At some point in His ministry, Jesus sent out the twelve disciples and gave them power
to drive out demons
to cure diseases
to heal the sick, and
to preach the kingdom of God. (Luke 9:1; Mark 6:7)
The twelve? That means that He gave those powers and gifts to Judas as well—the one He chose by the will of the Father, knowing he would betray Him. The one whose love of money was never cured though he spent three years at the Master’s feet.
Jesus sent them out two by two. Who got stuck with Judas? Was he so wicked at this time? Perhaps not. Perhaps he only had a “little sin” in his heart. But all the disciples struggled with unbelief and fear and pride. What was so different about Judas?
They were to take no food (what if they had a blood sugar problem?), no money (or credit cards for that matter), no change of clothes (ewww … would you want two sweaty, smelly men in your home?), and they were to preach repentance. Apparently Judas failed to heed his own warning.
Judas never asked Jesus to drive out his own demons. He never got to see the fruits of his labor. He missed the blessings and didn’t endure to the end of God’s plan, to the resurrection. He tried to avoid the pain in his heart and took his own life.
And yet … God’s plan could not be thwarted. His plan triumphed in the end. He used Judas’ poor choice to bring salvation to the whole world.
A 2024 Update. A couple students in our community took their own lives last month. I understand that when pain is overwhelming, a person can believe there is no alternative, but the premature end of a life feels like such a waste, a missed opportunity to bless others. I wonder how God will redeem these events in the lives of those who are left behind to pick up the pieces.
There are rare few days when I wake totally at peace in my heart. Usually, I have to work through a disturbing dream or some upset emotion from the day before.
I have spent a lifetime pursuing inner peace. Even as a preschooler, I felt a restlessness that I labeled as guilt. Accepting Jesus, the Prince of Peace, as my Savior helped relieve any fear of retribution, but I continued to wrestle with negative emotions. I remember in Grade 6 doing my first Scripture word study. I looked up every verse in the Bible that contained the word peace, but that information only made me long to find more answers.
Now that I’ve finally figured out how to reach a state of peace through inner healing prayer, I wonder how peace differs from joy or happiness. Supposedly, “happy” is related to circumstances, but I’m told no one can steal my joy. Happy is an emotion. Isn’t joy an emotion too? If not, what is it? Perhaps the English language is inadequate to define these three words.
I understand peace. I’m not sure I experience as much joy or happiness. The closest I come is when I witness people hear from God and see them come to peace. That gives me great joy—but that’s also “happy” to me.
An MK (Missionary Kid) I know died yesterday. His family, surely, is not happy, but I can see them experiencing peace in the midst of the pain. Can they experience joy as well in this circumstance, as they picture him in heaven?
A 2024 Update. I am in a very different place in life since I penned those thoughts in 2006. Today I rarely wake up feeling unpeaceful. I’ve come to believe that peace and joy are the same thing—they just manifest in different energy levels. I’m generally a low-energy person emotionally, so you won’t see me wildly reacting when I’m delighted, but inside, my heart may be leaping. And happy? That’s gazing at the beauty of the sky, hearing pounding rain on a hot tin roof, tasting Ethiopian injera ba wat or savoring Lindor’s dark chocolate.
I was self-assured in my childhood about my clothing choices until someone remarked negatively about an outfit. Then self-consciousness set in, not unlike Adam and Eve who were content until the serpent catapulted them into self-awareness—and then they felt shame.
I was coerced recently into watching an Oprah show where interviewers accosted ladies on the street and told them how awful their bras were and how terrible their clothing styles were. Made-for-TV drama. I could have socked the accosters who freely handled and lifted the strangers’ bosoms. Why would anyone get a thrill out of changing a person’s bra size?
Now, I’m not against looking nice, but the danger was that I suddenly became self-aware and others-aware. I sat in our ladies’ small-group Bible study last night and found myself looking around the room at cup sizes and positions and bra fits. And value and judgment suddenly rested on who did it “right.”
I also noticed a friend’s clothes yesterday. The style went against everything Oprah said she should wear, and I considered saying something to her. Really?! Where does Oprah get her clout? Why do the people on her show get to establish the standard for my friend?
What we wear often reflects what those in our circle are wearing. When tapered jeans were “in,” my daughters pled with me to get rid of my straight-legged ones. How uncouth, gauche, and unsightly! Well, guess what? Now I’m not only fashionable in my wide jeans, but we’re told they are better for the figure because they make the hips look smaller! So tapered jeans are now definitely “out.”
Years ago “over-sized” was in. Today, it’s the tighter the better. (Personally, I prefer the big—it hides a multitude of bulges!)
Another skewed value in America is the drive to look younger and thinner. In some other cultures, value is assigned by age or wisdom, and wealth is determined by plumpness—meaning you have enough food to eat. Maybe I’m living in the wrong culture.
All this attention to outward appearances makes me tired. The focus is all wrong. What I wear and how I wear it begins to determine my value in my circle—be it home or church or at the grocery store. How do I return to unselfconscious and dress according to my personal preferences? How do I quit judging, sizing up, assigning value to someone based on their outward appearance? I want to be confident enough in myself to dress in a way that self disappears. Self-conscious means I think more about I instead of you. And I instead of God.
The missing ingredient here is relationship. I think the reason we ladies were aghast at the behavior of the accosters on the show was because they violated strangers’ personal space. If a friend had spinach in her teeth, I would tell her. I would want her to do the same for me. And if a trusted friend kindly pointed out that my dress was frumpy, I’d take it to heart. But if I’m criticized for my shoes, and my choice is based on comfort for arthritic feet, no matter what your opinion is, the ability to walk supersedes style for me. But it still makes me sad that I’m being judged for not keeping up with fashion.
I suspect when someone cares how I look, it’s more a reflection on how it makes THEM feel. Maybe I should feel sad for the critiquer because she is driven by something unfulfilled in her own soul.
2024 Update. It’s interesting to look back at my younger self and see what triggers made me obsess. I may still notice today what other ladies are wearing, but I can do so without judgment. I’m comfortable with my choices now. As my sister says, “I’m too old to worry about that anymore.”
My sweet parents and Grandpa Peterson My early fashion role models!
I think I absorb more of the pain from the world than I realize. So, just for today I want to lay each request, each burden, at God’s feet rather than carry them myself.
I visualize each person or organization I pray for as a domino on God’s tray. Some stand straight, some lie on their sides, and others lean over the edge. But all are in God’s hands. And like a butler balancing an assortment of goodies on a tray, so God carries the world—His world—in His capable hand. And I, the child heir, can skip along beside Him, knowing that He has all things under His care and control. I’m free to watch Him or join Him in His work, or I’m free to run off and play. And sometimes I do one and sometimes I do the other. But it’s no longer my responsibility. It seems silly for the child to point out mishaps and misdemeanors to the butler. He’s well aware of them, and it’s His job to wipe up the spills.
So, what is prayer? Prayer is tugging on the butler’s hand. When He leans down, I whisper in his ear: “I’m scared. Did you see that? Can You help me with my homework? Can You help my friend Susie who fell and scraped her knee?” And He smiles and nods and comes to the rescue. I’m too little to do a grown-up’s job.
If I were to choose a recurring theme for my greatest struggle in life, it would be over the subject of money. I have been imbalanced for so long that it’s hard for me to get to the center. It’s like being on a wobbly merry-go-round with one side higher than the other, and all I can do is tightly grip the edges.
When I was single and my decisions only affected myself, I felt at peace. I could be as imbalanced as I chose, and it only affected me. But when you add a spouse and children to the mix, it becomes complicated—especially if there’s a difference in philosophy, upbringing, goals, and values. Trust is at the core of the relationship. Will I ever come to grips with this topic?
The bottom line for me, I guess, is learning to trust the God of the universe that He will take care of me and supply all my needs. The wise financial planner saves for the future; the foolish spends it all on pleasure now. The miser hoards it all and has no pleasure. Somewhere there’s a balance, and I want to be at peace no matter what circumstance I find myself in. I can’t hold onto my false security handles anymore. I have to leap into the loving arms of Jesus and trust Him to sustain me and not let me fall. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and I know that He will care for me. But the perspective has to change. Not only does He own them, but I do too. I’m heir to the kingdom.
Later. I fretted and fretted over missing the deadline for our daughter to apply for the Presidential Scholarship at Berry College. But we got an invitation in the mail for the scholarship weekend anyway. My faith factor just bumped up a notch, and I let go of my tight grip when she won the contest.
A 2024 Update. My heart finally began to relax at last when, a few years ago, I found myself worrying about how I’d manage financially if I became a widow. God’s gentle voice whispered in my ear, “I will be a husband to you. I will care for your needs.”
. . . His Spirit in your inner self [indwelling your innermost being and personality] (Ephesians 3:16 Amplified)
Since my innermost being is home to the Holy Spirit, I want to make Him feel as at home and comfortable as I possibly can. I know how icky it feels in my earthly home when there’s tension and discord and fighting and self-centeredness. How at home does the Holy Spirit feel when I’m angry, peevish, sulky, self-centered, lonely* or at worst—when I sin, leaving dirty smudges on the windows of His house, keeping others from seeing His light shine through?
[*“Why are you lonely? Aren’t I here?” says the Holy Spirit]
Guilt is like walking on a sandy beach, leaving footprints for all to see. And when shame tries to smooth over the prints, I create more footprints in my retreat.
Forgiveness is God sending His wind (the Holy Spirit) to blow across the sand, erasing all the prints. And even if I fail again, the wind continues to blow.
How much better to scramble onto a rock, where no footprints can be made, and no guilt and shame exist.
I know your deeds. Behold, I have put before you an open door which no one can shut, because you have a little power, and have followed My word, and have not denied My name. (Revelation 3:8 NASB)
It’s easy to be faithful on paper and in private. But how will I do if persecution arises? If I have to testify before unbelievers who are mocking me? I live such a small, sheltered, cushy life. I have a godly heritage; we own two cars; my husband has a job. It’s easy to profess Christ when there’s a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and a happy church to attend. I have never experienced persecution. Never lived in a war zone. Never suffered a broken bone or the heartache of a wayward child. Never been through divorce or the death of a close loved one. Never been through a natural disaster, been forced to do what I don’t want to do, not faced poverty or the temptation of riches; I live in a safe neighborhood. Never lived alone. I’m surrounded by people who love me and whom I love. No wonder I love Jesus! How will I respond in the hour of trial?
Lord, keep me faithful to the end.
A 2024 Update. Interesting that I forgot to mention my three miscarriages. I guess that’s the power of healing. And since I wrote this, I’ve grieved the loss of both my parents. I’ve also been through the fire of hatred, lies, and targeted anger from clients in the past few years. Does that count? I may be a slow learner, but today I’m at peace.
I’ve been taught all my life that we are to believe every word written in the Bible, but most of us pick and choose which rules and principles we want to follow. And if we question a portion of someone’s pet doctrine or rule, we’re told we’re going against Scripture.
There’s a reason, obviously, why the Apostle Paul’s letters are included in the canon, but one has to keep in mind that he wrote to a specific person or church about specific issues in the context of their culture. How different would these letters read if he lived today and wrote to our American congregations? Different needs, different pastors, different times, different issues.
For example, what would he say to American women today and their roles? Would he still demand they wear a head covering in church? Would he still admonish us to not usurp authority over our husbands?
How about rules for slaves? Would he decry sex trafficking? Perhaps Paul would address the subject of the homeless. Would he step into the arena of political opinion? Character qualities and general principles can be applied today, but specific rules in the Pauline epistles—probably not. All the instructions regarding the widow list, for example, don’t seem as relevant today, though he might still urge us to care for the marginalized.
The Scripture says that in latter times some will fall away from the faith, paying attention to deceitful spirits and doctrines of demons (I Timothy 4:1). I think it takes discernment to sort through all these Pauline rules.
If you want to explore this topic more, read Scot McKnight’s The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking How You Read the Bible.
In the book Heaven: Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Heaven, Randy Alcorn teaches that the eternal heaven and earth will become one, that we will live on a literal earth, similar to the Garden of Eden. But in the intermediate heaven, we’ll be aware of what’s going on (on earth) and may even pray for our loved ones.
What if heaven, the kingdom of God, is spatially here right now, in another dimension, but we just can’t see it? Many people on earth today experience a portal into another world. Characters in the fictional series The Chronicles of Narnia, my D.I.D. (dissociative identity disorder) friends, and Jesus Himself, saw/see angels and demons, the past and the future, but in a different dimension. Why can some “see” and others cannot? Is that where certain gifts of the Spirit come into play? Is it that an abused child is exposed to this portal (forbidden to the rest of us to seek it) by the demons?
In The Shining Man with Hurt Hands, Ellis Skofield tells how he worked with multiples (D.I.D.) in chatrooms on the Internet. Here’s his explanation of that fifth dimension (the model for most of us). Our mind controls our body in the material world. In the spiritual world, our spirit hears from the Holy Spirit OR is tempted by other spirits. Our spirit then transfers what it hears to our mind, where we decide to ignore or act on the received data with our bodies.
For us ordinary folks, there’s an almost impenetrable wall between these two worlds, and the Bible commands us not to try to see through it. However, mediums, satanic cults, and occultists of many stripes see through that wall all the time. Inadvertently, so do many multiples, and their ability to do so is what gives us an approach through which we can help them.
I understand the concept; I’m just not comfortable with the diagram layout. I see it more as three-dimensional, but I can’t draw it. I see the Holy Spirit inside the mind, which is inside the body; and the evil spirits dwell outside the body of the believer. But the diagram is helpful for seeing the separation of the material vs. immaterial (for now) worlds.
What is your experience with this, and how would you draw it?
In the Pursuit of Peace 