Category Archives: God

The Seeds of Prayer

Posted on by under God, Prayer

Journal 2018

I have an overwhelming list of people I want to pray for, and I can’t keep up with them all.

Visual: I am in a square room with many doors, and each open door has monsters (demons) guarding them, preventing me from exiting. I know I cannot fight them all at once, but I still grab my Sword of the Spirit and flail it around. Suddenly, I lose my grip, the sword flies through the air, and it lodges in the wall above one of the doors. I laugh out loud. Well, that was a most ineffective use of my weapon!

So Jesus teaches me like a Jedi warrior how to use my sword: Keep calm, maintain control, and you only have to fight one ogre at a time.

And which one is that? I wonder. Instantly, I know its name: Doubt.

Doubt in my prayer life. Doubt that I’m doing it right or not doing enough or… And so, I invite Doubt into the prayer room. Jesus stands outside the arena, watching me. “Parry here, thrust there. Watch your vulnerable side. Good job. Stay alert,” He calls.

Once I’ve practiced, I invite Doubt into the ring, thrust forward with my sword, and the ogre vanishes like smoke. The doorway is now clear, and I can exit into a lush green garden.

“May I spend some time here with you?” Jesus and I ask at the same time, and we both laugh.

“See this rose?” “Note this bush.” “Do you like this tree?”

Yes, yes and yes!

“I made them all for you to enjoy,” He says. I can see the delight on His face.

“But what about that prayer room?” I ask. “Aren’t I supposed to be in there fighting ogres?”

“At some point,” He replies. “But for now, I want you to relax and rest here with Me and learn to delight in Me. Then when you do fight, you carry My heart and My strength with you, and you’re not fighting on your own. Rest here with Me and enjoy My presence, and I will teach you. I will let you know when it’s time to return to the room. Just stay close to Me for now. In this garden, pay attention, look and listen. There are things to learn in the quietness and stillness that you cannot learn in the midst of a battle.”

I’m okay with that, I think, but I don’t know what to do with the multi-page list I’ve been carrying around.

“We’ll use that for weed control,” He replies. And He carefully lays the papers in a special place in the garden, covers them with dirt, and walks away. “They are important to this garden,” He says. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

“Oh!” I exclaim. “There are little seeds embedded in the pages! When the rain comes, they’ll begin to sprout and grow. I don’t have to keep planting them.”

“I’ll keep watch over them with you, and My gardener helpers will make sure they get the proper nutrients,” He says.

And now I see it. The prayers I pray on behalf of other people are like seeds. The more I plant, the bigger the crop, but I’m not capable of or responsible for making them sprout or blossom. Now I’m eager to find even more seeds to plant.

“Look no further,” Jesus says, smiling, as He pulls out a packet from His pocket.

“Show me where to plant them,” I say.

“Some will be planted in your heart and some in others’ hearts. Some will fall on rocky paths, some will get choked by thorns, some will fall on good soil. (Sound familiar?) Just keep planting and sowing, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Lessons from Mark, Part 2

Posted on by under Scripture, God

Journal 2018

“That’s why I have come.” (Mark 1:38)

Jesus declares He’s there to preach, but He keeps getting sidetracked by people just wanting their physical needs met. Yet He doesn’t view meeting people’s needs as a distraction. He has compassion on them, even as He continues to fulfill His mission to preach. But there were consequences to His compassion (v. 40). Jesus is hindered from preaching in the villages after He agrees to heal a leper who disobeys Jesus’ command to go to the priest and to keep quiet about it. Jesus may not have been as comfortable sitting on a rock in the sun outside the village instead of meeting people in the privacy of a home or in the synagogue. But God’s Word will not be thwarted. The people find Him and come to Him.

The Triumphal Entry (Mark 11:3)

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When Jesus gave instructions to His disciples about finding a colt, they were to say to the owner, “The Lord needs it AND will send it back here shortly.” I’ve never before noticed the “and.”

Who kept up with it the whole time they were in Jerusalem? Who returned the colt and when? I know the donkey incident fulfilled scripture, but I still ask, on a practical level, why He did it. Why ride when no one else does? And why a colt?

On Regret (Mark 14:72)

After he denied Jesus three times, Peter broke down and wept.

This strong, overconfident braggadocio with a choleric temperament falls apart when confronted with his own failure. Weeping and repentance are appropriate, but regret can paralyze. Afterwards, shame rushes in to keep one bound. Only Jesus’ gentle question, “Peter, do you love Me?” releases all the shame and regret.

On Envy (Mark 15:9)

Pilot knew that the chief priests handed Jesus over to him out of envy. Envy so blinded their hearts and minds that they were ready to commit murder and release a murderer, Barabbas. How ironic and twisted is that?

Why envy and jealousy? What did Jesus have that they didn’t and that they wanted? A following? Respect? Their pride revolved around self-righteousness. Keeping and teaching the law required years of study and hard work. They had their Ph.D. in the subject, after all, and along comes an uneducated Galilean who has more wisdom and more knowledge than they’ve gained in a lifetime of study. And something else—He has power. They’d never seen anything like it, and they were afraid because they were losing control. When we lose control, we feel powerless and vulnerable, and we don’t like that feeling. What if Jesus was teaching the truth? Then my lifetime of self-effort turns to dust, and I am left humble and humiliated like Saul.

Humble yourself in the sight of God and He will lift you up (James 4:10).

The way up is down. Counterintuitive. “Let go and let God” is more than a cliche.

Jesus’ Torture (Mark 14)

We usually focus on the whipping, which would be pain beyond endurance in itself, but today as I read this account, I realized He most likely had brain damage or a concussion due to the blows on His thorn-crowned head. And add to that, sleep deprivation. No one without supernatural ability could stay present through this all and have a coherent thought in his head. All a person wants in the midst of torture is for the pain to cease. How did Jesus stay true to Himself?

“My God, My God” (Mark 15:33)

A popular song claims that the Father turned His face away at the cross. What utter nonsense. Jesus was feeling temporary separation from His Father, but God does not turn His back on us when we suffer or sin. The Father’s love is infinite and complete, and He embraced the pain along with His Son. Turning away would be avoidance or denial. Pain yes, but not separation. As part of the Trinity, the Spirit felt pain at the cross as well.

My trauma clients often ask, “Where were You, God, when it happened?”

And He always answers, “I was there. I felt your pain along with you.”

Come Sunday

Posted on by under God

Journal 2018

I recently watched Come Sunday, a movie based on true events where a Black preacher, who had a successful church ministry, experienced a crisis of faith. He had some pride (I suspect), a poor relationship with his wife, and was married to the church. He preached salvation and evangelism out of fear. One day, as he agonized over children being abused in Africa, he “heard God say” that all those people were going to heaven. His conclusion was that there was no hell, and he became a Unitarian. Half the church accused him of heresy. He indeed became a softer man, more tolerant of people, and he had a better relationship with his wife.

But, and there’s a huge BUT here. Is his theology correct? Whose voice did he hear? God’s? Satan’s? His own? Or was he stepping into denial?

Stepping into protection mode and out of pain can produce a false peace. I’ve watched my clients do it. I’ve done it myself. One day, when life’s circumstances left me feeling like I was suffocating inside a box, in my visual I stepped out of the box. That seemed like a reasonable solution, for it felt good to be able to breathe again. But my prayer partner called me on it. “Go back into the box and feel the discomfort,” she instructed. When I did, that’s when Jesus came into the visual, expanded my space and gave me His breath. I had to face my pain, not run from it. The result was permanent peace, whether I was inside or outside my box.

When a neighbor of mine, who used to lead worship at her church, got hurt by some Christians in a Bible study, she stepped away from the church forever. She couldn’t reconcile the God she thought she knew with the God of these intolerant Christians. She says she’s at peace now, but I suspect she just dissociated from her pain.

Now, is it possible that God gave this preacher truth about the suffering kids in Africa? I wasn’t there in his head. But I do know that when someone we’re praying with hears an obvious lie or contradiction to scripture, we test the voice using I John 4:1-2.

God’s Intimacy and Immensity

Posted on by under God, Scripture

Journal 2018

As a child, I was taught the immensity of God. I was not taught the intimacy of God. As an adult, I experience the intimacy but sometimes forget the immensity—Someone who is so foreign and beyond my comprehension. Our minds are incapable of understanding billions of galaxies and a God who lives outside of time. Man is a miniscule speck of dust in the universe, yet God loved that speck, for He created it. We are part of His creativity. We are not equals. We are the recipients of His grace and mercy.

How then should we view God? I Timothy 6 describes Him as:

  • The blessed and only ruler
  • The King of Kings
  • The Lord of Lords
  • Who alone is immortal
  • Who lives in unapproachable light
  • Whom no one has seen or can see
  • To him be honor and might forever

How can He be all that Paul states, yet live within my heart? How can He dwell in unapproachable light when His very Spirit interacts with mine? We say we approach the throne of grace, yet Paul says God is not approachable. (When I go to heaven, will He be approachable then because I will be in a different state?)

God is both-and. I recognize that my finite mind cannot and never will understand the mysteries of God.

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How to Live the Bible

Posted on by under Choices, God

Journal 2006

How to Live the Bible. What a great title for a book! I wonder if it’s been published before. If I were to write this book, what would I include?

First, I’d begin by confessing and forsaking all known sin in my life (deeds as well as inner thoughts).

Next, I would learn to listen to the Holy Spirit for daily guidance and follow His direction.

Third, I’d hide God’s Word in my heart. I’d memorize great chunks of Scripture.

Fourth (and this is not in order of importance), I would make a concerted effort to surround myself with a support system of believers.

Fifth, I’d maintain an accountability relationship with someone I trust.

And sixth, I’d devote my life to serving others with my God-given gifts and talents.

A 2025 Update. I notice my list did not include the point of salvation. That’s a given, for if you don’t have a relationship with the author of the book, it’s really hard to live the principles. Today, my list would be a lot simpler: love God and love others.

Lessons From Revelation

Posted on by under God, Scripture

Journal 2020

Revelation 2:18

Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze . . .

When I process with clients, they commonly visualize Jesus in human images. Perhaps they see Him in shepherds’ robes or white attire or perhaps a gigantic lap on which to crawl. Seldom does a client describe Him as John did in Revelation. Here, He seems distant, unapproachable, kingly, sovereign. How do you approach intimacy with a deity like that?

In the context of Revelation 2, God is calling out sin, rebuking, encouraging, warning. In a prayer session, He’s gentle and patient and wooing. What’s the difference? The posture of the postulant? When we humble ourselves, He’s approachable. When we’re rebellious and stiff-necked and pursuing pride and sin, He responds accordingly.

The church at Thyatira is commended at first for their love and faith, service and perseverance, and doing more than at first.

But . . . They tolerated the prophetess Jezebel’s teaching that led to sexual immorality and eating food sacrificed to idols.

God patiently said: I gave her time to repent of her immorality.

But . . . She was unwilling.

And perhaps that is why Jesus appears to them with blazing fire eyes.

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Revelation 4:9-11

You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power . . .

There is something heretical in my humanity that rebels against wanting to cede all my power, glory, and authority to someone Who created me. I didn’t ask to be created, but He wants me to worship Him. What kind of a being, a master, a king, a creator, a ruler, does that to his subjects?

I want to slap myself for even voicing such insubordination, but it would be wrong not to bring the thought into the light and examine it, repent of it, and receive truth. What in me is so arrogant? Am I guilty of the pride that caused Satan to fall? I want this gone!

It feels like we’ve been placed on this earth as a great experiment, but we failed, and so God had to find a way to clean up the mess He made. And the only way He could assuage His guilt was to sacrifice His own Son. But if He hadn’t created us in the first place, He wouldn’t have gotten Himself into this pickle, this mess. (Truly skewed thinking!)

I need help to straighten this out, Lord. I go to You for comfort and answers while I beat on Your chest in anger and frustration. I’m like a little kid who kicks and screams when told it’s naptime and I don’t want to go.

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The temper tantrum does me no good, but I sure do like to assert my will, my control over my destiny. But in the end, the Parent is stronger than me, and I must yield to His authority, and I’m better for having taken a nap. But I still don’t like it.

But the Toddler Me sure enjoys being cuddled, read to, fed, clothed and kept safe and secure. Toddler Me wants the love, needs the love, but my immaturity wants and needs to assert myself so I can grow and develop through struggling and suffering.

I love my Father. I wouldn’t trade Him for anything. So why do I throw a tantrum when He knows what’s best for me? “I don’t WANT to take a nap!” I holler.

I repent. I will go willingly to my resting place, lie down, and give thanks for what He does for me, for Who He is. I give Him honor that is His due and gratitude for His patience with my childishness.

Revelation 19:6-8

Fine linen [the bride’s dress] stands for the righteous acts of the saints.

Much debate has gone into the question of which parts of the revelation to John are literal and which are figurative. But this verse is a no-brainer. The Scriptures tell us the interpretation or the meaning behind the visual. The entire church (not a single individual) is depicted as the bride of Christ. And the more righteous acts we do, the better the garment.

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We Protestants like to camp on salvation by grace alone, but we aren’t quite as swift to focus on righteous acts. We hang onto pride and hatred and bitterness and anger and self-righteousness while we do our “good deeds.” What makes an act righteous? Not necessarily the deed itself, but the attitude, motive, and emotion behind it. If I give to the poor (a righteous act), that is good. But if I give to get self-glory (like the Pharisees giving alms), Christ didn’t have much good to say about that deed. On the other hand, if I have a good attitude but never carry out my good intentions, that also is rather meaningless. We need both/and.

Prayer—A Paradigm Shift

Posted on by under God, Prayer

Journal 2006

I’m struggling this morning with “the prayer list.” When I’m processing with clients, they see/hear immediate answers to prayer. If God doesn’t answer, I know to ask a different question or pray something else. Feedback is immediate.

When I’m praying through a list, however, I don’t know if I’m getting through. Perhaps that’s because my attention or focus has always been on the person him/herself. I visualize the person and try to think what I should pray for—and then I say it.

What dawns on me is that my eyes and ears are in the wrong place. If I look at the Master instead, He will guide my prayers so that they’re following what He wants for the person, not what Karen wants. It moves the focus away from a grocery list to a relationship—where He wanted it all along.

Lord, can I come sit in Your lap as a little child and talk to You about these creatures You’ve made—and loved so much that You died for them? They’re a sorry mess—the whole lot of them. And I’m one of them!

Shall we start with my friends x and y? They are so needy. What do You plan to do for them, Lord? Yeah, I know that’s Your business. But would You mind sending an angel or two to minister to their broken hearts and bind up their wounds; and would You hold them for me because I’m too far away to do so myself?

Thank You.

A 2025 Update. I just read A Change of Habit, by Sister Monica Clare. She was a Southern Baptist who, as a child, felt the call to become a nun. She lived a secular life, married, divorced, and then finally fulfilled her life-long dream and became an Episcopalian nun (I didn’t know there was such a thing!) But my takeaway was what the nuns taught her about prayer. This week I took a hike in the woods and soaked in my surroundings, fully alive and aware with all my senses on alert to the divine. Prayer is more than a list; it’s relationship. It’s awareness and stillness and listening.

Praying Through Problems

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Prayer

Journal 2020

This week in the news:

  • COVID-19 pandemic
  • Tornadoes in Nashville and Chattanooga (too close to home)
  • Tribal killings near Jos, Nigeria (where I was born)
  • Locust swarms in East Africa that may affect my Compassion kids
  • A friend in the hospital

I don’t know how to pray for these overwhelming needs. I serve a big God, and I’m in His hands, and I cannot take on His job.

VISUAL: I see a large metal bowl with all the world’s problems swirling together in a vast, soupy mess. God’s enormous hands hold the bowl steady while the contents are shaken.

And where am I? I’m not inside the glop … yet. I’m a little ant clinging to the rim of the bowl trying to be faithful to the few tasks God entrusts to me. Things could get jostled enough that I fall in, but until then, I’m safe. If I do fall, I’ll have to deal with that. Meanwhile, “He’s got the whole world in His hands.”

The picture is clearer now—it’s like when I make kosai, and all the hulls of the black-eyed peas rise to the top when I swirl the bowl. (I guess you have to have lived in northern Nigeria to understand this one.)

Instead of praying for the swirling to stop, how about I pray that I cooperate with God’s plan for the world. I see things rising to the top of the bowl—the scum that needs to be scooped and poured off, while the good stuff settles to the bottom. God is purifying His church. It’s all good.

Remembering COVID-19

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Peace

Today I begin with a 2025 Update. As we joyfully gather around the feast table with all our family this year, I pause to remember the angst of the pandemic. We survived it, and life went on, some of us changed forever due to circumstances beyond our control. For me, personally, I learned to embrace the change. As retirees, my husband and I had plenty to eat, a shelter over our heads, and no children underfoot to juggle school and job security. I had more time to read, do jigsaw puzzles, and hike solo on the Greenway. What’s not to like for an introvert!

Journal 2020

With the country on lockdown from COVID-19, I find I have a more open schedule, unsure how to plan my day. As a task-oriented person, I don’t know what I’m feeling . . .

Visual: I’m walking through a misty cloud, uncertain which path I’m supposed to take. I can hear the crunch of gravel under my feet, affirming I’m heading in the right direction, and in the small circle of light, I can see Jesus’ feet directly in front of me. Just keep following and trusting my senses, I tell myself.

Suddenly I find I’m blindfolded. Oh no! Now I’m dependent on following His footsteps, but they’re hard to hear over the crunching of my feet. Pause. Listen. Step toward the sound. What if He gets too far ahead of me? That’s silly, I think. He won’t leave me behind. Just listen . . .

I hear some sticks breaking off to the right. Is that Him? Is He leading me into the forest? Is it a distraction? An animal? All is still and quiet. I don’t dare move.

And then I hear a soft “mooo.” Whew! But it’s taken my focus off the footsteps in front of me.

“I’m here,” says Jesus quietly.

Relief. Ready for the next step, I feel His hand reaching back to take mine. “We’re about to cross a stream,” He says. “I need you to hold onto Me so I can guide you across.”

“Blindfolded still?” I ask.

“You may take it off,” He replies. “But it won’t help much. The fog is too thick, and you’ll try to rely on your eyes instead of the pressure of My hand guiding you.”

I trust Him. I leave the bandana on and begin my forward movement into the icy cold water. In my mind’s eye I can see the rocks as my feet try to get a grip on their slippery surface.

“I’ve got you,” Jesus reassures me. “Right foot next.” And so we continue across. My feet are cold, but the water is shallow. We are in no danger.

Jesus removes my blindfold, and I see a little spark and then a bonfire ahead of us. He wraps a blanket around my shivering shoulders, my feet toward the fire, and soon I feel drowsy. “Rest, Little One,” He says. “Rest, for the journey is long, and you’ll need your strength for the mountain up ahead. But don’t worry. The sun is rising, the mist will dry up, and soon you’ll be wishing for the cool water. We’ll fill our containers before we leave here to remember the days when you walked by faith and not by sight. For now, just rest and enjoy the quiet.”

And now I know what I was feeling—like I had to keep to a schedule, accomplish a to-do list, keep on track, use my time wisely. What if I allow myself to be lazy today and just do what I feel like doing in the moment, without an agenda. No “have-tos” just “get-tos.” What if today is a vacation day?

The Juggler

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2005

Today I feel like I’m juggling too many Ping-Pong balls. As they fly helter-skelter out of my hands, I stop, herd them into a four-sided tray, and hand them to Jesus. When I ask Him which ball He wants me to pick first, He hands me a different one—large, crystal-clear and sparkling like a diamond. Though scared to touch it, I reach out and find it is weightless, made of pure light. And He? He places it deep into my heart so that my hands are free. I carry it safely tucked inside my body, but its light spills from my pores for all to see—His light.

Photo by Los Muertos Crew on Pexels.com

“But what about all those Ping-Pong balls I gave You?” I ask.

“No problem,” He says. “I’m a Master Juggler.” And He begins to toss the stars and the planets in a spectacular, brilliant light show.

“How does He keep from dropping all of them?” I wonder. And then I see the strings attached. He’s bonded to each one—each star, each orb—and, yes, to each Ping-Pong ball. Chords of love and ownership and responsibility.

“Just carry the heart ball today,” He says, “and I’ll help you juggle the rest.”