Prayer for a Battle-Weary Friend

Posted on by under Inner Healing

Journal 2019

My friend is a strong, fearsome, mighty warrior who stands guard before a massive ancient metal door, the entrance to a beautiful city. She stands firm, eyes on sharp lookout for the enemy.

Arrows have continually bombarded her plate armor, and still she stands. Swords have flashed from many directions, and still she stands her ground, thrusting, parrying, and defending. I watch the tip of a sword pierce through her armor and slice her heart.

Next comes the battering ram, and with supernatural, Samson-like strength, she thrusts it to one side. But in the process, her body is bruised and weary, and her knees are beginning to sag.

A foul stench now fills the air, and the fumes begin to overpower her senses. Her body, though battered and bruised, fights to stay alert, ready to take on any danger. But her mind becomes addled as the poison seeps into her ears and nostrils. Her words, now her only remaining weapon, cry out in authority, commanding the demon hordes to back off.

My warrior friend sinks to her knees, worn down by the fight, exhausted to the point of a death wish. Her body and mind are weak. Who cares if the city gets overrun? She’s fought the good fight. Let someone else do this job.

I see her lying on the ground now, her sword and spear useless in her cramped hands. If she tries to stand, she knows she’ll just be knocked down again. What’s the use of continuing the battle?

But deep inside she knows her job is not done.

Just then, a little girl with bright blue eyes approaches the prone figure. Her innocence and purity radiate around her like a bubble of protection. “For you,” she says as she hands the warrior a bouquet of wildflowers.

The warrior’s tender heart cannot help but smile and then frown. What good are flowers in the midst of a battle? She’s puzzled. How did the little girl get here? Where did she come from? How did she escape the notice of the enemy soldiers? If the Guardian is defending this city, why is the little girl on the outside of the gates? All this time she thought her job was to defend the little girl, but instead she’d been defending herself. What does this mean?

That afternoon I prayed for my discouraged friend who had lost her way. I sensed that God had downloaded this visual so that I could read it to her. It was exactly what she needed, she said. She knew immediately what it meant, even though I did not. She said the warrior was her human spirit, and she had her focus on the battle instead of on the little girl, her inner child. And the doors? They were an illusion. It seemed to satisfy her. She called me a prophetess.

Armored warrior shielding a child with a raised wooden shield amid ruins

It’s Not My Closet

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2019

I realized today that I’m taking on someone else’s angst. This will never do. I have my own busy schedule today with complications and double bookings and close friends who are struggling. I see the Ping-Pong-in-the-closet syndrome, my rising panic on my friend’s behalf.

I open the closet door and let all the balls spill out onto the floor, hundreds of little white balls bouncing and settling into corners. I’m not sure where to begin, where to step. “Overwhelmed,” is how my friend described it. Of course, I’ve been there, done that: I freeze or go into a frenetic pace to get everything done in time. I haven’t felt this angst in a very long time.

I want to help, but it’s not my closet this time or my Ping Pong balls. My friend is a master planner and organizer. She’ll figure it out. She just needs help getting all these balls picked up and into the right boxes.

Orange and white play balls spilling from an open storage closet

So what is keeping my anxious feeling at the forefront?

I see birds flying around inside my heart castle. If I try to catch them, they fly away, leaving poop everywhere. They’ve got to go.

I open a few windows, fling some bird seed outdoors, and shine a light in that direction. One bird’s name is Panic, but there’s another one whose name is Doubt. This one is harder to capture and release. Doubting what?

Doubt splats against the glass of a closed window. I clap a cardboard box over it and hand the box to Jesus, who delivers it to an angel waiting at the door.

I feel calmer now, ready to be a steady rock for my friend.

He owns me

Posted on by under God, Quotes

Journal 2018

He owns me because he bought me. (Ken Needham, Northern Ireland)

I’ve always believed that I belong to God, but this quote changes my perspective. If I think of myself as a slave, I can become resentful, entertain pity parties, and complain of the work. And If I’m a master looking over my plantation, I expect my slaves to do as they’re told because I bought them.

However, this Master bought me from a cruel taskmaster, and in gratitude I serve Him with love out of my whole heart. He now owns me, and I get to live in the big house as one of His adopted children, and I’ll receive the same training and discipline as his sons and daughters.

When I look at the slaves in the field, I want them to know that they can come live in the big house too. But they have to know that this is even possible. All they need to do is choose. Why do they remain where they are, angry and bitter and resentful and disbelieving?

And so I choose to work in the fields with them, suffering alongside them, trying to get them to accept the Master’s offer. But they continue to believe that all masters are bad, and why should this one be any different than their last one?

He owns me, yes, but I’m also his child.

African American laborers cultivating cotton plants in rows on a plantation with overseer on horseback

On Reconciliation

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing

Journal 2018

When I received an irate email from an acquaintance, I began to formulate a rejoinder. I was clearly in the right and could prove it, but my core suddenly grew cold, my fingers tingled, and my heart began to pound in fear. What in the world was going on here? My immediate response was to vow never to cross this lady again.

I see a momma bear rearing on her hind feet with a deafening roar. Adrenalin kicks in, and I want to turn and hightail it down the path. Instead, I choose to stay. I know I stand in the power and the might of God, so why am I afraid? I have no desire to harm this bear, but she doesn’t know it. But I am in danger of her claws, and her breath has the stench of hellfire.

I know I’m supposed to play dead, but that goes against everything in me that wants to defend myself. Slowly, I lower myself to the ground and curl into a ball with my back to the bear. My breathing slows, and I begin to relax as I listen for movement. She drops to the ground on all fours, sniffs the wind, turns and goes back to the den where her babies are hidden.

I want the momma bear to know I’m not going to hurt her young, but I’m not sure I can convince her. I ask God what to do: confront, approach, or retreat?

“Better let Me handle it,” He says. “I know how to speak bear.”

Mother brown bear roaring at cave entrance with two cubs behind her

And so, though I want the mama bear to deal with her anger and intimidation and admit she’s protecting cubs, I don’t think she trusts anyone. I don’t have relationship with her. I’ll have to let the Lord speak to her, but I’m staying close to Him to observe, to be ready to move should He ask it of me.

The next day I woke up obsessing over how to answer this irate lady’s emails. I want so badly to scoop up her little wounded bear cubs and comfort them. But they don’t need me. They have their mama bear. Then what’s the issue? The desire to fix the hurt? I no longer feel a need to defend myself. I have compassion for her and her pain. I can pray for her, and I can trust God to talk bear, so what’s the issue? I want to approach her and try to reason with her, and that’s quite silly, really.

And so, I meet with Jesus in my secret garden. He pours some tea for us and offers me a plate of scones.

Like the biblical Gideon, I need some confirmation. I am not afraid anymore, but I want to be wise, not foolish. I don’t want to be blind-sided or taken advantage of. I want to walk in step with Him.

“Why can’t she discern that I’m innocent of any wrongdoing?” I ask Him. “I need to know, Lord, if You are asking me to confront her?”

“Why would you want to?” He queries.

“To clear the air. There is something between us—she’s defaming me behind my back and getting her friend to go along with her libel. She’s manipulating to get her own way . . . to protect herself.”

“I need you to stay here with Me,” Jesus says. And I watch as He sends a messenger angel on an errand. I wonder what that’s all about.

I’m shocked when I see this momma bear lady being escorted into the room. I thought this was a private place just for me and Jesus. Apparently Bear and I need to talk, and we need Jesus to mediate. She says she trusts Jesus and is intimate with Him, so why is she so wary?

“Sit down,” He says kindly. And so she does.

“What’s SHE doing here?” she asks.

“I invited her,” says Jesus.

I’m puzzled. This is my garden. Why would she question why I’m here in my own garden?

“Now, let’s talk,” He says, as He pours her a cup of tea.

“No thanks,” she says.

Really? I think. She’s refusing His hospitality?

“Suit yourself,” I want Him to say, but He just nods and sets the pot back down.

“Now, why aren’t you two getting along?” He begins.

“I don’t trust her,” we both say simultaneously.

“I see.” And He waits.

“Why?”

We both look at each other.

Why can’t she trust me … I’m trustworthy after all. But I know her why—she’s been burned, lied to, deceived, taken for a ride. I understand. I get it. But I don’t trust a wounded victim to know her own heart. And I don’t trust that Satan hasn’t planted her in my life to destroy my reputation. How do I know I’m not being deceived? I wonder. I trust Jesus. And I trust He’ll tell me the truth.

 “She is My servant,” I hear Jesus say.

And so, we begin to talk. Soon we have cleared up the misunderstanding and confusion. Her tone is pleasant as she hands me a picture of her cubs to admire.

Why did I spend so much emotional energy and time on such a non-issue? I know I’m driven to reconciliation, to making things right between me and others, and I know I got some healing out of it for which I’m grateful, but I couldn’t seem to resolve my emotions fully till I connected with her. Why is that?

I see a closed circle, a loop. It felt unresolved until I did all I could to make it right. Unreconciled feels very uncomfortable. It makes me fidgety. I suppose that’s why I’m driven to “pursue peace with all men.” And that’s okay because I do the right thing as a result. Go in peace, Karen.

Lessons from Genesis, Part 2

Posted on by under Scripture

Journal 2018

Genesis 36, Genealogy

This chapter details a long list of people who lived on this earth before us. We know nothing about them except their names being documented in the greatest book on earth… a lifetime of living recorded in just one word.

Millions of names never get recorded anywhere (except in heaven), and time marches on.

Long line of people waiting at a registration point inside an old building

Our lives are preserved in tiny snapshots of memory. How long do we remember a person? At the very most, we might know our great-grandparents, and we might live long enough to meet some great-grandchildren. I can’t even recall my own journey past what’s recorded in my journals, and when I go back to read them, I’m often astonished at discovering what I have forgotten. Our minds cannot retain all that information. This digital age generation will be the most recorded in human history. Thousands of photos and bits of information are available about us and our families at the click of a button.

Like all humans, I desire to be known, to be heard, to have purpose for my existence. The movie It’s a Wonderful Life reminds us that every human being impacts another in some way. It’s easy to see that if I didn’t exist, neither would my children or grandchildren. We cannot know the impact they will have on future generations. My great-grandparents didn’t know who I would become. They didn’t even know I would exist.

What really matters in light of eternity? Who cares? What’s really important? The thousands of meals I’ve prepared? The number of floors I’ve vacuumed? The hugs I’ve dispensed? The money I’ve spent? The love I’ve freely given? The lessons I’ve learned or passed on?

Thankfully, God knows my name.

Genesis 39, Joseph’s Story

How long, I wonder, did it take Joseph to learn a new language in captivity? How many of those 13 years were spent in prison? How did the jailer notice Joseph had integrity? So many questions.

And then I read this amazing Hellenistic novella titled Joseph and Asenath. The document didn’t make it into the Canon, but the story is plausible and intriguing.

Unlike his dad, grandpa, and great-grandpa, we are told of no character flaw in Joseph. Some say he boasted when he shared his dreams, but there’s no proof in that. We only see his family’s triggers. He was upright and blameless. Where did Joseph learn that? Who modeled it for him?

Betrayal Theme

By all rights, Joseph should have been a psychological wreck from all the betrayals he experienced:

  • By his mother’s death in childbirth
  • By his own brothers into slavery
  • By his formerly trusting master, Potiphar
  • By his seductress, Potiphar’s wife.
  • By his fellow prisoner, the cup bearer

Yet somehow, with God’s grace and favor, he managed to rise to the top. Where did he get such strength of character? He certainly had poor role models: a father whose life was characterized by deception and favoritism, the lack of a mother, and jealous sibling rivalry. This guy should be in a counseling office crying his eyes out. Instead, he had the fortitude to withstand temptation, the capability of leadership and organization, the heart of forgiveness, and the unfailing trust in God’s design for his life. What an amazing comeback!

Clothing Theme

What an interesting theme! I’m sure there are many lessons in this one.

  • From a spectacular multi-colored coat to a stolen, besmirched garment
  • From new clothes from Potiphar to a stripped cloak by the wife
  • From dungeon rags to changed clothes to appear before Pharaoh
  • And finally, the donning of new robes of fine linen as a ruler in Egypt.

Lessons from Genesis, Part 1

Posted on by under God, Scripture

Journal 2018

Genesis 16:13, El-Roi

When Abraham’s concubine Hagar fled to the desert, she said to the Lord who met her there, “You are the God (Hebrew El-Roi) who sees me” (NIV).

God sees me …

When I was a little girl, we sang the chorus, “Oh be careful little hands what you do (eyes what you see; ears what you hear; feet where you go), for the Father up above is looking down in love ….” I skipped over the “in love” part and concluded this meant I better not be naughty because God was watching my every move.

Later it became a comfort to think that He was always with me, no matter what I did or how I messed up.

But my Hebrew Bible commentary suggests a different thought. The ancients believed that if you saw a divine being, you’d die. The Hebrew Bible reads, “Have I not gone on seeing after He saw me?”

Which of the three explanations is correct? Perhaps the third, but there is truth in all three. A God who sees can be a deterrent to trying to hide, a comfort when we come out of hiding (when shame is gone, there is joy in the relationship), and an awe-filled realization that He is merciful.

Woman kneeling on prayer rug in desert during sunset

Genesis 17:1, El Shadai

We often translate El Shadai as “God Almighty,” but El Shadai originally meant “God, the one of the mountain” or “The Lord, Him of Sinai” (Judges 5:5). This was how God revealed Himself to the patriarchs.

Genesis 17:20, Ishmael’s 12

Numbers are important in the Bible. I find it fascinating that God told Ishmael he would become the father of 12 chieftains (cf. the 12 tribes of Israel and 12 disciples).

Genesis 17:23, Slavery

Abraham, the Father of 3 religions, owned both purchased slaves and home-born slaves, and all had to be circumcised. Ever since the Civil War, we in the USA have a profound belief that all men deserve to be free. Slavery is abhorrent to us. In Abraham’s day it was the norm, a common practice to conquer a city and enslave the inhabitants.

Is the act of enslavement a sin in God’s eyes, or is the greater issue how the master treats the enslaved? Did Abraham treat his slaves kindly and with respect? A deeper dive into the subject suggests that perhaps these were indentured servants or bondservants. See what you think.

Did Abraham Own Slaves? Unpacking Biblical Servitude in the Ancient World – genesishow.blog

Genesis 18:15, Sarah’s Laugh

When the Lord told Sarah she had laughed at the mention of pregnancy in her old age, she denied it. The text tells us it was because she was frightened. (Fear is usually the motivation for lying.)

But what if lying is for the purpose of saving a life, or smuggling Bibles into China or hiding Jews in the Holocaust? I’ve never been able to figure this one out. Is it the act or the motive that makes it sin?

[I learned that the rabbis explain that when two moral beliefs collide, the higher moral standard (e.g. saving a life) trumps the lower (e.g. lying to hide someone).]

Why do we always fault Sarah for laughing and forget that Abraham did too? At one time his faith wobbled when he suggested God should use Ishmael to fulfill His promise for an heir. Abraham’s summary word for his life was faith, but he had to learn to trust. It didn’t come automatically. Yes, Abraham had great faith, but he laughed when God announced he would hold a son within a year. Could Abraham’s laughter have come from a heart of sheer joy? The text doesn’t say.

I wonder what word summarizes my life? When have I wobbled?

Genesis 19, Lot’s Two Daughters

Talk about redemption! Lot’s incestual relationship with his daughters produced the following:

  • Moab, the ancestor of Ruth, the ancestor of King David, the ancestor of King Jesus
  • Ammon, the ancestor of Naamah (King Solomon’s wife), the ancestor of Rehoboam, King of Judah

“Out of the ashes of Sodom … a seed of messianic redemption thus lies in the squalid events of Genesis 19:30 – 38.” (Gen Rab 41:4, Hebrew Bible, p. 42)

On Holiness

Posted on by under God, Scripture

Journal 2018

One of the most profound and moving hymns of my childhood was Holy, holy, holy. In my little mind, I defined holiness as moral purity or perfection—a quality belonging only to God and something I could never attain. Thus “holier than thou” turned into a derogatory term meaning pride.

Some dictionary definitions of holiness include absoluteness, majesty, exalted or worthy of complete devotion as one perfect in goodness and righteousness. With these definitions, only God is truly holy, so why do the Scriptures tell humans to be holy? (Lev. 11:44; 19:2)

Another aspect of holiness suggests divine separation from all that is earthly, set apart, sacred, dedicated or consecrated to God. With this definition, a person cannot be holy-er. Either you are set apart or you’re not. You cannot be both holy and unholy. A vessel that was set apart in the temple was either used in the temple or it wasn’t. It’s like either you’re pregnant or you’re not.

Here’s a quick Bible verse search for the word holiness. Something to chew on.

  • Holiness adorns your house for endless days O Lord. (Ps. 93:5)
  • Glorious is holiness (Ex. 15:11)
  • The beauty of holiness (I Chron. 16:29)
  • Give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness. (Ps. 30:4)
  • The throne of his holiness (Ps. 47:8)
  • The mountain of his holiness (Ps. 48:1)
  • Highway … called The Way of Holiness. (Isa. 35:8)
  • Courts of thy holiness (Jer. 23:9)
  • Words of his holiness (Jer. 23:9)
  • The spirit of holiness (Rom. 1:4)
  • Put on the new man, which after God is created in … true holiness. (Eph. 4:24)
  • God hasn’t called us to uncleanness but unto holiness. (I Thess. 4:7)
  • Partakers of his holiness (Heb. 12:10)
  • Follow peace with all, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. (Heb. 12:14)
Lit candle in a ceramic holder on a rustic wooden table with a book nearby

Feeling Inferior

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing

Journal 2018

We all feel inferior in some way, and so we do what it takes to feel superior. “I would never do THAT” (whatever we observe in another person) reveals our need to feel superior, so we don’t have to feel or face our inadequacy. I see this played out in other people’s actions. It’s harder to see it in myself.

I recognized it recently while visiting my out-of-town daughter. I was trying to decide what to wear to her small group because I wanted to make a good first impression. Everyone would be dressed super casual she said (jeans and tees), but I hadn’t packed those items.

I’ve had the experience of over-dressing as well as under-dressing for various occasions, and I ended up feeling self-conscious. My mind jumps to memories of people’s negative comments when I first landed in the USA, fresh off the mission field. I needed to adjust my attire to cultural norms so that I wouldn’t stick out too much.

What keeps me from just being my true self, apart from what others think? Unless there’s a dress code, why should I care what I wear? Perhaps because I judge others, I expect others are judging me.

I can’t quite put my finger on the emotion. Uneasy? That inferior thing is always a comparison issue: feeling frumpy next to a stylish person, overdressed next to a casual dresser. But somehow it feels better to be overdressed than under. The superiority factor perhaps?

“Fit in” is the word that comes to mind. It feels uncomfortable to be square-shaped in a round world.

And that picture (a toddler’s shapes ball) suddenly makes the lie pop out. We all live in a round world, but we all have a unique shape. We are a subset of triangles, rectangles, and squares, and each person is unique, fitting only the opening in the shapes ball that corresponds with how God created us. When I try to be more like your shape, I no longer fit into the hole that God designed for me. And, of course, that feels uncomfortable when I try to squeeze my square shape into your star-shaped hole.

A 2026 Update. The older I get, the better I feel about myself and how God created me. Maybe I’ll join The Red Hat Society.

Colorful plastic ball with various shaped holes and matching shapes for sorting

The Angst of Making Decisions

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

Journal 2018

Making quick decisions is not my strength—whether it be buying Christmas presents or choosing what to pack for a long trip. I like to take my time to analyze all my options, compare the differences, think through the consequences, and then decide what to do. Making a quick decision leaves me feeling paralyzed unless I have all the facts. What if I choose incorrectly? What if I have to live with regret? Who else might be impacted by my choice?

Visual. I stand in the center of a circular room with closed doors. It’s “The Lady or the Tiger” (short story by Frank Stockton) times 5. Behind each door are different adventures and consequences. I want Jesus to decide which door to open first because I trust Him to know what’s best, but He says I get to choose. No matter which door I step through, it’ll be an adventure because He’ll be with me, and we’ll notice different things along the way.

That feels better. The kiddy ride or the biggest roller coaster? They’ll teach me different things, and we’ll do it together. That takes the angst away that I didn’t even realize was there.

Person standing in circular room with five wooden doors

Later: No longer feeling like a life-or-death situation, I was able to make two very quick decisions about big purchases that previously would have sent me into a tizzy.

A 2026 Update. I can still annoy others while I pause to compare grocery prices or stop to examine each article of clothing at Goodwill before making a purchase. “Why are you annoyed?” I want to ask. But that’s their issue, not mine.

Pessimists

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing

Journal 2018

I’m an optimist who married a pessimist, for whom the worst-case scenario is always at the forefront. Each positive statement I make gets countered with the opposite. While I focus on the 70% chance of sunshine, a 30% chance of rain spells certainty that he’ll get wet. Why do pessimists do that? If they prepare for the worst, does it lessen the impact?

Okay, I have to quit trying to figure out what makes a pessimist tick and figure out why it bugs me so. It’s okay for him to choose to live that way and I can’t stop it, but I’m letting it affect me, and that’s my issue.

VISUAL: I’m a balloon trying to soar, irritated that the pessimist is holding onto my string. But then I see that this string is retractable. I can pull it—zip—up to the balloon where it’s unreachable to those on the ground. Is that my solution or God’s?

But what if my balloon is on the ground? Then it’s liable to be stolen, stepped on, or played with. I can’t rise above the situation and that feels sad.

I’m willing to give up my irritation and seek the truth. Perhaps my optimism is more like soap bubbles, not solid or substantial. I want to enjoy the beauty of the bubbles while they last, shimmering and glowing and swirling colors. But boys delight in chasing, poking, popping or stomping on them. “What’s the use of blowing bubbles if you’re just going to destroy them?” I cry.

Both viewpoints bring pleasure to the individual, but I’m still sad because it’s less fun for me in this activity. My pleasure is cut short.

And so, I hand the bubble wand to Jesus. He’s taller than me. He can blow bubbles over our heads, out of reach, where I can watch in delight until they float out of sight. And He can blow some low so my pessimist partner can stomp on them.

So now I can sit on my back deck with coffee in hand and declare it’s a beautiful day, and Scott can respond, “But it’s muggy, there are bugs out here, and the chairs are dirty.” And we can both be right. It’s no longer one tugging against the other.

I now have a bubble of sunshine around me, while my husband sports a gray and gloomy cloud. When we come together, I bring a little sunshine into his gloom, and he provides a little shade from the heat. It changes the “but” to an “and.” It’s 30% chance of rain AND 70% chance of sun. Both are correct.

I wonder what a pessimist’s visual would look like?