Category Archives: Peace

The Guardian

Posted on by under Emotions, Peace

Journal 2020

My schedule today is full, and I can feel the familiar and uncomfortable pressure in my stomach and tight shoulders. My head knows I have the exact number of minutes in a day required to accomplish God’s work, but part of me goes into panic, rushing, planning mode in order to keep on top of things—which, in the end, is quite counterproductive!

VISUAL: I have a Panic Guardian who’s sitting on the apex of my heart cathedral roof. “I have to stay on top of things!” he says.

How comical! No matter what logic I try to reason with him, he’s not budging. There’s a party going on below, inside where it’s cozy and warm, but no, he wants to stay up here where he can stay vigilant and survey the lay of the land. He doesn’t want to miss anything.

“Can you trust Me to watch out for you?” says Jesus. “What if I set an angel up here to keep guard?”

The Guardian ponders a moment. After all, angels have superpowers and can see farther and deeper than I can and know better the dangers out there. That thought seems to relax him a bit. “But be sure to come and get me, the moment you sense trouble!” he admonishes the guardian angel.

Angel just smiles. “That’s my job,” he replies, “and I don’t get as tired as you trying to balance on the narrow edge of a rooftop!”

My Panic Guardian goes inside the castle and surveys the feast and festivities, but he’s still on alert for any sign of trouble overhead. He can’t fully relax and participate. That’s his job, after all. I need an internal signal, he thinks. Something to alert me—like an alarm bell that will get my attention over the noise of the revelry.

And so Jesus hands him a special alarm—one that vibrates, noiseless, in his chest. How clever!

“Let’s test it!” he says to Jesus, who agrees and gives a signal to the angel to set off the alarm. Guardian flies up to the roof. “Where’s the danger?” he asks.

“There is none,” the angel replies. “You just asked to test it.”

“Oh, right.” With a quick glance around him, Guardian returns to the party, confident that he’ll be alerted when it’s time, but resting when all is calm.

The pressure dissipates, my shoulders relax, and I go on with my day in peace.

Photo by Alexander Tisko on Pexels.com

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.”

Intimacy with God

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace

Journal 2020

In the beginning stages of a human love relationship, there’s an emotional high, an excitement, a drive to spend as much time together as possible. Then life happens, and you struggle to work through disappointments that the fairytale doesn’t exist. The same can happen when you begin a love relationship with God. The initial joy of finding a perfect partner in life gets buried under disillusionment and painful circumstances. You find He’s not what you first expected.

Yes, I know Jesus loved me enough to die for me, and that knowledge is all good, but it doesn’t impact me emotionally. I’ve heard it for 65 years in thousands of sermons, and somehow now I’m obligated to serve Him whether I like it or not. I’m in this marriage now because I said “I do” when I was five years old, but it’s not an equal partnership. He is everything, and I am nothing. And maybe I hold back or cringe if I sense Him coming on too strong—like He wants something from me, and I may as well give in, whether I like it or not because He’s going to get His own way in the end anyway. “Thy will be done” might mean there’s suffering to follow, and what if I prefer to stay in my comfort zone, guarding my heart and trying to shield myself from pain?

And somewhere, somehow, a part of my heart holds out, self-sufficient, anticipating harsh judgment from the God of the Old Testament, surprised at His betrayal, and believing He expects absolute perfection, surrender, and obedience to His will.

Through time, as I work through my painful childhood memories, my relationship with my husband begins to heal and grow and deepen, and I find my intimacy with my creator begins to change as well. I learn more of His compassionate heart, never condemning me or forcing my will. He is the embodiment of I Corinthians 13 love. In the end, when I allow my guard to stand down, and I embrace what is to follow, there’s sweet fellowship and excitement at renewed intimacy and a deepening passion that feels safe. I’m returning to my first love.

Triggered by Triggers

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

Journal 2018

Why do I get triggered when others get triggered?

Why is it okay for me to feel something negative while I judge you for losing it? What about my own ungodly reactions? How hypocritical can I be? You have to endure me, too, when I get angry and say things I shouldn’t. Don’t I want you to love me anyway and give me grace? Of course! But I get weary of your ungodly choices. I expect you to be farther along in your healing, so why don’t I expect the same of me? Why do I hold you to a different standard? It’s such a battle for the mind.

So why does your trigger affect me? Maybe it has to do with expectations. I expect to live in a perfect world. I expect to have a perfect day. I expect a birthday to be all about me. I expect Christmas to be full of joy and peace. I expect to not have my boundaries trampled. I expect you to have the emotional maturity of your physical age. I expect to have good health till the day I die, and my clothes to always fit, and the roof to never leak. I expect my mango to be sweet and my new car to never get dented. I want to live in a state of perfect harmony and peace, and your reactions allow a foul wind to blow. And when my expectations aren’t met, I’m sad, angry, and disappointed.

When that happens, do I pout? Clam up? Put on a happy face? Steel myself mentally or physically for your responses and reactions? Give up all expectations or just expect the worst?

When I erect a steel-plate armor to protect myself, I’m encased in a jail cell. My heart grows cold, and I distance myself from my Heavenly Father (the source of love) and from a compassionate heart.

I repent of my self-protection and preservation. I give permission to Jesus to drill and unscrew and remove my steel plate so I can step out, free of bondage. Without my armor, however, I am weak, pale, starved, and thirsty for connection. Jesus gently ministers to my shrunken frame, murmuring, “I’ll be your protection. I love you. I will never leave you or forsake you. You are Mine.”

In my visual, Jesus leads me up to the roof of the Castle of My Heart, where we sit in rocking chairs, enjoying the sunshine together. He doesn’t say much, but I’m suddenly aware that even this perfect state could be disrupted at any time. Off to our left, a messenger arrives bearing a white envelope on a silver platter. A letter for me? It’s so pretty and pure. A love letter, I hope. But I’m expecting the worst. I’m reluctant to open it. Will I find gray ashes inside?

Now I can see the metaphor clearly. I want the missive to be a love letter, a perfect day, my desired Christmas gift, a friend who never criticizes my choices, a carefree marriage, and always-obedient children. My expectations are founded on gray ashes.

“Open it,” Jesus commands, and when I do, I’m startled when a pure white dove flutters out and flies away. I peek inside to find a ruby red heart. I’m puzzled.

“Your heart is what determines your destiny,” He says. “Your perfect day cannot be spoiled by someone else’s choices if your heart is pure.” And with that, He places the heart inside my chest. “Your heart is protected and surrounded by my love and care, and nothing can touch it there except your own willful choices to use your own self-protection or to refuse to release your pain.”

Father, I invite you and implore You to protect my heart where I’m vulnerable and weak, so that I don’t fall prey to the enemy’s lies and deception.

AI-generated

Bucket of Cold Water

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

Journal 2020

I was having a glorious time—perfect spring day with everything in blossom, enjoying a walk, sitting on the deck, delighting in sunshine and a soft breeze on my skin. Feeling genuine joy, contentment, and happiness . . . when spoken words, negative in content and tinged with anger, dashed my sunshine with cold water. I lost my joy, and my inner anger flared.

Why do some people carry around buckets of cold water, ready to douse the first bit of joy they sense in others? I know it’s their protection to cover their pain, but please pour the water over your own head and cool yourself off before you enter my space!

I use my own anger to try to bring some warmth back to my cold body, but it’s a warmth that is self-induced and unproductive. I willingly hand my anger to Jesus, and in my visual I step into a warm shower. Now I feel the sadness and disappointment of a ruined moment, a stolen joy.

“I am your source of joy,” Jesus says. “My presence is what brings you pleasure, and nothing can separate us . . . not man, not beast, not any evil spirit or Satan himself. I am the Light, your warmth, your provider, shield, and protector.”

The day was not ruined after all.

Spinning Mind

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2018

I feel panic rising this morning as my mind spins out of control with a long to-do list.

I see a large panel of spinning cogwheels. Little intruding gremlins toss sand and pebbles into the mix, and the whole mechanism grinds to a halt. What a greasy mess! When I invite Jesus into this space, we sit in front of the panel and stare. I know He could just power wash it with some sort of solution and get this thing up and running again quickly, but He just leans back, contemplating.

Not much I can do to make Him hurry, so I wait. He hands me a miniature cogwheel set to fiddle with while He observes the mess in front of us.

“You know,” He observes, “some of those wheels aren’t in a very efficient place, and others aren’t touching at all. May I help you fix it?”

“Of course!” I reply. He’s in charge, apparently, of the big panel in front of us. I’m just in charge of playing with the toy model. I give Him permission to disassemble whatever He needs, clean the cogwheels, and let Him put things back together however He wants. He’s a master at this.

Then I thank Him for allowing the sand and pebbles to interfere. Otherwise, I would have continued to inefficiently spin my wheels. Besides, my mind needed a rest, and this pause gives me an opportunity to sit still for a while. And I’m okay with that.

The Lesson

God is in charge of the big stuff—like my life and circumstances and people that enter and exit my calendar. I’m in charge of the small stuff—like dusting and answering emails and cooking for my family. If I get interrupted doing the small stuff, it’s because He has a job for me to do—something that impacts eternity. It’s not that cooking is unnecessary or unimportant (my attitude can turn it into a holy activity), but it doesn’t have eternal consequences if I choose to make a three-course meal vs. a simple crockpot dish.

The panic subsides, and I tick off the first item on my list.

For Counselors and Therapists

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

Journal 2018

When strangers ask me what I do, I often say, “I’m a counselor,” because it’s hard to explain, “I’m an inner healing prayer minister.” Though I have the degree, I’m not a counselor. I’m not a therapist. I’m simply a facilitator who helps people connect to THE Counselor—the only One who can heal their pain.

My training provided me with some tools for the trade, but John Wembe said, “You come to each session with an empty toolbox! It doesn’t matter if you’ve used it 400 times in the past. Don’t assume that what worked yesterday will work today.” Over the past 25 years, I’ve been astonished at how God gives us the exact tools we need for each client.

One day we discovered the teachings of a fellow MK (Missionary’s Kid), Arthur Burke, who founded the Sapphire Leadership Group. Reading through his prolific material is like drinking from a firehose. And though no one person has perfect knowledge or truth, we can learn much from one person’s journey of discovery. Here are some quotes and information I gleaned from his writings that have helped me in my ministry.

Being a Healer Is Contrary to Our Nature—it’s not natural.

  1. We have a deep preference for power and control (we don’t like powerlessness). Inner healing costs us something.
  2. Safety: we’re always at risk (those who are traps and deceivers—witchcraft, lawsuits, blamers). The demonic knows your schedule and uses manipulation.
  3. Craving for closure (You can’t get closure if someone is suicidal.) Boundaries don’t cut it. It’s hard to switch off when you leave the office. There’s no finish line—an open-ended journey—especially if clients leave before you think they should.
  4. We are made for community. Pain and pleasure are done best in community (e.g. birth, death, weddings). Because of confidentiality, the therapist must process his pain and pleasure in private. We experience landmines and tripwires. We can’t avoid them. We don’t like doing this to a client. It’s unintentional, emotionally devastating, and you can’t discuss it with anyone. You also can’t share victories.
  5. Validation: We are designed by God to receive it, and we delight in giving it. But very few clients give you validation (e.g. “You’re doing a good job.”)
  6. Therapists are driven over the years to a personality change: we become more sour or less sparkly. “It’s a toxic trade.” There is a cost to us and our personalities to be a healer, and we risk addiction to medicate pain in the body or in the soul.

The brain’s hardware, explains Burke, is the physical, the gray matter. The brain’s software is the mind/soul. All of the above is about the software. But we need to find the energy in our spirits. We need to welcome God’s initiative, like a new mom initiating connection with her newborn.

Toxic Beliefs

  1. That my job is to bring pleasure to God by my obedience. (Psalm 33:5) We try to train God to love us, but it doesn’t work! God will reveal Himself to me in ways that are uniquely for me. God trains my spirit to build my joy. In a therapy session, my soul moves forward, but my spirit can anticipate how God is going to work, not just problem-solve. The bigger the problem, the more the opportunity to watch God work.
  2. We’ve been fed a lie. We have a guilt trip if we don’t “hear” from God. But by design, we might “see” (e.g. visuals, visions) rather than “hear” from God. God asked the prophet Jeremiah, “What do you see?” God engages with us in a myriad of ways. Ask, “What do I see?” and then ask for dialogue from God.

On Being Stuck

Authenticity comes when we face our powerlessness and admit it but are willing to sit with an individual no matter what. When you can bring others to healing but not experience it for yourself (e.g. Paul’s thorn in the flesh), you are not alone! Don’t go to the place of guilt. Trust God. He chose to leave you in that place till His purposes are fulfilled. How long can you stand in your powerlessness without allowing it to define your God? How long can you wrestle with God selectively answering prayers without it becoming about you?

When to Call It Quits

You may need to disengage from these four types of clients if they are not willing to move forward, if they make no progress at all, or if they make some progress but regress.

  1. A person who doesn’t want help but wants legitimacy—they will tell their friends they’re working on their stuff, but they aren’t. Phase them out!
  2. Denial. You can’t help them till they crash and burn.
  3. Beware of someone who comes to you self-diagnosed. They want you to work on their choice. “I can’t get other therapists to listen to me,” they might say. They’re allergic to responsibility. Ask: Are you open to another possibility?
  4. They have a religious spirit that reduces God to a formula (like Job’s friends). “I’ve done what I’m supposed to,” they might say. Beware this person. He believes he can control God. Can you walk with God with no guarantee that He’ll change your circumstances? (e.g. Shadrach)

A 2025 Update. I have been asked multiple times how I can listen for hours to horrific stories of pain and abuse without being weighed down myself. The answer is always to process what feelings get stirred up inside my own heart. When I am at peace, I can relax and watch God work. It’s His job, not mine, to fix broken hearts.

Prayer Burdens

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

Journal 2018

My heart is heavy this morning with the news that a friend is nearing the end of her life, and another is struggling to function with a disease. Perhaps God put the heaviness there so that I will pray for my friends. Perhaps I’m believing a lie. Or maybe it’s tapping into something unresolved in my own heart. I see worry lines across my forehead.

In my mind, I lift my dying friend’s wasted skeleton and lay her gently in the lap of Jesus. He smiles. She is in good hands.

I see my other friend limping and leaning heavily on my left shoulder as I try to keep her upright. I’m sad and I don’t know why. My knees buckle under her weight, while Jesus waits for us to reach Him. Why isn’t He stepping forward to help? We sit for a while and rest, and still He tarries. I believe I have the responsibility to get her there, but I can’t. All I can do is sit with her till help comes. And as I relax and encourage her, Jesus sends angels to minister to her. They gently soothe her, but her earthly pain remains. Then I see the angels lift her, chair and all, to His feet. I follow and I watch.

“Are you ready, my child?” He whispers in her ear.

“Not yet,” she replies. And so he instructs the angels to carry her to Sick Bay.

It seems I’m next. “Come here, my child,” He says. “What’s troubling you?”

“It’s that word responsibility again,” I say. I know that whatever “it” is doesn’t belong to me.

“No, But love does. Staying with her and not walking away is what I ask of you.”

“That’s the easy part; I can do that.”

“Then visit her in Sick Bay and let her know she’s not alone in her pain.”

It’s often easier to try to fix another’s pain in order to relieve my own, but prayer is not about telling God what to do. It’s about letting go of my expectations and listening to His instructions.

Be a Tree

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

Journal 2018

Two days in a row I rose from my bed feeling weary. Is this mild depression? Driven to get some fresh air and exercise, on Saturday I donned a light jacket, packed what I needed for the day, and headed to the Greenway. I snapped some photos and tried not to think. Just walk. Bare trees and brown hues dominated the landscape in the winter chill. I saw a red-headed woodpecker, two fat robins, some ducks on the water, a cardinal, and several squirrels with nuts in their mouths. Under one overpass, I was shocked to see how high the water had flooded at some point. Leaves twined tightly around branches above my head.

Returning to the trailhead, I sat on a bench to rest, but my body felt antsy, jiggly. As I tried to relax, I heard God say, “Be a tree.”

“But a tree doesn’t move!” I exclaimed.

“Precisely.”

A tree. Rooted. Still. Unmovable. Sturdy. Stable. Allowing the animals to come to me. I don’t have to find them; they will find me. Just be. Be still and know that I am God. Be still. Be still.

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him. Psalm 37:7 (NIV)

In awe of this simple injunction from the Holy Spirit, I began to walk again. But it wasn’t enough. I could still feel the dread of having to be “on” at my next meeting.

I came to another bench warmed by the sun and stretched out on my back. I needed to release whatever load I was still carrying. In my mind I saw a steel cord across my chest with weights on the ends, holding me down. I heard the word responsibility.

Again? Still? Why do I keep struggling with this?

I asked the Lord to cut the cord or remove the balls, and surprisingly He refused.

What? A weight too heavy for Him to lift? I don’t understand.

“OK, Lord, do it your way.”

And I watched as He lifted the cord a few inches off my chest, suspended lightly on His index finger. Now I could choose to stay or to move. That felt better.

And so I walked some more.

“Is there more, Lord?” I still feel tired in my soul.

Then I saw a closet door. When I opened it, a mass of material goods tumbled out. “What a mess!” I cried. “I don’t have the energy to clean it up and sort through the pile.”

“Your decision-maker is tired,” He said. “It’s time to sort and tidy your environment. You’ve been living in clutter and chaos in your home for six weeks now with Christmas, company, family messes, extra meals, and three big projects completed in three weeks. Your office and sleeping space are not restful or peaceful. It’s time to take back your place and create a peaceful environment.”

“That I can do,” I thought. And with that, the oppressive, heavy feeling began to lift.

“Be a tree. Be still. Look to Me to make your decisions. Declutter and find peace once more.”

All during church the next day I tried to process, to rejuvenate, to just sit and soak in God’s presence. I visualized a part of my heart like a squirrel scampering around the tree, so many branches to explore, unable to settle. Then I saw one branch overladen with fruit (and perhaps some excess stuff) drooping to the ground. It represented my to-do-list responsibilities, my ongoing projects, my schedule, and my ministry relationships. It represented the month of January and the burdens I’ve been carrying. I knew the little squirrel needed to stay away from that branch, but he lusted after the fruit. Perching on another branch on Sunday meant trying to focus on other things for a while, but that simply did not work. And so, I gave up the escapist, self-disciplined route to focus on what it might feel like to venture out onto that over-burdened branch. I was afraid it would snap and fall to the ground, and the fruit would rot before it could ripen.

And that’s when I saw a metal bar (God’s strength) underneath the branch supporting the weight. Now the squirrel could perch on the bar and still reach various fruits without breaking the whole limb. That felt a whole lot lighter and safer.

The next morning, I felt more rested and alert instead of groggy and grumpy. And that evening I did not get overwhelmed when we hosted a Super Bowl party for our entire family. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. Psalm 1:3 (KJV)

Like a cedar of Lebanon he will send down his roots; his young shoots will grow. His splendor will be like an olive tree, his fragrance like a cedar of Lebanon. People will dwell again in his shade. Hosea 14:5b-7a NIV