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EDEN

8 Oct

Cat in sink

“The Lord God hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary: he wakeneth morning by morning, he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned.”  Isaiah 50:4

It’s late.  Everyone is finally off to their own rooms, preparing to sleep; some are already successful.  I head for my quiet spot, the master bathroom.  It’s very small, built for usefulness, not flair.  With the door closed, as it will (which is almost), all the lights on and the exhaust fan rattling out the household noises that remain, it is my only refuge.  There I read and write and pray and listen for God.

Before too long a paw reaches under the door and pulls it open enough for one (or more) of my cats to come in.  At first they are content to lap at the water dripping from the faucet, soon curling up in the oval shaped sink, lightly dozing.  Most of the time they wait patiently for me to finish, but on occasion they will try tenaciously to get onto my lap for hugging and petting, sending books and Bibles, pens and paper flying.  Giving in is the best defense, fighting back by trying to chase them off creates a greater distraction than taking a few minutes to love on them.  They so desperately want to please, having no idea that they are in the least bit annoying.  Soon I set them back down, retrieve my papers and books and go back to praying and listening – and hoping once again to be anointed and used by God.

There are times when I’ve wished I could remain there for days at a time, but responsibility calls.  I have spent many wonderful hours there, in communion, not wanting to leave.  Fatigue and worry escape me there – as does time, sometimes putting my night’s sleep at risk.

It’s just a bathroom, with its own white noise and its own bright light, generally shared with several purring cats, waiting contently in the sink – but to me it becomes Eden.  A place where I go to seek the face of God and talk with Him in the cool of the evening.  It’s there that I remember to thank God for the little things that He does to show me His love.

I thank Him, that even in the inner city, without a natural setting to run to, I have a bathroom, big enough to hold one small bookcase and lots of pens and paper.  I thank Him that I have cats who remind me to always take time for a hug and a kind word.  And I thank Him for the understanding that no matter where I am, God will be there to meet me.

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Rainbow

6 Oct

Rainbow

” And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth.”  Genesis 9:16

Isn’t it wonderful when God’s Promise graces the sky in beautiful colors, standing proud before angry clouds. Wonderful.

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OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES

18 Sep

baby & adult hand

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. Psalm 8:2

The other day I took my 6-year-old son to the mall for “one-on-one” Mom-Son time.  We saw a short 3-D movie, “T-REX”, the one where the dinosaur drools right in your lap as he eyes you for a potential lunch item.  After the movie we ate lunch (30 restaurants to choose from and he goes for Burger King  –  AGAIN!) and talked a while, then we decided to do a sightseeing lap around the mall.

About 2 months ago I started working Saturday mornings, the day I usually spend with the boys.  We always went for breakfast (all you could eat buffets!) and then went to the park or ran errands around the valley.  When my schedule changed I went to the boy’s school and asked the principal about taking each boy out on rotating Fridays.  She gave me her approval as well as her blessing; Mom-Son Friday came to pass.

Every Friday at noon I pick one of the boys up.  We talk, eat and watch a movie (of the boy’s choice); not necessarily in that order.  By 4:00 PM we’re on the way back to pick-up the other two and head home.  This particular day was Jon’s day.

As Jon and I walked around he chose the shops he wanted to tour through.  Being 6 he chose only the brightest and most colorful shops.  No clothing  –  mostly shops with toys, hanging objects, shelf decorations and rocks.  One of the shops we went into seemed innocent from the front.  There were rock slab wind-chimes, polished stone necklaces, cut stone book-ends, and similar items throughout.  Jon was mesmerized by the color and shine.

As we neared the back of the store we saw voodoo and witch-doctor paraphernalia on the floor and walls.  I tried to steer Jon clear of the items, but he nearly ran into a chair with a demon head carved into the seat back.

Jon stopped immediately, put his little fists on his hips (as only a 6 year old can do) and stated quite clearly, “Well, these people don’t know Jesus.”  After which he quickly dismissed himself from the store.

Trying to help lift his spirits, I started searching for signs of Jesus in every store we entered.  Finally, as we reached the end of the mall, I spotted a shelf with porcelain figurines of Jesus, Mary, the nativity, the crucifix and various other Christian themes.

“There, Jon,” I said.  “There’s Jesus.”

For a moment a smile formed on his face, which was quickly dismissed and replaced by round determined eyes and firmly set fists.

“Well,” he said.  “I just want to know why Jesus is there  –  and women with no clothes are right there!”  I followed his small pointing finger to the shelf immediately below.  There on the shelf were porcelain nudes, three times the size of the Christian figurines.

“I’m just going to go get Joseph (our youth pastor) and we’re going to come back here and pray.”  At that point he took is offended little self out of the store and decided that he had seen enough of the mall.

So there I was, at 49, looking so hard to find Jesus that I allowed myself to overlook the offense, the insult, of placing Him among the very decadence He came to this world to overcome.  In that very store were dragons and Buddas, crystals and prayer beads, nudes and seductive paintings.  How many times do I close my eyes to the things that offend me?  How many times have I felt it was the way of the world and there was nothing I could do?

Out of the mouth of a babe came the words that had been spoken into him.  At 6 years old he was ready to take a stand against the things he knew were wrong, and he was ready to find someone to stand with him in prayer.

Thank you, Jesus, for babies who remind us how to be the best we can be.

By Linda J. Humes
Written 2-24-1999

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A Pocket Full of Miracles

17 Sep

Cross coin

1 Thessalonians 5:17  “Pray without ceasing.”

 James 5:16  “. . . The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.“

All of my life I’ve had a terrible habit that I haven’t been able to break.  My mother always lets me know how unladylike it is – and I agree – I just can’t stop!  No matter how hard I try I just can’t keep my hands out of my pockets.

Over the years I’ve lost my ability to remember things (even my name once or twice).  To compensate for my memory “challenge”, I have been known to write myself notes and stuff them in my pockets.  Sometimes the notes prove useful, but most of the time they get wadded and creased and become illegible by the time I truly need them.

One day, while browsing through a Christian Bookstore (my very favorite pastime), I came upon “A Cross In My Pocket” coins and medals.  They come in several shapes and sizes.  I began to search for five separate medals, each with its own special purpose.  Before long I had found just what I wanted – the miracles had begun.

The largest coin has a cross on the front with “Dad” engraved over the top.  On the back is a prayer of thanksgiving for who he is.  This coin would represent my husband.  With a silent prayer I slipped him into my pocket.

The next largest coin says “Jesus” across the front and it cites a scripture on the back.  It is the heaviest coin and represents my heaviest burden at this time, my teenage son.  So easily he could turn the wrong way, yet through prayer and intercession I have faith that he will remain on the right path.  With a silent prayer I slipped him into my pocket.

Next comes a nickel with a cross stamped out of the center.  It was new and shiny, and the perfect coin to represent my 9-year-old son who has not yet shown an interest in drawing close to the cross.  With a prayer I slipped him into my pocket, along with the other two.

Next is a coppery penny with a heart stamped out of the center.  This is the coin, which represents my 7-year-old son.  This is a child abundantly filled with a love of God.  This is a child that will, one day, help the broken-hearted heal from their wounds.  With a prayer he was slipped into my pocket.

The last coin is a light aluminum coin with a cross on one side and the “Cross In My Pocket” story on the other.  This coin represents the special needs of the people of the church.  One day it represented my two youngest sons’ birth mother, the next day an ill friend, and the next an evangelist with a special prayer request.  This coin changes daily, yet it rests in the closeness of my pocket, in covenant with the prayers for my family.

This is my pocket full of miracles.  Every time I thrust my hand down into my pocket I feel the coins and I begin to pray.  I caress each coin, identify the shape and design with my fingers, and say a special prayer as I hold them.

Like the bit of sand that irritates and festers in the shell of the oyster, the small metal coins that fill my pocket, and jingle as I walk, will bring forth a precious gift, more beautiful than a pearl, in miraculous answered prayer.

What a small price to pay to always be reminded of those people I love, dozens of times a day, and offer up specific prayers to guide their precious lives.

Lord, remind me daily that I can never pray too often for the wonderful people you’ve placed in my life.  And, even though I may never see the answer to all of those prayers, may I always remember that You have the answers in the palm of Your hand, and that you will release them when the moment is right.

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The Mustard Seed

2 Sep

Mustard Seed

Matthew 17:20 “ . . . If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.”

While enjoying a moment of prayer and being enveloped in the blessing of anointed music, I was touched by the greatness of God. The God that brought the children of promise out of Egypt; the God that parted the Red Sea; the God that brought life to the womb of a virgin Israelite girl; the God who created life and set the sun, moon and stars in their orbit. The God that give life to the grass, flowers, animals and man – no two alike. The God that holds every thought and every emotion of each of His children close to His heart, and turns His head toward the broken, sincere prayer.   What a Mighty God We Serve!!!

As I sat in thanksgiving of how great He is, I rejoiced in how He loves us so much that He has packaged all of His power into a faith that would fit inside the tiny mustard seed. A seed so small, that I could hold hundreds in the palm of my hand. That thought fills me with such joy. The faith of Moses, Elijah, Elisha, Peter and Paul would fit into five tiny seeds that rest in the crease of my palm. The faith to lead a nation, to speak life into dying people. The faith to perplex natural events and raise the dead back to new life. The faith to stand, and when they were weary and no longer had the strength to stand, by faith they stood.

Jesus, I pray that I will be content enough with myself that I will want to abundantly bless another in my smallness. I don’t want to feel that I must be well known and in frontline ministry to be able to make a difference. Help me to remember that I can rest in prayer, and with the faith the size of a mustard seed, send up the sweet savor of a miracle to be birthed in another, half a world away.

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CHRYSALIS

27 Apr

Chrysalis

By Linda J. Humes

“Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?” Matthew 6:30 (KJV)

I made a new friend the other day. He wasn’t attractive – didn’t have a “big” name – wasn’t famous; in fact, he didn’t have anything to do with the church! Yet, Jesus, he taught me more – about you – than the most eloquent, the most learned, person I’ve heard.

My little friend – short and plump – rested briefly on a tomato stem, preparing to consume yet another leaf. This little caterpillar – subject daily to the mercies of his environment – was bound to the earth by those areas where he could climb.

He was so perfectly made – just like you – just like me. Every curve, every stout little leg, every perfect oval marking, balanced and ordered by a meticulous God.

He pressed forward, eating intently, knowing that soon he must die, and resting in the faith, that in his death he will be born again. He will soon take his earth-bound body, wrap it carefully in instinctive faith, and wait for the day when he will soar with a new freedom – as a beautiful, delicate butterfly.

We, too, can make the decision to wrap up our earth-bound lives and dispose of the old self, allowing the freeing release of the Holy Spirit, giving us wings to soar into the Presence of God.

The caterpillar, in his instinctive faith, never wastes a moment wondering “if” – he is drawn to the freedom he KNOWS will come. Oh, that we could have the faith to shed all that binds us to the ground. That we might wrap ourselves completely in the chrysalis of the Word of God, pulled tight by the power of the Spirit that transforms us. That we would desire to be drawn to that freedom – unafraid of the heights that we could soar to – through the rebirth from our old self to Christ.

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Grafted

30 Mar

It was a deep wound,

Intended to bring death,
Inflicted by the spear,
Of a Roman Soldier.

Gaping open,
It released blood and water.
The blood of the new covenant,
The water of the Holy Spirit,
Yet to come.

The precious liquids,
Oozing to the surface,
Were the precious nutrients,
To give food and strength,
To the nation to come.

Inside that wound,
Deep in the side of my Savior,
The wound Satan meant for evil,
God planted a seed,
A bud,
A grafted nation,
A place for me.

That wound,
And the seed inside,
Were anointed with myrrh,
With aloes, and with spices.
Wrapped so carefully,
With the finest linen,
Preparing a cleft,
Of most Holy foundation,
For the Gentile to join,
God’s chosen.

Then came the moment,
When the linens were left,
In the shape of a man,
But hollow and unaltered,
As a message of release.

The moment when Christ,
With the grafted children,
Tucked safely beneath his arm,
Faced Satan and conquered death.

Now this nation,
Birthed in the side of Christ,
As Eve was birthed,
In the side of Adam,
Sat in communion,
At the right hand of God.

Guided forth,
Performing greater miracles,
Exhibiting greater power,
Flowing in the Holy Spirit,
The seed branched forward.

Inside that graft,
With its roots entwined,
Deep into the Master,
There is a leaf,
Turning to the Son,
Preparing to break forth,
And follow the way,
Set forth by Him.

It’s just one leaf,
Of the many branches,
Just one small part,
Of a mighty tree.
But on that leaf,
Is a name,
And that name belongs,
To ME.

olive-branch

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