The Call
It’s 3:00 a.m.. The room is cold. Wrapped in a blanket holding a warm cup of steaming tea I find my resolve. What has been happening to me? I burry myself deeper in the blanket recalling the events of late. Almost out loud I utter “Is this real, Is this really happening?” It would take to long to voice all the thoughts in my head, the questions race so quickly through my mind that I can only speak a few words here and there out of my mouth in shock. “Am I ready for this? Can I honestly do what I have been pressed to do? Why me?” My thoughts drift to Moses; all the Sunday school lessons and bible studies couldn’t have given a more cinematically clear picture of what my mind was displaying before me: A huge fire, a thundering voice, a man cowering on the ground all to aware that his life was about to change forever, not just for a moment , but in that moment of fear gripping reality he knew he would never be the same.
The alarm goes off and catches me off guard. My tea is now cold. My thoughts had run me into an exhausted sleep, it was 7:14. I look at the pen and paper lying on the coffee table and I know that today is the day that a battle will be fought on paper. It isn’t even the kind of thing I have words to describe. I’m still in shock, I’m still so uncertain of my own abilities. Like a modern day Moses, I exclaim loudly in my mind, “Who will listen? I don’t know how to do this. Why have you shown me a captive nation in need of freedom? Who am I?” As I sit and unwittingly doubt God’s choices I find myself burning; a slow burn at first, but the crackle of the fire is symbolic of the doubts breaking in my mind. The fire picks up again and I hear the voice. “I am”. Just two small words but it is enough for me to pick up the pen, enough for me to close my eyes and quietly say, “Then I will.” I have no idea was spiritually charged weapon was forged in the fire of my obedience in that moment. But even in that moment the doubt crept in, more subtle but still there and my wrestle with self doubt ever present. Will I always doubt what is God’s voice and what is my own? How can I write an accurate account of the events that have transpired with my human fallible words, when the events themselves are so unexplainable. “God I desire to tell your story but my words are not enough, my words are so small in comparison to the feelings inside of me. And what I have to say is so unbelievable, they won’t believe me.” A pause, a silent (four million year) second passes. “I Am! I Am with you, I have chosen you.” I think again to Moses, all the judgment I passed on him, calling him a fool for questioning God, thinking he was a fool to want to pass on an opportunity to be great as opposed to being an ordinary nobody. I’m not judging now. Now I am asking the questions. Now I am feeling the fire, and although the fire is burning inside of me I find myself at an impasse.
I have to choose to give him my doubt and fear. I can’t take them with me on this journey. I have to leave them and it’s like leaving a companion, an old friend. But in that moment of surrender I realize that he isn’t leaving me alone, he is giving me new companions in exchange. I will need these new friends more than my awkward misbehaving traits of fear and doubt. The first is Faith: although at first very daunting to look at there is something very assuring in her face. The second is compassion, so very welcoming and my experience has left me needing this friend more now than ever before, this trait will keep my heart from growing hard against others who are living in pain. As I become acquainted with my new friends I realize that I am not morning my old acquaintances. I am equipped and in this moment of wholeness it occurs to me that God never meant for me to be alone in all of this. God designed this very moment of realization where I would see that fear keep you isolated and alone and doubt suppresses your dreams and robs you of security. But it is Faith that banishes loneliness and Compassion that secures your feet in purpose. I put the pen to the paper and it feels good to be free from the fear that had been a captor not a friend. My hands are free from the weights of the chains and can write without being held back. Being free from fear doesn’t mean I am not aware of the cost and the danger of what I am about to do; It just means that I am willing to move forward, knowing the only safe place is under God’s watchful eye.
The pen hit’s the paper…
“The events that have taken place as strange as they may seem are as true as the air I breathe. I take great care in writing each detail as accurately as I can and as descriptively as it happened so that you may experience the overwhelming truth, that we only see a part of what goes on around us. May it be said that I recorded what was asked of me by God so that we could know how very active he is in our lives every minute of every day.”
Most horror stories begin in a poorly lit alley, a lonely road, or a dark wood, or even a pitch black basement; somewhere cold, dark and uninviting. “Do Not Disturb!, Danger!” words that warn a person of impending doom. But is it too strange to conceive that the real terror is not lurking behind a dark corner or walking in the shadows but in it’s arrogance parading about in the light? We think of demons and somehow our mind is trained to see the shadows, the darkness the wretched creatures hidden in their hole. There may be an element of accuracy in that thinking but this record is the account of a very different kind of spirit. A spirit not bound by human expectation and assumption. He walks accustomed to the light and his egotism is unmatched. He is conceited and desires the recognition of his work.
His work has gone unnoticed until now, always a person getting the blame or the credit for his deeds. He hides in plain sight and until now he has relished in the secrecy of his plans. Thousands of years he has been a ruler. So unfulfilling to play such crafty games with peoples lives and yet go unnoticed as the master of these games. “At least in the pagan days the worshipers came to pay tribute, they always got the name wrong but the intentions were there, oh and how fun to play the role of their pagan Gods. But now all worship is directed at the humans, those stupid creatures, as if they could have devised such meticulously evil plans on their own.” The pride and jealously swells with the stronghold’s body until in outright rage he determines his next moves will not be so hidden, He has all but destroyed the small remnant of people who are willing to fight. More of a nuisance than a threat really. His cautious side wants to remind him that if these few realize the power they possess all of what he has worked towards and planned could crumble. But arrogance has a way of superseding such cautionary thoughts and in that moment it has been decided that his power is above reproach. “Why must I cower in the shadows like an abused animal, I own this land, I go unchecked in all my conquests, who of these unfit, so called warriors of God would dare raise a sword to me. They don’t even know who they are or who they are fighting, they have all but given up. I own this land, I own them. I am the master here.” He has set his foot into the light and for now it does go unchecked, for now the heavenly host watch on with anticipation of that moment when they will be called to fight. But God in his great wisdom will allow this stronghold to swell in his arrogance until there is no possible way to miss this swollen figure with even the smallest stone to the temple. He will fall like Goliath. And the earth will shake for miles around.
For centuries the Stronghold has sat in the Valley of three significant land marks. His tainted, defiled, corrupt temple consists of three points in a quaint forested area. The Native American tribes in the area have named these three places significantly for the worship and sacrifice they will bring.
The first a treeless butte to the east named after the Bear: In Cherokee culture bears are sometimes portrayed as violent enemies of humans, some tribes tell stories about monsters resembling man eating bears the size of elephants, which prey upon the innocent unknowing people. Bears can also be a symbol of strength and often healing and medicine is associated with them since bears continue to fight even after being seriously injured, the Native Americans believed that due to this they were magically capable of healing their wounds. (Fitting that in modern society this mentality unknowingly continues with the people who try to self medicate their wounds with drugs, alcohol and other outlets that are at best a poor imitation of the real healing that needs to take place.) Bears where also viewed as a hunter that knew the land. They were quick, big and powerful, and also considered extremely clever; outfighting cougars and wolves. This place of Native worship was a holy place, a place of ritualistic sacrifice.
The second of these pagan tributes is a mountain to the west named after a ceremonial dance, The Sun Dance: For some tribes it was a territorial display or a claim on the land spiritually, self inflicted injury was sometimes involved and dancing yourself into a state of exhaustion or unconsciousness so that the spirits could bring visions of what they wanted you to do. for most the dance symbolized the miraculous power of healing and life, then followed by a cleansing. These ritualistic dances could last several days and usually followed the cycle of the moon, most held on a full moon.
The third and most protruding of the three religious marks was the mountain named after a crow right in the middle and slightly jutted to the North was this peak: The crow is an animal known to prey on week lambs or eating dead corpses killed by other animals. Decay and rot is a main coarse for this carrion lover but it is also a thief who steals grain, and sets traps of crumbs for small animals. It is a hunter as well as a scavenger and is one of the most intelligent creatures in the animal kingdom. It has the ability to hunt, to use tools, to count, to set traps, but also is the animal responsible for introducing the West Nile virus to North America.
The Bear, the Sundance, The Crow. Three peaks protruding up out of the earth to make a spiritually walled area, protective maybe, but more precisely a spiritual Strongholds place of residence and a prison to those who choose to fall into it’s traps. In the early days the unknowing worship of the tribes left this rule over the area completely unchallenged. But this worship was never enough for the ego driven Spirit.
Evil desired company, something that would not challenge his rank but would delightfully relish in his accomplishments. Greed and Lust perhaps? The twins feed off of each others spoils and are so self centered that they would keep to the refuse of his spoils, like scraps under the table. These mountains are rich with enough silver and gold to entice the brothers to homestead here. Giddy with the idea of all the bloodshed and addictive behaviors that would form over the next few hundred years the Spirit smiled a mischievous smile. And they came, the brothers Lust and Greed, they settled in the mountain village next to the mines. Brothels and capital gains: the busyness, the emptiness, the loneliness. They housed many guests over the years like, Rage, Adultery, Addiction, Selfishness, Gluttony and Jealousy. And many of these spirits left their illegitimate spawn behind to feast on the wreckage. Of these illegitimates the most commonly known of the pack were: Loneliness, Self loathing, Depression, Laziness, Fear and Insecurity. These demons don’t even bother with formal names anymore, the traits of whatever filth they portray becomes the name that they proudly wear. But not the self proclaimed ancient Stronghold, he is not confined by one trait, his thousands of years of experience have earned him more than that. Like a tree trunk with many rings he can recount countless stories of the pain he has stricken on those mere mortals. “Do they really think they can challenge me? Challenge the palace I have built with the bones of their ancestors?” Arrogance grows, He would call himself Master for now, for he is the keeper of the enslaved. He is the Master of the games.
A new day and the events that have transpired seem almost unreal. Until now she was under some sort of sugar coated idea of Christianity with moments of perfect clarity here and there, but in this moment all she can smell is the rot, the sores pussy and wet with scabs. That smell is an illusion, a parody of her weary soul but the taste of her own blood from a cut on my upper lip is all too real. As real as the burn of frozen hands, the ache of tired muscles and the throbbing of a forming bruise on her forehead. She must keep walking, she must not stop. Wherever this newfound fight is coming from, it is a place that has been dormant for a very long time. Her mind wandered to the accident, it was better than facing the cold reality of all the pain pent up inside of her. In fact the below zero temperatures that she somehow managed to keep walking through weren’t even that cold.
This is a war. We don’t fight against flesh and blood but that doesn’t stop the spirit world from trying to blind us into thinking that all of this pain is self inflicted. I had taken it all on me at first and now I see that yes a portion of this is my doing, I have made the choices that have led me here. I sin, I fail, I freely choose the path at my feet, but I was never alone. That Liar, that thief, the one that thinks he pulls all the strings, he thinks he owns my future, he is the unfit companion that led me to this slaughter. That sinister spirit of deceit had plans for me to fall into his trap but to my knees in surrender to God I fall instead. I feel naked, alone, cold and ready for death, but the spirit within me cries out and with one sentence forever changes everything I thought I knew. “You are loved by me, I have not forgotten you.” “God!” I cry out “rescue me, save me, though my life be as miserable as the lowest creature on earth, save me.” The enemy left me for dead, left me for the wild animals to devour as my soul slipped into abyss. He had done all he could with this his unknowing servant and my final act would be for me to die out here alone and afraid. But no, God himself picked me up and set my feet upon the path, it will not be an easy road but I feel him now, I felt him the moment I surrendered, the moment the enemy had all but killed me, for that was his plan; to dispose of his mess. He meant to say “The End”, but in his arrogance he has dug the very grave he will lie in. I will fight and this is not the end, the end of loveless affair with death and destruction, but the beginning of a battle that will end this war. He has in his pride abused a child of God. God will not sit back and watch as the spirit of filth spoils his beloved. He is sending a mighty host of angelic warriors, you dare not even look into those faces lest your eyes be forever lost to blindness. These warriors reflect the very light of the throne of the Father. Until this very moment they in his presence alone have dwelt. These three warriors, each one created for a single purpose: To destroy darkness, to restore his children unto him, and to banish this Stronghold to the very pit of hell.
And if you think you have not played a part in this unseen battle, it was your prayers oh children of God, Oh saints who unleashed these angelic beings from the heavens, and what is to come is more unbelievable than what has been. The evil spirits that have so greedily indulged on the misery of others are about to choke on what will be their last super. For a new legion is arriving, a new army has been formed, and they will awake fire in the hearts of those whose very purpose it is to fight this fight and battle this Stronghold of ages past. “We are the Chosen. We will not bow our head nor kneel in submission to any but our God. He is coming for his bride. We are this bride, the bride of Christ. The enemy has no claim on us or on those we have been called to love. Come now all who thirst for righteousness and hunger for his presence. God is here with us, Our Emanuel. When he speaks mountains are made, when he moves canyons are forged. Do not be mistaken in this… God will not be mocked, you spirits of profuseness, you slanderous cowards, `you infinitesimal putrescence. You feculence I cannot slay you but my father can and he will destroy you so entirely that your existence will be unmentioned as anything more than the tool that restored me and my house into God’s amazing grace. For I serve the God who was, who is, and who will always be. The scars of your wounds will serve as a reminder of the everlasting love the Father has given us. And this day forward I will live a life completely abandoned to his will.
Provoked
Provoked… That’s the word I’ll use, I feel like I have been wearing waders, walking through the sludge that the enemy has vomited all over the people that I love. If you can imagine frustration, rage and a desire to inflict pain, that is where the enemy has me. I hate this place, the rage warms my soul but my spirit is left feeling empty and cold. When will I learn the difference between advancing toward the victory God has declared in the heavens and me being bated and provoked to fight in my own strength by the enemy. He has me so sick of the abuse that I am like a dog chasing my own tail, growling at it as I try to rest, thinking at any minute it will attack again. God gave me a vision that so many Christians walk around with a loaded weapon that never leaves the holster, but now that I see the fight, I am shooting at shadows and the rickashay of the bullets are bound to wound the innocent or me in the process. How do I fight a battle that has been going on longer than I have had ancestors? I am a new recruit in all of this and I need some training. If I run out there determined to fight but with no wisdom I will just end up fighting the wrong things. So I come again to his thrown, I lay in humility at his feet and I ask for his words to penetrate deep within my spirit. I want to be so in tune with his spirit that even when I am singing a different part of the song, it is the harmony to his melody. The enemy may have ripped me open but it is this open vulnerable state that God can use. I don’t even recognize who I am anymore. In one moment his all encompassing grace has transformed me. I know that my flesh will still react to the enemy. I may still flinch at his aggressive attacks but it is only a matter of time until the spirit of peace retrains my reactions and I no longer take the bait
Why do we take the bait of the enemy? Are we so hungry that we will eat anything? If we are full we will not need to eat from that tree in the garden he so cunningly taunts us with. We need to hunger and thirst for the tree of life, the tree that God intended for us to be blessed by. To feast upon the fruits of the spirit. Then the bait of the enemy will smell like a pile of compost; rotting and ruined. His bait should repel us not invite us. Walking away from his trap never seems easier than when there is so much Jesus in us there is no room for his snares. Then why do we stumble if we are full of the spirit? In fishing there are more than one way to bait a hook and to catch a fish. There are lures and jigs as well as live bait. One is to deceive hungry fish and the other is annoy the fish. This annoyance is an intrusion upon a territorial instinct, threatening security, or just plain irritating. If a fish can’t be tempted to eat, it might be tempted to fight. A natural instinct comes out of self preservation; a defense mechanism gets triggered and we attack but a hook and a line is all that is waiting there. So how do we resist this natural urge to attack so that we can outsmart this foe? We need to test our motives. Are we motivated by unselfish love or by hurt. The motivation of everything we do needs to come from the overflowing love of our father. Otherwise we are just boxing shadows. If we want to destroy the enemy we need to learn the difference in being provoked and being led. And when did we forget that when God leads us toward the victory that he fights for us? Although in our retreat to the Fathers arms, it looks as though the enemy is advancing, the truth of the matter is that now we have an actual chance of winning because God will fight for us. What looks like us retreating is just an acknowledgement of our surrender to God, not to the enemy. When Christ was tempted by Satan in the desert although he was hungry he was not swayed by the Devil for he had the truth of the scriptures and the relationship of his father. We too should be equipped each day with the words of the scriptures and the relationship of our heavenly father. Then we will be able to withstand the temptations and the provoking ways of the enemy. Then we will be able to tell the devil to flee with the same authority of that of Christ.
The old is gone.
A monster came into my house, got into my bed, inside of my body, and as I awoke I became the thing I hated more than anything. Yelling at my children, spewing hateful words and resenting the role God has given me; the purpose, the love for being home, for being a mommy, for being a wife, all of it gone. I lost it, I lost all my joy. Where are you God? I know this person all too well, the person who has to apologize not once but three times in less than 20 minutes. All the good you have brought into my life once again buried under a pile of garbage. This soiled person that has no love in her mouth, I hate this version of me! Then like a flash flood your mercy catches me off guard and restores me to you. I feel your spirit, I feel your arms, I know you are here. I cry out “Kill the thief, kill the liar in me!” and again I rejoice for you come. How do I explain the last few days. Like a fog. An eerie fog horn warning in the background. When the fog comes the rocks are impossible to see and I can’t steer my way through on my own. My heart casts an anchor out as though I know I can't navigate in this smothering, saturated cloud. I didn’t even look for the lighthouse. Maybe I was scared, maybe tired, or maybe my resolve was so worn down by the battle I just wanted a break,. But I’ve been lonely for you; Like a ship that longs for it’s shore. The fog is gone now. I see clearly and although I rejoice that I can see you and hear you, and feel the golden rays of your light shining upon me, I know that this was not the last of the fog. In all reality I should have tried for the shore rather than stay in the stagnant waters covered by the murky fog. But I stayed because I didn’t trust what I couldn’t see.
Christ taught his disciples through the storms. I need to be okay with walking through these times of hazy weather. How should we handle the fog when it comes? The enemy uses smoke and mirrors and maybe he even has a fog machine. But I know you are still here even when I can’t see you, even when I don’t know where you are. You are still here, you have not left me I will call out to you. I will not allow myself to grow stagnant spiritually but I will allow the LIVING water to flow through me. I will trust you and have faith that even when I can’t see you, you can hold me and in those times of intimacy I will grow. Even if I outgrow who I was I won’t care because I want to change into who you have created me to be. A woman with love, joy peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self control. And may this fruit be produced not forced, from the living water that flows from the spirit. The enemy can have what he has taken, I don’t need to take it back because it’s like the skin a snake sheds when it grows. I have outgrown my need for what I was. For God has promised me something new every morning, I don’t need yesterdays promises, I have today’s. And though the liar brings the fog and we begin to fear the rocks, the Lord has given us a lighthouse, a place where when all else seems dark we can see the way. Our God is good, he is a strong tower, we run to him and are saved. The monster that had me this morning is gone and if I have to slay it a thousand more times I will. Keep the old me I don’t want it back. I am a new creation the old is gone the new has come. And now that I am looking for the light I will not fear the storm for I know my help is on the way.
Ancient Doors
We Push, We push again, and again. The door creeks a little and so we keep on pushing. Our hands are dirty from touching the ancient gate. The gate is old but was built to last, the craftsmanship is far more superior than anything of today’s standards. We keep pushing. Finally when enough of us have come together the door starts to move. It’s opening. We have battled, we are tired and weary but the site of this ancient city is a fuel to a fire that had all but died but now roars with life within us. Our invincible Lord has conquered the enemy and now the creaky gates of this long abandoned fortress will be the dwelling place of our God, our defender. Too long have we sat outside the gates taking destructive hits to our body. But now we have found our king; now we sing the Psalm 24 cry: “The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it. The world and all it’s people belong to him. For he laid the earth’s foundations on the seas and built it on the ocean depths. Who may climb the mountain of the Lord? Who may stand in his Holy place? Only those whose hands and hearts are pure, who do not worship idols and never tell lies. They will receive the Lord’s blessing and have right standing with God their savior. They alone may enter God’s presence and worship the God of Israel.”
The song does not end here, it goes on but for now my mind wraps itself around this savior who has found me outside those gates. He has washed the blood off my hands. Some of the blood came from my own wounds but much of it from the wounds I also inflicted upon others. My tongue has been a sword slashing the innocent and guilty alike and then in my guilt taking it’s sharp blade to myself. Until now I have been slowly dying. I kept fighting and wandering, I kept looking for medicine to heal me, to comfort me, to numb me. The world and it’s remedies fail, the numbness deadens my heart not my pain. Like a woman in labor I cry out as I am forced to give birth to grief and shame over and over until I can bare no more.
When my beautiful savior found me I was so far gone that I had given up the meaningless pursuit of happiness, wealth, and of me. He filled this empty heart and gave healing to this broken soul. I wondered how long he must have been waiting, how long until I would let go of the enemies gate. Both hands shaking it , furiously yelling at the top of my lungs at this liar and thief that held me for so long. I yelled so loud and long that I have to voice left. Taunting the enemy of my soul almost begging him to end my miserable life, but he will not even give me that. I remember the halls of the enemy where I once partied, the songs and dancing, the riches and glory, all a façade, those halls are empty now, but I guess they always were. Now I lay outside wanting my squandered youth forgiven. Wanting my stolen dreams restored. The Lord waited, He waited for me to let go, for me to realize what emptiness came from that stronghold, such a reminder I would never forget, so that I would never return to that God forsaken place. He waited and waited for what must have seemed too long to even bare as he watched his beloved tortured by these smooth criminals all for the sake of free choice all because I thought I knew what I wanted. There were times I was so hungry that I would eat the scraps of rotten food that even the animals refused to eat. My clothing once a symbol of my wealth, now revealed as rags not even fit to warm my freezing body. It wasn’t enough for the enemy to just pursue me, to deceive me, to lie to me and allow me to invest my life’s inheritance into those lies. No, now comes the rejection, the abuse and to now be thrown out left to die. Here I lie the rejected, the worthless being I am. And the attacks still come, the words, his lies are like arrows. I am almost dead now, almost gone. But then he comes… not a moment too soon, not a moment too late. A savior, gentle hands, tear filled eyes. He holds me and for the first time in eternity I understand what a gift his love is. This sweet mercy and grace filled gift. “The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it.” I belong to him and in this moment I take comfort in the idea that I have a kind and loving master. I belong somewhere, I belong with someone, I belong to someone. He loves me. I had prostituted myself to the enemy, I had given him what he wanted so that I could have what I wanted. Isn’t that how it works? You pay for what you own.
The first documented account of deception is the garden of Eden. We have a couple who lives in paradise and still the enemy tempts them away from God’s goodness. The deceiver convinces them that God is holding out on them. But in reality he is protecting them. The amazing part of this relationship with God that we fail to understand is that we already belong to him by his right as creator. When we reject that union with him and sell ourselves to the enemy, God could just say no because we don’t own those rights. Like a father with an inheritance, we ask for an advance that hasn’t been earned. And when we squander that inheritance his reply could be one of rejection to us. But instead it is met with forgiveness and the amazing love of a savior. The price of Christ’s torturous death was the cost of us seeking out our selfish pursuits. God paid in full not once but twice for our life. To think we are not valuable to him would be foolishness. We may never fully understand this kind of love or sacrifice but as I lay in his arms near death I realize what he did. He healed me, he washed me, I sit up drinking in the living water and as I take the cup from his hands, and the I see the marks from the nails that held him to the cross. Only a love greater than anything I have ever known can explain this kind of exchange. The enemy would have had to have thought he had won to have traded my worthlessness for Christ’s worthiness. And so it was that my selfish sins that had held me in bondage and had become the chains that kept me from a loving God would be destroyed by an act of Love that had greater power than any sin ever could. A powerful Creator who had the power to just take back what belonged to him, paid an even greater price for our restoration, redemption and rebirth. He would pay a price we never could, settle a debt he never owed, all for the answer to the question of how great his love is for his creation. He loves us. We are priceless to him. God paid a price worth more that devotion, it’s worth our love. His death wasn’t a down payment it was the deed to our hearts. His sacrifice opens up a place inside of us that was created just for him to fill. So now as we who are broken come to this gate, this ancient gate. Pushing, pushing and finally opening the door we sing the rest of Psalm 24: “Open up ancient gates! Open up ancient doors and let the King of glory enter. Who is the King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord invincible in battle. Open up ancient gates! Open up ancient doors, and let the King of glory enter, who is the King of glory? The Lord almighty he is the King of glory.”
This part of my heart, left empty for far too long, I open up to the King of glory, that he may enter, and this fortress should forever be his alone. For I belong to Him.
Dream
Waking up slowly piecing together my crazy dream: I owned a small house outside of town, one bedroom, scratch that, is that a lake? A lake house with a great room, well it’s a mansion now with a dock on the lake and boats. Soon I realize that the property extends to a restaurant, theater and radio studio. This property keeps expanding and soon I am a very successful business woman. At one point in the dream I even ask myself “When did I get so big? This is bigger than me.” I wake up very overwhelmed. The thing about dreams today is that we are taught to do so realistically. No parent wants to have to deal with the disappointment of a child who never sees dreams come true. So we are taught to never dream beyond what we can handle. As I woke up from that dream I realized that I like knowing that I can control my life and why would I want to dream beyond what I can control. And then God clearly spoke to my heart. “DREAM BIGGER.”
“Dream bigger, so big in fact that you can not accomplish it on your own, so big that you can not control it.”
“Me, loose control? I don’t know? I hate being disappointed. Especially in myself. If I set small attainable goals for myself I don’t have to worry about all the failure involved with dreaming too big. Hmmm, If I didn’t have to worry about the fear of failure what would I dream?”
Again he spoke to my heart. “What is your dream?”
“I don’t know?” The question catches me off guard. “I want to dream bigger but my dreams are so small. I want your dreams. I can not dream big enough to break my own safe rules of self preservation. Lord, I want your dreams. Show me how to dream. Show me what a life abandoned to you looks like. Because I trust you. I not only trust you with my pain, my sins and fears, but I want to trust you with my dreams. I want to dream bigger and trust that although I can not accomplish it on my own, that I am never alone. You oh Lord can bring in to fruition all the plans you have for me. I need your dreams. Teach me how to dream, I want to be a dreamer and I want you to teach me how to show my children to dream. All hope rests on the future of your children discovering how to dream big dreams in you. And letting you have the control in our lives to bring them to pass.”
Then I remember a dream I had once. I was very young, this was when I knew how to dream. But this dream was not of my own conjuring. It was from God and it was more of a vision. I was at a youth convention many years ago. God planted a movie like picture in my mind of something that would come to pass in my life if only I would follow him. The scene was me sitting in a circle surrounded with many children. Different colors of skin painted the canvas of this beautiful picture. The ground was dirty, the sun was bright, the children were beautiful. We were playing or reading or I was teaching; all I know is that I was imparting the love of God to them. It was such a beautiful picture in fact that I wanted it as soon as possible. That was twenty years ago. The vision is still there and I recognize some of the faces now. Having four of my own children has filled a part of my life I never knew existed. But that moment in that vision has not happened yet. I have tried in all my wanting to push that day closer but I know in my heart that there is a process of growth, purification, instruction and design involved. A laying down of me and a recognition of the Lordship of Christ in my life. We want the outcome of the dream without the process of the journey. Some days I think I can handle my life, and other days I feel lost and overwhelmed and I truly believe that until I learn to give God all my days, and trust in his strength and not my own, then I will have to wait that much longer.
If we rush the process, the result is affected. Let’s say we were making ice cream but we skipped over adding the sugar, or maybe we didn’t mix it, or instead of sugar we added salt because we like to take creative license with our lives, or we got all the ingredients right but then out of our impatience we couldn’t wait for it to freeze. Mushy warm ice cream isn’t even close to the disaster we could have in our lives if we rush the process of God teaching us how to love others and the responsibilities that go along with being an ambassador of his love. If we can not be patient and wait on God now than how will we be able to wait on him in the midst of greater circumstances. I was frustrated when I was single, trying to wait for something so enormous seems almost impossible sometimes. Out of that frustration I could have taken matters into my own hands, sometimes I tried, but thankfully the concerned prayers of my parents kept me from making choices that would derail the path of God in my life. I could have married a convenient boyfriend and had children so I could start this family that I felt was part of the dream, but I wanted the picture that God put in my heart. And for that I knew I had to wait. I am not the first person nor will I be the last who is asked to wait. The "Father of many Nations": Abraham, was given a dream, a vision from God. For him when waiting on God seemed illogical and unbearable he took matters into his own hands and a divided nation was born. Ishmael was the result of Abraham trying to bring about God’s blessing in Abrahams time frame. Did it take more faith for Abraham to act on his own or for Abraham to wait on God? We confuse faith with action and sometimes faith is in our ability to wait even when we want to move forward. Isaac was the promise that God intended for Abraham and a promise that he kept in his time frame. We need to trust God that if he is big enough to move in a vision, that he is also big enough to bring it to pass. We must give up our selfish determination to bring about the will of God in our lives. It’s an oxymoron to ask God to have HIS will done in our lives and then to willfully exclude him in the process. We are so stubborn that we justify our actions, turning the situation selfishly around and making it about us, and yet claiming it is all for God. The absence of selfishness is the beginning of true obedience. Here is a spiritual litmus test for if God is in control or we are:
A man under the Lordship of God: Is patient, Knowing that God will give clear direction when movement on our part is needed. Understands that there is as much faith in waiting on God as when God asks us to move on something he has asked. Has a restful spirit. Can hear God’s voice. Let’s God take the first step. Others want to follow because they sense the presence of God in his life. Is aware of the growth in his life. Understands the importance of Lordship and the relationship between God and him is not dependent on the circumstances around him or the environment. He is confident that God will move greatly in his life.
A man under the his own Lordship: Is impatient, and frustrated. Does not feel he needs clear direction to move and uses faith as an excuse to move without God. Has a restless spirit. Cannot hear God’s voice and has to supplement with what he thinks God is saying or looks for the signs of God rather than for God himself. Wants to make the first move and gets frustrated when others do not want to follow. Is unaware of the growth in his life and almost feels as though he is stuck in a rut due to circumstances and the environment he is in. Is overly confident in himself and mistakes his own pride for faith knowing he can accomplish things on his own.
What man are we? How do we keep dreaming without taking over the responsibility to make our own dreams come true? First we must realize that God is not showing us what we can do but rather what he wants to do in us and for us. I would be easier to get on an airplane and go to Africa, find all those precious babies that need love and live a life abandoned to a calling of servant hood than to wait patiently on God. It takes more faith to wait on God and to trust that the desires of our heart are not lost but safe in his hands. We will only ever get a second rate dream come true if we push the plans of God out of the way to make room for our plans. God has not forgotten us, he is shaping us. We are so arrogant to think that we know more about our dreams than God does. He created our dreams; he created us and he created a plan for us to follow. Go back to the last thing that you know God asked you to do and do not move from that spot until he moves you.
The saying about getting the cart before the horse is a great visual. Do you want to be pushing the cart all the way to finish line just because the horse isn’t moving as fast as you want? Let God take you on this journey and don’t miss everything around you in this moment because you are pushing your own cart. The last thing God asked me to do was to love my children unconditionally, with his love and his strength. Go back to your moment and I promise you will find your purpose. Don’t get frustrated when the dream seems so far away, for you will lose today if you keep pushing towards tomorrow. Love your children, for they grow up so fast. Tell your brother about the love of Jesus for you may not get another chance. Bake bread for the hungry. Tell your parents how much you love them and pray for them. Worship God in spirit and in truth. Study his words because they are a love letter to your soul and living water to your spirit.
Joy is not dependent on circumstances or the location of your body. The location of your heart is what determines the steps you will take. Let your heart be found in the thrown room of God praising him for who he is. Determine to have faith in Him and that he is who brings about the promises for your life. Don’t pursue the dream, pursue the God who gives us dreams, the God who intends on making those dreams come true.
