tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6652678662716497622024-03-13T23:17:51.331-07:00The Leaking WindowA window that invites a “borrowed view” sharing a glimpse of the verdant beauty that lies beyond.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665267866271649762.post-33831640556127172992023-10-09T21:58:00.001-07:002023-10-09T21:58:20.561-07:00Is God Waiting For Us To Win The Lottery?<blockquote class="tr_bq"><i>"What would you do if you won the Lottery?" Most might reply that they would whole-heartedly consider giving a large
amount to charity. But I wonder if we shouldn't wait to win the lottery
before we become so generous... </i></blockquote>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXuhvh68I5L2HPVxCzabpRDLpr7dqtH9jcgx-p_5wyGHLVaNQhIMoplge_5NB2Gv_0BlLWn0GtX02TSUCq9dqB7eWRDiw7DcOhgl95OJHsWtS3750lyyf39IoDDFf_oeQF9cmci3efuRb/s1600/littlegirl-1285.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXuhvh68I5L2HPVxCzabpRDLpr7dqtH9jcgx-p_5wyGHLVaNQhIMoplge_5NB2Gv_0BlLWn0GtX02TSUCq9dqB7eWRDiw7DcOhgl95OJHsWtS3750lyyf39IoDDFf_oeQF9cmci3efuRb/s640/littlegirl-1285.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Darling Ethiopian Princess with Her Treasured Toy</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>November 2010</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br />
</i></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
Jesus
sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched
the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
Many rich people threw in large amounts. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
worth only a fraction of a penny. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
“I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
They all gave out of their wealth; </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
all she had to live on.” </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
Mark 12:41-44 NIV</div>
<br />
Poverty.<br />
<br />
I
grew up in what I considered poverty. Some nights dinner consisted of
cold cereal. No milk. Just cereal. And it was the non-brand kind.
Bills would go unpaid. Eviction would be threatened. We would hide
from the newspaper delivery boy when he would show up at the door
requiring payment. <br />
<br />
But in a few days or the next day,
it would be pay day. And we would go to the grocery store and eat out
for dinner at Gino's and get our hair cut and maybe go to a movie that
weekend. And pay our rent. And a couple bills. But not necessarily
the newspaper delivery boy.<br />
<br />
My sis and I grew up with a
single mom. During a time when dads could get away without paying
their child support. We didn't have a car. I wore hand me downs. And
there were even times we might "borrow" things (like toilet paper rolls)
from establishments, but never repay them.<br />
<br />
I thought we were poor. And compared to the American dream... we were. <br />
<br />
When
my mom married my step-father in my junior year of high school. I
started receiving allowance. Weekly. $20. (And there was ALWAYS food
in the kitchen... and clothes with tags still attached in the closets...
and toilet paper. The brand name kind.)<br />
<br />
And it was
then, that I started tithing. I don't remember ever tithing before that
time. $2 every week. Went right into the offering. And when I
started working, I would tithe on those paychecks. And when Anthony and
I got married and lived on his one paycheck a month... while I finished
college (on scholarships and grants and financial aid)... and we would
eat boxed Macaroni and Cheese for dinner, we would tithe. We tithed in
what we thought was our poverty.<br />
<br />
And before we knew it,
we were living the American Dream. Paychecks would come twice a month.
We could purchase meat to go with the Macaroni and Cheese. And we
would tithe. But now our giving was out of our wealth. <br />
<br />
Wealth.<br />
<br />
We
may think we need to be wealthy to be significant givers. We think...
when I have money then I will bless those around me. I will be the one
doing the blessing. But isn't that kind of the American dream? We
think that if we are able to give more that somehow we are more
significant. Or beneficial to the kingdom cause. As if God will be
more pleased with us, if our gifts are larger than the gifts of others.
Than the gifts of those in poverty. But is He? <br />
<br />
Here
we see Jesus take a seat where he could see (and hear) people dropping
their gifts into the temple treasury. And then calls His disciples over
to watch... listen... and learn. He didn't even ask them what they
thought. He just went on ahead and told them. Wonder why that is? It
wasn't even a parable. He just told them flat out... her gift is of
more significance. Of more value. Seriously? She put in a fraction of
a penny! And they threw in large amounts! Huh? <br />
<br />
God
is not concerned with the amount that we give. He is concerned with
our hearts. Our hearts to give selflessly. Our hearts to give
joyfully. Our hearts to give out of obedience and love for Him. He is
not waiting for us to get wealthy or win the lottery so that we can
give a huge sum of money to starving children or to Ethiopia or to pay
off the church debt. He is not waiting. <br />
<br />
But He is watching.<br />
Watching His children learn how to trust Him. <br />
In all things. <br />
Whether in perceived poverty... or received wealth. <br />
Will we give what we'll never miss... or will we give our all?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
Sitting across from the offering box, </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
he was observing how the crowd tossed money in for the collection.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
Many of the rich were making large contributions. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
One poor widow came up and put in two small coins—</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
a measly two cents. </div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
Jesus called his disciples over and said, </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
"The truth is that this poor widow gave more to the collection </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
than all the others put together. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
<i>All the others gave what they'll never miss; </i></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
<i>she gave extravagantly what she couldn't afford—</i></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
<i>she gave her all." </i></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">
Mark 12:41-44 The Message</div>
<div><br /></div>Original thoughts from June 2011<br />
<i><br />
</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665267866271649762.post-89163387156867954082022-10-10T12:30:00.007-07:002022-10-10T12:57:15.807-07:00All I Want is for My Daughter to be Whole and off those Antidepressants...In Honor of World Mental Health Day - It’s time to talk about it.<div>Here is a post I wrote on July of 2009.<br />
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNQ8Dd9VN9vTYWjl8C3xVypwmhQwlARULPbdr2UGaiBC0Uv9nLryn6xBddlATi6x81MIPzmlLCqJchut_cWB5GdsO1gEbgSNsGf-MKubJq-Cgh4W9c9Z9T14Jp_8J6BjKEuavzLWCCk64/s1600-h/cherry+framed.jpg"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyHaJvzGITBBKBlIQ_FZPpHwmqshBav78hbPN9CV36-gef1EUDNav8gQiWPQtNBaz3qZImGxyvwJ4ODK14FAsl2GjI2BdcIo2BqgA7DlSvTcZiEfe96jPyLLXCTbx-ZNozwQc2XyisV9VcAEUX8cqNx3JEWDj3jvCgYe-XyXwTpLKSqmLjIuAf7bcUw/s604/EA2DA11E-FF31-43DB-9E18-58C8FD633A1B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="604" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyHaJvzGITBBKBlIQ_FZPpHwmqshBav78hbPN9CV36-gef1EUDNav8gQiWPQtNBaz3qZImGxyvwJ4ODK14FAsl2GjI2BdcIo2BqgA7DlSvTcZiEfe96jPyLLXCTbx-ZNozwQc2XyisV9VcAEUX8cqNx3JEWDj3jvCgYe-XyXwTpLKSqmLjIuAf7bcUw/s320/EA2DA11E-FF31-43DB-9E18-58C8FD633A1B.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div face="courier new" style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div face="courier new" style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center;">"But I have prayed for you, Simon,<br />
that your faith may not fail.<br />
And when you have turned back,<br />
strengthen your brothers."<br />
Luke 22:32 NIV</div>
<br />
I
had never met her before. I had joined my mother for a luncheon and I
just happened to sit next to her. A godly woman... perhaps almost 70
years old... well-put together. She explained to me that her daughter was dealing with depression. And then she
boldly exclaimed, "All I want is for my daughter to be whole and off <i><b>those</b></i> antidepressants!"<br />
<br />
My eyes widened. My throat got tight. My heart hurt. And immediately I began the self-talk.<br />
<br />
If you're going through the study Me, Myself & Lies,
you know what I'm talking about... the talk that goes on in our head...
often destructive in nature. And if not properly taken captive can
tempt me to destroy everything that God has instilled in me.<br />
<br />
And the self-talk in my head that was prompted by this woman's exclamation sounds like:<br />
<blockquote>
"<span style="font-style: italic;">Those</span> anti-depressants... That's you, Sheri... you're on <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> anti-depressants. You know what she would be thinking if she knew you were on <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> anti-depressants... if only you trusted the Lord more... prayed more... were more godly. <span style="font-style: italic;">Christians</span> shouldn't be on <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> anti-depressants."</blockquote>
This
particular conversation with myself has occurred many times. And since
I am on anti-depressants... and most likely will be on them for the
rest of my life... I have had to "speak truth to my issues." I have
sought the Lord in prayer. I have sought His heart through reading the
Bible. I have worked with Christian counselors. I have done medical
research. All of this to combat the damaging self-talk.<br />
<br />
I
have begged the Lord to take the depression away from me. And
wondered... why would He not do it instantaneously. Why not an instant
miracle of healing? But through reading the Bible I find it is not
always the case.<br />
<br />
I consider Naaman in 2 Kings 5 who had
leprosy. He went to Elisha for healing and was disgusted to find out
that he had to dunk himself seven times in the muddy dark waters of the
Jordan. "<span style="font-family: courier new;">But Naaman went away angry and said,
'I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the
name of the LORD his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my
leprosy.'" 2 Kings 5:11 NIV</span> Ultimately he did go to the Jordan... did the dunk... and was healed by God.<br />
<br />
Or I consider the man who brought his son to the disciples for healing. He said to Jesus, <span style="font-family: courier new;">"I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not." Mark 9:18b<span style="font-family: georgia;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">The</span> disciples in all their proximity to Jesus could not heal his son. So the man went to Jesus... and then the son was healed.<br />
<br />
These people were not healed instantly. They had to pray and then
pursue and act and then receive. It did not happen as they thought it
should.<br />
<br />
And what about the shame I feel in regards to taking medication? I
realize that there are people with diabetes or thyroid cancer or
arthritis or asthma or IBS or irregular heartbeat... who are on life
giving or pain relieving medication... and we shame them not. So, why
should I feel shame over taking medicine for a medical condition?<br />
<br />
I have done my share of medical research. And due to sexual abuse under
the age of five... and due to hereditary issues from my father who had
mental illness... and due to the effects of thyroid cancer... I come
about my depression honestly. The effects of the abuse, heredity, and
thyroid cancer cause my synapses and serotonin to be out of whack. <br />
<br />
Still when the exclamation was made... it sent me into destructive
self-talk... but I immediately covered it with the truth. And later
that day, admitted to my own mother that I am on anti-depressants.<br />
<br />
And in writing this post... and revealing this weakness... this
vulnerability... I realize that someone could decide to leave a comment
that could send me back into that self-talk. But I also know that I am
not alone... and that by "confessing" my issue, I am taking away some of
its power over me.<br />
<br />
My thorn does not define me, but instead refines me. <br />
<br />
</span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "courier new"; text-align: center;">
At first I didn't think of it as a gift,<br />
and begged God to remove it.<br />
Three times I did that, and then he told me, <br />
<br />
My grace is enough; it's all you need.<br />
<br />
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.<br />
Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen.<br />
I quit focusing on the handicap and<br />
began appreciating the gift.<br />
2 Corinthians 12:8-9 The Message<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: georgia;">Dear
sister, when you are prompted to start the destructive self-talk...
take courage. Press into the Truth... read the Truth... pray... and
find someone in whom to confide. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia;">And may God's grace be sufficient in your weakness.</span></div>
</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665267866271649762.post-61151194882856656962021-06-18T13:54:00.007-07:002022-04-15T14:15:24.881-07:00Dusty Prayers<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWJHvre41SQLaQKESwLdPTfbik2F6lMoXq4XlbpcXL-_Bc_i86Bv_Kw92cgP1TDQ8BEHOGL6pAg-wbTYqmijDC7xy3C1GzYQ3W8XNJWQtkk0JuUO_i5v4CqyFOgdmcAkOlOK8dYtKrTY/s1600-h/dusty+prayers.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305122906852037970" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWJHvre41SQLaQKESwLdPTfbik2F6lMoXq4XlbpcXL-_Bc_i86Bv_Kw92cgP1TDQ8BEHOGL6pAg-wbTYqmijDC7xy3C1GzYQ3W8XNJWQtkk0JuUO_i5v4CqyFOgdmcAkOlOK8dYtKrTY/s400/dusty+prayers.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">View from the Mount of Olives</span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Remembrance Stones on a Jewish Grave </span>
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div>
Have you ever wished that Jesus would hurry? A song plays in my head...<span style="font-style: italic;"> "Jesus, hurry come back for us we cannot wait..."</span> and I have to admit that I've lived most of my life wishing for it. Why be here if heaven is so great and Jesus is there with no pain and with no tears? Why wait? Until the other day when I saw God's hand at work. I saw movement in prayers that are over 25 years old. My dusty prayers being answered. <div><br /></div><div>My “dusty prayers” are prayers that I pray and pretty much leave on a shelf. That is until I hear someone say, "Let's pray for any lost loved ones."
And I wondered... if... let's just say... Jesus really had hurried? But now my heart is so encouraged that I have decided to take a couple more prayers off the shelf. Dust them off and start praying and petitioning and anticipating and looking for God's hand. <div><div><br /></div><div>And I'm thinking that you probably have some dusty prayers, too. And so, I encourage you to go to that shelf. The shelf where you have placed some old prayers. Dust them off. Perhaps today is the day?
Why not share that request with someone? Let them join with you in prayer. And then let them rejoice with you in the victory.
And always remember... you have a sister here... who is praying for you!</div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>#dustyprayers</div><div>February 23, 2009</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665267866271649762.post-48437042484998547572021-04-02T15:20:00.001-07:002021-04-02T15:20:38.897-07:00Good Friday, April 2nd, 1999<p> An excerpt from a journal I kept during my pregnancy. A Good Friday I will never forget. I love you, favorite son.</p><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEce5e9rw2juc2DwhiHRgUPoTyCjiDyTmmQOHTUlWuuwH_tLJlMQrD4ywgzVKX0D9beedJEwwII2rj7y1KuEAGDOL2UcA6BjMZCGFgLYCx28xm0B7D4kGdz1Ef4-98KrlF1CzVGg9xkgyX/s2048/67E477CF-EEB1-467C-905F-A29CAFA8E609.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1371" data-original-width="2048" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEce5e9rw2juc2DwhiHRgUPoTyCjiDyTmmQOHTUlWuuwH_tLJlMQrD4ywgzVKX0D9beedJEwwII2rj7y1KuEAGDOL2UcA6BjMZCGFgLYCx28xm0B7D4kGdz1Ef4-98KrlF1CzVGg9xkgyX/w640-h429/67E477CF-EEB1-467C-905F-A29CAFA8E609.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><div>To my unborn son on Good Friday, April 2nd, 1999 -<div><br /></div><div>I am three weeks away from giving birth to you. After months of <span style="font-weight: bold;">pre</span>-postpartum counseling, I am still afraid of the change that is to occur. Terrified. FEARFUL.</div><div><br /></div><div>I attend Good Friday Service at our church. It is a small gathering in the old chapel. I am sitting in the back. Communion is served. As I take communion, I realize that you are taking communion, too. We are taking communion together. And I think... we will never have this opportunity, again. </div><div><br /></div><div>After months of feeling distant from you... I suddenly feel as if we have bonded. We have shared something. Something intimate and private. And I thank God for that moment. That realization. Something now that is embedded in my heart and soul. And although you would never remember this moment, I will for the rest of my life. </div><div><br /></div><div> And it would be a remembrance of God's love for me... and you.</div><div><br /><div><div style="font-family: "courier new"; text-align: center;">...and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, "This is my body, which is for you; do this <span style="font-weight: bold;">in remembrance of me.</span>" In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, <span style="font-weight: bold;">in remembrance of me</span>." </div><div style="font-family: "courier new"; text-align: center;">1 Corinthians 11:24-25 NIV</div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665267866271649762.post-59322568079872861022021-03-23T11:57:00.000-07:002021-03-23T11:57:17.995-07:00You Have Stayed Long Enough At This Mountain<div class="separator"><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCk5aoPrRyKxPLfObL9FvGiVxA3CerWTgYBcNh7_dAgd-gxTkhbS3rga3C_01jAjWCqKHWgJGN9lx2Gg1P4yQr1gbDVCPMJzMUXM1_9WmRp2DfKl4rRld_VuOVIxk4DkbI_ks_o8TMubj_/s1600/A5A5CA60-34F6-437F-9E17-15D94254180F.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCk5aoPrRyKxPLfObL9FvGiVxA3CerWTgYBcNh7_dAgd-gxTkhbS3rga3C_01jAjWCqKHWgJGN9lx2Gg1P4yQr1gbDVCPMJzMUXM1_9WmRp2DfKl4rRld_VuOVIxk4DkbI_ks_o8TMubj_/w640-h480/A5A5CA60-34F6-437F-9E17-15D94254180F.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p></div>
<p style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18.1px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">"...You have stayed long enough at this mountain." </p>
<p style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">Deuteronomy 1:6 </p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18.4px; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I love words. Especially words of affirmation. Well, let’s get real - POSITIVE words of affirmation. Who doesn’t? But there was a time in my life that affirmation was like an addiction to me. </p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18.4px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When I was younger, I would find affirmation wherever I could. I just wanted to be noticed. It became addictive. The Lord helped me to see that some of the ways were destructive. And most were not fulfilling and definitely not long-lasting.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">So, I began to find ways to fill my need for affirmation that were constructive. Positive friendships. Trying to change my expectations. Affirming myself. And yet, it wasn't enough. There would always be one or two people who I felt <span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-style: italic;">should</span> affirm me, but didn't... and I would be crushed.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I came to a crossroads. As I began mentoring other women, the topic of affirmation would come up. And I was stuck. I couldn't help them. I couldn't help myself. Some of them were in the same situation I was. What was I to do? Force the situation? That didn’t work. Talk to others about it? That would be gossip. Read books? That would help until I encountered that person again. Pray for them to change? Self-serving. Pray for me to change? I began praying that I would be content.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Around that time, I was reading Priscilla Shirer’s One in A Million when I came upon a section titled “Bound to a Memory.” It was about how the Israelites kept dreaming and longing for what they thought could be. If only they went back to Egypt they thought they would be content eating “cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic” (Numbers 11:5). It was then I realized I had exchanged my immediate desperate need for affirmation from a particular person into a future fulfillment of that need. Meaning, I was finding comfort in the fact that one day that person would affirm me. I was able to be content today with that person and with that need for their affirmation, because I had finally resigned myself that one day... one day... they would truly see me... and they would affirm me. And I could be patient and wait for that.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And that's when I felt the Lord say<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-style: italic;">... You have stayed long enough at this mountain, Sheri. </span> Time to give up that hope. Time to not rely upon the hope that I would ever be affirmed by that person. Not that they won't affirm me, but that I was to no longer cover my symptoms. I still had that desperate desire to be affirmed by that person, but I had covered it up and that was no longer good enough.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">It was time for me to stop looking back. Stop looking <span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-style: italic;">longingly</span> back at what I thought would happen. Again, let me reiterate that affirmation in itself is not a bad thing. Nothing is inherently wrong with it. But I wanted it more than what God wanted for me. God is offering me an abundant life in Christ free from bondage - free from insecurity - free from the future hope of someone's affirmation. Free from the dependence on someone else to meet my needs. </p>
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<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And although there will be times, the allure of someone's affirmation will tempt me, I have resolved to stand firm and look forward to the promised land of abundant living that Christ has set before me. And now as I move from this mountain, I pray my testimony of God's faithfulness will encourage those I influence to do the same.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18.4px;"><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-style: italic;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-style: italic;">You have stayed long enough at this mountain. </span> </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665267866271649762.post-53298744048543500062014-01-24T15:43:00.001-08:002024-03-13T10:03:28.253-07:00Did God Really Say...<div id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390594783921_9256">Originally published on January 24, 2014</div><div id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390594783921_9256"><br /></div><div id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390594783921_9256">The Ethiopia/Uganda Chronicles</div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390594783921_9265">
Chapter Four - The Doubt</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLj_13P0BgrRv4m_EeGOR64830KLRQt875DQLQ2NviutOami9S9y0SW_viJrD97rrHS9hqqC6sBLZGWJYWYSstmspVmTDQ2e1piY6j4SrTY1Em-qUCXh1jvrllE2fkDUmpuexCwoThQNLZ/s1600/ray_ethiopia-6120.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLj_13P0BgrRv4m_EeGOR64830KLRQt875DQLQ2NviutOami9S9y0SW_viJrD97rrHS9hqqC6sBLZGWJYWYSstmspVmTDQ2e1piY6j4SrTY1Em-qUCXh1jvrllE2fkDUmpuexCwoThQNLZ/s1600/ray_ethiopia-6120.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ethiopian boy chasing the team van. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #666666;"><i>photography by Anthony Kaetzel</i></span></div>
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It was November. A Saturday. We were scheduled to get our immunizations for Ethiopia and Uganda later that morning. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390594783921_9294">
He
came down the stairs and he was upset. He told us that he just
realized he would be missing a couple of competitions in February when
we were in Africa. He was beside himself. These were competitions that
he had been preparing for... one for almost a year.</div>
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<div id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390594783921_9296">
He
wondered to us if he was really supposed to go to Ethiopia and Uganda.
He didn't feel called. Perhaps God had spoken to us about it, but God
had not spoken to him. He was frustrated.</div>
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His father
calmly asked him to find out the dates of the competition to be certain
that they were conflicting with our trip to Africa. He went upstairs.
He went to his room. He shut his door.</div>
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And as a mother I wondered... <i>Did God really say</i>
Christopher was to go to Ethiopia? I cried as I thought of the
sacrifice we were asking him to make. Perhaps he could stay home.
Perhaps I was being selfish and wanting him to go with us for the wrong
reasons. He was right. God had spoken to us as parents, but not to
him. Perhaps I should intervene and we could always change our minds. I
could fix this.</div>
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I walked down the stairs full of emotion. Wanting to take away the pain.</div>
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<div id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390594783921_9307">
But
there he sat. Calm. Composed. Resolute. Talking with his dad. He
explained to me that he had felt prompted to read the second chapter of
the book of James in the Bible. And when he read James 2:14-17, he
knew what he had to do. He knew his faith needed action.</div>
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<blockquote class="yiv2334981251tr_bq" id="yiv2334981251yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390586737814_5158">
<div id="yiv2334981251yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390586737814_5157" style="text-align: center;">
<div id="yiv2334981251yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390586737814_5156">
<span id="yiv2334981251yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390586737814_5155" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span class="yiv2334981251text yiv2334981251Jas-2-14" id="yiv2334981251yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1390586737814_5154">What
good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith
but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or a
sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them,
“Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their
physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if
it is not accompanied by action, is dead. James 2:14-17</span></span></div>
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</blockquote>
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And that was it. He was changed. God had spoke. He listened. That was that.</div>
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And
I was dumbfounded at the thought that I almost saved him from it.
Saved him from hearing from the Lord. From the opportunity to press
into what seemed important to him to what seemed important to God. I
almost protected him from something that would change his life forever.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But God intervened. God took care of it. And He will. He will always take care of it. </div>
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Thank you, God.<br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><i>For more of my thoughts on my trip to Ethiopia and Uganda visit <a href="http://theleakingwindow.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Ethiopia%20Chronicles">here</a>.</i></span>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665267866271649762.post-13623708644555977062013-02-18T11:06:00.006-08:002021-12-13T21:00:43.762-08:00The Distinction Between "Lead" and "Leader"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVAeno2u7lcSinifaPGfn5_9mlFn95wTIlfZ9hBlmhzsFBVylEXWe236RWNw6XfDGqnjHZd873mwjcrDz38c6sz4zW9DXo5mKKwpmpW3e58k_7RlCeMFSBceQYkjXMx4CPZvcGLtcXq0L/s1600/OneWord2013_Lead.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVAeno2u7lcSinifaPGfn5_9mlFn95wTIlfZ9hBlmhzsFBVylEXWe236RWNw6XfDGqnjHZd873mwjcrDz38c6sz4zW9DXo5mKKwpmpW3e58k_7RlCeMFSBceQYkjXMx4CPZvcGLtcXq0L/s200/OneWord2013_Lead.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><i>Quote From: <u>The Polar Express </u><br />
</i></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">
Hero Girl: <i>It says "lead." Like "lead balloon." </i><br />
<br />
Conductor: </span><i><span style="color: #3d85c6;">I believe it also is pronounced "lead." As in "leader," "leadership." "Lead the way." Follow you anywhere, ma'am.</span></i></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div>
I want to make the distinction obvious between the fact that I chose the word "Lead" and did not choose the word "Leader" as my One Word for 2013. I am not in the process of learning how to work my way into a position of leadership. That does not appeal to me. What I am learning is how to lead those who "follow" me. Those who are watching me or my family. How we do life. Those I am mentoring or discipling or teaching. Those who come along for a brief moment in time and ask for insight, prayer, acceptance and/or discernment or those who join us for the long haul in this thing called life.<br />
<br />
Leadership comes in all shapes and sizes. A majority of the time... it just happens. Often there is no structure or exact moment. Recently while doing the study <u>Anonymous: Jesus' hidden years and yours,</u> I came across something that seemed to fit what I am focusing on... submission-based authority. The leadership or authority that most of us are familiar with is based either on position or possession. Position-based authority can look like the name pastor or doctor or general or teacher or director. Possession-based authority looks like, "It's my ball, so I get to make the rules." But submission-based authority looks like "<i>the submitted heart, mind, and spirit of Jesus.</i>" <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Jesus' authority flowed not from possessions or positions but from submission. What was the surprising source of Jesus' authority? Submission to his Father's will and Word.</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Throughout the temptation [of Christ], Jesus reaffirmed with every "It is written" the same decision he had been making quietly in the unapplauded places over uncelebrated years during his previous thirty hidden chapters of life: <b>I will live in submission to my Father's will and Word. </b></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Over the years, Jesus' consistent choice to submit to his Father God's will and Word clustered and built momentum as he stepped out of his anonymous season and into the waters of the Jordan River. There, the Holy Spirit descended not on talent, title, or wordly possesions but upon the submitted heart, mind, and spirit of Jesus. ~Alicia Britt Chole, Anonymous: Jesus' hidden years... and yours.</i></blockquote>
<br />
This is truly my focus. <br />
With or without position. <br />
With or without possession. <br />
Whether I lead or follow. <br />
Submitting to my Heavenly Father's will and Word. <br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span class="text John-3-30" id="en-NIV1984-26141">He must become greater; I must become less. John 3:30 NIV84</span> </span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2