Hope BlogThe steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end.
They are new every morning. Therefore I will hope in Him. |
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I feel called and led to post this very short devotional. This is for when you find God is silent or if you have felt distant from God despite having done everything you can think of to get closer. If you are suffering and asking why. Please read this.
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ConsumedThe pieces lay on the stacked stones. Blood and water dripped through the wood on top and ran down the side of the stones. The large trench around the stones began to fill with the mixture. It was time. A tradition long dismissed in favor of fear and selfish ambition was to be reestablished.
All day the people watched as 450 priests prayed, cried and begged for something to happen to their bull. They waited and watched. Nothing happened. Then they watched Elijah taunt the priests all day and then begin his repairs to the alter of the Lord. They watched him slaughter the bull and lay the pieces on the wood, they watched him dig the trench, they watched him pour 12 large pots of water on top. They waited. Elijah waited. The people began to get restless. Perhaps neither god was going to show up today. Then Elijah raised his hands... and prayed. A hush fell over the crowd. "Lord, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Israel, let it be known today that you are God in Israel and that I am your servant and have done all these things at your command. 37 Answer me, Lord, answer me, so these people will know that you, Lord, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again." Heat and intense light blazed down from heaven. Instantly the animal, the wood, the blood, the water... were gone. Consumed by fire. (1Kings 18) This word in 1 Kings 18 comes from the combination of two other words that mean completely and to use up. So the sacrifice was completely used up. God didn't leave any left overs. It was 100% gone. In Romans 12, the author calls for us to be living sacrifices holy and pleasing to God. God consumes his sacrifices. Not just consumes his sacrifices. Completely, utterly and totally consumes them. And He does this to prove that HE alone is God. So I'm asking myself am allowing myself to be 100% consumed by God. The answer for me has been no. I'm out of excuses. Before it was because I had a significant other that hated God. Then I was trying to finish my degree. Then I was trying to start my career. Then I was beginning a family. None of these things are bad on their own. But if they consume you instead of God ? Yeah bad. So I'm laying myself bare as I once did. Father consume me... Search me O God and know my heart... and lead me in the way ever lasting. (Psalm 139) He was young but he seemed old. We regularly had the same conversation over and over again. Sometimes he got stuck in a loop and would say the sames words 2 or 3 times within the matter a few minutes. With us it was small talk, because we didn't know how to go deeper without arguing or getting angry. We always talked about the weather. We always had that. I had the chance to take care of him in his final months. And I sat with him as he struggled for his last labored breaths. My dad was drafted into the army as a young man and sent to Vietnam. Demons followed him home and haunted his dreams and his life. Until we moved him to a nursing home he chased his demons with bourbon. The loops that he would get caught in were the result of many years of chasing demons. He got very little support from the government he had served, and the support he did get was more detrimental than helpful. He self-treated his undiagnosed PTSD with alcohol. He was an alcoholic. I miss my dad. I miss talking about the weather. I miss his phone calls to bring him kleenex and fried pies. I never doubted for one second how much he loved me and he never missed an opportunity to tell me how proud he was of me. On this memorial day I remember my dad. He didn't die in combat, but his death was the result of a war. The conflict, long over, never ended for him. Terry Neal Harris SP4 US Army Vietnam Memorial day is about remembering those that died in combat. I want to share a poem I wrote when my grandfather died as part of this memorial day series. He was a veteran but his combat was lost here at home and for me Memorial day is a day of remembrance. The following was read at his funeral: Such a Man By Amanda Russ Some men patiently sit and let their granddaughters fix their hair with combs and barrettes and all I am blessed to know such a man Some men stand for hours holding a little girl on their shoulders so she can see her favorite soap star I am blessed to know such a man Some men take their grandchildren fishing and make tents out of blankets and sticks to keep them warm I am blessed to know such a man Some men read bible stories to their granddaughters every night I am blessed to know such a man Some men stay married to the same woman for 56 years I am blessed to know such a man Some men are warriors who look every diagnosis in the face and say “I can beat that!” I am blessed to know such a man Some warriors are quietly called home I am blessed to have known such a man. Having done all STAND…. The strong warrior stands defiant, but clearly the underdog. He is fitted with the best armor and stands firmly for his cause. About his head is a helmet. Saving his mind from the blows of this enemy and protecting him from any thoughts that might destroy him before the battle begins. On his chest is a breastplate protecting his heart from corruption. About his waist is the belt of truth, holding up his garments to keep him from being tripped up in the battle. On his left arm a shield to extinguish any flaming arrow of the enemy. And in His right hand a sword to protect himself but also attack his enemies. His feet are fitted with readiness like a boxer in the ring. Ready to dodge anything and advance. But this enemy is well prepared, well trained and well experienced. Even the best equipped warrior is often no match. The battle begins. The two circle each other, sizing the other up with each step. Then the hits start. At first the warrior is able to match his enemy, until the enemy begins to taunt him. He reminds him of his past and breaks him down with reminders of who he used to be. The warrior hadn’t been strong or particularly good with a sword. He had failed many times and in many ways and his enemy knows it. With every blow he strips away a little piece of the armor that was so well chosen. The enemy pounces and taunts and laughs and never seems to feel any strike. With each hit he delivers he seems to get stronger and more confident, while stripping it away from the warrior. Finally the warrior has no defense and no weapon. There is nothing left to do but take the blows. Each one bringing him closer to his death. He raises his arm to block a blow and falls to his knees. Another hits him across his face and his body collapses to the mud. The warrior has all but given up. His face is in the mud and he is trying to find the strength to get up for what he knows will be the last time. And then these words begin to ring in his ears and begin to make their way to his heart. “Having done all, stand.” They reverberate within him and as they do the taunts of the enemy standing over him begin to fade. From somewhere deep inside, he finds the strength to move his little finger and then the muscles in his arm begin to ripple as he pushes himself from the ground. He rises to his knees and lifts a foot to the kneeling position. The enemy reels backwards in astonishment. Finally as his heart beats with word “stand, stand, stand” the warrior rises. And then, as if by the very act of standing has defeated this enemy, the beast began to collapse in on himself. A violent shriek escapes from his throat. His chest cracks as he looks down in anguish. The sound from his throat is drowned out by the intensifying roar of light coming from deep inside him. Within seconds the light bursts forth and completely disintegrates his body. The hero looks up to heaven. Battered to the point of death. His chest heaving with every breath. Tears streak his dirt stained face and he raises his fist to the sky. He rejoices in victory with a deep shout. He has withstood his enemy. More importantly having done all he stands. For So long I was separated from my mom on Mother's day as a child. It wasn't a bad thing, but it was sad. I'm not going into the back story here, but I do want to tell the story of how my mom and I reconnected. I was a freshman in High School. I lived with my grandparents in a small town in central Texas. Every fall schools all over the state battle it out to see who the best marchers are and I played the flute in our school's marching band. Just like my mom I was one of the best. I loved my mom, but I hadn't spoken to her in 3 years. She knew from her marching band days that my first marching contest was coming up. They were always in October. Though she wasn't exactly sure what day it was. One Saturday she decide to take a chance, travel 4 hours to Brady, Texas and see if her little girl might possibly want to say hi. At the very least she could see me from a distance. She took her time getting there, even taking scenic back roads. She didn't know where the school was or what time we were marching. This was before the internet, google, or cell phones. When she arrived at Brady it was around lunch time. She decided to have a picnic at the heart of Texas park before driving around looking for the school. She took her time and wasn't really in a hurry. My mom worries about everything, but was completely calm and kind of just going with the flow that day. She had total peace and no anxiety. Waiting for traffic when she pulled out of the park she saw a few buses coming around the curve. As they passed she realized there were our band buses. I had just passed my mom without even knowing it. She followed the buses to the football field and waited. We marched. She cheered and waited. After the contest I saw her in the parking lot. Just waiting to see if I would talk to her. Honestly, I wish I could remember what I felt when I saw her, but I had discovered boys or at least they had discovered me and that's all I had on my mind. But I loved my mom. I was excited to see her and told her I loved her. Our exchange was brief and it wasn't Earth shattering. But it changed us. It changed me. It moved my heart even though I didn't know it at the time. I didn't immediately hop on board the reconciliation train. I was 14 so I didn't know that's what was happening. It wasn't like we were making a conscious effort. My mom was, but it was entirely one sided. Eventually, my mom called to talk to my sister, who hadn't stopped talking to her. And I asked if I could talk too. Again not Earth shattering and we took a bunch more tiny little baby steps forward and a few giant steps backward. And now... Well now I live 3 houses down the street and "Mimi" Takes my daughter to school. I can't imagine my life without my mom and I'm so glad she took the time, energy, and risk to pursue me. I'm sure ya'll have some crazy mom stories too. Be sure to give your mom an extra squeeze, she might be waiting for you. Blessings to you. So I wanted to give up yesterday. It was a day filled with information. New Information. And not all of it was good news. I had done my book proposal wrong, my word count was too low, I didn't have a big enough platform, etc. I was sinking fast.
I texted my husband: My book is crap. His sweet text reaffirmed that it wasn't. I went to another session after lunch. Defeating Self-Doubt, Inka Nisinbaum (If you read German, read her book). Yep just what I needed and I was ready to pitch again. "They are going to love my book." I was on an emotional roller coaster here. Then I saw my name in red on the screen for the pitch sessions and my stomach dropped. I asked what that meant, but no one was sure. So I got ready only to find out that the red meant that the agent I had chosen decided he didn't want to hear pitches.They allowed me to pitch to someone else and it went fine. Not how I had dreamed it would go, but fine. Except I learned that no one would want my book because it had been self published. Although only in digital form, the rights were no longer on the table. So no one would pick it up. Exactly the opposite of what I had been told by those pesky self-publishing places. I drove home and ate a pint of ice cream. Had a good cry. And threw myself a pity-party. Then my husband convinced me that we aren't done. We can do this. I love him. So while I'm doing this without the help of a big publishing house or marketing group. I'm doing it. And that counts for more. I believe in this book and this story. And I'm going to see it through. Hope is an investment in a future you want, but can't experience just yet. Hope is not meant to make you feel better. Hope is meant to make you expect better and make it happen. Hope is a rally cry to the battle weary soldier to keep going. Don't give up. Keep fighting. If you keep fighting that thing that you expect to happen, will.
Hope is for the lost, the lonely. Hope is for the dark places. I see hope as a spark, not a light at the end of the tunnel. But a spark that drives you to reach that expectation. Hope does not sit idly by to hold hands and sing Kum By Yah, until things get better. Hope moves you to action to make things better. In the end our ultimate hope is the return of Jesus and finally joining with him in Heaven. But the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand and our hope in Jesus should move us to make it so. On Tuesday I launched my book. It was a happy time and I wanted to share this story of hope with the world. I wanted to tell everyone about hope. On Wednesday tragedy struck a dear friend. And I wanted to crawl in a hole. How can I share a message of hope with a family, a community who is suffering?
Suffering is why we need hope. "In this world you will have trouble." Jesus promised us suffering. We live in a fallen, sinful world. The ultimate hope is that it is a conquered fallen world. By Jesus. "Take heart for I have overcome the world." The suffering, the trouble, the tribulation, that is only half of it. Take Heart... I am humbled by the response to my book and I appreciate all your kind words. As you go into this week and you face your trials, Take heart. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5 |
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