” and those who claimed to be their own god. I was never allowed to be in the presence of anyone who was supposedly possessed by demons. Though my dad would get calls at all hours for these types of things.

He only talked about it once. Said that it was the most frightening thing he has ever witnessed and hoped that he would never have to witness it again. It was a girl. A teenager. She was speaking in different voices and climbing the walls. Weird, huh?!

This can be very confusing for anyone, but especially a child.
I found that the easiest and most convenient path to take was to adopt the God of my parents understanding.

The only problem was that they had very different views of who God was and how He sees us, His children.

Flashback Time

During the Summer, my dad would meticulously pack up the Buick and we would all pile in and head off to where he was speaking for the week.

This usually entailed at least a 5-10 hour drive.

I am the youngest of 3 girls. We would all three be in the back seat with our one thing that we were allowed to bring along to entertain ourselves.

Keep in mind that these were the days of 55 mph speed limits on the highway.

I have always been prone to motion sickness. My mother would say multiple times during a road trip, “Focus on the center yellow line and you’ll be fine.”

This would be right about the time that my mouth would begin to water and the imaginary knot grew bigger and more uncomfortable in my throat. You know the feeling…right before you lose it.

“Oh God, please don’t let me vomit in this car!”

I could only imagine how awful the next few hours would be with the smell on the upholstery.

I stared at that yellow center line for more miles that I could count.

Though it sounds rather horrific, I loved those Summer travels. Even though it meant we were not with our friends, I met knew friends and before you knew it, we were running up and down the seemingly endless isles of a gigantic auditorium.

It was always great to come home too.

I can close my eyes, even now, and remember walking into our house on a hot summer day in the south. The turn of the key in the lock and stepping over the thresh hold. The air had been off for days, making it just bearable to be inside while waiting for dad to turn on the AC.

Upon the first breath through my nose, I knew I was home. The smell was familiar and comfortable. The sun streamed through the sliding glass doors, across the carpet and onto the tall stools at the kitchen counter where we ate breakfast every morning.

I remember as if it was yesterday, seeing the dust stir in the sunlight. I turned the corner, walked down the hall to my room and felt at ease. Collapsing on my bed and looking up at the popcorn ceiling, life was good. I didn’t know any different.

And then it broke. Never to be put back the same way again.
After all, with so much at stake, how could it be?

(This is where I will place the bookmark…for now. Let’s pick up where we left off in the story, tomorrow.)

The Day I met Hallie…

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(I began writing this on Tuesday evening (the 20th) only hours after meeting the newest edition to the little Green family. I have since struggled with whether or not to post it. It is an up close and personal look at my heart and that feels scary.
After several of my friends who don’t know Chris and Katie said that it would give them a better understanding of the whole situation, I decided to share it.)

Hallie Lynn Green entered the world via c-section on Monday, December 19th, weighing in at just under 5 lbs. and 18 inches long.

Those of us who know and love this family were unsure what to expect. Buckhead Church was on high alert all day as we waited for updates. The air was somber as there were so many uncertainties.

No one anticipated that Hallie would enter this world the way she did. She truly is a miracle. The only way I can tell you about the experience (through my own eyes), is by writing Hallie this letter.

Dear Precious One,

You are so strong. There were many expectations set for you and you have exceeded them all! You are so amazing!

I had the honor of meeting you today.
You are beautiful.
You are a fighter.
You are light in a dark world.

I, along with so many others have been praying for you since we first knew of your existence in your mother’s womb.

I spent many days praying for a miracle, that the doctors were wrong, that God would show off by defying all odds.

I prayed that you would be healthy and whole.
I pleaded with the Father for what I thought was the happy ending.

He had other plans.

You are a miracle, Darling. You are tangible evidence of a God we can’t see, but trust is there. You are the product of faith lived out.

As I looked at your perfectly round head that fit in the palm of my hand, I marveled at this tiny masterpiece that God had knit together. How silly of me to think that my plans were better than His! How utterly foolish to pray anything other than, “Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

His ways are not my ways, little one. I can say with great certainty that He knows the end of the story.

At times I want to turn the book to the last page so that I am not surprised by the ending, but that is not how the Master works. The story unfolds as it’s happening and He is never surprised.

Let me tell you a little bit about your mommy. She is one of the bravest women I have ever known. She has shown us all what unconditional love really means. From the beginning, her faith never wavered. She has been a testimony of faithfulness, trust, selflessness and grace.

She trusted the Father implicitly. As her belly grew and people would ask about gender and due date and all of the things they tend to ask a perfect stranger, your mom would smile and say, she’s a Christmas baby.

She has an immeasurable amount of strength and courage. It is evident, my darling, that you too have an immense amount of courage and strength. Thus giving you the nickname “Little Fighter.” That’s what we call you in our house. The boys came up with that name. I think it’s perfect.

I couldn’t get too far into this letter without telling you about your daddy too. He has been strong for you, your mom and your sisters. He has exuded confidence in the promise of God’s word. He has documented, through some amazing pictures, your development in your mother’s womb. He has prayed for you since your conception.

It is not without difficulty that your daddy has walked through this. Men, by nature, are fixers. He could not “fix” this. He could not ensure your safety, he could not plan further than the 24 hours in front of him. He could not protect your mommy’s heart from the uncertainties of the day.

So he did what he knew he could do. He provided a safe place when your mommy needed to cry. He offered stability in the midst of uncertainty. He trusted God with a child that he knew was His to begin with.

There have been many, many tears. These tears encompass the entire emotional spectrum. Disbelief, anger, sadness, acceptance, happiness, confusion, lack of understanding…the list goes on and on little one and it will continue to grow.

Here is what I know, at the end of the day, the Father’s hand has never left you.
As I sit here pouring out what has been so difficult to verbalize, I ask the Father for wisdom and discernment. I ask Him to guide me in the coming days as I selfishly wish for a “Hallie update” every 5 minutes. I ask that He help me when I don’t know what to say, not to say anything at all. There is often times understanding in silence.

You are a blessing, Precious One. A gift. A beautiful example of what God can do when we listen and accept His will for our lives. You’re mommy has taught me so much about what real faith looks like. For that, I am eternally grateful.

There are people on this earth, those who will never meet you or your family and yet they will be in heaven because of the impact that your life has already made.

As I close this letter, I am listening to the rain hit the leafless branches on the trees, as it pours from the sky. I believe that God acknowledges the heaviness of heart in different ways. I would like to think that today, He is showing me in a very tangible way, that He is acknowledging mine.

Love and Light,

Wrestling demons…

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Ever have one of those dreams that wakes you from sleep with a racing heart and rapid breathing, grasping in the darkness as if you are fighting something that isn’t there?

That is how I woke up this morning. Shaken.

Maybe that’s one of the consequences of having a past where darkness was prevalent?
OR
Maybe it’s one of the blessings?

I haven’t had one of these dreams in a long time, but when I do, a couple of things happen.

  • I am taken back to a time where I felt utterly lost and fear was my guide.
  • I reach for Chris and confirm what is real in this moment.
  • I pray.

There was a time when these sort of dreams were very disturbing to me. In attempts to gain a new perspective, I asked someone who I respect a great deal, what I should do with this feeling that tends to shadow me throughout the day?

This was her response, (as my mind remembers it anyway),

“Where it can be scary to wrestle with demons, especially those from the past, it is a good thing. It reminds us of where we have been, how far we have come and what God has done for us that we could not do for ourselves. Do not look at these dreams as a negative thing. Ask God what He wants you to do with it. Thank Him for life as you know it, today, in this moment. Thank Him for your present reality. And then live. We cannot allow fear to paralyze us when the Creator Himself has called us to life.”

I believe that.

I also believe that we are fighting against something far greater than our memory of a troubling event.

We are fighting the master of darkness.

Okay, I know, it sounds dramatic and a little hokey if you aren’t a big fan of the bible and what has been sprinkled throughout about powers unseen…good and bad.

And maybe I’m still half asleep, but I cannot help but look to God’s word in times like these and the passage that consistently comes to mind is this one; 

“And that about wraps it up. God is strong, and he wants you strong. So take everything the Master has set out for you, well-made weapons of the best materials. And put them to use so you will be able to stand up to everything the Devil throws your way. This is no afternoon athletic contest that we’ll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours. This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels. Be prepared. You’re up against far more than you can handle on your own.” Ephesians 6:12 (The Message)

For those of us who grew up in church it read something like this; 

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (New International Version)

I don’t remember ever hearing this passage from a church pew.

Maybe it’s because I wasn’t always paying attention or it could because IT FREAKS PEOPLE OUT!
There are few pastors who are willing to talk about the hard things and not just focus in on the wonderful, uplifting parts of the bible or the verses that talk about giving them more money.

This is one of the many reasons why I love my church.
I could walk in today, recall that which I have said here to any one of those who I consider leaders within the church and instead of looking at me like I have 3 heads, they would guide me through it in a way that I could understand, not downplaying the reality of this spiritual realm that most of us walk around completely oblivious to.

I don’t enjoy those nights when I fall asleep and wrestle the darkness.
I am however encouraged, as it reminds me that I must exercise my spiritual muscles.
Though the battle is already won, the fight is not yet over.

Are all of God’s Children Created Equal?

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“There is only one God and He is God to all; therefore it is important that everyone is seen as equal before God. ~Mother Teresa

“…red, brown, yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight…”

Or are they?

Do you believe that we all start out with the same deck of cards (so to speak)?
The same possibilities…chances…hopes…dreams? We have the same beginning but with vastly different endings?

OR, do you believe that before we are ever conceived, our fate has been decided?

Would God really assign one child to a crack addicted girl while giving another to someone who has dreamed of being a mother for years?

Or what about an alcoholic woman, who, every time she goes to the bathroom prays (to whoever is there) that she will see blood in the toilet as a prerequisite for a miscarriage, mainly because she doesn’t know who the father is. And let’s be honest…she isn’t giving up the booze.

I have heard the following phrases and those similar (as I’m sure you have too),
“Well, we work with the cards we are dealt”
“But for the grace of God go I”
“Worthless drunk. Why can’t he/she just pull it together. It’s lack of discipline I tell you!”
“How could anyone just give up their baby?! Wow, are they going to be sorry later!”
“They obviously chose the short straw.”
Maybe I have used a few of these phrases. YIKES. The thought of it coming out of my mouth makes me cringe.

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a difficult battle.” ~Plato

My man and I were in a certain part of the city today.
It was fairly early for a Saturday.
As we sat outside enjoying the beautiful weather, one homeless person after another came into the  park across from where we were.

I watched them with their packs of belongings, their dogs on the end of a thick string and their feet black from walking either barefoot or with worn sandals.

There is a couple that stood out to me. I watched them for a while.
He looked to be comforting her over something.
I watch him approach a passerby. I figured he was asking him for money. To my surprise, he had asked for his to go box that was in his left hand.
The man gave it to him and quickly walked away.

He then took it over to the woman that he was seemingly consoling and gave it to her. She opened the styrofoam container and ate the left over contents from the strangers meal.

Photo by EyeTunes (CC)

“Make us worthy, Lord, to serve those people throughout the world who live and die in poverty and hunger. Give them through our hands, this day, their daily bread, and by our understanding love, give them peace and joy.” ~Mother Teresa

I see the same man walking up Peachtree on my way to work everyday.
And on my way home he is walking in the opposite direction.

I always notice his mannerisms…the way that he hangs his head when a suit walks by or when a woman crosses to the other side of the street to avoid his stink and stare…
The fact that he is always scratching his thickly bearded face.

All the while, conversing in my head, “He probably has head lice and there is no telling what’s living in that beard? I wonder how long it’s been since he’s had a shower? Where does he use the bathroom? I wonder if he even wants help? I can only imagine how bad his body odor is…Why doesn’t he go to a shelter? He probably has to eat out of dumpsters. I wonder if I could ever do that?! People seem to look right through him as if he is not even there. Is that hurtful to him, or has he grown accustomed to it? I wonder how long he’s been on the street?”

I see him walking as if his left leg is shorter than his right. His skin has leathered from the elements and his hair is almost white with spots of grey.

I wonder who he was? I wonder how he became what he is? I wonder if he had a family and a life? A house with a two car garage and a front lawn that he had to mow once a week.

I wonder if he has children somewhere who no longer speak to him?

I wonder if he prays?

I wonder if he feels inadequate and beaten down? I mean, how could he not?

The first day I remember seeing him, I was driving down Peachtree and came to the stoplight, there he was, walking down the sidewalk. “Oh Lord, please don’t let him ask me for money! Please. You know I will give it to him and it is probably to support whatever habit he has.” I avoided eye contact. You know the kind, when someone in utter desperation looks at you and if you are looking at them, you are now involved somehow.

“Don’t look. Just look straight ahead. Good Lord! Is this the longest stoplight in Georgia?!”

I couldn’t help it, I had to look back over to my right where he was walking.

My eyes met his. They were the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen, with lines as deep as valleys encasing them.

He didn’t smile…he did not approach my car and ask for money…he just kept walking.
“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” ~Mother Teresa

Just then I heard the car horn behind me…the light was green.

As I drove on, all I could hear in my head was a quote from Mother Teresa saying, “They are all Jesus in disguise”.

I was shaken. I was…changed.

I began looking for this man every morning and afternoon on my commute.
What is his name? Does he go to a shelter? Does he reside under a bridge? Is he mentally stable?

“Lord, WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO WITH THIS?! Why is this person in my path everyday? More than once? I do not know what I am supposed to do with this?! But I know I can’t simply do nothing. I can no longer turn my head and look the other way.”

Besides, that could be me…

“Nah, banish that thought! Put it out of your mind!”

No really, I wasn’t too far from where he is and I certainly deserved to be eating from dumpsters without a bed to sleep in or a roof over my head.

If I say, “Thankfully God was looking out for me!!” Does that mean that He is not looking out for this man?

I’m guessing that when he was little he didn’t dream of one day living on the street. Calling a bridge under I-85 “home sweet home”. I seriously doubt that he saw himself walking around the polluted city streets for hours a day in a sweat stained wife beater and hole filled jeans, while carrying everything he owned in a pink backpack.

I think he dreamed of being something more.

So what happened?

I don’t know? Maybe it was the cards he was dealt? Maybe he’s unlucky? Maybe his destiny was always to be that of a homeless wanderer?

OR…

Maybe not! Maybe someone just like me, at another place and time, before things got so bad, passed him by…looked the other way…figured someone else would help him?

“You and I, we are the Church, no? We have to share with our people. Suffering today is because people are hoarding, not giving, not sharing. Jesus made it very clear. Whatever you do to the least of my brethren, you do it to me. Give a glass of water, you give it to me. Receive a little child, you receive me.” ~Mother Teresa

Do you know what I love and adore about Buckhead Church, my church (with no steeple)? I LOVE that I am constantly challenged to BE THE CHURCH. I am encouraged to BE BOLD. I don’t wait for God to meet me in a building on Sunday, I seek and walk with Him daily. Do you know how powerful that is?! That is a truth that I did not accept until I was 3 decades into my life.

I know that it’s easier not to look or listen or…notice, but I beg you…please…open your eyes.
Or better yet, ask for a new set of eyes. My prayer is, God, Give Me Your Eyes and then help me do something with what I have seen and not worry about what other people think of me.

“If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; 
be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and true enemies; 
succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; 
be honest and frank anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; 
be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; 
do good anyway…
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God; 
it was never between you and them anyway.”  
~Mother Teresa

 

Even a Girl Like Me

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JCP-9884I am amazed daily by the truth that God can and will use a girl like me…scarred and wretched. But on the mend.

I grew up a P.K. You know…Preacher’s Kid.
I was pretty darn “holy” and “good” until around age 13. With boys, hormones and the fact that I was filling out my bra, well, things changed.

I began to dream of living somewhere other than my small town. No one ever left that town! They grew up and worked for their dad. They all played the same part and I wanted to break away. I didn’t know exactly what that looked like, but it wasn’t to stay there and be a naive trophy wife! (No offense to arm candy. It just wasn’t for me)

JCP-1344So I set out on this quest to really “live”. You could not have prepared me for what I would encounter on this journey. I would not have believed you if you had told me the compromises I would make and lack of self-respect I would wear.

Yeah, I know you want all the gory details, but you’re going to have to settle for the abbreviated version and a decade jump forward.

After surviving a beating from the world. You know, that place where I wanted to “live” so much?! I had limited choices as to where to go next. So I finally surrendered.

I know, I know, surrender sounds like giving up. For me, it was not until I surrendered that I found true freedom.

I had grown up hearing about God. Heck, I’d been hearing about Him since the womb! The big Being in the sky, passed the clouds, waiting for us at church on Sunday? “Who is this God and why did I need to pursue a relationship with Him?!”

Little did I know, He was silently pursuing me.

At age 25, after getting knocked up, beat up, locked up (not JCP-11necessarily in that order), abusing my body and mind through choices that I never thought I would make, getting divorced and growing sick of hearing myself ask, “Why am I even here?!”, I had to find a God that I could relate too.

You know, One who didn’t care if I was used and broken. One who would say, “In Me, you find rest…safety…eternal security.” I needed to be redeemed.

Did He even exist?

I am still seeking, but He shows me everyday, in tangible ways that He does in fact exist. He more than exist. He is working and moving in ways that completely blow my mind.

God willing, on October 19th, I will celebrate 9 years of sobriety. Not just from alcohol, but from many other substances and ism’s that I used to numb the pain.

When the substances, food, shopping, whatever, stopped working and the love of my life sat me down and encouraged me (through a pretty harsh reality check) to admit to myself that I was a hot mess and he was not going to join the “pity city” that I was trying to create, things began to change (slowly).Love

So, here I am, just turned 35, which I considered geezer age just a few years ago. And the most miraculous things have happened. The craziest of which, being that instead of waiting for a door to open, God has knocked down a wall.JCP-1901He is using my story of shame, in ways that I never thought possible.
I am doing workshops, radio interviews and talking to women from all backgrounds of life. I was the girl who hated other women! Now, I support them in their struggle. WHAT?! Only God.

Only a God who has been in the trenches with me… the bars and back alleys (don’t read into that) and bathroom floor at 4 a.m. and then turned me into a mother of 3, wife to a stud and a productive member of society. Only that kind of God could use a girl like me to bring others back to Him.

People want real…they want scarred…they want hope…even from a girl like me.
JCP-9996

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This Man

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Okay, okay, I get it. You want the story. The Chris and Joy “Happily Ever After” story.

An entire book could be written on this subject alone… How we met when I was just 16 and he was 18 and though it would be years before we would consummate what had only grown stronger since that first meeting… our lives… from that day… would never be the same.

And those of you who know me well are right, I cannot get much further into this blog world without talking about the man who stormed the gates of hell, picked me up and carried me home.

More times than not, when I don’t do something, it’s rooted in the fear of failure.

In this case, it’s the fear that I can not do our story justice through my menial writing ability. That I do not have the words to paint an accurate picture of the way that God used this man to change the course of my life. That because of him, I have been redeemed. And because of his faithfulness and pursuit of my heart, I have a better grasp of Christ’s love.

The man that I see when I look at him is one who has sacrificed much and fought tirelessly. This strong and beautiful man has saved me from myself more times than I probably even know. He saw promise in the brokenness. He was able to see what I could not see and he has spent the last decade helping me uncover and bring into the light who I really am.

Christopher is the first man, the first human being that has ever had a front row seat to my heart and soul. It’s a scary thing. He, however, sifted through the lies of darkness, broke down the walls of self loathing and established residence. It was no easy task. His persistence paid off and after, not months, but years of diligently championing my heart, I began to see what he saw. Possibilities from within.

There is a song called Bless the Broken Road.
The first time I heard it while driving, I had to pull over as the tears kept flowing, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision.

Here is the part that most resonates with me…

I think about the years I spent just passing through
I’d like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You’ve been there you understand
It’s all part of a grander plan that is coming true

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

Now I’m just rolling home
Into my lover’s arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

Though there is so much more to the story…so many details and tangible evidence of forgiveness, struggle, passion, pain and beauty… the truth that I know, that I will always know, is this…

God created me. And while forming and shaping my being, He already had Christopher in mind. He then made him to fit me exactly. Or maybe vice versa…either way, we are like puzzle pieces… Each completes the whole. We were created with the other in mind and God’s hand is on us still. Of this, I am sure.

 

A Stranger in my Own Skin

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Have you ever felt restless…almost like you’re allergic to your skin?

If you have, you know what I’m talking about and you probably just became a little uncomfortable recalling that feeling. If you haven’t, try to imagine thousands of ants crawling on you… beneath your skin.

I had all sorts of “isms” that I used for years to cope with the feelings and happenings that I wasn’t sure how to walk through or even sit in, for that matter. They worked really well…until they didn’t anymore.

So here I am, almost 9 years later and have learned to meet life on life’s terms…mostly.
My dad called the other day and just like every time he calls, when I answered (thanks to caller ID), “Hey dad.” He responded with, “Hey, My Joy! How are you?”

My reply, “Do you want the honest ‘how much time do you have, cause this is gonna take a while’ answer or the generic, ‘I’m fine, how are you?’ to avoid discussing what’s really going on answer?”
To which he replied, “Let’s try the honest answer.”

“I’m restless! Like, the down in my soul kind of restless. Not the, I’m bored, I need a change of scenery restless. Do you know what I mean?!”

“Yes!” he said. “I know exactly what you mean!”

I proceeded to tell him about the past few days and that after the boys had left for soccer that day, I sat down on the hardwood floor, leaned my back against the wall and just acknowledged the way the floor felt beneath me and the wall behind me. It was solid and definite. There was no argument about it’s existence. Anyone could see that it was there.

There are times when nothing in this life gives that assurance.

As I glanced up through the windows of our front door, it took me back to December 2007. I was 7 months pregnant with our youngest and our 1 year old was in respiratory distress at Children’s Hospital. After the third day in the hospital, I came home to take a shower in my own bathroom and attempt to rest. After walking through the door that chilly December day, I collapsed in a pile in this same spot, looked out through the windows of this same door, at a grey winter sky, and wept.

When I say that I was weeping, I mean, it was so far beyond the ugly cry. It was with my entire body…shaking violently. I didn’t care that snot was mixing with tears and running into my mouth and down my face or that my cheek was pressed to the hard floor. All I could pray between sobs was, “Help me God. Please help me. I have no control over my child’s health…or this growing baby in my belly…or my daughter’s anxiety about pretty much everything. I’m so weary. You’re going to have to help me…please.”

This time, almost 4 years later, I closed my eyes and said, “Lord, I want to know you more than just better. I want to know you intimately. I want to seek you with perseverance and determination. I long for the continuous assurance of your presence. My spirit has a hunger like I have never known.”

My dad’s response was, “This is a really good thing.”

“WHAT?!”, I said. “How can this be good?! I feel like I’m going to implode! It feels as if my spirit cannot be contained any longer by this imperfect shell encasing it. I’m not even sure I know how to pray. Most of the time I either say the Lord’s Prayer or something along the lines of , ‘God, thank you. Thank you. Thank you for being so good to someone as undeserving as I. Amen.’”

SIDE NOTE: It really helps that my dad is a life coach. (a.k.a. An expert at not only talking people off the ledge, but giving them clear direction once they reach safe ground.)
I had not quite reached my ledge, but I was inching closer by the hour.

The summary of his advice to me was this…

  • The desire to seek spiritual nourishment is from God. It doesn’t have any negative connotations.
  • He put this longing in us from conception…a hole of sorts. Some people don’t recognize it or rather, they choose to fill it with other things. But it is never satisfied and seems to grow larger the longer it goes unfilled.
  • There is only one thing that can fill up that hole. (This is where you insert that perfectly timed answer. “I know, I know…God.) Of course that’s true, but there is so much more to God than the fact that He fills a void.
  • As a follower of Christ, the deeper we go, the feeling sometimes is, the less we know… the farther away the finish line looks. This is not a bad thing. We will never know everything there is to know about God until we get to heaven and maybe not even then!
  • Find a place to be quiet. Relish the silence. Even if it’s for 30 seconds and wait for God’s voice. You don’t have to say the perfectly scripted prayer. You don’t have to go down your checklist of sins or wants or anything else. Simply, be present and listen.

Henri Nouwen wrote, “The real “work” of prayer is to become silent and listen to the voice that says good things about me. To gently push aside and silence the many voices that question my goodness and to trust that I will hear the voice of blessing…that demands real effort.”

In the words of Mother Teresa, “Before you speak, it is necessary for you to listen, for God speaks in the silence of the heart. Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in His love than in your own weakness.”

Here’s the deal…I have 3 very active children, a husband who I adore, a job, along with a multitude of other things that justify me never taking the time to find a quiet place and listen for the voice that completes me. It’s a choice.

Today, I choose to take the time out needed, however much life allows, close my eyes, unclinch my fists and open my palms to the heavens (the explanation for that is another post all together)  and bask in the silence while just being in His presence.

Is it difficult for you to be still, much less quiet?
 No matter what stage of life you’re in, we will always have restless times that
prayerfully will only last moments instead of hours or days. 
How do you combat those times of restlessness in your own skin?