I can't really do espresso anymore...I overdosed on espresso too many times when I worked at S*bucks. I like those ol' school espresso makers...you know, the ones where the espresso goes into a little silver bucket with a black handle. The ones where the barista taps down the espresso so it's firmly packed before the steaming hot water is pressed through it...
Here I am. In Dallas...about to be out of a job...about to be homeless (again). But with amazing friends, a church I dearly love and a conviction that I am supposed to be here. Moreso, I believe with all my heart, that He brought me here for my GOOD. Hebrews 11...believing in the unseen...it's what He's been having me do for the last 2 years.
And I see whispers of provision...getting to sing a little more with my church...being approached by a friend about writing music for a feature film...finding a girl I'm CONVINCED needs to be my roommate...starting to settle in a bit. Moreso, my heart is content. I enjoy life here. I enjoy giving and loving. I enjoy being single. I'm grateful for Him today.
You know, when the barista taps down the ground espresso, it's for better brewing. Somehow, espresso that's tightly packed gives off more flavor when the hot water steams through it. I feel in so many ways that He has been tapping down my soul the past few months...having me wait for His provision, well, it makes me know that it's not me making things happen! It's so clear that all the gifts and provision that are coming are purely from His bounty. It's as if He's about to shoot through this soul of mine with His Spirit and His tapping down my soul was His way of enabling more of His Spirit to shine through this vessel.
Can I tell you how grateful I am? I am so confident of His coming provision. It blows my mind that He has given me this faith to see the unseen. I am so humbled. He saw fit to allow me to be a part of showing others how GOD provides for His kids. It's stunning really.
Just wanted to post of my overwhelming gratefulness. And to say, yet again, He is coming. More so, even better, He is HERE.
Emmanuel this Christmas season...God WITH us.
Much love...
ab
Friday, December 19, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Standin' Still: Eyes Wide, Knees A-Knockin'
Senses are heightened as I stand in front of glassy-filmed water, deep and wide. There's no crossing. No path laid out in front of me. Just a knowledge that beyond that mammoth body of water lies the Promised Land; My destiny lies beyond the Red Sea.
I look down at the ground, dirt and sand and pebbles cover the ground in a tan coat. Oddly enough, there's no ants scurrying about...not even the occasional lizard scurrying out of sight. If I look closely, I can see the ground vibrating...the rhythm extends to the water in front of me causing the lucid liquid to ripple ever so slightly. The vibrations grow as do the riples.
I look behind me. Horses; All pounding with thousands of pounds of flesh and javelins extended. Pointing towards my heart. Blood in the eyes of the riders and a stench wafts to my nostrils of sweat and thick dust kicked up from their ride; this army of TIME.
I lick dry lips and chew on them in nervousness. A fear is swelling inside. I quote Scripture to keep it at bay: Lamentations 3:22-24,
"The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion says my soul, therefore I have hope in Him."
Part of my soul rings in triumph at this truth. Part of me is centered on the growing trembling of the earth as this army approaches. My hands are cold and clammy, trembling in rhythm to the horse hooves. My heart is swelling with emotion. Part of me is scared to tears...and the other grasps with all my might on truth:
HE WILL SAVE. He will make a way.
I think time has to get short enough (the Egyptians have to get close enough) to show that nothing is an issue when you have a God as powerful as the One I serve...
I look down at the ground, dirt and sand and pebbles cover the ground in a tan coat. Oddly enough, there's no ants scurrying about...not even the occasional lizard scurrying out of sight. If I look closely, I can see the ground vibrating...the rhythm extends to the water in front of me causing the lucid liquid to ripple ever so slightly. The vibrations grow as do the riples.
I look behind me. Horses; All pounding with thousands of pounds of flesh and javelins extended. Pointing towards my heart. Blood in the eyes of the riders and a stench wafts to my nostrils of sweat and thick dust kicked up from their ride; this army of TIME.
I lick dry lips and chew on them in nervousness. A fear is swelling inside. I quote Scripture to keep it at bay: Lamentations 3:22-24,
"The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion says my soul, therefore I have hope in Him."
Part of my soul rings in triumph at this truth. Part of me is centered on the growing trembling of the earth as this army approaches. My hands are cold and clammy, trembling in rhythm to the horse hooves. My heart is swelling with emotion. Part of me is scared to tears...and the other grasps with all my might on truth:
HE WILL SAVE. He will make a way.
I think time has to get short enough (the Egyptians have to get close enough) to show that nothing is an issue when you have a God as powerful as the One I serve...
Monday, December 1, 2008
Creating as an Act of Faith?
Is creating, as a Christian artist, an act of faith?
Hebrews 11 talks of the world being prepared by God's invisible word; "what is seen was not made out of things which are visible." It makes me wonder if an artist's creativity is outsourced from this invisble well. Perhaps the things of beauty we see are all depictions of that invisible world.
I also wonder about artist's as prophets. A friend and I were talking of some of these thoughts over java this weekend. 3 thoughts for this at first glance. 1. The majority of artist's works seem to be depictions of past or current scenarios. 2. When an artist paints of the everyday, in his perspective, there is such a clear depiction of the eternal reality underlying the everyday that the future is clearly seen. 3. When an artist does paint of the future, it is almost as a warning.
Thoughts?!? Anyone?!?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Discovery Zone
A friend and I were talking last week about some of the basic engagements of men...he was saying that a major action is to discover. E.g., Adam spent his first days naming animals to discover that not one of them was suitable for him. God didn't tell him in advance, he just let him discover it. Makes me think of Isaac, my 2 year old nephew. I think the most oft-used phrased in his vocabulary is, "Let ME do it!" He wants to discover what it is to be HIM.
I've spent so much of my life discovering who God's created me to be and what it is He's placed in my heart to do...I've also spent much time discovering who He is (and let me tell you, knowing Him better ALWAYS helps me know me better!)...
So here's to the great adventure that awaits YOU today! Discover...a new park bench...a new favorite sandwich...a new friend...
I've spent so much of my life discovering who God's created me to be and what it is He's placed in my heart to do...I've also spent much time discovering who He is (and let me tell you, knowing Him better ALWAYS helps me know me better!)...
So here's to the great adventure that awaits YOU today! Discover...a new park bench...a new favorite sandwich...a new friend...
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Mad Skills and Skin-Bags of the Holy Spirit
Artists are prophets.
With a created makeup of talent, sweat-bullets of skill and acting as skin-bags of The Holy Spirit, they can foretell the future. Their paradigm, God-endowed into their solitudinal souls, sees beyond the surface of this world to the reality underneath: 3D versus our 1D. Francis Schaeffer was thinking as an artist when he wrote, "Art is the language of the soul, not the servant of political action committees, right thinking ideologies or trendy editors...The existence of the arts is the most tangible evidence of the existence of the soul.” The artist speaks of the underlying reality of the world...that reality only seen by those tapped into their soul-energy...their Creator. Moreso, filled with the Holy Spirit they have all the wisdom of the ages. They have the wisdom of God which sees beyond our petty 21st century and throughout all time, since before time began and into the future. Artists are called to read clues that the Father sets out for them to read. Clues found in the undercurrent of eternal reality (lying underneath this present reality) are black-n-white arrows to what the future holds. For instance, take the picture of Bezalel when he was given the task of 'creating' the temple. We see he was skilled and ready for the task. And then we see him "filled with the Holy Spirit." Albeit, his creative license was definitely guided by direct, minute-detail Divine intervantion at work in his story, but can't we see the story of Jesus foretold in the makeup of the temple? Isn't the prophecy of Christ's redemption seen manifested in the prophetic, artistic work of Bezalel's temple when temple curtain tears upon Christ's death?
An artist's paradigm, while revolutionary, is controversy-laden for multiple reasons, one being that not all artists are tapped into the Omniscient Holy Spirit. Another reason is that in humaness, sometimes the arrows are read wrong. Finally, perchance they're also controversy-laden because most want to believe that the world is exactly what THEY see and no one else has a better understanding. It would behoove the believer to understand that Divine revelation comes in all sorts of packages...and unless it is conflicting with His Word, it has just as much a chance of being "right" as their own "right" beliefs.
What do YOU think????
**This is not to elevate the artist's ability to hear God better than a non-artist. It only seems harder for a non-artist to have a unique, God-given paradigm as they are not naturally inclined to think outside the confines of what their eyes see in this present reality. I believe it is every believer's responsibility to seek His vision for His Kingdom here "on earth as it is in heaven." Let's jump into our responsibility feet first!
With a created makeup of talent, sweat-bullets of skill and acting as skin-bags of The Holy Spirit, they can foretell the future. Their paradigm, God-endowed into their solitudinal souls, sees beyond the surface of this world to the reality underneath: 3D versus our 1D. Francis Schaeffer was thinking as an artist when he wrote, "Art is the language of the soul, not the servant of political action committees, right thinking ideologies or trendy editors...The existence of the arts is the most tangible evidence of the existence of the soul.” The artist speaks of the underlying reality of the world...that reality only seen by those tapped into their soul-energy...their Creator. Moreso, filled with the Holy Spirit they have all the wisdom of the ages. They have the wisdom of God which sees beyond our petty 21st century and throughout all time, since before time began and into the future. Artists are called to read clues that the Father sets out for them to read. Clues found in the undercurrent of eternal reality (lying underneath this present reality) are black-n-white arrows to what the future holds. For instance, take the picture of Bezalel when he was given the task of 'creating' the temple. We see he was skilled and ready for the task. And then we see him "filled with the Holy Spirit." Albeit, his creative license was definitely guided by direct, minute-detail Divine intervantion at work in his story, but can't we see the story of Jesus foretold in the makeup of the temple? Isn't the prophecy of Christ's redemption seen manifested in the prophetic, artistic work of Bezalel's temple when temple curtain tears upon Christ's death?
An artist's paradigm, while revolutionary, is controversy-laden for multiple reasons, one being that not all artists are tapped into the Omniscient Holy Spirit. Another reason is that in humaness, sometimes the arrows are read wrong. Finally, perchance they're also controversy-laden because most want to believe that the world is exactly what THEY see and no one else has a better understanding. It would behoove the believer to understand that Divine revelation comes in all sorts of packages...and unless it is conflicting with His Word, it has just as much a chance of being "right" as their own "right" beliefs.
What do YOU think????
**This is not to elevate the artist's ability to hear God better than a non-artist. It only seems harder for a non-artist to have a unique, God-given paradigm as they are not naturally inclined to think outside the confines of what their eyes see in this present reality. I believe it is every believer's responsibility to seek His vision for His Kingdom here "on earth as it is in heaven." Let's jump into our responsibility feet first!
His Economy
For two months, I've been living in an uber sweet pad, 15 minutes from work. There's a security guard 24/7. There's also an amazing running trail around a picturesque, almost-italian canal and lake that feeds into a safe section of woods. It's really quite stunning. The balcony overlooks a beautiful section of the city...the apartment's fully-furnished with a comfy bed...Stay with me here, there's a point! I've been living here, in this $1200/month apartment, just paying utilities. So the Father picks out a $1400/month deal for me and gets it for $200. And it has been the perfect safe place for me the past few months. I needed a place to get my feet under me; to escape all the other voices and listen to His. So, He provided this place for me...
THEN, when the girl decided to break her lease, I thought, "Oh no! I'll never find something this nice for this cheap. Sad, I was really enjoying the space and solitude, etc." BUT. I was surprised again...He opened up a bedroom and bath, rent-free in the house of a friend of a friend. An uber nice house I might want to add. And they have a great running trail and lake complete with fountain as well. When I was moving in last night, I had 3 guy friends helping carry in stuff...as we walked past the mom, she said, "No way! Jared!" Turns out they're buddies from a church he used to play for...and I was worried that my friends wouldn't come hang because I'm living in some random folks house...
Isn't it amazing how you think there's no way He could beat the goodness He's already gifted you with and then He jumps in and goes above and beyond what you were hoping for?!?
THEN, when the girl decided to break her lease, I thought, "Oh no! I'll never find something this nice for this cheap. Sad, I was really enjoying the space and solitude, etc." BUT. I was surprised again...He opened up a bedroom and bath, rent-free in the house of a friend of a friend. An uber nice house I might want to add. And they have a great running trail and lake complete with fountain as well. When I was moving in last night, I had 3 guy friends helping carry in stuff...as we walked past the mom, she said, "No way! Jared!" Turns out they're buddies from a church he used to play for...and I was worried that my friends wouldn't come hang because I'm living in some random folks house...
Isn't it amazing how you think there's no way He could beat the goodness He's already gifted you with and then He jumps in and goes above and beyond what you were hoping for?!?
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Love never gives up.
It doesn't. When things are hard. When we don't understand.
I thought love gave up. But my Father? He never gives up. And ME? How do I respond to the Father's love? Do I give up trusting in His great love for me when the road seems impossible? Not today I won't. I believe today more than ever before in His overwhelming love...His neverending faithfullness...His all-encompassing goodness. He cares so deeply for me...there is NO END to His love for me. We have only to read His gospels, to watch "The Passion of the Christ" to sense again how much He gave up to love us.
Yet in my world, where things seem difficult, I so often want to give up on love. And this is where I sit...giving up ground slowly but surely. But I say, NOT TODAY. I won't give up today.
I can't see. But I trust. I can't breathe at times, there is so much opposition. But I have faith in His goodness. I have hope in His goodness. I know how much it hurts HIM to see me hurting. And in this...I just beg for the ability to love Him supernaturally. It's so easy to love Him isn't it? It's also so easy to fall away. Why? Maybe because grace is free. It only costs your life. But it's really in giving your life that you get your life. So really, it's free.
Reading 1 Corinthians 13, the line, "pursue love but desire earnestly spiritual gifts" rings in my cranium.
Love. I saw "Love Actually", the Brit movie, when it came out...one of the love stories was over-the-top in my book (if you've seen it, you know, if not, there's no need to explain such debauchery!). But, for the most part, I felt like it gave a pretty accurate depiction of human love. Human love.
I really do think it only mirrors His love. It's such a farce compared to His. If human love isn't grounded in Divine love, well, it's a 20/80 chance of making it unscathed to the end. Maybe I'm off in this percentage but...
I've been in love mode with Him for a few days. But it surprised me how one little hitch in my getalong and off the band wagon I flew. So quickly I fell off the "Oh Father, All my hopes and dreams and trust are in You! I really do believe when I can't see!" Funny that He allows me to see my unfaithfulness so clearly. As a human it's only NORMAL that I'd have issues seeing into the unseen. BUT, I'm not called to live a NORMAL life. SUPERNATURAL is where He's going with me.
I still claim "OH He's SO GOOD!" so quickly. But my heart almost belies this with an ache. An ache that I think I put there. I was talking with someone recently about expectations...expectations is the food of bitterness. It's the food of discontentment. When expectations aren't met, well, bitterness and discontentment most often follow.
But when I get that His life for me doesn't look exactly like the life I'd choose for myself, well, I can move past all feelings of bitterness or discontentment. Honestly, I think the life He'd choose for me would be better than the life I'd choose for myself. I can't wait to see what He does next...
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Magnifico!
Muck.
Ugliness.
Envy.
Anger… Fear.
I get so bogged down in my sin. the muck overwhelms me. And then all I can see is my dirt. I've been this way for a while: Incredibly adept at identifying the ugly parts of me. Most often, I then revel in that self-identity. It’s so sad really. I mean, honestly, He created me a beautiful, wonderful human being; A glorious creation unlike any other. And I live life like a muddied princess.
But if I think about, I’m not alone in my affinity for living life out of this warped sense of identity. Not to point fingers or anything, but the disciples might have been better at this than me.Reading through the Gospels, Jesus seemed exasperated with the disciples more often than not. But seriously, who wouldn't be? As a rabbi, Jesus had called them to follow and learn from Him. That was part of a rabbi’s job description. If you look back through rabbinical codes it's clear that a rabbi doesn't try to invite a mentally slow, capacity-lacking individual to follow him. Rather, a rabbi would weigh and judge the abilities of the individual first. When he saw the person was worthy of following him, he would invite the individual to follow him. When Jesus was frustrated with the disciples, it was not because he was thinking, "Wow. How'd I get stuck with these bozo's?" Rather, he was probably frustrated with their lack of manifested potential. He knew He had created them with every ability to accomplish the tasks at hand. He knew they could follow Him...they just kept getting bogged down in 'stuff'.
I can just hear Peter thinking, “Oh gosh. I screwed up last time. I can't screw up this time. I’d better not say the wrong things." Then in his overanalyzing, hyper-sensitivity, ultra-stressed state, he missed the point of just breathing in Jesus teachings. Then, he’d mess up. Again. I think we call that self-fulfilling prophecy.
In Velvet Elvis, Rob Bell enlightens me of Jesus' relationship with the disciples. Jesus didn't leave the disciples with the Great Commission because He felt they couldn't do it. Rather, He left the disciples with the Great Commission because He knew they could do it. He had created them with the capacity for great things. He knew they could handle working out the great commission. Well, He knew they could work if out if they used His little parting gift: The Holy Spirit. Jesus only seemed frustrated with them when they weren't living up to that potential. Jesus had the upper hand in that He knew the full-extent of their abilities. I mean, He was there when they were created.
He knew they were capable of much, much more. Marianne Williamson says: “Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone. And, as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Ok, don't get me wrong, I hate self-help mumbo-jumbo as much as anyone. But at the same time, I don't think recognizing our God given purpose and created ability is self-help talk. I believe that when I fail to give Him credit for all the power and beauty He created me to live out of, well, I’m actually discrediting His creation. In essence, I’m failing to give Him the glory due Him. And failing to recognize the creature He’s intended for me is failing to allow the glorious, created version of me to exist.
Even understanding that here helps me to slowly become moreso that woman He’s created me to be. I remember reading C.S. Lewis's depiction of Adam and Eve in his sci-fi book Pereleandra. Lewis's version of Adam wasn't a wimpy, burdened-down-with-his-depravity sort of creature. Rather, Adam was beautiful in his terrible awesomeness. The gloriousness of his created being was manifested for all to drink in. And the character that represented Eve was even more glorious. The embodiment of all that is gracious and lovely and beautiful, her pure heart trusted the Lord yet maintained a strength evident in the very way she walked. Eve was the epitome of grace and beauty. She was mighty, yet with a gentle and quiet spirit. Her beauty was interior and exterior.
So how do I become that same 'eve' I was created to be? I definitely have areas of muck to be waded through and cleared out. But in the midst of this muck, I am increasingly freed from the curse of self-doubting as I embrace the fullness of His grace. Each day finds me believing moreso that there is a terribly, awesome, glorious Annetta that only awaits my standing up and becoming. Living out my created purpose, simply becoming the me He intends, in Him. Via Him. Meanwhile, until I stand up and become, I am falling short of this created purpose.
I most often live as if someone has sliced a little into my Achilles heel, as if I’m crippled. And my Father’s response is, "Stand up My child! I've created you for far greater than this. You are falling short only because you choose to fall short and not because I created you less than what you think you are. Live out My purpose for you today!" In these moments, hearing His Voice so clearly, my chosen response is clear. Today I choose to relentlessly pursue becoming the created Annetta. I won’t pursue being her in an ontological, 'self-actualized' kinda' way. Rather, I’ll pursue His created kid in a "I'm a daughter of the King, created with specific and magnificent abilities to love Him" kinda' way. In this way, I’ll live out my true identity.
Oh! Magnifico! That He has created me! I love the way He has done so! And when I think that He spent time on me, just as He did the brilliant, majestic, terrible, beautiful mountains, I am humbled. So as I reach for the higher heights He has created me for...let's reach together. Let’s not seek to be better than one another. Let’s purpose to be a better “me.” Let’s be who we were created to friends!
And let's change the world.
**I posted a semblance of this post a few years back..but was re-reading and editing and in the process of re-learning this...ah...how slow I ofttimes am at pickin up what He's putting down...**
Ugliness.
Envy.
Anger… Fear.
I get so bogged down in my sin. the muck overwhelms me. And then all I can see is my dirt. I've been this way for a while: Incredibly adept at identifying the ugly parts of me. Most often, I then revel in that self-identity. It’s so sad really. I mean, honestly, He created me a beautiful, wonderful human being; A glorious creation unlike any other. And I live life like a muddied princess.
But if I think about, I’m not alone in my affinity for living life out of this warped sense of identity. Not to point fingers or anything, but the disciples might have been better at this than me.Reading through the Gospels, Jesus seemed exasperated with the disciples more often than not. But seriously, who wouldn't be? As a rabbi, Jesus had called them to follow and learn from Him. That was part of a rabbi’s job description. If you look back through rabbinical codes it's clear that a rabbi doesn't try to invite a mentally slow, capacity-lacking individual to follow him. Rather, a rabbi would weigh and judge the abilities of the individual first. When he saw the person was worthy of following him, he would invite the individual to follow him. When Jesus was frustrated with the disciples, it was not because he was thinking, "Wow. How'd I get stuck with these bozo's?" Rather, he was probably frustrated with their lack of manifested potential. He knew He had created them with every ability to accomplish the tasks at hand. He knew they could follow Him...they just kept getting bogged down in 'stuff'.
I can just hear Peter thinking, “Oh gosh. I screwed up last time. I can't screw up this time. I’d better not say the wrong things." Then in his overanalyzing, hyper-sensitivity, ultra-stressed state, he missed the point of just breathing in Jesus teachings. Then, he’d mess up. Again. I think we call that self-fulfilling prophecy.
In Velvet Elvis, Rob Bell enlightens me of Jesus' relationship with the disciples. Jesus didn't leave the disciples with the Great Commission because He felt they couldn't do it. Rather, He left the disciples with the Great Commission because He knew they could do it. He had created them with the capacity for great things. He knew they could handle working out the great commission. Well, He knew they could work if out if they used His little parting gift: The Holy Spirit. Jesus only seemed frustrated with them when they weren't living up to that potential. Jesus had the upper hand in that He knew the full-extent of their abilities. I mean, He was there when they were created.
He knew they were capable of much, much more. Marianne Williamson says: “Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone. And, as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Ok, don't get me wrong, I hate self-help mumbo-jumbo as much as anyone. But at the same time, I don't think recognizing our God given purpose and created ability is self-help talk. I believe that when I fail to give Him credit for all the power and beauty He created me to live out of, well, I’m actually discrediting His creation. In essence, I’m failing to give Him the glory due Him. And failing to recognize the creature He’s intended for me is failing to allow the glorious, created version of me to exist.
Even understanding that here helps me to slowly become moreso that woman He’s created me to be. I remember reading C.S. Lewis's depiction of Adam and Eve in his sci-fi book Pereleandra. Lewis's version of Adam wasn't a wimpy, burdened-down-with-his-depravity sort of creature. Rather, Adam was beautiful in his terrible awesomeness. The gloriousness of his created being was manifested for all to drink in. And the character that represented Eve was even more glorious. The embodiment of all that is gracious and lovely and beautiful, her pure heart trusted the Lord yet maintained a strength evident in the very way she walked. Eve was the epitome of grace and beauty. She was mighty, yet with a gentle and quiet spirit. Her beauty was interior and exterior.
So how do I become that same 'eve' I was created to be? I definitely have areas of muck to be waded through and cleared out. But in the midst of this muck, I am increasingly freed from the curse of self-doubting as I embrace the fullness of His grace. Each day finds me believing moreso that there is a terribly, awesome, glorious Annetta that only awaits my standing up and becoming. Living out my created purpose, simply becoming the me He intends, in Him. Via Him. Meanwhile, until I stand up and become, I am falling short of this created purpose.
I most often live as if someone has sliced a little into my Achilles heel, as if I’m crippled. And my Father’s response is, "Stand up My child! I've created you for far greater than this. You are falling short only because you choose to fall short and not because I created you less than what you think you are. Live out My purpose for you today!" In these moments, hearing His Voice so clearly, my chosen response is clear. Today I choose to relentlessly pursue becoming the created Annetta. I won’t pursue being her in an ontological, 'self-actualized' kinda' way. Rather, I’ll pursue His created kid in a "I'm a daughter of the King, created with specific and magnificent abilities to love Him" kinda' way. In this way, I’ll live out my true identity.
Oh! Magnifico! That He has created me! I love the way He has done so! And when I think that He spent time on me, just as He did the brilliant, majestic, terrible, beautiful mountains, I am humbled. So as I reach for the higher heights He has created me for...let's reach together. Let’s not seek to be better than one another. Let’s purpose to be a better “me.” Let’s be who we were created to friends!
And let's change the world.
**I posted a semblance of this post a few years back..but was re-reading and editing and in the process of re-learning this...ah...how slow I ofttimes am at pickin up what He's putting down...**
Friday, November 7, 2008
I am Yours
There's something about seeing old friends and remembering the past that helps me to remember myself.
For 6 weeks (more maybe??) I've lived in a new city with a new job at a new place finding a new church while putting together this new life.
Today I hung with a few of my dearest friends and family and then went on a long run to really breathe Him in...breathing Him in on an old running trail was like seeing an old friend for the first time in a long time. I was home. And at home, I was reminded of who I am:
His kid.
I don't have to impress. I don't have to be anything other than who I am. Freedom arrives with identity. I don't need social status.
I was also able to meet with a dear friend who is in the midst of immense pain. A beautiful soul, I was reminded again that our lives are purposed to love others. It is such a gift to walk through another's junk. To hear her heart, her pains and brokenness, was an honor not all human beings are given. Yet He has seen fit to give me this space in so many lives. I am so humbled.
For those of you reading that have spoken into my life, I thank you sincerely and wholeheartedly. I see the light now for the first time in a while. While the sky is still charcoal, dawn hasn't broken yet, the light has tinged the horizon. And I am so encouraged to believe what I had lost faith in...that He is indeed coming for me. In the midst of the horror of the past year, I had so many days of losing hope. I thought He had abandoned me. But now, before I see Him arrive, I have a desperate need to say, "I believe. You are here. You are coming."
O happy day! He reminds me that my identity is not an Israelite child in the desert; one who gripes and forgets His provision. Rather, my identity is His child who proclaims the way of Him in that desert. Years ago He prepped my heart for this time. He gave me Habakkuk 2:1-3,
"I will stand on my guard post and station myself on the rampart; And I will keep watch to see what He will speak to me, and how I may reply when I am reproved. Then the Lord answered me and said, "Record the vision and inscribe it on tables, that the one who reads it may run. For the vision is yet for the appointed time; It hastens toward the goal and it will not fail; though it tarries, wait for it; for it will certainly come, it will not delay."
Father. I believe. I know You are coming. My heart yearns for You. I wait in full expectation of the amazing things You are going to bring to pass. I am shouting it from the roof tops Father...I am writing it on this tablet that those who may read it may run deeper into your arms. You will not delay a moment longer than needed. In fact, Your Word says You will not delay. So on this Word I place my life...my heart...my plans...my all. For You are my all. And in this space, and this space alone, I am who I am created to be: Yours.
You are so good! I love You.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
"We must see Him in the small things so that we can recognize when He is doing the big things Annetta." So said our courier, Isaac. Love him. A brother from Ghana, he is a bright spot in my every day. He awakens at 4 in the morning to begin his prayers. And then he listens to 2 sermons (Charles Stanley bring it!)...and then he makes his way through the day.
I've had so many ups and downs in the past 2 months; something about moving to a new city with a new job and a new house and new friends...But Isaac has seemed to pop in at just the right moments: when I needed a family smile or someone who sees past my exterior. As my brother in Christ, he encouraged me to listen harder to that quiet Voice.
I am SO STINKIN' TIGHT FISTED with my life. I hold onto it, white knuckles, gritting teeth and locked knees. I even have that look in the eye...you know, thevolumes-communicating staredown your momma gives you. If you don't remember that look from your mom, it's probably because it was given right before all memory of it was slapped out of your head. She gave you the look. You didn't heed the look. You got the look slapped upside your noggin.
Back to tight fisted. I'm a control freak really. I like to be the one to determine the whens and wheres and hows of life in my world. I think if I learned that He has a better plan for me than I have for myself, well, I'd be a whole lot less stressed.
As it is, I hate displacement. I think I can pretty much say I own this space: Displacement. Out of all the craziness of the past year, it might leave the biggest mark. I was in a particular grand mood the other evening...I'd heard news of being displaced yet again. My first reaction was GRIPEY. My normal brand of girpeyness tends I'm gripey, it tends to be humorous. I'm sardonic and full of biting, witty quips. But this particular streak, not so funny. I just wanted to sit down and cry. And when I got to a party with friends, I did just that. And maybe that was the particularly funny part of the gripeyness. I mean, consider: At a friend's party, on his front steps, crying by myself while everyone else is laughing inside. Ok. Maybe a little more slit-your-wrist sad, but my aftermath finds me laughing at the mental picture.
All to say, without wallowing anymore in the pits of self-pity, as I look back my moments of despair and pain, while legitimate, are not necessarily God-glorifying.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Naked
In April, my engagement to be married crumbled before my very eyes. In the space of a few hours I found myself plopped squarely back in Texas after living in my Prince Charmings's cornfield-packed county for several months. Arriving back, I was desolate, destitute, heartbroken, bleeding and visionless. Well, maybe not visionless as much as visions were in a state of death. I thought I was marrying my true love. I'd never abided in a place with so little light before. While the previous years had held many dark and broken desert times, nothing compared to the dark tunnel I inhabited. It was if He had finally left me to rot in all my self-righteousness with nothing left to offer anyone, least of all myself.
I cried for Him to come for me. For hours I wept, begging for His Presence to not leave me in the midst of the excruciating agony. It was almost worse than a loved one dying...after all, it WAS a death of a love. But it also held themes of rejection and isolation and questions that would never be fully answered. And the shoulda-coulda-woulda's were rampant. So I wept for hours for His Presence to rescue me from the squalored pit I inhabited. So many hours were spent asking Him to come for me and my heart and soul were worn down to paper-thin imitations of their identity. I now understood so clearly Frodo's weight of the ring; I resonated with his cry of feeling like butter scraped over dry bread.
My prayers eventually turned to "Father take me home"...a mournful cry that was less suicidal and more a recognition of my alienation in this world. Desperate for any moment of relief, my soul watched for Him. I doggedly waited for a moment when His voice would speak, pridelessly begging for Him to do something on my behalf. I reminded Him of my identity as His daughter; Of His Scriptures promising to give me a future; of Luke 12 promising to give me good gifts, the gift of the Holy Spirit; of my place in His hand; of how He was and is supposed to manifest His love for me in the ordinary every day; Most often I would cry out from the dark, damp pit I inhabited, the pit with a darkness so black it fell like a heavy current in the putrid air sucking all life out of my lungs. Each day I would think, "I can not get any lower than this. Surely today is the day when I've hit rock-bottom and it is now time to work my way back up." But then that day would surprise and wound me as I descended deeper into the darkness, to places that some never go.
I knew nothing other than pain and darkness at times. At other times I would be so numb that I would imagine myself in a state of healing. And then excruciating agony would come crashing down on me the next day until I was reduced to howling like a wounded animal. I'd never heard such noises emit from my mouth. But there was a point when tears and rocking in a fetal position wouldn't work anymore. It was at this point that I would ask Him where He was. I begged Him to take me home...told Him, "there's nothing left of me, I can't handle this and You know I can't handle this." And I would hear nothing but my own voice. I would beg to hear something from Him...a crumb; Anything; To have one pinpoint of light. My heart and soul were convinced that He had, in fact, abandoned me while my mind was adamant that He was the Presence in the darkness. My mind waved the banner of His Voice. I battled for His glory in my soul. There were so many slivers of time that stretched on as eons into eternity as I would engage in spiritual battle for this life He has given me. Hearing a silent Voice saying, "soon, not yet," it was a waging of wars. Daily combats for the Voice He created in me waged wars against lies of lack of love, worthlessness, unworthiness, and more.
Each day found me with renewed vigor begging to be sent HOME.
Until there was no more feeling...no more noise...no more battling...just a deeply depressive nothingness. I had said/thought/prayed/screamed it all so many times that I was no more.
So I started to just sit at His feet. Not feeling His Presence at first, but believing He was there. I'd sit. I'd breathe. No strength to do anything else. Not even strength to do that really. Slowly it began to effect me. My breathing took on a rhythm not my own. It was if I was relearning to breathe. And life began to spin less. The darkness no longer sat as a blanket of terror. Rather, darkness morphed into a friend. A friend that focused my heart and mind and soul on Him. In the light, distractions abounded. Comfort brings contentment. But the darkness spurred on a frenzy of prayers I had never prayed. The pain made me see His face as the goal. With job, life, love all deleted, I was without identity. Or so I thought. Eternal reality spoke into me His truth: He and I are all that matters to my worth. If I do nothing else in this life, I am enough. I am enough because He is more than enough within me.
And here I sit.
Knowing His pulsing through my soul relies less on a moving of blood and more on a movement of life, His life within me.
I am so grateful. A month ago I was in a church service when the beauty of singing "He is mighty to save" and "How great the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure" left me with tears streaming unashamedly down my cheeks. I was overcome with His goodness in the midst of the pain.
I've walked through the numb times. The times of question. The times of anger. And most recently I've simply sat at His feet.
Now I wait. I'm waiting for Him to move me to what's next. Breathing all the while, I fall in step with Him, less noticing the surroundings and more noticing His face. Kinda' the same feeling I had when I was out with Justin, he was the only one around and I rarely noticed anyone else, kid, old woman, family, much less any other man. And now, it is this way with sweet Jesus.
He is my all. He is my heart.
I cried for Him to come for me. For hours I wept, begging for His Presence to not leave me in the midst of the excruciating agony. It was almost worse than a loved one dying...after all, it WAS a death of a love. But it also held themes of rejection and isolation and questions that would never be fully answered. And the shoulda-coulda-woulda's were rampant. So I wept for hours for His Presence to rescue me from the squalored pit I inhabited. So many hours were spent asking Him to come for me and my heart and soul were worn down to paper-thin imitations of their identity. I now understood so clearly Frodo's weight of the ring; I resonated with his cry of feeling like butter scraped over dry bread.
My prayers eventually turned to "Father take me home"...a mournful cry that was less suicidal and more a recognition of my alienation in this world. Desperate for any moment of relief, my soul watched for Him. I doggedly waited for a moment when His voice would speak, pridelessly begging for Him to do something on my behalf. I reminded Him of my identity as His daughter; Of His Scriptures promising to give me a future; of Luke 12 promising to give me good gifts, the gift of the Holy Spirit; of my place in His hand; of how He was and is supposed to manifest His love for me in the ordinary every day; Most often I would cry out from the dark, damp pit I inhabited, the pit with a darkness so black it fell like a heavy current in the putrid air sucking all life out of my lungs. Each day I would think, "I can not get any lower than this. Surely today is the day when I've hit rock-bottom and it is now time to work my way back up." But then that day would surprise and wound me as I descended deeper into the darkness, to places that some never go.
I knew nothing other than pain and darkness at times. At other times I would be so numb that I would imagine myself in a state of healing. And then excruciating agony would come crashing down on me the next day until I was reduced to howling like a wounded animal. I'd never heard such noises emit from my mouth. But there was a point when tears and rocking in a fetal position wouldn't work anymore. It was at this point that I would ask Him where He was. I begged Him to take me home...told Him, "there's nothing left of me, I can't handle this and You know I can't handle this." And I would hear nothing but my own voice. I would beg to hear something from Him...a crumb; Anything; To have one pinpoint of light. My heart and soul were convinced that He had, in fact, abandoned me while my mind was adamant that He was the Presence in the darkness. My mind waved the banner of His Voice. I battled for His glory in my soul. There were so many slivers of time that stretched on as eons into eternity as I would engage in spiritual battle for this life He has given me. Hearing a silent Voice saying, "soon, not yet," it was a waging of wars. Daily combats for the Voice He created in me waged wars against lies of lack of love, worthlessness, unworthiness, and more.
Each day found me with renewed vigor begging to be sent HOME.
Until there was no more feeling...no more noise...no more battling...just a deeply depressive nothingness. I had said/thought/prayed/screamed it all so many times that I was no more.
So I started to just sit at His feet. Not feeling His Presence at first, but believing He was there. I'd sit. I'd breathe. No strength to do anything else. Not even strength to do that really. Slowly it began to effect me. My breathing took on a rhythm not my own. It was if I was relearning to breathe. And life began to spin less. The darkness no longer sat as a blanket of terror. Rather, darkness morphed into a friend. A friend that focused my heart and mind and soul on Him. In the light, distractions abounded. Comfort brings contentment. But the darkness spurred on a frenzy of prayers I had never prayed. The pain made me see His face as the goal. With job, life, love all deleted, I was without identity. Or so I thought. Eternal reality spoke into me His truth: He and I are all that matters to my worth. If I do nothing else in this life, I am enough. I am enough because He is more than enough within me.
And here I sit.
Knowing His pulsing through my soul relies less on a moving of blood and more on a movement of life, His life within me.
I am so grateful. A month ago I was in a church service when the beauty of singing "He is mighty to save" and "How great the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure" left me with tears streaming unashamedly down my cheeks. I was overcome with His goodness in the midst of the pain.
I've walked through the numb times. The times of question. The times of anger. And most recently I've simply sat at His feet.
Now I wait. I'm waiting for Him to move me to what's next. Breathing all the while, I fall in step with Him, less noticing the surroundings and more noticing His face. Kinda' the same feeling I had when I was out with Justin, he was the only one around and I rarely noticed anyone else, kid, old woman, family, much less any other man. And now, it is this way with sweet Jesus.
He is my all. He is my heart.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Book Signing!
Hey Guys!
If anyone's in the Dallas area this weekend (particularly Saturday afternoon) I have a dear friend that is doing a book signing...I've mentioned this book before: The Calling. Seriously, it will change your life! If you're in the DFW area, holler and I'll get ya all the details! It'll be a memory for you for sure! It's at Barnes & Noble Bookstore in the Stonebriar Mall (Frisco) from noon until 4pm, 10.25.08. Check her website out: www.thecalling-novel.com/
Hope to see you there!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Don't Be One Of Those Goobers
It's all personal.
The traffic, the courier, the lunch dates, the facebook posts, the weather, the PB with no J days, the conversations, the bad hair days, it's all personal.
And if you're one of those goobers that wants to thump a soap box with your thesis of "it's-only-personal-if-you-let-it-be-personal," well, Meg Ryan (in You've Got Mail) would retort right back to you, "What does that mean except that it's not personal to you. Everything's personal." Everything in life, whether one means it or not, is personal. Everything in life, whether you want it to be or not, is personal. The things done around and to us effect us. Our souls are touched by the people around us and the conversations that feed it everyday. In fact, I'd submit that we internalize "effects" more thoroughly than we internalize the air we breathe. Maybe that's why we don't even realize everything effects us so much, we do it without a thought. We're sensitive little creatures. Our hearts are the wellspring of our lives. If it touches our heart, well, it's gonna mess with our lives. It's all personal, it effects and touches our lives and effectually our souls.
Going through a major grief recently, My heart was profoundly effected. In the aftermath of effects, I went through many a stage. Maybe it was my sensitivity in the midst of these stages that started to realize how trully sensitive we all are.
The anger stage wasn't pretty. In fact, it might have been downright ugly. Not only did I gain 10 lbs because I ate everything in sight (my passivity requires munching things rather than people) but I also suffered some disgusting road rage. I mean, I was the girl that talked to herself in the car as if the person that just legitimately cut me off could actually hear my weenie insults. Seriously, I might be the kindergartner of insulters. I can't say something that really zings someone whenever they're standing right in front of me. Instead, I replay the scene over and over in my head, thinking of what I should or could have said.** Bugger me.
But after the anger stage, or perhaps in and out of the anger stage, I was in the emotionally-crazy stage. I'm not really sure this is the correct psychological name for this stage. But I'll tell you it could not be a more apropo name for the reality I inhabited. In this stage, you are set off by any and every little thing in life. I.e., you spill a drink, your day is spoiled. You lose your keys, your life is over. If someone were to respond in a manner unlike what I thought was the appropriate response, I would immediately feel rejected and dejected while my hand always reached for that dang candy bowl on my work desk. It doesn't matter if that person were telling me that the mail had already come and the package could only go out today if I called in a special pickup, well, I'd still feel completely put off. Nuts, I know.
Pre-anger/emo, I was really a case of despondance. Nothing really bothered me because I had no feelings. Had I won the lottery, I would have taken a nap.
Now? Well...I think the emo has dulled...the anger has cooled...and I might actually feel alive for the first time in a long time. Now, I'm not saying I'm healed. This precious heart of mine has undergone some serious trauma this past year. Even with attempts to guard it, it was left looking like a mac truck had done some doughnuts and mudding in it's remnants. Not much left. But I will say that I sense a major shift in healing, I mean, I haven't begged Him to "take me HOME!" for a few months now.
I have the Master Healer...and He has been incredibly good about finding all the little pieces scattered in the dirt. He continues to speak of those things I had no idea had effected me. Ofttimes it's an excursion back into one of these stages that reminds me that I have healing yet to do. Occasionally I even digress back to the anger stage and dredge up horrible little things I coulda/woulda/shoulda said. But then, a bit of wisdom from the secularists inevitably floats to the top of my brain, a clip from Meg Ryan again, reminiscing her own success in the timely insults department: "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could pass all my zingers to you and then I would never behave badly and you could behave badly all the time and we'd both be happy? On the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows."**
Thus, I am reminded of the vanity and fleeting deliciousness of said insults...and know that I'd be the one writing a long apology later. *sigh* One day my heart will look like Jesus so much that I'll desire only sweet things to say rather than tart.
Much love y'all...
Annetta
**If I'd just realize that saying what I want to say at the moment I want to say it is not the road to healing I might in fact cease to desire said insulting. However, knowing my stubborn idiocy in that matter, probably not.
The traffic, the courier, the lunch dates, the facebook posts, the weather, the PB with no J days, the conversations, the bad hair days, it's all personal.
And if you're one of those goobers that wants to thump a soap box with your thesis of "it's-only-personal-if-you-let-it-be-personal," well, Meg Ryan (in You've Got Mail) would retort right back to you, "What does that mean except that it's not personal to you. Everything's personal." Everything in life, whether one means it or not, is personal. Everything in life, whether you want it to be or not, is personal. The things done around and to us effect us. Our souls are touched by the people around us and the conversations that feed it everyday. In fact, I'd submit that we internalize "effects" more thoroughly than we internalize the air we breathe. Maybe that's why we don't even realize everything effects us so much, we do it without a thought. We're sensitive little creatures. Our hearts are the wellspring of our lives. If it touches our heart, well, it's gonna mess with our lives. It's all personal, it effects and touches our lives and effectually our souls.
Going through a major grief recently, My heart was profoundly effected. In the aftermath of effects, I went through many a stage. Maybe it was my sensitivity in the midst of these stages that started to realize how trully sensitive we all are.
The anger stage wasn't pretty. In fact, it might have been downright ugly. Not only did I gain 10 lbs because I ate everything in sight (my passivity requires munching things rather than people) but I also suffered some disgusting road rage. I mean, I was the girl that talked to herself in the car as if the person that just legitimately cut me off could actually hear my weenie insults. Seriously, I might be the kindergartner of insulters. I can't say something that really zings someone whenever they're standing right in front of me. Instead, I replay the scene over and over in my head, thinking of what I should or could have said.** Bugger me.
But after the anger stage, or perhaps in and out of the anger stage, I was in the emotionally-crazy stage. I'm not really sure this is the correct psychological name for this stage. But I'll tell you it could not be a more apropo name for the reality I inhabited. In this stage, you are set off by any and every little thing in life. I.e., you spill a drink, your day is spoiled. You lose your keys, your life is over. If someone were to respond in a manner unlike what I thought was the appropriate response, I would immediately feel rejected and dejected while my hand always reached for that dang candy bowl on my work desk. It doesn't matter if that person were telling me that the mail had already come and the package could only go out today if I called in a special pickup, well, I'd still feel completely put off. Nuts, I know.
Pre-anger/emo, I was really a case of despondance. Nothing really bothered me because I had no feelings. Had I won the lottery, I would have taken a nap.
Now? Well...I think the emo has dulled...the anger has cooled...and I might actually feel alive for the first time in a long time. Now, I'm not saying I'm healed. This precious heart of mine has undergone some serious trauma this past year. Even with attempts to guard it, it was left looking like a mac truck had done some doughnuts and mudding in it's remnants. Not much left. But I will say that I sense a major shift in healing, I mean, I haven't begged Him to "take me HOME!" for a few months now.
I have the Master Healer...and He has been incredibly good about finding all the little pieces scattered in the dirt. He continues to speak of those things I had no idea had effected me. Ofttimes it's an excursion back into one of these stages that reminds me that I have healing yet to do. Occasionally I even digress back to the anger stage and dredge up horrible little things I coulda/woulda/shoulda said. But then, a bit of wisdom from the secularists inevitably floats to the top of my brain, a clip from Meg Ryan again, reminiscing her own success in the timely insults department: "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could pass all my zingers to you and then I would never behave badly and you could behave badly all the time and we'd both be happy? On the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows."**
Thus, I am reminded of the vanity and fleeting deliciousness of said insults...and know that I'd be the one writing a long apology later. *sigh* One day my heart will look like Jesus so much that I'll desire only sweet things to say rather than tart.
Much love y'all...
Annetta
**If I'd just realize that saying what I want to say at the moment I want to say it is not the road to healing I might in fact cease to desire said insulting. However, knowing my stubborn idiocy in that matter, probably not.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Hannah
The other night I was reading a few verses before hitting the hay. I like to read right Scripture right before I sleep because of that whole osmosis thing...I'd rather meditate on Scripture than on anything else while I sleep. Something about it being lifegiving....ANYWHO. I flipped open the Scripture, really tired and ready to read a few and switch the light off. Job 8:5-7 flipped on like a neon flashing light on a Vegas strip.
If you would seek God and implore the compassion of the Almighty, If you are pure and
upright, surely now He would rouse Himself for you and restore your righteous estate.
Though your beginning was insignificant, yet your end will increase greatly.
Here went my dialogue to Him: Father, surely this can't be fore me. I mean look at it...I'd be taking it totally out of context! Bilhad said this to Job. BILHAD. One of the friends that You criticize. Is anything he says any good? How do I know it's for ME??? What if I'm just really reaching here for something. Maybe I just really want a promise from You and I'm conjuring one up from a passage that says nothing of the kind.
His dialogue to me: Annetta. Breathe.
So, being the good little seminarian that I am, I looked up Hebrew roots to words and meditated on what it meant for me to be pure and holy today. I came up with a list even. Bugger me. I can't ever seem to rid myself of legalism. But the list remained for the evening and even into the next morning through my quiet time...until the evening hit again. And I started looking deeper into Hebrew.
My dialogue to Him: Ok Father. IS THIS REALLY FOR ME? Why am I so arrested with the passage? What are You trying to say? Am I hearing things?
His dialogue to me: Breathe deep of Me. Keep reading.
Back to Him: Ok Father, but it seems like I'm totally taking this out of context. My professors would be so annoyed at me for ignoring all Biblical Hermeneutics rules.
So back I went to the passage. Hmmm, let's start from the beginning of the passage tonight...the Hebrew for "implore the compassion": lit. Chanan, meaning gracious, full of grace, it's the Hebrew word Hannah. Modern day equivalents are names Ann, Anita, Annetta, etc.
Needless to say, I started freaking out. I had been asking if this promise was for me. He took the time to write me name in the middle of it to say, "Indeed little one, this is a token of My Great Love for you in that I give you a covenant of things to come."
How I needed this pinpoint of light in this journey!
Beautiful One....
If you would seek God and implore the compassion of the Almighty, If you are pure and
upright, surely now He would rouse Himself for you and restore your righteous estate.
Though your beginning was insignificant, yet your end will increase greatly.
Here went my dialogue to Him: Father, surely this can't be fore me. I mean look at it...I'd be taking it totally out of context! Bilhad said this to Job. BILHAD. One of the friends that You criticize. Is anything he says any good? How do I know it's for ME??? What if I'm just really reaching here for something. Maybe I just really want a promise from You and I'm conjuring one up from a passage that says nothing of the kind.
His dialogue to me: Annetta. Breathe.
So, being the good little seminarian that I am, I looked up Hebrew roots to words and meditated on what it meant for me to be pure and holy today. I came up with a list even. Bugger me. I can't ever seem to rid myself of legalism. But the list remained for the evening and even into the next morning through my quiet time...until the evening hit again. And I started looking deeper into Hebrew.
My dialogue to Him: Ok Father. IS THIS REALLY FOR ME? Why am I so arrested with the passage? What are You trying to say? Am I hearing things?
His dialogue to me: Breathe deep of Me. Keep reading.
Back to Him: Ok Father, but it seems like I'm totally taking this out of context. My professors would be so annoyed at me for ignoring all Biblical Hermeneutics rules.
So back I went to the passage. Hmmm, let's start from the beginning of the passage tonight...the Hebrew for "implore the compassion": lit. Chanan, meaning gracious, full of grace, it's the Hebrew word Hannah. Modern day equivalents are names Ann, Anita, Annetta, etc.
Needless to say, I started freaking out. I had been asking if this promise was for me. He took the time to write me name in the middle of it to say, "Indeed little one, this is a token of My Great Love for you in that I give you a covenant of things to come."
How I needed this pinpoint of light in this journey!
Beautiful One....
Monday, September 1, 2008
Recycle!
Sometimes you watch things die.
For instance, the plant that's been on my parent's front porch for forever. It just recently took it's last gasp of chloryphyl and bit the dust...er, dirt. And now, it's a cracked plastic pot full-o' dry, vitamin-drained dirt. Not even bugs'll frequent it. The pot now inhabits the bottom of the garbage can, awaiting it's demise via the hands of the recycle folks...
Is that what happens when things die in my life? Do they sit and await recycling?
One thing I'm becoming more and more familiar with in this death sequence, is the sheer pain of it. Whether it's the death of a loved one or the death of a dream or death of an expectation or even death to yourself, your heart simply aches. And responding to this pain by dulling or numbing yourself only gives you a minute breather. The pain will find it's way to the surface. it's just a question of when or how. And when it does come. Wow. The sheer extreme of it.
Me? If you know me, you know I'm the "BRING IT ALL ON!" kinda' girl. Problematic in times like this. Seriously. Who can handle the pain of brokenness all at once?
Jesus cried blood.
And when I'm looking at it, talking with Him about it, I'm pretty close...which is pretty crazy really. I mean, I can't even deal with a little heart and life-break. Yet He dealt with the ultimate blow:
Separation from His Father.
Maybe that's why my pain's so poignent. I feel like we're separated. No matter how much I cry or scream or yell (and there's been plenty of it!), I feel like He's not there. I am thankful for the pain. I keep saying thank You for it. It helps me to understand Jesus a little more...to be like Him in His suffering (phil3)...to be intimate in those moments of understanding the slightest, most miniscule taste of what it was like for Him right before the cross. One thing that irks me about the whole thing is this: Jesus knew what to do. He knew He had to die and knew how to do it. I mean HE REALLY HAD THE MIND OF CHRIST. Me? I'm lost. Still trying to live out of the mind. Unsure of what next step to take. All the while I'm wanting my life to matter one moment while ready to simply go home and be with Him in the next. I find myself volleying prayers of: "Lord, just take me HOME" to "Ok. If I'm staying here, what do I do? I have to live a life of consequence..."
I recently went to a counselor friend for a session...thought I should get a few lessons on living OUTSIDE the desert. She had a bunch of good stuff to say, amidst the kids jumping on my back with sticky fingers from eating waffles. SIDENOTE: Seriously, I'm such a fan of my friends that have kids and can carry on deep conversations while a child screams of abuse at a brother bonking him on the head...SIDENOTE OVER. She said a lot of good stuff. I definitely recommend a counselor when you think you're going crazy. Oh. And if you think you're going crazy, you probably are not. Crazy people don't think they're crazy. So if you've never thought you're crazy, well....
One thing she said was I don't listen to my own voice. more on this later.
She also gave me 6 cd's of Charles Stanley's sermons on Brokenness. Turning the cd on in my car the next day, I heard that ol' southern preacher voice, reminiscent of driving to Chicago with my dad listening to his sermons as a wee little one. We'd always get to stop at Fannie May Candies when we went to Chicago...and I'd always get the little pink, peppermint meltaways. that was pre-chocolate addiction. Also, the peppermint meltaways were 1 of 2 things in the price range my dad would give us when we went into the store...we'd eat these and look across Lake Michigan with all it's smells...then we'd jump in the car and while fighting traffic on the Dan Ryan Expressway, Dad would flip on a cassette tape of Charles...
I turned on the cd my friend gave me and immediately smelled something a little minty and a little muddy. Meanwhile, as he preached I realized, Stanley must have really good spies on his payroll. I mean, he was preaching directly from the pages of my journal. Punk. I don't need anymore conviction. I'm already semi-pro status at condemnation. maybe I should start by working on that huh? That whole, "There is therefore no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" bit...I realized that conviction wasn't the end goal. As He spoke intimately to my heart, I realized I'm not alone in this. Whether they want to name it or not, everyone hits broken status.
It was a beautiful moment when Stanley named the space I inhabit: Brokenness. Somehow giving it a name helped me realize it too would have an end someday. I thought I was just slowly going crazy. (Some of you might still think this is the case! After all, I'm the girl that's had a steady prayer of "Lord, please eradicate the pride from my life...take it away never to return." i hear that's as bad as praying for patience.) But besides the naming of this space, he said this: "You may feel in your soul and emotions and spirit that He's not there. but you must know in your mind that He is, in fact, present in the midst of this." This confuses me. I understand the feeling of "where are YOU?!?" I have it almost every day, if not every moment of every day. I keep thinking of that cheesy poem that every mother had on a bookmark when I was a kid, "Footprints". Remember it? Something about footprints in the sand...and when we don't see footprints in the sand it's because He's carrying us. Bugger that. Not only do I not see footprints, but I don't feel Him carrying me either. Jesus really did have God abandon Him (some of you theologians might debate on this, but let me have a moment.). And here I am griping about the seeming lack of Him...so I keep saying a Thomas prayer of "I believe, help me beleive." And recetly, I've been able to go even farther, as I really do believe He's there...even though I can't see or feel Him Present or at work. And it's in those moments of believing He's there but not doing anything that I get mad. But anger is for another time...
After I realize He's there, sometimes I make myself realize (Actually, I think it's the Spirit in me) that it's all hinged on that whole love thing...
I was sitting the other night at my sister's...talking on the phone with pops. He said I needed to understand that God loves me no matter what...I remembered a friend of mine that fasted for 40 days. When I asked him what he learned from that time, he said, "Annetta, if I do nothing else in my life, He will still love me." My first reaction to him was, "That's it? 40 days without food and you're toting the punchline of a Billy Graham sermon?!? Dude. That sucks." But then, well, I realize, as always, that my first reaction is usually the shallow one. If I will just sit and think a minute, I'll realize my friend was saying way more than just John 3:16. Or was he? Really? All I have to do for the rest of my life is sit in His love? He'll still love me? Ok, ok. Those that are about to jump on soap boxes of obediance and needing to serve in His Kingdom; Those screaming something about works accompanying faith, well, BREATHE. I think he was right. If I do nothing else in my life, Jesus will still love me. The Father will still be on my team. His Spirit will still inhabit me. I will be healed. If I never teach another Bible study or lead worship...if I never have another conversation about Him, well, He will still love me. Plain and simple. He loves me. i don't have to do anthing. nothing. Nada. Zip. It's very difficult for me not to DO...I'm a doer. You evangelicals would say, I tend more towards Martha than Mary.
Wrap up? I want to go HOME to Him. But since He says stay, I should sit in His love.
He's got it under control far more than I ever would.
I just wish the recycle center would come take that ugly ol' pot...I'm ready for a new one.
Much love y'all...
Annetta
P.S. If you can't tell, my mind sits in Ecclesiastes a lot these days...go figure. And, I've spent a whole lotta' time with my Grandmother recently. She felt the need to delve into our whole family history so I'd never forget where I came from. A beautiful gift, to be sure. But a little melancholy as ghosts come out of closets and get a rightful hearing.
For instance, the plant that's been on my parent's front porch for forever. It just recently took it's last gasp of chloryphyl and bit the dust...er, dirt. And now, it's a cracked plastic pot full-o' dry, vitamin-drained dirt. Not even bugs'll frequent it. The pot now inhabits the bottom of the garbage can, awaiting it's demise via the hands of the recycle folks...
Is that what happens when things die in my life? Do they sit and await recycling?
One thing I'm becoming more and more familiar with in this death sequence, is the sheer pain of it. Whether it's the death of a loved one or the death of a dream or death of an expectation or even death to yourself, your heart simply aches. And responding to this pain by dulling or numbing yourself only gives you a minute breather. The pain will find it's way to the surface. it's just a question of when or how. And when it does come. Wow. The sheer extreme of it.
Me? If you know me, you know I'm the "BRING IT ALL ON!" kinda' girl. Problematic in times like this. Seriously. Who can handle the pain of brokenness all at once?
Jesus cried blood.
And when I'm looking at it, talking with Him about it, I'm pretty close...which is pretty crazy really. I mean, I can't even deal with a little heart and life-break. Yet He dealt with the ultimate blow:
Separation from His Father.
Maybe that's why my pain's so poignent. I feel like we're separated. No matter how much I cry or scream or yell (and there's been plenty of it!), I feel like He's not there. I am thankful for the pain. I keep saying thank You for it. It helps me to understand Jesus a little more...to be like Him in His suffering (phil3)...to be intimate in those moments of understanding the slightest, most miniscule taste of what it was like for Him right before the cross. One thing that irks me about the whole thing is this: Jesus knew what to do. He knew He had to die and knew how to do it. I mean HE REALLY HAD THE MIND OF CHRIST. Me? I'm lost. Still trying to live out of the mind. Unsure of what next step to take. All the while I'm wanting my life to matter one moment while ready to simply go home and be with Him in the next. I find myself volleying prayers of: "Lord, just take me HOME" to "Ok. If I'm staying here, what do I do? I have to live a life of consequence..."
I recently went to a counselor friend for a session...thought I should get a few lessons on living OUTSIDE the desert. She had a bunch of good stuff to say, amidst the kids jumping on my back with sticky fingers from eating waffles. SIDENOTE: Seriously, I'm such a fan of my friends that have kids and can carry on deep conversations while a child screams of abuse at a brother bonking him on the head...SIDENOTE OVER. She said a lot of good stuff. I definitely recommend a counselor when you think you're going crazy. Oh. And if you think you're going crazy, you probably are not. Crazy people don't think they're crazy. So if you've never thought you're crazy, well....
One thing she said was I don't listen to my own voice. more on this later.
She also gave me 6 cd's of Charles Stanley's sermons on Brokenness. Turning the cd on in my car the next day, I heard that ol' southern preacher voice, reminiscent of driving to Chicago with my dad listening to his sermons as a wee little one. We'd always get to stop at Fannie May Candies when we went to Chicago...and I'd always get the little pink, peppermint meltaways. that was pre-chocolate addiction. Also, the peppermint meltaways were 1 of 2 things in the price range my dad would give us when we went into the store...we'd eat these and look across Lake Michigan with all it's smells...then we'd jump in the car and while fighting traffic on the Dan Ryan Expressway, Dad would flip on a cassette tape of Charles...
I turned on the cd my friend gave me and immediately smelled something a little minty and a little muddy. Meanwhile, as he preached I realized, Stanley must have really good spies on his payroll. I mean, he was preaching directly from the pages of my journal. Punk. I don't need anymore conviction. I'm already semi-pro status at condemnation. maybe I should start by working on that huh? That whole, "There is therefore no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" bit...I realized that conviction wasn't the end goal. As He spoke intimately to my heart, I realized I'm not alone in this. Whether they want to name it or not, everyone hits broken status.
It was a beautiful moment when Stanley named the space I inhabit: Brokenness. Somehow giving it a name helped me realize it too would have an end someday. I thought I was just slowly going crazy. (Some of you might still think this is the case! After all, I'm the girl that's had a steady prayer of "Lord, please eradicate the pride from my life...take it away never to return." i hear that's as bad as praying for patience.) But besides the naming of this space, he said this: "You may feel in your soul and emotions and spirit that He's not there. but you must know in your mind that He is, in fact, present in the midst of this." This confuses me. I understand the feeling of "where are YOU?!?" I have it almost every day, if not every moment of every day. I keep thinking of that cheesy poem that every mother had on a bookmark when I was a kid, "Footprints". Remember it? Something about footprints in the sand...and when we don't see footprints in the sand it's because He's carrying us. Bugger that. Not only do I not see footprints, but I don't feel Him carrying me either. Jesus really did have God abandon Him (some of you theologians might debate on this, but let me have a moment.). And here I am griping about the seeming lack of Him...so I keep saying a Thomas prayer of "I believe, help me beleive." And recetly, I've been able to go even farther, as I really do believe He's there...even though I can't see or feel Him Present or at work. And it's in those moments of believing He's there but not doing anything that I get mad. But anger is for another time...
After I realize He's there, sometimes I make myself realize (Actually, I think it's the Spirit in me) that it's all hinged on that whole love thing...
I was sitting the other night at my sister's...talking on the phone with pops. He said I needed to understand that God loves me no matter what...I remembered a friend of mine that fasted for 40 days. When I asked him what he learned from that time, he said, "Annetta, if I do nothing else in my life, He will still love me." My first reaction to him was, "That's it? 40 days without food and you're toting the punchline of a Billy Graham sermon?!? Dude. That sucks." But then, well, I realize, as always, that my first reaction is usually the shallow one. If I will just sit and think a minute, I'll realize my friend was saying way more than just John 3:16. Or was he? Really? All I have to do for the rest of my life is sit in His love? He'll still love me? Ok, ok. Those that are about to jump on soap boxes of obediance and needing to serve in His Kingdom; Those screaming something about works accompanying faith, well, BREATHE. I think he was right. If I do nothing else in my life, Jesus will still love me. The Father will still be on my team. His Spirit will still inhabit me. I will be healed. If I never teach another Bible study or lead worship...if I never have another conversation about Him, well, He will still love me. Plain and simple. He loves me. i don't have to do anthing. nothing. Nada. Zip. It's very difficult for me not to DO...I'm a doer. You evangelicals would say, I tend more towards Martha than Mary.
Wrap up? I want to go HOME to Him. But since He says stay, I should sit in His love.
He's got it under control far more than I ever would.
I just wish the recycle center would come take that ugly ol' pot...I'm ready for a new one.
Much love y'all...
Annetta
P.S. If you can't tell, my mind sits in Ecclesiastes a lot these days...go figure. And, I've spent a whole lotta' time with my Grandmother recently. She felt the need to delve into our whole family history so I'd never forget where I came from. A beautiful gift, to be sure. But a little melancholy as ghosts come out of closets and get a rightful hearing.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
AHHH!!
Do you ever feel like your world is crazy?!?
Picture an OCD energetic introvert travelling in a van with her whole family...
Maybe it's not just a feeling...
Picture an OCD energetic introvert travelling in a van with her whole family...
Maybe it's not just a feeling...
Sunday, August 17, 2008
scottish-country-preppers...
catch this...sis is getting hitched next weekend in 1000 Islands NY...he's wearing a kilt. there's square dancing at the reception. the whole shindig's at the Antique Boat Museum in Clayton...seriously. what a mix....
should be nuts!
should be nuts!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
The Calling is Higher Than Ourselves
Since 1989, 2.5 million people have been killed in Southern Sudan while just over 5 Million Sudanese people have been displaced. A modern-day holocaust, a genocide ignored, people are just now starting to pay attention and DO something about the horrific attrocities in Southern Sudan.
Recently, a dear friend of mine published a life-changing novel, The Calling. A work 4 years in the making, The Calling changed my heart and perspective in the war for the souls of the Sudanese people. Prior to reading the book, I cared about the crazy things that were happening, but didn't really see my American self as able to initiate any changes. I also didn't understand what the conflict was all about. But because of the intoxicating pen of Elizabeth Hankins, I have not only become more aware of the story of these beautiful plum-black people, but I now have an understanding of my responsibility and ability in fighting for them.
One thing I can do is tell you about them. Endorsed by such names as Brian McClaren and Amnesty International, The Calling is an easy, addicting read that sucks you in from the moment you open the cover. Just a warning, but I had 2 late nights, lotsa' tears and much laughter in the consumption of it.
So...Buy it! Read it! Tell your friends about it!
One last thing. ALL proceeds of the book, outside of the cost to make the book, go directly to Aid Sudan, Living Water International and Amnesty International.
Happy Reading!
Recently, a dear friend of mine published a life-changing novel, The Calling. A work 4 years in the making, The Calling changed my heart and perspective in the war for the souls of the Sudanese people. Prior to reading the book, I cared about the crazy things that were happening, but didn't really see my American self as able to initiate any changes. I also didn't understand what the conflict was all about. But because of the intoxicating pen of Elizabeth Hankins, I have not only become more aware of the story of these beautiful plum-black people, but I now have an understanding of my responsibility and ability in fighting for them.
One thing I can do is tell you about them. Endorsed by such names as Brian McClaren and Amnesty International, The Calling is an easy, addicting read that sucks you in from the moment you open the cover. Just a warning, but I had 2 late nights, lotsa' tears and much laughter in the consumption of it.
So...Buy it! Read it! Tell your friends about it!
One last thing. ALL proceeds of the book, outside of the cost to make the book, go directly to Aid Sudan, Living Water International and Amnesty International.
Happy Reading!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Fishing
When you go fishing on a boat, you occasionally float over deep, dark places of a lake. If you peer closely over the side of the boat, you can see shadows lazily darting about..while you can't make out what the shadow is, the movement catches your eye...where I am right now, in this boat, I can see Him darting about under the surface...unlike the lazidaisical darting of the fish, His movement is full of grace. While I can't see what shape or form He's in, I know He's there under the surface. At any moment, I expect Him to emerge out of the shadows, bearing all my dreams into the light. I don't know how or why I know this with all my heart, but my heart finds it's hope in this and this alone. I believe there is so much stirring under the surface of the deep place...I can almost see Him at work...He is coming. I can see the ripples coming...and then will come the tsunami of His glorious working out of my salvation and His Story for this world with all of His grace and love pouring out....and according to His glorious riches....what a beautiful place to sit this morning...contemplating His great love.
I tell you all this because it is such a gift to me to be able to see it...and I believe my testifying in advance of what He is doing...acknowledging the faith walk I am on, brings Him greater glory...e.g., as He accomplishes this work in me, You are able to clearly see His working as He has foretold it to my heart.
Also, in the midst of this, my heart is fallible...anytime you care to pray for me, I ask 3 things: 1. That my prayer of "I believe...Help me believe!" is answered in the affirmative, 2. for clarity of the next step (although when He's moving it's impossible to miss it if you're trying in the least! and that 3. He comes through like a powerful force, stirring the foundations of the world to move and manifest these dreams of the deep places...
much love y'all...
A
I tell you all this because it is such a gift to me to be able to see it...and I believe my testifying in advance of what He is doing...acknowledging the faith walk I am on, brings Him greater glory...e.g., as He accomplishes this work in me, You are able to clearly see His working as He has foretold it to my heart.
Also, in the midst of this, my heart is fallible...anytime you care to pray for me, I ask 3 things: 1. That my prayer of "I believe...Help me believe!" is answered in the affirmative, 2. for clarity of the next step (although when He's moving it's impossible to miss it if you're trying in the least! and that 3. He comes through like a powerful force, stirring the foundations of the world to move and manifest these dreams of the deep places...
much love y'all...
A
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Promise Land is not Health-n-Wealth
the desert. i've spent some time there. and i think most believers have spent some time there at some point in their lives.
what is curious to me is that you don't REALLY need to spend much time there if you're obedient. think about the Israelites...they only spent SO MUCH time there because they were disobedient and God disciplined them.
if then, the desert is a discipline, then why do we seem to place so much value on it? i submit, we value it because it is an icon of His grace in our lives...even though we mess up, He allows us to try again via the desert...
i also submit, fellowship with Him in the desert is sweet for the most part. but wouldn't fellowship in the Promised Land be just as sweet if we walked in with the same set of values and understanding of Him as we do in those intensely hard places?
ok, ok. i get it. most of us (i'm the chief of this!) aren't really clear minded the first time around. when everything's going well and "right"..i ofttimes don't have a real high 'get it' factor the first time around. but....
i have noticed, that when i've spent a lot of time with Him...when i'm riding really high on the face-to-face train, well, i'm a 'there's no time like the present to make the right decision with the right attitude' kinda' girl. i seem to really jones on these times too. it's like i can make a decision, almost any decision, and i make the automatic right decision. no question in my spirit, no hesitation. just goin' for the gold.
so what am i saying?
well. i can avoid the desert. i can bypass it altogether. i simply need to ask His Spirit to hold me on that narrow road in the times of plenty...we can follow Him just as intimately in the Promised Land...the hard part of intimate following in the Promised Land is desperate need for Him is less poignant. there's less of a gap between our perceived need and His Presence...we feel we've got things together so it's easier to rely on ourselves.
let's walk on out of the desert...let's let Him show the world how He blesses His children that are obedient...how He shows favor to those who walk in His ways...let's ask for eyes that notices the major discrepancy between our status and His Provision...and stay in the rhythm of His grace in the meanwhile....
let me know what you think!
p.s. this is SO not a health-n-wealth Gospel idea...it's simply a thought i've had for a while about His favor for those who follow hard after Him...and even as i say all of this, i look at the lives of some close to me and note that their Promised Lands of favor do not look advantageous to the world. yet interacting with His placement of me as a grace-filled place is what makes it appear the Promised Land to others...am i making sense?!?
p.s.2. note that i highly value the desert for the moments of "becoming like Him in His suffering"...sometimes our desert times are less discipline and more honing and testing...praise Him for His gracious refinement!
what is curious to me is that you don't REALLY need to spend much time there if you're obedient. think about the Israelites...they only spent SO MUCH time there because they were disobedient and God disciplined them.
if then, the desert is a discipline, then why do we seem to place so much value on it? i submit, we value it because it is an icon of His grace in our lives...even though we mess up, He allows us to try again via the desert...
i also submit, fellowship with Him in the desert is sweet for the most part. but wouldn't fellowship in the Promised Land be just as sweet if we walked in with the same set of values and understanding of Him as we do in those intensely hard places?
ok, ok. i get it. most of us (i'm the chief of this!) aren't really clear minded the first time around. when everything's going well and "right"..i ofttimes don't have a real high 'get it' factor the first time around. but....
i have noticed, that when i've spent a lot of time with Him...when i'm riding really high on the face-to-face train, well, i'm a 'there's no time like the present to make the right decision with the right attitude' kinda' girl. i seem to really jones on these times too. it's like i can make a decision, almost any decision, and i make the automatic right decision. no question in my spirit, no hesitation. just goin' for the gold.
so what am i saying?
well. i can avoid the desert. i can bypass it altogether. i simply need to ask His Spirit to hold me on that narrow road in the times of plenty...we can follow Him just as intimately in the Promised Land...the hard part of intimate following in the Promised Land is desperate need for Him is less poignant. there's less of a gap between our perceived need and His Presence...we feel we've got things together so it's easier to rely on ourselves.
let's walk on out of the desert...let's let Him show the world how He blesses His children that are obedient...how He shows favor to those who walk in His ways...let's ask for eyes that notices the major discrepancy between our status and His Provision...and stay in the rhythm of His grace in the meanwhile....
let me know what you think!
p.s. this is SO not a health-n-wealth Gospel idea...it's simply a thought i've had for a while about His favor for those who follow hard after Him...and even as i say all of this, i look at the lives of some close to me and note that their Promised Lands of favor do not look advantageous to the world. yet interacting with His placement of me as a grace-filled place is what makes it appear the Promised Land to others...am i making sense?!?
p.s.2. note that i highly value the desert for the moments of "becoming like Him in His suffering"...sometimes our desert times are less discipline and more honing and testing...praise Him for His gracious refinement!
Friday, July 11, 2008
morning of joy!
looking back...i can see so many things i'd change. and so many things that i'd keep.
this year, i'm so thankful for a broken engagement...healing heart...renewed vision...His increased Presence...conviction...hard times...tears...laughter...heartache...faith-moves...falling on my face...hard moments....beautiful moments...no job...crazy job...scraping by...being taken care of...feeling like an adult...being treated like a child...understanding of what's happening 'neath the surface...coming back to Him...hearing Him...loving Him..being loved by Him.
we sow in tears...i'm still waiting for the crop to come in. but i believe it's coming. there's-a-somethin' stirring 'neath the surface and it's HIM! i'm so desiring His morning to dawn with the shouts of joy He promises...i'm still unsure what that looks like though...my personal plumbline seems to have shifted...
you know, Frodo (hobbit from Lord of the Rings), when asking how he was to return to Rivendell after his wild adventures, was told, "you can't ever go back to who you were. you're different now." this is how i feel...after the pain of this year, the way He stretched me and eradicated some pet sins, i don't think i can ever go back to who i was. i pray i DON'T ever go back to who i was. i want to be better. always, each day, better. because each day finds me more and more in His image.
what's stirring? only He knows for sure. but one thing i DO know: it's GOOD. as He is GOOD, it's GOOD.
beautiful huh?
this year, i'm so thankful for a broken engagement...healing heart...renewed vision...His increased Presence...conviction...hard times...tears...laughter...heartache...faith-moves...falling on my face...hard moments....beautiful moments...no job...crazy job...scraping by...being taken care of...feeling like an adult...being treated like a child...understanding of what's happening 'neath the surface...coming back to Him...hearing Him...loving Him..being loved by Him.
we sow in tears...i'm still waiting for the crop to come in. but i believe it's coming. there's-a-somethin' stirring 'neath the surface and it's HIM! i'm so desiring His morning to dawn with the shouts of joy He promises...i'm still unsure what that looks like though...my personal plumbline seems to have shifted...
you know, Frodo (hobbit from Lord of the Rings), when asking how he was to return to Rivendell after his wild adventures, was told, "you can't ever go back to who you were. you're different now." this is how i feel...after the pain of this year, the way He stretched me and eradicated some pet sins, i don't think i can ever go back to who i was. i pray i DON'T ever go back to who i was. i want to be better. always, each day, better. because each day finds me more and more in His image.
what's stirring? only He knows for sure. but one thing i DO know: it's GOOD. as He is GOOD, it's GOOD.
beautiful huh?
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
giraffe poop, wrestling and the skin i'm in...
isn't it funny the things that show us who we are? moreso, the things that show us more of who He is?
this year has been a montage of craziness. since i left tallowood i have traveled through 20 some-odd states, lived in 6 different cities and held down a menagerie of jobs...the only thing that could top my list of job descriptions would be a garbage girl or working at a zoo...although i might actually have enjoyed giraffe and elephant dung more than some of the jobs i had!
several months ago i worked for a brief stint at a marketing company. many of you remember this with fondness because it was hysterical, watching me in a suit every day. Terri Richter, the co-owner of the company, would swing by my desk almost every day and we'd chat of Jesus...of His constant goodness in the midst of pain. of His sovereignty. of His deep, perfect, yearning love for us. one thing you must know of Terri is that in the midst of these conversations of the Lord's goodness, Terri's wife was battling brain cancer. Terri would just say that this cancer, this season, was "a gift" to their family. it brought a sweetness to their relationship with the Lord that they'd never have known otherwise...a sweetness born of faith in the unseen...
i'm feeling a little like jacob recently. we've wrestled, i've pushed and He's pulled me back...and in the end, i leave with a slight limp. i'm praying for my new name. i'm praying for a deeper place in His heart...for Him a deeper place in mine...to be sanctified a bit more in the middle of this. michelle, a friend from seminary days, recently emailed me: "God is oh-so-good in the wounding of His people." how true this is! His pain is used to rescue us from places we should not go! to remind us of His sovereignty! to draw us into those deep places of Him that we'd never have seen otherwise. what a beautiful gift He's given me! i'm so thankful for the way He's made me...for the plan He has for me...
now i'm praying that He'll break my heart for what breaks His...i've such a great need for a repentant heart and He's been allowing me to see so much of my sin in recent days...
what a beautiful year! wouldn't have planned in advance a minute of it, but what a beautiful year!
much love y'all....
His,
annetta
this year has been a montage of craziness. since i left tallowood i have traveled through 20 some-odd states, lived in 6 different cities and held down a menagerie of jobs...the only thing that could top my list of job descriptions would be a garbage girl or working at a zoo...although i might actually have enjoyed giraffe and elephant dung more than some of the jobs i had!
several months ago i worked for a brief stint at a marketing company. many of you remember this with fondness because it was hysterical, watching me in a suit every day. Terri Richter, the co-owner of the company, would swing by my desk almost every day and we'd chat of Jesus...of His constant goodness in the midst of pain. of His sovereignty. of His deep, perfect, yearning love for us. one thing you must know of Terri is that in the midst of these conversations of the Lord's goodness, Terri's wife was battling brain cancer. Terri would just say that this cancer, this season, was "a gift" to their family. it brought a sweetness to their relationship with the Lord that they'd never have known otherwise...a sweetness born of faith in the unseen...
i'm feeling a little like jacob recently. we've wrestled, i've pushed and He's pulled me back...and in the end, i leave with a slight limp. i'm praying for my new name. i'm praying for a deeper place in His heart...for Him a deeper place in mine...to be sanctified a bit more in the middle of this. michelle, a friend from seminary days, recently emailed me: "God is oh-so-good in the wounding of His people." how true this is! His pain is used to rescue us from places we should not go! to remind us of His sovereignty! to draw us into those deep places of Him that we'd never have seen otherwise. what a beautiful gift He's given me! i'm so thankful for the way He's made me...for the plan He has for me...
now i'm praying that He'll break my heart for what breaks His...i've such a great need for a repentant heart and He's been allowing me to see so much of my sin in recent days...
what a beautiful year! wouldn't have planned in advance a minute of it, but what a beautiful year!
much love y'all....
His,
annetta
Friday, May 2, 2008
empty horizons
hey guys...
isn't it interesting what kinda' curves come on our life roads? recently, justin and i broke off our engagement. and without much warning or fanfare or escort, we were both facing a new life picture. i've been planning our life together for the last several months. now it seems that we're both with an empty horizon at our fingertips...we're allowed to paint whatever we wish. and as amazing as justin is, i wish him all the technicolor crayons in the world...
much love...
annetta
p.s. i'll be around a computer more now...living in a cornfield without internet in indiana for a while now, i've ignored y'all. so sorry.
isn't it interesting what kinda' curves come on our life roads? recently, justin and i broke off our engagement. and without much warning or fanfare or escort, we were both facing a new life picture. i've been planning our life together for the last several months. now it seems that we're both with an empty horizon at our fingertips...we're allowed to paint whatever we wish. and as amazing as justin is, i wish him all the technicolor crayons in the world...
much love...
annetta
p.s. i'll be around a computer more now...living in a cornfield without internet in indiana for a while now, i've ignored y'all. so sorry.
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