With Arms Wide Open

It was quiet in my mind that first time.  Peaceful.  Sorta like this: It changes.  Sometimes we meet here: Or here: (If you're wondering, I get the chair on the left because I'm His favorite.)  Once we met here: But then He remembered who He was dealing with, and we met here instead: (It's like He knows me or something.) Tonight we're meeting in my current favorite place: The last few days have knocked me to my knees.  Thankfully, that's right where I needed to be.  See, I have a litany of things to discuss, and this might take a while.  I'm not going to feel better until I get this off my chest, and He's pretty patient about that kind of thing.  A friend reminded me tonight that He desires truth in the innermost being... and it's in the hidden places... the secret place... that He will make me know wisdom... Wisdom... which is first of all is first of all pure...

I marvel at Your power, Lord.  I am in awe of what You can do.  I love and fear the work of Your hands. I ache for the people displaced from their homes.  I pray for peace and love and mercy on the East Coast. And every time I turn on the news, I see what You're doing in my heart. I watch people run from what You are capable of, and I know the pull and stretch of those muscles.  I see boarded up shops, and I feel the hammer in my hand nailing boards over the doors of my heart.  I look at the people lined up watching the water from a safe place... curious and awed... envious of those who are brave enough to get a front-seat view.   I have felt your ocean rising up over my feet... and I have pulled them out of the water. I can feel the brewing of a storm. I'm not running this time. Father, I will meet You on my knees in this city in my heart .  You correct, chasten, discipline, scourge those You love.  I know that it's a good work...

Have you ever been around one of those people? You know the ones I mean. The peaceful ones. The holy ones. The ones who reek of Jesus. The ones who are so close to the Lord that your sins bubble to the surface just by being around them. The ones who can tell what's going on inside... just by looking at you. The ones who bring you to a place of confession before you see them because you know what will happen if you don't. I am not one of those people.  I'm one of the other ones.  I am the one crying in my car because someone called me for prayer and how can I pray over her knowing what else came out of my mouth today?   Here I am again.  Wearing my heart condition on my sleeve.  A great pastor spoke this week to remind a church packed full of young people who are intent on knowing Him that repentance is not just wiping the slate and asking God to change your heart.  It is more than just turning away.  It's more than a one time...

Yesterday I was thinking about Bicknell First Baptist Church home. I was wondering who I would be if I had not wandered through those doors... at just the right time.  I was wondering what might have happened with my life if I had not pulled on my bandana and taken off my shoes and settled down in the pew like it was my couch. If I had not let them see the wounds.  If I had not opened to the healing... responded to the Healer. Sometimes it takes knowing who I'm not to find out who You are. The power flashed first.  And then it went dark.  Three whole breaths of still air.  And then the lights crashed back in.  Just long enough to stumble.  Just long enough to have to feel for the boundaries of the shapes around me. Just long enough to know that beyond everything I am... is everything You are. When I try to grasp it... try to bear it... try to understand it... How can we rally behind one child by the thousands... and not fall on our fa...

“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. ” –Romans 7:15 Paul, you were so wise. Why, oh why, Father, do I have to write about the ugly things?   Lord, you know my heart.   You know every inch… every corner.   Why this part?   Because intimacy starts with transparency. (For the record, I didn’t like that answer.) You may as well know now that I am not perfect.   (It will be a lot easier to carry on reading if you pick your chin up off the floor.) Why do I do the thing that I hate?   Why, when the Word makes it clear that I am not to do that thing , am I so drawn toward it?   Why do I stand in a circle and let my lips be used for something that, not only fails to bring God glory, but actually scores a point for the other team ? Why do I have so much of a desire to be included that I bend?  At what point does that choice come... that deliberate choice... to ...