Integrity vs. Loyalty

Sometimes, I worry that my children won’t learn enough.  Or, rather, that, as homeschooled children, they won’t learn enough of the “right” things.

Of biggest concern is my high schooler, Ethan.  He’s 14, and a freshman.  He’s currently doing Sonlight’s Core 200, which is actually SL’s sophomore year program.*  Since the bulk of the history portion of this program centers on Christian church history and apologetics, I’m unsure if I can actually count it as a history credit.  In addition to church history, he’s also reading some serious lit:  Jane Eyre, Hamlet, Pride and Prejudice, Oliver Twist, and Robinson Crusoe are all books he’s read this year.  Still, I sometimes wonder if we’re on the right track for him.

Then, some days, like today, I’m certain that — no matter if it is the “right” thing or not — there is SUCH VALUE in homeschooling.  We discuss topics that, in all likelihood, never reach the ears of a typically-schooled child.

The curriculum assigns readings from an anthology of poetry.  I have long held that poets are at least as interesting as their writings, and we’d be remiss to not become acquainted with each poet from the book.  This extra discussion makes the “poetry” section of his day take extra-long.  I don’t feel badly about this, but we’re just now finishing out week 16 of the poetry assignments, while the rest of his work is in week 30.

Anyway.

James Henry Leigh Hunt 1784-1859

Today had us read one of James Henry Leigh Hunt’s poems, Abou Ben Adhem.  The poem is all right;  not fabulous in my opinion.  The basic premise of it is that even if you don’t excel at loving God, it’s all right;  as long as you love others splendidly, God will bless (and ostensibly love) you the more for it.  That warrants discussion in itself.  However, we didn’t much discuss that.  What we did discuss was the nature of balancing integrity with loyalty.  Too much loyalty without integrity reaps a harvest of brown-nosing and spin-doctoring, sweeping sin issues under the rug.  Leigh Hunt, though, seems to have erred too much on the other side:  integrity over loyalty, which is rather ironic, given the topic of Abou Ben Adhem.  In other words, he was fond of speaking the truth, but not in love, not out of necessity, and often biting the hand that had fed and befriended him, publishing scathing critiques of his contemporaries’ works, and writing exposés of famous people of his day (leading, at one point, to a two-year jail sentence, for criticizing the Prince Regent)…  Unsurprisingly, he (and his wife and his ten children) frequently found themselves friendless and penniless…

Ideally, one would have family, friends, employers, et al, to whom one could be loyal, yet still retain one’s integrity.

I presented to Ethan the best example of both loyalty perfectly balanced with integrity that I know:  his father.  In our itinerant society, my husband has remained with the same employer for more than 20 years.  An integral part of our church (and on staff at said church) for nearly 23 years.  Married for 17+ years.  Each of those take commitment and loyalty.  Yet, he is also integrous to the nth degree, sometimes exasperatingly so, as he seeks to follow both the letter and the spirit of a law.  I was particularly pleased to show Ethan that one can excel at both integrity and loyalty.

It was definitely one of those learning experiences that I know Ethan wouldn’t have had elsewhere, and it made the whole day feel worthwhile.

—————-

*It’s not that Ethan is remarkably advanced;  it’s that we have already so extensively covered American History, which SL slates for freshmen, that I wanted him to learn something different.

Hellfire and Damnation

I’m sure, in my 6+ year history of blogging, I’ve mentioned the frustrating (and for a time, wounding) experience I had while in university, being accosted by a street preacher.  It was my non-Christian friend, of all people, who had to pull me away from the man with the megaphone who was shouting at me that I was a Jezebel who would burn in hell.  I tried to reason with the preacher and tell him I was a sister in Christ, but he would have none of it, and hollered at me — at point-blank range, still through the megaphone — that I was lying.  My friend, meanwhile, growled at the preacher that he had “got the wrong girl” as he dragged away my offended self.

Ah, memories. 

That event, oddly enough, really cemented my heart in commitment to the Vineyard church.  With its emphasis on much-more-subtle (and practical!  and never emotionally-damaging!) activities like servant evangelism, it just seemed much more in line with what Jesus would truly do (and this, my friend, was way before the WWJD phenomenon).

Recently, I have decided to read through the book of Acts.  My pastor very often uses passages from Acts in his weekly messages;  they’re very practical for the everyday life of a Christian, for he is nothing if not practical.  So, I feel like it’s a book with which I have a good acquaintance.  And I tend to concentrate my Scripture reading in portions of the Bible that are less-familiar to me.  Nevertheless, I decided to read Acts for myself…  to reacquaint myself with what the early Church was doing, and to re-prioritize it in my own life.

Most days, I only read a few verses, before cross-referencing, word study, and contemplation take over, not to mention little girls waking up early, wanting to snug.  Yesterday, however, I read the whole of chapter three.  In it is the account of Peter healing a man who was 40+ years old of a lifetime of being lame.  The thing that really struck me, though, was the tenor of Peter’s sermon on the matter, and its effect.

Consider:

• “But you disowned the Holy and Righteous One, and asked for a murderer to be granted to you, but put to death the Prince of life….“
• “…I know that you acted in ignorance…“
• “Repent therefore and return…“
• “And it shall be that every soul that does not heed that prophet shall be utterly destroyed…“
• “God raised up His Servant, and sent Him to bless you by turning every one of you from your wicked ways.”

Not exactly the world’s most touchy-feely sermon, eh?  But what was the fruit of it?  What was the result??

But many of those who had heard the message believed;  and the number of the men came to be about five thousand.

Peter, the street preacher, with his megaphone, so to speak, delivered some really scorching words to the hearers.  And what happens?  Conviction!  Salvation!  Church growth!

His hellfire and damnation sermon WORKED.

Wow.

I suddenly have some compassion for my own street preacher — which I have never previously felt, in the twenty years or so since it happened!  Perhaps he was just trying to follow Peter’s lead, expecting the same result.

This morning, pondering it further, I was reminded of George Müller, whose amazing life is a profound testament to prayer, faithfulness, and God’s redeeming power, not to mention vast social change*.  If I am remembering correctly, when George first became a believer, he took his university Divinity education, and tried “pastoring” simple German farming folk** with high-falutin’ sermons, even copying, word-for-word, some of the most sophisticated ones he could find, in hopes of impressing those who heard.  The result was that he impressed them, all right, but he didn’t pastor them, nor bring any closer to knowing and loving Jesus, because they couldn’t understand what he was saying!

In other words, it may have been the right words, but it was at the wrong time, to the wrong audience.

The greater difference between Peter in Acts, and the megaphone-toting, hellfire and damnation New Orleans street preacher, though, may be this:

1. Peter was filled with — and controlled by — the Holy Spirit.
2. Peter’s words came after some serious manifestation of “signs and wonders“, which, in and of itself, made believers out of non-believers.

In Acts 4:23-31, directly after this event — Peter healing the lame man and being detained by the religious leaders of the day for it, and for preaching the resurrection of the dead in Jesus — the believers gathered to pray for further boldness!

I need that.  I need all of that:

1. The right timing,
2. being filled with the Holy Spirit,
3. participating in the miraculous,
4. and more boldness.

I really don’t want a bad experience with someone who had only one of those four in operation — the boldness part — to… well… I don’t know how to put it.  I think what I have done for the last twenty years, is mostly be afraid that anything I say or do out of boldness will have the same negative effect on others that my own experience had on me.  Until now, I really haven’t pieced it all together that it wasn’t the boldness, per se, that was wrong.  It was not having the REST of the package in concert with the boldness.

Having all of it together is the difference, I now believe, between wounding others and revealing the true heart of God to them.

As I re-read what I’ve written above, it sounds like a no-brainer.  “Duh.  Of course you need the Holy Spirit in order to be effectively bold.”  But, I guess that’s what a revelation is all about:  Really sealing things that you may have heard a million times before, and to which you can make a quick mental assent, into a true thing that goes deep in your heart of hearts, so that it’s really REAL, in a way that it never was before.

So.  Now.  Instead of tentatively praying for boldness, afraid of what would happen if God actually GRANTED that prayer to me, I will not just pray for boldness, in and of itself.  I will pray for His timing, His presence, and His power to accompany that boldness, continually in my life.

It’s a good recipe, I think.  And may it bear, oh God, the same fruit that Peter and the apostles did.***

———————-

*To my mind, no two men did more to change the way orphans were treated in Victorian England — and to this day — than Charles Dickens (who raised awareness in a socially-palatable way) and George Müller, who actually DID something about the horrid state of orphanages.

**George hadn’t moved to England yet.

***Might as well start now with the bold requests, eh?? 

Garden! Health! Books! Road trip! Working!

I really don’t have writer’s block.  I’ve written countless posts in my head!  They’re just not happening in real life.

So…  small updates:

• 

  They're even prettier in real life. I have some that are downright purple on the outside, but the interior is bright orange. Lovely!

  Garden:  It’s beautiful and flourishing, and it feels fabulous to eat my own hand-raised, organic veggies.  It is truly decreasing my need to buy vegetables from the store.  It has taken a while — more than a year — to really get GOING and productive.  And, I still have lots and lots and lots to learn… it’s one of those areas of learning where you can never know ALL there is to know.  Ever.  Interestingly, though, I don’t mind that.  Normally, I get a little cowed by problems with unending possible solutions;  I like things that I can wrap my head around.  However, I find that gardening is enjoyable even when I will never know everything there is to know.  My most recent discovery:  When the planting schedule says that you shouldn’t plant your green beans until March 15, February 20-something really IS too early, and your seeds really WILL rot in the ground when planted too soon.  Bummer.  A triumph, though:  My hubby is taking my gardening seriously.  I tend to get interested in things, and hit them hard for a few weeks or a few months, spend too much money on them, then my interest and devotion fizzles, which amounts to a lot of time and money wasted.  So, he wasn’t robustly supportive of my garden plans, initially.  Now, he TOTALLY is, probably because I’ve been faithful, instead of just excited.    And he can see the benefit.  Last garden note:  You MUST grow these carrots.  I scrub them and we eat them unpeeled.  They are gorgeous and tasty.

• Fiala’s health:  I wish I could say that she is 100% better, but I can’t.  She does continue to improve, and it is absolutely clear that her major struggle IS with a candida infection.  However, it is taking longer to clear than I had hoped.  And, she is not self-regulating.  She is happy to “steal” a banana or a jar of honey, or even pull a carrot from the garden, whenever the opportunity presents itself.  Then, the yeast in her system feeds on that sugar, and we have a setback that takes a week or two from which to recover.  So, it’s kind of like three steps forward, two-and-a-half steps back.  She still has head-to-toe “eczema” — which really isn’t eczema — and it’s worse in some places than in others.  But, she has no open, oozy wounds, and over all, her skin, disposition, and general health has improved by, oh, about 40%.  She is on oral and topical Nystatin, plus probiotics, colloidal silver, and grapefruit seed extract (in capsules).  Plus a no-sugar diet, minus the 1/3 cup or so daily of blueberries — her lone joy in food.  Actually, it’s funny, because now that we’re aware that SUGAR in food is her main problem, I’ve been letting her sample various sugar- and starch-free foods, and she just doesn’t like most of them.  So, her diet is still very, very simple, very limited.
• My own health:  I have improved SO GREATLY on a low-carb, sugar-free diet.  Not only have I lost about 15 lbs, but instead of getting neck-to-thighs hives every single night, that lasts for HOURS and to be relieved only by a double-dose of Benedryl, I’ll get a patch here, a patch there, about twice a week, and it lasts for 20-30 minutes or so.  So, I’m not 100% healed, either, but I’m getting close.
• Books:  I should really do a whole post on “Books I’m Trying to Read.”  I normally only read one book at a time, but I’m partway through about six books right now, none of which I want to put down, and for none of which I actually have TIME to read right now.  The only one I’ve actually finished has been The Confession by Charles Todd (see next bullet point).  And that took me nearly two weeks of whittling away…  The others have taken — are taking, actually — much longer.
• Road trip!  Two friends and I drove to Prescott a couple of weeks ago.  It was a treasure of an afternoon — such a pleasant drive of wonderful conversation, lunch together, then a really awesome two-hour meet-the-author presentation by Charles Todd, which is actually a mother-and-son team.  They were both present, and were such engaging speakers.  It was interesting from all angles:  as a writer, as someone interested in WWI (the setting for all their books), as a semi-Anglophile, as a fan…  I’ve read all of their books, save one.  My friends and I had lunch was at The Raven Cafe.  I had researched which places had a gluten-free menu, and when we got to Prescott, my friend Kathy said, “After lunch, I hope we have time for the best cup of coffee in Prescott.  It’s at The Raven.”  The Raven was already on my short list of g.f. lunch spots!!  It has such wonderful ambiance, and it stocks GLUTEN FREE BREAD.  With my low-carbiness, I haven’t had bread in a couple of months.  But, I broke with that for an amazing turkey melt sandwich with avocado, muenster cheese, and other good things, with a side of amazing sweet potato fries with garlic aioli.  I was in heaven.  The whole afternoon, I was in heaven.  It was perfect.  Kathy kept saying, “Is this really real?  Is this really happening?  Am I really in Prescott with two of my dear friends???”  Now, I think I need to come up with more reasons to take little drives and spend a good chunk of a day with my friends.  The whole experience is still glowing in my heart, two weeks later.
• Jobby-things:  I know a while back I said I wasn’t going to make any writing-related work, but I had already told my author-friend Marietta I’d give her most recent book my once-over.  So, I’ve been working on that.  I also co-taught a small workshop on prophetic singing, which was a complete and total joy.  I was absolutely shocked when I was handed a check for payment.  It was a little disturbing, actually.  I had to ask my pastor what he thought I should do with the money, and he said, “Keep it.  You’ve invested hours of your time and commitment learning about this, making the teaching notes, investing in the prophetic and singing.  Keep it and enjoy the fruits of your labor.”  So, I am.  Haven’t cashed it yet, though.

When prophetic words go wrong….

Earlier this month, I posted on an encounter I had with the Holy Spirit in January, which — among other things — involved prophetic words delivered to me by a number of individuals.  A few comments — and a few private notes to me on the subject — prompted me to consider writing about “Why prophetic words aren’t always fulfilled.”  As I formed the post in my mind, I thought, “I’ll have Kathy look it over before I post it.”  Then, I had a better idea.  Why not just ask Kathy to write it in the first place???

Kathy Beal heads up the thriving and active prophetic ministry at our church, Vineyard Phoenix.  She also leads and teaches with the International Prophetic Community.  She has a lovely, insightful blog at Wisdom Town.  I have known Kathy for nearly 20 years, and have considered her an inspiration, a teacher, a mentor, and a precious friend.  I am confident that, no matter your interest level in the prophetic, you will find something of value in this thoughtful, wise post.

Prophetic Unfulfillment
by Kathy Beal

What a delightful opportunity to address the question of why some prophetic words go (seemingly) unfulfilled. I’ve participated in a prophetic ministry for over twenty five years, and have carried responsibility for training others in the prophetic both in my local church and in other nations. Suffice it to say, I’ve talked to a LOT of people about this question. Through all the years, in all the locations, I find the problem usually boils down to one of the following areas:

Who gave the prophetic word? Personally, I would just not open my spirit to receive a prophetic word from someone who is not planted in a local church. I want to know that any person “prophesying” to me is well known in their local church and that their ministry is under the covering of a Godly pastor. I would go so far as to ask: Who can I talk to about your ministry? Who holds you accountable for accuracy and character? If they can’t answer this, with accompanying names/church location/contact information, then I’m not integrating the prophetic word into my life. If it does contain some accuracy, I may note it. I may share it with my own pastoral covering, for their input. I may wait for confirmation from the Lord. But I won’t be holding my breath. If you receive a prophetic word from an untested, “wild card” of a person, don’t be surprised if it goes unfulfilled.

It is just the simple truth that some folks believe they have a prophetic “anointing” because they can flatter people well. They can garner a little attention, get a little following, and feed their egos through manipulating people. It is a wise thing to discern true spiritual authority, humble character and pure motive from such “players.” You will protect yourself from much harm.

Discerning the soul from the spirit: The truth is, all of us can get worked up in our emotions. I’ve talked to so many people who became ensnared by their own immature desire for something. Sometimes it is a “thing” – i.e., a person, position, provision, etc., Sometimes it is the timing of the fulfillment of that desire. When we want something really badly, we tend to exchange “wishing” for the truth. It goes something like this:

“I really wanted to get married, and that guy prophesied to me that it would happen in the next year. So when it didn’t I stopped believing that God cares about how lonely I am.”

“And why did you believe that you could trust the timing part of that prophetic word?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t the guy prophesy from God?”

“Was there any confirmation from any pastor, or any spiritually mature person who is involved in your life and caring for your spiritual health?”

“No.”

“So how do you know if that was really a word from God?”

“Well – it was what I really, really wanted.”

There is something I call “magic fairy dust” – and it is the enemy of a true prophetic word.

Prophecy is hearing the mind and heart of Jesus for a particular situation, and speaking what we hear. Prophecy is not discerning a need, and tickling a person’s ear with the promise that the need will be met in a particular way, or in a particular time. In our relationship with a Savior who fervently loves us, is ardently desirous of meeting our needs in His timing, in His resource, and in a method which includes character development and cementing our dependence on Him – there is no magic fairy dust. There is nothing we can sprinkle on each other that, when it lands on our eager hands and sparkles in the moment, transfers – poof – a trial, longing, or need into a fairy tale solution. It just doesn’t work that way.

Jesus offers us the Truth. He is the Truth. It is in HIM that we get the (sometimes painful, difficult, challenging) truth that sets us free.

We want relief. He wants maturity.

Sometimes, a prophetic word evaporates in the harsh light of day. Why? Because it was never a true prophetic word in the first place. It was something else.

How do we discern the difference? Here are a few questions to ask:

1. Did the prophecy cause me to focus on Jesus, the word itself, or the giver?
2. Did the prophecy pass the test of time? Did time prove its accuracy?
3. Did the prophecy cause a desire to rise up in me for the character response required to see the thing fulfilled? Or, was it delivered as a simple “just sit back honey, and wait to see your dreams come true.”
4. Have I been giving my due diligence to seek after God? Do I seek Him with all my heart? Do I spend regular time seeking to deeply understand His Scripture, and how I can live it out obediently?
5. Is there ongoing sin in my life about which I’m unwilling to repent? Anything I refuse to give up? Something I know God asks me not to do in His Word – but I don’t want to think about it? Truthfully, am I opening a door to the enemy, to his deception? If so – I may very well welcome a soulish word.
6. Did the person usurp my own, or another’s authority? Is their motive clear? Are they, and am I, willing to be accountable for how the word was given, and received? Is Godly authority involved in this process?

If we go back to our example above, it would be wise to carefully, lovingly ask the still-single person something like:

 “What have you been doing to demonstrate faithfulness to God for what He currently has on your plate? How about that anger issue your pastor has been trying to help you with? Is there progress?”

It’s very, very possible that God is holding back the marriage partner because He knows that the still-single’s anger problem would destroy the desired marriage. Honestly, the loving, truthful input of a Godly friend is more useful to God’s purposes in our example’s life than a super-“spiritual” unknown “prophet.” We can prophesy to one another, humbly, truthfully…and remove mountains.

Scripture teaches us time and again to walk after the Spirit, not the flesh. We are to stand in the counsel of God, to seek His face, to listen to His voice, to pray continually…. To skimp on these things opens the door to the flesh, and to the enemy’s influence in our ministries. Too many people have been deeply hurt by spiritual laziness that led to false prophecies.

It’s often about time. I’ve learned that God loves to use time. Time is not God’s enemy; it is His friend. With time, God can test our faith, arrange circumstances so that He ensures the most glory for Himself, grow and mature character in us, deepen our patience, fill the gap between longing and fulfillment with His own Presence, and tie up details with a bow. Sometimes, a prophetic word was indeed the heart and mind of Jesus for a particular situation, but time has not yet proven its accuracy. If you surrender the thing to God, act on the character issues required, and stand fast in prayer – time is on your side. Rest in Him while you continue to wait on Him.

Invitation and not pronouncement. Prophecies are invitations from God, and not, necessarily, pronouncements. Many times I’ve seen God call something out in a human heart that the human had never (or only lightly) considered. Those people that responded to the word with faith – the kind of faith that invested with “watering the seed” – enjoyed the fruit of that word, in time.

People that don’t respond with faith and obedience don’t reap fulfillment.

If we don’t apply ourselves with the character requirements, accountability, faith and obedience God requires…then we can say “it was not an accurate word” – but we may discover the problem was with us, not the word.

Relationship is required for trustworthy revelation. Jesus prioritized relationship with Him. See Him first, and then trust Him to release the right revelation, at the right time, through servants (or methods) He chooses. The prophetic “package” includes revelation, interpretation, and application. Revelation is what He releases (through His servants, through dreams, through that “inner knowing”, through His Word…), interpretation is how we are to understand what we hear, and application is what we do with what we hear. In our local ministry, we are very firm about keeping all revelation under authority. Why? Because you need the protective measures of loving authority, and caring community around you to properly walk out a prophetic package. You may receive revelation, but you interpret it incorrectly. And/or, you may apply it clumsily. Every single one of us is most in danger when we abandon the healthy accountability of the local church and its accompanying Godly relationships. Accurate, life building prophetic ministry requires relationship first with the Shepherd of our souls, and secondly, with those who bow the knee to Him. We need people around us who have paid the price for wisdom and counsel so they can help us interpret and apply revelation in our particular circumstances. God designed it this way. Lone wolves are unhealthy, vulnerable wolves.

There is nothing more helpful than to walk through life in the company of a group of people who pursue God with all their hearts. When committed to such a group of people, we can rest assured that whatever revelation comes our way, the collective love and discernment of God’s friends will help us see truth from falsehood. We can trust that they will speak the truth we need to hear, help us with faith and obedience responses, call out growth in Christ-like character and provide the protection we need.

It is only in living our lives in humility, transparency, accountability, and submission in a healthy local church that we can accurately discern whether prophetic words given to us are truly from the heart and mind of Jesus, for us, in this particular situation.

There is no “easy” answer for testing prophetic words. It takes the whole package: God’s presence, His Word, and His church to discern the real deal from falsehood. The rewards are very much worth it. So much so, I wouldn’t choose any other way.

 

What God spoke to me.

I was recently thinking that, for all I have disclosed on this blog over the last 6+ years, so much of the most significant events in my life go unrecorded.  Some things are inappropriate to share, some defy my attempts at explanation, some I just never get around to…

I’ve been considering that anew, this last week.  I just don’t even know if I could — or perhaps even should — convey all that happened to me.  It’s hard to explain.

New Irish friend Azman & me, having a really good conversation.

The short version is that I went to a three-day International Leadership Summit — a retreat in the cool pines of Prescott, Arizona.  Back down the hill into the Valley of the Sun, the following day, is what we call International Super Sunday, with an extended church service in the morning, and a nearly five-hour event at night that features a dinner, some amazing speaking, and worship, followed up by a prophetic presbytery, where leaders with prophetic gifting (30ish or so) will give a personal prophetic word to anyone who wants one, and pretty much all the attendees want one.    Or two.  Or three.  Or as many as there is time for.

My love and me, taken by a different new Irish friend, Claire... I don't look this good in real life. Bless God for the occasional use of makeup and supportive undergarments.

The whole Leadership Summit started about 15 years ago with just the leadership team of my own church — 20-30 good folk (and their spouses, as appropriate, most of whom are also leaders) who lead a specific area of ministry within the church.  Then, we expanded to invite a few of the pastors/leaders of various international ministries/churches with whom we minister, or over whom we have some apostolic leadership.  (See?  I bet I just lost a good 50% of you with that last sentence, and I’m just not going to explain it, either.  Unless you ask.)

Of the Summit — which is three jam-packed, meaty days of teaching, worship, and ministry, the most significant to me was Friday night.  On that night, I was praying for some friends when the Holy Spirit came powerfully upon me.  At first, I just bent over and put my hands on my thighs, kind of holding myself up.  Then, I sat.  After a while, I had to lie down.  It wasn’t that sort of dramatic thing you may have heard about (and which I repeatedly have witnessed) where the Holy Spirit performs a “smack down” and a person slumps to the floor or falls backward.  It was a little more subtle than that.  But not by much.

For… a time… at least more than an hour, but I don’t know how long, I was prayed over and ministered to, both by my dear, dear friends… co-workers in Christ… and by the Holy Spirit.  I was trembly, deep in my core and up into my shoulders and arms, as the Holy Spirit was on me.  My abs are still sore, nearly a week later, I was shaking so long.

Everyone who yields to the Holy Spirit and comes under His power finds a different experience.  Some shake violently.  Some laugh.  Some weep.  Some experience a profound calm.  Another dear friend, Paul Min, an apostolic 77-year-old powerhouse from Irvine, California (originally from South Korea), experiences his legs shaking, and he knows the power of God is residing in him.  I tend to quiver/convulse in my core.  It’s been like that for my whole life.

I know that a great many of you may think that odd and/or unbelievable, and that you’d not care for it, and you’re having second thoughts about me, right about now.  Frankly, that doesn’t matter so much.  Well, the part that doesn’t matter is what you think of me.  It does matter a great deal to me how you consider the God of all creation.  But, you can think I’m a looney, and I’m all right with that.  Even if you stop reading my blog. 

Anyone who has read here for any length of time is well-aware that I’m a Christian;  I don’t hide that, though not every post is about JESUS JESUS JESUS.  It’s more like, “This is my life, and Jesus is an integral part of it, of me.”  I often don’t want to post on the more God-oriented events of my life, because its so hard to communicate effectively and so easily misunderstood.  But, I felt like this last week was too significant to just pass by.

See what I mean by that first paragraph?

So.  What happened to me in that time can be broken down into

1. What others prayed over me.
2. What the Holy Spirit spoke directly to me.

In the past, when I “go down” under the power of the Spirit, I — to my remembrance — have never heard His specific, direct words.  Instead, what I usually experience is more like a… sense, an overwhelming sense of whatever it is I need most at the time:  His love, His power, His mercy, His forgiveness, His whatever.  This time was different in that I felt very strongly that I heard His voice.  It wasn’t loud.  More than a whisper, but not loud.  But, there were some specific things, some specific words and thoughts that I have never had, on my own, and I feel very strongly that they were beyond “impressions”;  they were the Word of God, to me, addressing some very specific needs.

Another thing that was different…  Sometimes, I have become a wee bit confused over others’ prayers over me.  Everyone, even those with maturity, doesn’t always hear from God 100% right, and the things that come out of their mouths aren’t always the pure, unadulterated Word of God.  For that reason, Scripture teaches us to “weigh carefully” what is spoken by prophecy.  In the past, I’ve had some difficulty at times, sorting out what’s what.  This time, among the 7+ people who prayed over me, and the many things that were spoken, there were two specific instances where God said, “That’s immature and inaccurate.  You can toss that.”  And silently, I returned prayer for the the person who was praying, thanking God for their willingness to minister and pray, but asking Him to increase the clarity of their spiritual ears, so that in the future, they could pray with more effectiveness.  It is my observation that in situations like that, the pray-er is often speaking out of what they know about that person, and their own personal views, rather than led by the Holy Spirit.  That doesn’t make God’s word less powerful, though those who minister prophetically should be continually seeking greater clarity, accuracy, and maturity.  I Corinthians 13:8-10 tells us “Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. ⁹ For we know in part and we prophesy in part, ¹⁰ but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.”

When the whole Friday night episode was over, I got up and wrote down everything I could remember.

Here are some of the things that God showed me — I’m not sharing everything.  Some of it is too personal, and some of it doesn’t quite make sense to me, and I have to hash it out, to seek God on it, still:

• God showed me that some of the interests I have pursued — specifically writing and birthing stuff — I have done because I am afraid that I am too old to have prophetic singing/worship stuff fulfilled in me, things that have been prayed and spoken over me repeatedly — countless times — for the last 20+ years.  Writing and birthing are not bad and they may be pursued later, but for the right reasons, not out of fear or distraction.
• I am to go to bed when my husband Martin does.  He is an early riser and I’ve always been a night owl.  In addition, I am an introvert, and I crave that time, late at night, when the house is still and no one needs me.  That is my “recharge” time.  However, it saddens my husband that I will not go to bed with him when he does, except maybe once a week.  I have thought he’s unreasonable/uncaring that he wants me do do/be something I’m not, and he thinks that I am unreasonable/uncaring because I won’t value his tender heart and the fact that he is restless until I come to bed.  I have been beyond stubborn, when what I really need to do is to obey.  I need to value him.  It is a “little” point of contention to me, but it is HUGE to my husband.  God the father affirmed to me that He will take care of things I fear I will lose in the process, and will make their replacement worthwhile.
• I must be intentionalabout investing in both my guitar-playing and my singing.  I am a fair guitar-player and I have a great voice.  I’m not bragging;  it was a gift of God that I’ve known about since my early childhood.  However, for my whole life, I’ve just been expecting God to DO SOMETHING about my voice, with my voice.  And He has, to an extent.  I am one of the core vocalists on my precious church’s worship team.  I lead worship (playing guitar and singing) weekly in a home group.  I am one of the three worship leaders for our church’s 6-12 year-olds.  I have been maturing and growing in spontaneous prophetic singing.  Yet, I know that that is not all God has in store for me.  I know I’m not living up to my potential, to His calling in me.  However, I have just expected Him to drop some bomb, some opportunity, to hit me over the head with some profound and specific direction, and He hasn’t done that.  He said that, instead, I need to be intentional about working that gift, investing in it, prioritizing it, furthering it, developing skill…  I totally have NOT done that in the past.  I’ve just coasted on what I have.  To that end, He gave me two imperatives:
  • I am to play guitar and sing for a minimum of an hour, daily.  If I do other things — read, blog, pursue other interests, etc. — it is to be after that hour is completed.
  • I am to take a voice class.  (I’m not sure why about this one, and I have looked into it — the community college that is very close to my home, however, is an extension campus, and does not have voice.  The other location is REALLY far away, spring classes have already started, and the schedule doesn’t seem like it would work at all.  So, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about that.)
• I felt indescribably strongly that smallish but mighty Vineyard Phoenix, my home church for 17+ years, will always be my Favorite House.  With capital letters.  My husband just got done reading a book by Tommy Tenney called God’s Favorite House.  I have not read it, though I know it is about building the local body of Christ, the local church.  I was FILLED with love and thankfulness and tenderness for the people who have poured themselves out for the Kingdom, for Jesus, and for me personally.  Even though about half (or more?) of those at the Summit were from other nations, those who prayed for me on Friday night — minus one — were all from my local church, Vineyard Phoenix.  I felt that was specific and intentional.  I have long loved the people of my church, especially those on the leadership team, with whom I have served for these many years, and whose pure, vibrant hearts for ministry and the  Gospel of Jesus I have been endless witness to.  But, especially on Friday night, I was filled with a… beyond-strong love for each.  Vicious, almost.  Abandoned, intense, jealous over, consuming, zealous love for my co-laborers in Christ.

I was going to next describe the things that were prayed over me by individuals, but I think that, instead, I will save that for next time.

Until then…    My love to all readers who have made it thus far.

Who has most influenced your walk with Jesus?

My IRL friend Nicole, a.k.a. Modern Reject poses this question on her blog today:  Who has most influenced your walk with Jesus?  My reply ended up being pretty lengthy, and I thought I’d copy & paste it here, and pose the same question to my readers. 

My list:

Arlene Hammons, the lady who led me to Jesus when I was four, and was a consistent, caring, Godly influence on me as the children’s pastor of the church I attended from age 3-18. Even when I was “graduated” out of children’s ministry, we still had a lot of contact. I will always be grateful to her influence in my life.

My former pastor, Brian Anderson, pastor of Vineyard Church North Phoenix. I started going there (double-timing my childhood church) when I was 16, and it was mind-blowing and REAL to me, and even though I haven’t been a part of that church for 17 years now (I went there from age 16-21), much of Brian’s teaching has remained.

My current pastors, Dennis & Nancy Bourns of VCF Phoenix. SELFLESS love and service, empowered by the Holy Spirit, with a true desire to produce fruitful, mature disciples who are having an impact on the world. I met them when I was 16, when they were “just” the parents of my high school friend, Holly. They were a solid, Godly family when my own family was completely dysfunctional. I would stay for weeks at a time in their home, and I had countless conversations with Nancy on their family room couch… she was counseling me and I never even knew it. Stealth-counseling. I absolutely credit any spiritual maturity and mental health to Dennis & Nancy’s influence in my life. I love them with all of my heart. I could easily cry, just thinking about how they have poured into me, with zero self-interest, in the last 20+ years.

Kathy Beal (www.wisdomtown.com). I have gone from regarding her as mentor to being privileged to call her friend over the last nearly 18 years she has been in my life. Her pursuit of Jesus, her gentle but real Godliness, her humility before the Father, her humor and interests have all greatly influenced me, and I love her dearly. One of my favorite things in the world is spending time with her — any amount of time, in any setting, for any reason. I always leave her presence both refreshed and challenged, which is a rare combination.

That’s pretty much it. There have been books I’ve read and appreciated, but relationship deeply matters to me. I can learn from a book, or from someone who has a peripheral presence in my life, but someone can’t really be an *INFLUENCE* to me unless I *LOVE* them, and they, me.

Just the right amount

About a week and a half ago, a friend saw me dancing, and had a thought that she didn’t know at the time I would really need to hear.  She didn’t tell me about it just then, but about a week and a half later.

Since I was about 18 — it took me a while — I realized that I wasn’t nearly as girly as most other young women around me.  I had been a tree-climbing, kickball-playing, barefoot tomboy as a child, with absolutely no regrets.  It didn’t bother my mother, either, at least not that I know about.  I went to a small elementary and high school — a VERY small school — and there weren’t enough people to form cliques.  Pretty much everyone was friends with everyone, and no one got singled out.  I would be teased occasionally for my love of “weird” music, but I think that’s about it.  Unless I was clueless to others’ opinions of me, which is a great likelihood.

I think it wasn’t until I got to college and witnessed — from afar, by choice — the sorority rush season at the school I attended, Tulane.  And I lived in a dorm with a bunch of young women.  And I saw a wider range of girls than I’d ever been a part of, previously.  And it dawned on me that I really wasn’t interested in what about 98% of them were interested in, and I started feeling like I had somehow missed the instruction manual on How to Properly be a Girl.

I’m now 38, and I have carried that my whole adulthood.

Yet, I like my interests.  I can’t imagine not liking baseball, or hiking (a neighbor gasped recently, “By yourself?  Aren’t you scared?” which hadn’t even occurred to me).  I think I look better wearing make-up, but most days, I don’t.  I feel like a faker/poser when I wear anything fancier than jeans.   I wear a dress maybe six times a year.  My walk feels clumpy to me — I’m bowlegged, my feet point out, I have thick ankles…

Sometimes my felt lack of femininity — both internally and externally — bothers me, sometimes not.

But, there are definitely times where I feel a disconnect when talking with other women, and that troubles me.  I do a lot better now than I used to;  I specifically look for things in which I can connect, things in common, and when all else fails, I just keep asking them questions and don’t talk about myself at all.  Most women like to talk about themselves.    But, more often than not, I start feeling awkward and too aggressive, and less feminine… or that I’m missing cues she’s sending (because that doesn’t come naturally to me), or something like that.

When thinking about this post, I could come up with about fifty things, right off the top of my head, where I’m really not as girly as most women, or things I like that most women don’t like…  Then, I started getting depressed, and decided to stop making that mental list.

So, please imagine my surprise when a lovely lady, my friend Brenda, pulled me aside and quietly told me a few days ago, “I watched you last Sunday in SuperChurch while you came off the stage and danced*.”  It was the Cha-Cha Slide, which the kids love to do, and is loads of fun; the teachers will occasionally put the music on when the adult service is running long and they need to kill some time with the kids.  She continued, “My thought right then was, as I was watching you dance, ‘She is so feminine.’  And I thought I should share that with you.”

She did this because in a conversation on Facebook, I had made the comment, “I tend not to read books for women because I get discouraged about how… unwomany I am.”  A few responded with encouragement, a few with incredulity, a few with, “I feel similarly!”  Brenda never commented, but she told me that after she read it, she thought to herself that I’d probably appreciate her sharing her thoughts with me.

Which I did.

Then, she made it even better by saying that she was thinking about how to tell me, and she got the thought, “You have just the right amount of femininity.  Just the right amount for yourself, and just the right amount for your daughters.”

Tears welled up.

That was so significant for me.

It sunk in deeply, immediately.  I could feel how important this was, and that this was going to be a pivotal moment in my life.

I’ll never forget it.

It made perfect sense.  YES, I’m not all crazy-feminine with pink, lacy frills, talking about Coach bags and mani-pedis (I’ve never had either), and neither do I seek out chick flicks — I’ve never seen Titanic or The Notebook –  and I don’t think I’ve ever cried at a commercial.  I have NEVER watched Lifetime channel.  I’m low-maintenance, and I love sports and I don’t run from conflict (even when, perhaps, I should).  I don’t like to be the center of attention, and tend to shy from anything flashy or shiny.  I generally don’t ever fear for my safety, and I worry that my children will look back and think I wasn’t nurturing enough as a mother.  But, God knew what He was doing when He made me, and in His wisdom, He gave me just the right amount of femininity.

Just the right amount.

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*I had led worship for the 6-12 year old kids.

Knock, knock…. KNOCK, KNOCK!!!

I struggle with being discouraged too easily and reading the wrong thing into roadblocks.  It came as a complete revelation to me that just because the initial answer appears to be “no” that doesn’t mean God wants me to stop trying.  Perhaps He wants me to try a different way, use a different approach, or wait…  You know, persist.  Persevere.  Ask and keep on asking.  Knock and keep on knocking.*  Seek Him out.  Pray a bit more.  Fast, even.

That’s hard for me.  I was raised in a “No means no” world, and I tend to be like that myself.

I found myself in adulthood with the mistaken impression that if something went wrong with my plans, then it wasn’t meant to be.  And, the inverse:  If God wanted me to do something, He’d make it easy for me.  <facepalm>  I can’t believe now that that was my understanding of blessing.  I thought if something was His plan for me, that if I was following His path, that surely He’d make the way smooth.  Proverbs 3:5-6 does say that He will direct our path if we’re trusting in Him, but it took me years — YEARS — to understand that sometimes, He directs our path through some pretty rocky terrain.

I remember my first months of marriage, and me being really shocked with how difficult it was.  I cried every day for the first three months.  Part of that was from difficulty adjusting, and part of it was, “HOLY CRAP.  What have I gotten myself into???”  I was really panic-stricken, because I thought that my husband Martin was God’s plan for me, but if he was, then why were things so *@&#)(*&!! hard???  So, I thought that maybe I had heard wrong from God, and now here I was, stuck in a marriage that was not of Him, stuck because I didn’t believe in divorce, and if I had made the wrong decision, I was going to have to suck it up and live — until death do us part — with my poor decision.

I didn’t understand that many, many, many times, God uses difficulty to refine us, to teach us, to draw us to Him, to bring us to maturity…

Ease ≠ God.

At least, not necessarily.

I think I had fabricated a holy-ish interpretation of the obviously fleshly maxim, “If it feels good, do it.”  I had turned it into, “If everything goes smoothly, God is in it, so it must be right.”  Turns out, that’s not in scripture.  That’s just not His way.  Lying on your back in a green field, looking up at the puffy clouds as they float by is pleasant, and there truly are some beautifully pleasant times with God;  He is a God of peace.  But, He is also a God of discipline.  I mean discipline in the best sense — the ordered, structured process by which we reap something fruitful from our well-directed labor.

I’m thinking of my garden right now.  It has been an unending metaphor for my life.  “If I pick the right seeds — heirloom, native, organic — and plant at the right time, and tend it properly, I will have LOADS and LOADS of abundant produce, and I will share it with everyone, and I will can the overflow, and we will save on groceries, and I will be productive, and my husband will appreciate my efforts on behalf of our family!!!”  Well, it hasn’t turned out like that.  I did a whole lot more learning in the last six months or so than reaping.  These past couple weeks, I have been preparing the soil for a better harvest…  About 3″ more of (organic, homemade) compost, about a 1/2″ layer of sand, a handful of Ironite, a sprinkling of gypsum, turn over the soil as deep I can, mix it in, mix it again, turn it again, get down on my hands and knees with a little trowel and little cultivator and try to work every cubic inch of soil, down at least 12″.  THAT IS HARD WORK.  I have worked up a sweat.  I have gotten sunburnt.  I have gotten COVERED in dirt.  And it takes all day to do about 20 square feet.  All day.  Sore muscles, quarts of water consumed, swatting away the flies…  Ugh.  It hasn’t been pretty, that’s for sure.

But, I have hope, you know?

I’m not as idealistic (which is a whole ‘nother topic — harmful idealism) as I once was about the garden, and I find myself saying, “Well, maybe the winter crop still won’t be fruitful.  But I’m going to keep on trying, keep on learning, and I’m not giving up.”

I know, I know… I’ve already blogged about this.

This post, by the way, is NOTHING like what I set out to write.  I was going to write about how a young woman wanted me to be her unofficial doula last year, and I invested HOURS of time on her, and when it came to labor, she totally chucked all the natural stuff out the window and had a pitocin-and-epidural birth and was disappointed by the results, and how she didn’t feel euphoric when the baby was born (drugs’ll do that, because they’re endocrine disruptors).  Then, she got pregnant again, and didn’t invite me to the birth, which I was OK with, because the first one was a hard disappointment…  But her first words to our mutual friend after her second son was born was, “I wish Karen had been here.”  Which made me happy and sad.  I should have at least asked if she wanted me there, instead of saying to myself, “Hmph.  I’m not even going to offer, because if she really wants to do it naturally, she’ll ask.”  Gah.  I feel like a slug for having thought that.  AND, it’s one more instance of me giving up too easily, letting my disappointment beset me, and that keeping me from doing something I really should have done.

I remember one night in a small group Bible study, about fifteen years ago, and a guy named Doug said something about seeking God out, and that sometimes, it’s like God plays hide-and-seek.  I was offended.  That went against EVERYTHING I believed.  God doesn’t HIDE from us!  If God wants us to know something, or do it, He will let Himself be known.  We don’t have to LOOK for Him!  Doug said that God hides in such a way like we might with a small child — with a big toe sticking out underneath the curtain which we’re hiding behind, or we might cough a bit.  I cannot begin to describe my shock.  Then Doug had the audacity to Scripturally back up what he was postulating, using verses in the Song of Solomon.  The whole thing really… well, I don’t know if it changed my paradigm right then, but it at least started the process.

And, I think Doug was onto something there.

He’s now a pastor at my church, too.    Turns out he does know a thing or two.

So.

The moral of the story is, instead of expecting God to just appear with an orchestral crescendo and sprinkle magic pixie dust on my life and make it easy, I’m learning to look for His big toe, the hint of His presence, and not be so easily discouraged when He doesn’t show up with blessing like I thought He was supposed to, in the way I want Him to.

He DOES bless, but He doesn’t bless by making things EASY.  Martin IS the right man;  it’s just that marriage is hard work, and honoring my husband and laying down my life — in some ways literally, in some figuratively — for him is hard.  The garden isn’t flawed just because it needs some hard work, not the garden in my back yard, nor the garden of my life.

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*“ask” in Matthew 7:7 — αιτειτε  verb – present active imperative.  In other words, you DO it and you keep doing it.

“O love of God, how rich and pure, how measureless and strong…”

Three bits, connected in my mind and heart.  I’ve been pondering all of them as I go about my day.

•   The lyric “for You and You alone, awake my soul” was just about… too heavy for me yesterday morning in worship.  I have been hearing God call me into deeper relationship with Him, for Him and Him alone, and that everything for which I strive and fall short will be added — slowly, perhaps, but surely — as I pursue Him, as my soul awakes to Him.

• Confirming this, of course, is Matthew 6:33, “But seek first His Kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

• Added to the above is something a sweet friend of mine posted on Facebook.  She first quoted Beth Moore‘s tough love statement, “God is more interested in our calling than in our comfort.”  But tempering that, my friend wrote, “He also offers us the greatest comfort when we submit to our calling.”  Ah, this is so true!  Adding further depth and poignancy to this is the fact that this sweet friend was shocked, less than two weeks ago, when her baby girl was born with Down Syndrome.  I can’t think of a better family for this newborn than my friend’s.  Still, it is surely a difficult diagnosis.  Yet, she is finding that, in submitting to the call of God on her life — to raise this tiny, precious life — He brings comfort.  What a hard, yet beautiful lesson.

How vast His love
How deep His love
How measureless His love
How indescribable His love
How untranslatable His love
How powerful His love
How need-meeting His love
How tender His love
How beautiful His love
How soaring His love
How eye-opening His love
How rich His love
For me

I find myself, more and more, wanting others to “taste and see” how good is my God.  I have often wished that I could call down upon someone — doubters, especially — the beauty and power and depth of God’s love.  “If only s/he could experience the love of God, only for a few moments, then all questions would be put to rest…”  I have thought this when someone wants to debate the merits and worth of Christianity with me, and point out apparent flaws and inconsistencies in Scripture.  Such little is accomplished in that sort of dialogue!  Not that apologetics are worthless;  they have their valuable place.  But, no one can be argued into the Kingdom of God.   On the other side of the coin, I just completed reading a book in which a character unwittingly places herself in a situation of abuse because the family leans to heavily on the “inner light” and love of Christianity, and doesn’t measure the character and words of the perpetrator by the truth of the Word of God.  STILL.  At the heart of Christianity is the indescribable love of God, which must be experienced to grasp, and even then, one can never fully grasp it.

The love of God, like so many other aspects of Christianity, is beautiful and… difficult at the same time.

The treasure chest of secret wants

I remember an after-church lunch, years ago, at a pizza joint, with a bunch of friends from church.  If memory serves, my oldest (who is now 14) was two years old, and I had just had my second son.  I don’t recall the circumstances, but something someone said touched a soft spot in my heart, and the tears started trailing down my cheeks.  A lady I’ve known for years started laughing and said — meaning it as a compliment, I’m sure –  “Karen, you used to be so cold, but ever since you’ve become a mother, you cry at everything!”

I’m certain she was right on both accounts, but it was one of those, “Uh… thanks” moments.  It really stung.  And clearly, twelve years later, I’ve not forgotten.

And though God has helped me — indeed, using motherhood as a tool — to gain a much greater appreciation and acceptance for the value, benefit, and divine gift of emotions (after growing up in a family which communicated that emotions in general are weak and Godless), I’m still pretty protective of them.  It’s hard for me to “go there.”  I still have to make a commitment, a choice, to dive into the land of tears and deep feelings.

I was reflecting on this while I was doing some gardening in the early hours this morning, after asking myself, “Why have I found the time to post on a couple other topics this week, yet not the follow-up to Tuesday’s post?”  And I think it’s this:  The whole event on Sunday was so deeply emotional for me, that a good portion of myself wants to keep it to myself, to not lay it bare for other’s eyes to see, to not leave it vulnerable to strangers, or even to friends.  It’s safer to be quiet.

And, it’s really important to me to be understood, and it seems here, on this particular topic, that there is lots of room in which to be severely misunderstood, and I’m not certain I want to take that risk.

Which is why I’m… happy, in a way, that my particular desire to be safer, quieter, and less risky doesn’t let me off the hook from revealing what God whispered to me on Sunday morning.  Because when God spoke that prophetic word me through someone else, it was very much like Him saying , “Not only is it OK for you to write about what you experienced, but I want you to.  I’m drawing it out of you.”

As an aside, I spoke on Tuesday night with the lady who had delivered that precious prophetic package to me on Sunday.  I wanted to give her a little background as to what God was doing in me, and how God’s words, through her, answered an immediate need.  I also affirmed that she had no idea that I wrote, or had a blog.  And, even more exciting, was that her speaking to me was the FIRST TIME she had mustered up the boldness to obey God’s prompting to speak out prophetically, which is likely why she was so abrupt in the delivery.    “Just do it and get it done!” I could hear her admonishing herself.  Isn’t that so cool?  Isn’t that just like our God, to take our first feeble attempts and make something grand of them, as an encouragement to our hearts, and a reminder to keep moving forward, keep moving up, keep moving in, ever closer to Him, knitted ever tighter with our brothers and sisters in Christ.  It is lovely to me, and a real lesson:   He doesn’t concentrate on our mistakes;  He encourages our every attempt at obedience, our every faltering, wobbly step of maturity.

And, speaking of speaking to others…  that brings me back to the point of this post, and the heart of God’s whispers to my own heart on Sunday.

The church of which I’m a member, in which I serve, in which I grow, has a great emphasis on “equipping the saints for the work of service.”  Thus, anyone who would like to may learn — through classes and hands-on “workshops” — to pray for others, to understand the Kingdom of God, to walk in the prophetic, and even interpret dreams, among other subjects.  In other words, if you WANT to grow in ministry, you have ample opportunity.  In fact, I believe that’s why our church is rather mid-sized:  The pastor routinely encourages EVERYONE to participate, whether it’s in giving or receiving ministry.  He’s even invited those who are simply warming the seats and have no intention of growing to visit the local megachurch up the road;  that drew ire, I’m sure!  In other words, active participation in church life — in a culture that is all about not going out of one’s way, and serving self — is the par for the course at my church.

As a result, I am 100% comfortable praying for others, especially one-on-one, or as part of a little team praying for someone’s need, laying a hand on the shoulder of the hurting one, and watching God’s love infiltrate the cracks and heal the wounds.  I love it, in fact.  It is precious to me.

And, I receive e-mails as part of a prayer loop for our local church body’s needs.  More often than not, I say a prayer right then, as I read, and I really expect God to show up — how can He NOT respond to a Body of believers, rallied to a cause, motivated in love?

One of my favorite books in all of our going-on-ten-years’ experience in homeschooling is Window on the World, which is, roughly, a social studies book, introducing children to cultures, countries, and people groups.  At the end of each two-page section is a box describing how to pray for the group being studied — things about which to thank God, and things which still need His divine intervention.  The book’s tagline is, “When we pray, God works.”  I love that!  I am so confident of that.

Prayer is a part of my everyday life, from breathed sighs of distress, “Dear Jesus…” to mealtime prayer, bedtime prayer, and every hour in between.  Prayer in the car, prayer in my heart, prayer said aloud, prayer for every occasion.

However, on Sunday, as I lay on my face in worship and need, He revealed one gaping hole in my prayer life, and why this is particularly destructive.

I don’t pray for my wants.  Like, ever.

I will pray endlessly for wisdom, for maturity, for His will to become mine, for His love to fill me, for Him to help me keep my mouth shut, for me to not react in anger so easily, for me to see with His eyes…  I will pray for my marriage, for my character, for my needs, for the needs of my children, my husband, my home.

But I don’t pray for my wants.

In some sense, I rather congratulated myself for this.  I pray for the Really Important Stuff, and toss the flimsy, flighty desires to the side like chaff, reminding myself that, “my God will supply all your needs, according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”  Wants are peripheral, right?  They’re beside the point for any real Christian, any one with any Quaker or Calvinist (albeit Holy Spirit-filled)  leanings.  An outlook that sets aside one’s wants is sacrificial, right?  It flies in the face of our materialistic, self-centered culture.  Right?  Even the church — the American church, anyway — too often looks to capitalize on the blessings of God, missing the point of why He saves us, and viewing Him as some giant Moneybags in the Sky.  Surely I didn’t want to be a part of that!

But what I had overlooked, and what my Father so gently reminded me about, is that when I don’t submit them to God, tell Him about them, lay them at His feet… and even ask for them, what was happening in my heart was that…  Ah, I don’t know how to explain it exactly.  But, all those wants were tossing around inside my heart and mind, pestering at the corners, making me feel their lack, encouraging me to become bitter, raising their heads at the least opportune times so that I’d feel… less than, left out, abandoned, ignored, unprovided-for, left behind, uncared-for.

When the enemy’s ploys come to light, they make me angry.  Me not praying for my wants was rooted in me trying to do the right thing.  I reasoned, “What if I was praying for the wrong thing?  My desires are so tainted with my sinful nature!  What if He would give into something for which I asked, but wasn’t good for me?  What if I asked for something that wasn’t part of His plan for me?  He knows what I want, right?  I’m sure He’ll just provide for me the good things that I want, and sift out the harmful desires, and my life will be better all around.”

Except, that’s not the way it works.  He showed me that when my wants are not bathed in prayer and laid before Him, the bad ones don’t just go away.  The good ones, more often than not, never materialize.  Because, for reasons I don’t understand, we have a God who likes to be asked.  “Ask and it will be given to you…“  “You do not have because you do not ask.”  In James 2:2-3, I had been so fearful of asking “with wrong motives” that I neglected the importance of simply… asking.

So I asked.

• that I may one day become a doula.

• that I may become a published writer.

• that I may one day live somewhere greener, with trees and hills and flowers and water.

• that I may have a home which can accommodate my stepdad, or my mother-in-law, or any other traveler who may desire to stay with us for days (or weeks or months) without having to sleep on a bunk-bed or a couch.

• that I may have a home with property enough for my children to run free, without worrying about the neighbors worrying about shouting children at 8 p.m.

• that I may have some money to spend on clothes, without worry, with joy; lovely things, not just cheap things.

• that I may complete my college degree.

• that my husband may encourage me more.

Those, plus others came rolling with relief off my tongue, off my heart…  I prefaced it with, “God, these are things I want, and I do not deny it.  But, I am so mistrustful of my own motives, and I do not want you to give me anything that is apart from your plan, nor anything that may seem good to me, but which would be destructive.  I trust your wisdom.”  And so on…

And when I arose, I felt a billion times better.  I discovered that it’s not righteous for me to pretend I don’t have wants.  It’s not beneficial for me to “hide” my wants from God, and hope He hears my heart anyway, and gives the things to me in my self-righteous, misdirected denial.

He is a loving God, and He often has provided things for me, about which I’ve been afraid to pray, afraid to ask.  HOWEVER, there is peace in the asking, and I had not accounted for that.  What made me feel gloriously buoyant was knowing I had been honest with my God, I had submitted my wants to Him, I had asked with my best attempt at pure motives, I had not demanded….  I could picture my little treasure chest of secret wants, willingly opened, each item brought out, confessed and displayed, fingered longingly, then put back into the box, and pushed forward, given to my God, and with relief, I said, “OK, now.  You take it.  Do with it what you will.”  It was a great load lifted from my heart.