Look Up

My day starts at an hour when most people are still sleeping. 


The sound of chirping birds fall into my ears, singing a duet with my alarm clock.


My eyes half closed, I place a bare foot on the floor. 


I turn towards the window but I don't know why. I can't see anything because it's still dark. 


The motion of walking wakes up my leg muscles as I begin the routine. 


Shower. 


CNN. 


Toothbrush.


Eggs.


Comb.


Mascara. 


Coat.


Keys. 


Door. 


The morning air is brisk and flushes away whatever sleep is left in me. 


My body's awake but my mind fully isn't. 


I've forgotten something.


But then I look up. 


I see licorice black branches against the cool gray sky. 


Or an orange flood bleeding into the fresh morning. 


Or a wide stroke of periwinkle floating in the atmosphere. 


Or a creamy cluster of pink clouds slow dancing in the air. 


I look up and see God. 


And I remember what and Who I've forgotten. 
________________________________
The heavens proclaim the glory of God.
 The skies display His craftsmanship.
 Day after day they continue to speak;
 Night after night they make Him known.
 They speak without a sound or word;their voice is never heard.
 Yet their message has gone throughout the earth, and their words to all the world.


-Psalm 19:1-4

Power Trip

 It was a sad story. A minister was convicted of murdering his wife in order to carry on multiple affairs with women in his congregation. Most of the women had reached out to him for help with failing marriages. But their trust in him soon became obviously misplaced. 


A woman who had been one of the minister's lovers and her husband sat before the television reporter with matching melancholy expressions. 


And the woman said something that stuck in my brain: 

"Power corrupts and church is a place [where] people can get power."

The ideas sound so foreign next to each other. 

Corrupt control and church. 


Clout in a holy place. 


But it can happen..so easily.


Raise your hand and you become head over the 75th church anniversary committee. 


Attend a meeting and your name is typed in as the guest speaker at this year's conference. 


Show your face and say "Hallelujah" enough times and you earn a permanent seat on the third row on the dais, in perfect view of the podium. 


Then titles become Velcroed to first names. 


Expectation and duties are heightened to a frightening level. 


True leadership becomes disfigured.

And then the main idea is forgotten.

Because how can anyone really have power or pull or sway in the Almighty's house? 


When we're all supposed to be servants?
__________________________________________________________________
Jesus got them together to settle things down. "You've observed how godless rulers throw their weight around," He said, "and when people get a little power how quickly it goes to their heads. It's not going to be that way with you. Whoever wants to be great must become a servant. Whoever wants to be first among you must be your slave. That is what the Son of Man has done: He came to serve, not to be served—and then to give away His life in exchange for many who are held hostage."


-Mark 10:41-45 (The Message)

Wait

There are moments in my singleness where I start to wander and wonder...

About where he is and where He is...

About if I expect too much...

About what would happen if I throw caution/wisdom/knowledge/conviction out the window and settle for whatever I can get...

But after that, I always come to the same conclusion: 

It's best to wait. 

Last weekend, a friend sent this poem to me. This woman says it so much better than I ever could. 

Not saying that I want someone who can spit Scripture at a moment's notice ('cause I can't). 

Not saying that I'm the epitome of Proverbs 31 (I can't even sew).

But someone who understands that Christ doesn't come off like a coat you can't wear anymore? 

Someone who's running the same race I am and towards the same finish line I'm trying to get to?

Yes, I'll take that.

Thank You Lord for the Monday morning encouragement.

Weak

In my grandmother's library, there was a book of Bible stories that I loved to read. The stories were short, making it easy for my 9-year-old self to understand. But what I liked the most about the book were the illustrations. 


There was one in particular that I remember, a picture that depicted the story of Samson and Delilah. In this drawing, Delilah was a knockout. Shiny ebony locks that cascaded down her shoulders, pouty red lips, and kohl rimmed eyelids.  She wore a dreamy, almost seductive expression as she looked at Samson, who seemed to be completely charmed by this woman.


I was talking to my life coach this week, and she introduced a thought to me that never crossed my mind. 


She heard a pastor once say that,  

"Whoever said that Delilah was beautiful? Her appearance isn't spoken of anywhere in the story. Her most notable feature is her ability to extract the secret of Samson's strength.  And how was she able to do it? She provided a place of solace and comfort, a place for him to lay his head." 

What a concept. 

Samson, after a day of leading Israel and fighting their enemies, recovers and rests in Delilah's arms and lap. She gently massages his scalp and smooths his curls around her index finger while cooing soft words of comfort and peace.  

I had always envisioned Delilah as this ridiculously gorgeous femme fatale, a Halle Berry twin with a body so curvaceous that all she had to do was whisper a request, and it would be done in 3 seconds flat. 

But the idea, not that she might have been an average looking gal, but that it was her disposition, her aura, and her personality that was so soothing that it made the strongest man in the world give up his might....

There is a lesson I can take from that (minus Delilah's terrible betrayal). 


I want to be a place where my love can rest easy...


be secure....


breathe deeply....


and not have his trust interrupted.


A place where he can become weak and know his power is safe with me. 

Great Expectations

This feels heavier than faith. 

Thicker than hope. 

Firmer than belief. 

I'm reclining on air with my feet crossed at the ankles, my hair nestled in the palms of my hands.

I'm jumping double dutch on the ocean while wearing chrome stilettos that grip the water like cement. 

I'm cartwheeling on quicksand without sinking. 

Without any fear of sinking. 

It's more than faith. 

Closer to certainty.

For the past sixteen days, I've been listening to the rhythm of assurance that beats within me. 

It's an inexplicable melody that only I can hear... for now. 

I look to heaven in amazement.

Excitement.

Gratefulness.

This year, I'm expecting something great. 

____________________________________________________________

..."for You answer our prayers..."

-Psalm 65:2

Incomplete

Even though it was Sunday, it didn't feel like it. 


The afternoon sky was painted a milky gray. Thousands of fat raindrops plopped onto flimsy umbrellas and streamed down Evan's car windows as he drove down the wet street. 


"Maybe I'm going through a quarter life crisis," he said. "There are so many things that I thought would be different."


I nodded in total agreement. I began to air out my own qualms about my life. But the inability to articulate my frustration made me speechless for a second or two as I searched for the right words.


But Evan filled them in, saying, 

"You just know you're not where you thought you'd be." 

I'm absolutely not where I thought I'd be. 


I step outside myself and gaze at my comings and goings at this moment in time with my lips parted, my brow wrinkled and my eyes widened, all in disbelief. 


This portrait of my life appears incomplete. 


There are dark spots of ink there that I wish I hadn't spilled.


White spaces that need to be filled.


Scenery that I wasn't expecting. 


A missing face that needs to be penciled and colored in. 


I'm absolutely not where I thought I'd be. 

But I'm exactly where God wants me to be.


I don't hold the paintbrush. He does. And He knows exactly what to do with it. 


He will add just the right color. 


Sketch in the flawless visage. 


Blend the ink blots expertly into the rest of the image.  


All at the right time. 


There are times when I look at the picture as it is now and frown. 


Yell. 


Scream. 


Cry. 


But then I think if the painting was up to me, would it be as beautiful as it will be when Jesus is finished with it? 


Absolutely not. 


I won't be incomplete forever. 
__________________________________
Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.
-I Corinthians 13:12

Fearless

The younger me was such a scaredy cat. 

Dark rooms frightened me. The thought of monsters made me cringe with terror. Dozens of doll portraits my aunt had displayed in her house made my heart freeze with panic.

But, hands down, the biggest fear I had was the ice cream truck. 

While walking home from school, my sister and I would pass a gated parking lot that contained a white ice cream truck.  Emblazoned on the sides was a red-haired clown wearing a wide maniacal grin. The truck never seemed to move but would sit there, day after day, month after month.

The rumor was any kid who walked by the truck would get taken and never seen again. 

Bad things happened to these kids. 

Scary things. 

So, when approaching the lot, my heart would beat faster, my eyes would grow wider, and my legs would whip past, hoping to outpace the scary girl-and-boy hating clown inside the mysterious truck. 

I told my mother, hoping she would provide some type of protection 

But instead, she said, 

"You have nothing to worry about."

I have nothing to worry about? Did this woman love me? Does she not know that there is a crazy creepy clown inside an ice cream truck? I'm going to get kidnapped the next time I walk by and she says don't worry?

"There's nothing to worry about," she said without a hint of concern. "If there was something serious like that going on, it would be on the news."

Drunk with disbelief, I stared at her from behind my strawberry milk colored glasses and concluded that she indeed did not love me. She was crazy. 

And she was right. 

The more I thought about her reasoning, the more it made sense, the more my fear slunk away. And though I never found out the story behind the abandoned ice cream truck, nothing ever happened. No child was abducted or maimed or hurt. 

It was an unfounded fear.

Being an adult, she knew more than me, and knew that nothing like that could have happened. 

Trusting her and her wisdom took away my alarm.

Most of our fears lie in our lack of control or lack of knowledge about the matter. Wonderful to know that trusting the intelligence and mastery of Jesus can leave us fearless. 

--------

"Since God assured us, 'I'll never let you down, never walk off and leave you,' we can boldly quote, 'God is there, ready to help; I'm fearless no matter what. Who or what can get to me?'"

-Hebrews 13:5-6

Trash

In most downtown cities, homeless people are a dime a dozen. Dirt streaked bag ladies limping past. Fuzzy bearded men clutching empty McDonald's cups to catch a few flying quarters.  A person, man or woman, shrouded in a ratty blanket underneath a bus shelter. They can blend into the background of life, barely catching anyone's eye. 

But this one did. 

One afternoon, I saw a man sifting through a garbage can. He was an older man, around 50. It was obvious he was looking for food. People breezed past him, often cutting a wide turn to avoid any contact with him. But for some reason, he touched a tender part of me. I went into a nearby store, bought some food from a hot bar, and walked over to him. 

"Sir," I said softly. " I have some food for you."

He didn't acknowledge me. I stood in front of him and repeated, "I have some food for you."

But he still didn't respond. As I looked closer at his face, I saw that his eyes were glazed with intent, feverishly pawing through the trash. 

I stood for a few seconds longer but it became obvious that he didn't want the food. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I walked away, leaving him to search for what I was already offering him. 

Months later, God replayed this memory to show me something astounding:

We do this to God all the time. 

When God is handing out abundant and full lives, we ignore it to take part in a fractured conflicted existence.

We say no to healthy loving relationships in favor of toxic dead ones. 

 We refuse His offering of freedom, contentment, and purpose to stay put in our complacent empty niches. 

We take trips to garbage dumps...

We munch on decayed fruit and rotten meat....

We fall asleep on crumbled newspapers and soiled sheets....

Why do we do that when God is giving away,giving away, so much more? 

When He wants to give you so much more than you realize?

Shift

The text made my shoulders droop. Queasiness snaked through my stomach. Her distress fell on me like a bowling ball and I sharply exhaled from the sudden weight of it all. I staggered into the office stairwell, my vision blurred as tears filmed my eyes.  My heavy sigh sounded hollow in the empty stairwell as I tried to deal with the heaviness sitting on me.

"Lord, what's going on with my family?"

My 16-year-old cousin Lianna has always been such a quiet soul. She's never really shared much about herself to our family, only allowing another 16-year-old cousin, Tia, into her world. She is a proud Mommy's girl, never seeming to leave her mother's side and tagging along happily on tedious and often unnecessary shopping trips and errands. 

We know that she is reserved. We know that she loves music. We know that she loves her family.

But we wondered. 

About her sagging jeans. 

About her triple X size hoodies and T-shirts. 

About her utter horror at having to wear make-up.

About how she had to be forced to wear dresses. 

About her distaste for wearing her shoulder length hair in curls and waves and desire to wear it in cornrows. 


We wondered.


 And we found out when she told her mother that she was interested in women. 


Her mother weeped from the lowest part of herself, her heart broken. Once I heard what happened, I immediately began praying for my aunt and her reaction/thoughts about this ordeal. I  asked God to watch over my cousin, to free her from that spirit and to restore her heart, mind, and soul.


But while pondering and praying about them, I had to insert a spiritual addendum for Tia.  


Tia is a natural beauty and charmer. Her honey colored eyes and smooth chipmunk cheeks have given her many a high school admirer, a fact that she unapologetically enjoys. She was born to delight, easily eliciting smiles and laughs from anyone she encounters. 

Life hasn't been so delightful for her lately.

Tia's relationship with her mother has been typical, both rocky and smooth. But their 18 year age difference has put them on a level that fosters deep affection but washes away important boundaries.


 Recently, her mother did something out of the ordinary:


She viciously cursed at her and her 8-year-old sister. 


While physically disciplining the younger girl, her mother turned on Tia, who had intervened. Her mother spat at Tia to 

"mind her f****** business. Who the f*** is she?"

She then announced that she doesn't give a f*** what the two girls eat for dinner because she wasn't cooking s***.

The anger and the language and the viciousness with which it was used shocked the two daughters. They spent that night crying from hurt and fear. Tia had decided that she had enough and wanted to leave home to live with a relative. 


Tia's text about the events collided with Lianna's already spinning tornado and absolutely knocked the wind out of me. I tried to soothe and mend as I could, asking God for guidance, for direction and for words to say. 


Soon, I ran out of words. 


And strength. 


It's funny; sometimes you don't think anyone else sees the strain you feel. 


I asked my life coach to add them to her prayer list, which she did. But she also was concerned about me and told me something I forgot (which I often do):

"You need to shift all this off you and onto God. Cast it on the One who is really equipped to carry it."

Though we are to bear one another's burdens, we certainly aren't built to bear them forever or for long.


Shifting it off to Someone with stronger shoulders...

---


For He knows how weak we are; He remembers we are only dust.
-Psalm 103:14

Battles

My office has been transformed into a war zone. 

Abigail's words turned into croaks. Red quickly flooded her eyes, and tears collected in the corners, threatening to spill down her cheeks.  Sadness was etched all over her face. The director of my department sat before me, drenched in defeat.

For the past year, she has not gotten along with Regina, the editor-in-chief of our publication. Their battles are legendary. Phone calls so loud that they can be heard beyond the closed door. Fiery e-mails that clog in-boxes. Open disdain when in the presence of one another.  It was common knowledge that the two hate each other. 

Not dislike.

Hate.

And now, it looks like that hate is going to destroy Abigail, professionally and emotionally. The discord between the two has unintentionally drawn battle lines. Some coworkers are on Regina's side, catering to her cause while undermining Abigail. Others are on Abigail's side, having experienced the nastiest side of Regina's attitude and believing that this fall-out is a result of not bending to ridiculous demands. 

It even appears that those who Abigail answers to have made their pick. They told her not to take Regina on because

she.

would.

NOT.

win. 

"I really want to quit," she said wearily, her cry making her voice crack. My heart breaks as I look her and I feel so helpless.

But...

I know Somebody who isn't.  

I am going to join the battle----- the spiritual one.

 It occurred to me that this is not truly between Abigail and Regina but unseen forces, greedy to see them both destroyed. 

Since that day in her office, I pray daily to the Father, asking Him to bring justice and fairness, for peace to return to her personal and work life, and most of all, for her relationship with Him. Jesus definitely uses twists of life to introduce Himself to a daughter who forgot Him. 

Instead of firing a bullet, I will keep whispering prayers until something breaks through. 

And something will.  

--- "O Lord, oppose those who oppose me. Fight those who fight against me. Put on Your armor, and take up Your shield. Prepare for battle, and come to my aid."

-Psalm 35:1-2

Eager to please. 

The first time I saw that phrase, I must have been 6 or 7. A teacher had written it in the comments section of my report card. I remember seeing her blue ballpoint cursive on the paper, and I had asked my mother what it meant. 

My mother said, 

"It means you like to please people. 

You're always ready to do what she says." 

Throughout my childhood and adolescence, that phrase defined me. I went above and beyond with my school work so teachers and my parents wouldn't be disappointed. I was quick to apologize to friends for any slight, real or imagined, for fear of losing their companionship. 

Most of all, I said yes. Too many times. 

Brewing the courage to refuse was physically painful, and I couldn't bear to see the damage of my "no" splattering all over someone's face. 

So I committed myself to causes that my heart was not in,bending over backwards so a person could smile and have an easier day. 

My comfort zone is padded with cotton soft acquiescence, easy compliance with anything anyone asks of me.But, lately, as the Lord continues to erase my life limits, He's put me in tough situations where I've had to deny a yes. It hurts but I know it's needed.

As God so gently told me today,

 Sometimes wisdom means saying no.

Thank You

Sometimes, it just hits you. 


This morning, my co-worker, Diane,  walked into the office wearing a tear-stained face, her eyes tinged with red. When I asked if she was all right, she couldn't speak. Her mouth opened but then twisted, as if her words suddenly spilled down her throat. She motioned for me to follow her into the ladies' room. 


The glass door had barely closed behind me before she said in a hoarse whisper, "God is so good! He is so good!" During her morning drive into the city, she had begun to think about how much God has done for her in her life. As the list of things grew, so did her gratefulness, and tears of gratitude began to flow. From the little things like having a washer and dryer to the big things like transforming the behavior of her 9-year old son. "God just turned him around. There's no way my son could have changed so without God in the mix." 


Our conversation was interrupted when another co-worker, Rebecca, entered the restroom. When we told her what we were talking about, she praised God with us, saying,

Don’t try to understand the favor of God.  We will never be able to figure it out.

 We can't figure it out. Who knows why God loves us as much as He does? Who knows why He wakes us up every morning, provides for our every need, protects us as we travel treacherous roadways? All we can do is thank Him for it. 


Thank You, Jesus.