If You Feel My Heart

Put your hand here, upon my heart, you will feel the memories of our early days. It beats in my chest, pumping my blood, you are in my body. 

Feel my pulse, it is you beating. Made for you, longs for you, blood in my veins. 

And when you are not here, it rips apart, the thought of missing you, impossible to survive. Take my body and split me in two. That is what I am without you. 

Put your hand here, upon my heart. It used to beat in expectancy,now it is complete with thee, if you ever leave it will beat out of my chest in need of thee. 

This heart, it beats in me. It is you. The you in me that completes me. Beat, oh heart. Beat, you in me. 

Talitha Koum

Trees walking around. Her ears seemed to protrude and I noticed them like I had not before. I lost the focus of her beauty and despite my efforts to concentrate, her whole body seemed a jumble of pieces that no longer fit.

The spectacles of which through I saw this world had been removed, or I put on the spectacles, I’m not sure which, but I no longer saw people as I had before.

I had gone through my days with a need to impress others around me. I chose the finest clothes my money could buy, hours upon hours seeking not to be healthy but to have a thin appearance (I know this for sure because I cheated in such an unhealthy way), more hours of application to make my cheeks pink, my eyes colorful, and my lips protrude. My conversation was centered around the appraisal of me. Entertainment, career, family, even my place of religion was centered around my god:  me.

I did not see him coming, there was no reason to even notice that man. I was blindly rushing about my stress. I do not know why, but he ran after me. He grabbed me by the collar, I fought and I struggled and I yelled at him to release me. He did. And I fell upon the ground. Cursing, I complained and was insulted at his presence. There was complete hate in my heart and pulsing throughout my body.

Then two words he said to me, “Talitha koum.” (“Little girl, I say to you, get up”)

I don’t know how it happened, but I was upon my feet. The makeup was removed, I was bare naked but more fully clothed than I had ever been.

For I saw that I was just born. I had walked from death to life. He was all that pursued me and I turned and saw him everywhere. No longer was I a mere body, I had been born a soul.

The lostness of the human race struck me. The beauty of symmetrical bodies, youth, and wealth, all but filthy rags. Useless.

Then I saw her approaching. Her soul a glowing spirit. She smiled of joy and she loved with service. Her humility found herself when she gave herself away. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I saw but an elderly woman. Poor. Aged. Sick. And at the end of her life on this earth. A mortal useless tragedy. But I saw, as I had never seen before:  the soul is where we find beauty.

No Judge Coffee Season

Summer days are gone, with Fall days sneaking in the cooler weather. And now, I carry my coffee with pride. Coffee pride. 

Ya see, I am a year round, day long, coffee drinker. In the heat of the hottest summer days, I am pushing the big cup on my Keurig or running through the drive thru ordering a large black coffee like a true addict.

In the 100 degree summer sun, I try to hide my cup while sweat is beading up on my forehead and I pop some gum to hide my coffee breath. It is a problem. It is real. 

But with the cold wind blowing and long sleeves showing and boots popping up in the general public, I order my tall black with pride and sit and sip while hugging that mug and taking in the warmth of the steam escaping. 

I carry that mug with pride. Cheers to you coffee drinkers. And here is to the season where it is acceptable to be open with my coffee problem, I mean drinking. So, one more black coffee for me at any time of the day. Coffee pride. 

They Find Me

It is Autumn, but the weather promises the winter cold. Gray skies drizzle endlessly. All consuming to my bones, the weather mirrors my heart. 

There are things. There are things in my past. They are hidden in the “everyone makes mistakes” and “you are a good person” comforts where I seek to be consoled. 

I have betrayed, lied, hated, and turned my back on need. Perhaps it is just my humanity, but sometimes the rain pours and the bitter wind can not be shut out by all the coats and blankets in the world. 

I know. I do know the freedom of forgiveness. I have lived the peace that can be found. But I know deeply, perhaps more deeply than others, the reason for a Savior. 

When I Suffer

When I am tired, I want to be exhausted because I have completed the work you have for me. 

When I laugh, fill me with joy to share.  Surround me with the Good News of your goodness. 

When I am rich, let it be in your mercies.  And when I am poor, may it be because I gave it all away. 

Speak the truth in me. When I open my mouth, let it be your words. 

And when I suffer, let it be because this world mocks me, let me count it joy that I am crucified with Christ and let it fill my heart with peace and assurance because I have stood strong when my body was weak and I shouted your grace when they told me to shut my mouth and when I suffer, may my suffering be worked together for good because I suffered loving Jesus!

When I die, let it be because your plan is done in me. And when I open my eyes in death let it be because I will forever have eternity by the side of my Jesus that I have longed for my entire life. 

Naked People in Heaven

Instant bad mood.  I search around for my screaming phone on the floor under my bed.  The damn alarm clock continues to scream at the top of its lungs.  Slowly gaining control of my sleeping body, I step out of bed, pick up my phone and turn off the alarm.  The pain of waking up.  In heaven, I will roll over and enjoy the waking up process just as much as snuggling into bed and drifting off to sleep.  (That is if we sleep in heaven.)

My world runs about me in fast forward.  Honking impatiently at the slow moving car, spending what we don’t have for the newest item that hits the shelves, driving around our children to some place other than home.  Why do I join the insanity of the crowd?  I do believe in busying oneself with hard work, but that is not what is happening here.  We are all consumed with what does not matter.

Now.  What we want is now.  The admiring stares of those we don’t know.  Now.  The praise of what drives us around.  Now.  Winners of the race.  Packed pantries to overflowing.  Fashonable jewelry on our bodies and extra in the closet.  Fancy modern restaurants.  Everything that our neighbors have.  Our neighbors that we want to be like, not the ones outside of our neighborhood.

But all we think about is now and we laugh at anyone that suggests otherwise.

Ted Turner is famous for a lot of things, one of them is stating what is on his mind.  Hey, I can respect that.  He likes to chose his words so that other people listen.  He doesn’t just fit into the crowd.  I respect that also.  But I wish that someone would tell him, and a whole lot of the rest of the world, that they are on the wrong train.  When Turner quoted, “I’d rather go to hell.  Heaven has got to be boring.”  I wish someone would have asked him, “What do you want most in life?”….”It will be in heaven.”

Heaven is better than being a billionaire.  There is money to spare, Hey, let’s pave these streets with gold.  Heaven is better than pornography!  THERE WILL BE PERFECT BODIES WALKING AROUND NAKED!  And it will be a good thing!  No one will be embarrassed!  (There will be no sin in heaven.  Pornography is a destructive, cruel sin.  The point is, naked bodies will be good….and everywhere.)  Heaven is better than Hawaii.  All the food will be paid in full!  Heaven is better than Christmas!  That baby Jesus, he will be with us!  It doesn’t sound boring to me!

And what will not be in heaven?  Babies without mommies.  Wheelchairs won’t be needed in heaven, or medicine, or hospitals.  There will not be divorce, no one’s heart will be broken.  What have you been through?  What hurts?  What tugs at your heart and makes you cry out, “That is not right!”  God will end it.  He will make all the wrongs undone and he will wipe away that tear.

“Jesus’ miracles are not just a challenge to our minds, but a promise to our hearts, that the world we want is coming.”  Tim Keller.

So, look at this world.  Read the Bible.  Take a look at what is good in this world.  LORD, FIX MY PRIORITIES!  SET MY MIND ON THINGS ETERNAL!  Get ready.  It is going to be the best party of all of eternity.  Don’t throw away your invitation.

We are Us

I am you. I am thirteen years together, which is basically forever. I am the one that claims you by holding your hand, the one who forgets to turn off the lights, and your yearly Valentine Date. 

You are my security, who I call when the GPS leads me astray, the payer of the bills, the Daddy of my daughter, a nightly back rub, the answer to my prayers, and the only one who kisses my lips.

We are a lot more moving than either of us ever intended, the parents of a living breathing miracle, the adopters of a rescued lazy pup, the fight worth getting through, the Biblical command to love and respect, and black coffee lovers. 

Love is. It lives and breathes, does, sacrificially gives, fights and gets over it. Love is you. It is a life of hard, a time of thanksgiving, and a huge celebration. It just is. It is there. Forever and always. Right this minute and at any time. Love is and I love you. 

I Need What He has to Offer

I find myself lacking. I look at all I am and the complete of it is inadequate. I know all too well my faults and my failures. 

Who is this man that knows my name?  He calls me beloved.  It can not be, he is the King!  

But I mess up all too much. My mistakes are a burden, drowning me in guilt. He takes my hand and leads me to the cross.  “Do you want to be free?”

I clutch my chains and hold them tight, I cling to my guilt, my shame, and my pain. It is my pride. 

I am nothing. He is everything. He chose me. Now I must choose, freedom from my chains or the pain of my pride. 

No More Hurt

Darkness could not conceal the majesty of the sanctuary. Several shades of ornate gold, centuries old. There was a romantic battle story of angels and demons and suffering saints, all within the walls. And now, gathered here in this place, just me and my LORD. 

I was not singing, but the music overtook the atmosphere. Her voice rang out, pouring from my soul. It was not her lips that moved and not mine. Overcome with two emotions that only mix in the presence of God:  power and humility, my body naturally longed to lift my hands in worship, but my soul knew all too well that it was no proper offering. 

Down. Down to my knees I found my appropriate posture, hands covering my face. Heart and body, mind and soul, calling to my Deliverer. “Hosanna!”  Interpreted, “Save me!”

He lifted my eyes and drew me to the cross. There I lay my sinner’s burden. There I am washed to a radiant righteousness with the sprinkling of blood, I am completely redeemed. 

I stood in my humility. I was strong in his power. And then the room was transformed, a modern setting. Stage lights searched the room and a band sang out. Voices cried out to God in great numbers. Diversity of the followers was unity in heart. 

And then I was all alone. Petified by the things people said, astonished at their deeds. “I want to go home!”  I cried out in my soul’s deepest place of fear. But I saw hungry hearts and empty souls and people longing for a Savior. “Tell them,”  my simple command. “Lead them.” Was his answer, “lead them to the cross.” 

So, walk with me and I will show you. Hold my hand and we can sing. I’ll tell you a story of the one who saved me, I was so very hungry, starving for a purpose and a joy, he filled me to overflowing, now come, come and see what my Savior has done. There will be no more hurt. He saved us, Hosanna.

God, What Can You Do?

Man stands firm and confident and rubs his hands together.  He believes and dreams and wishes.  But with all his plans, nothing happens. He beats his forehead with his clenched fist and feels silly and stupid and upset with his failure. Man shouts, “God, if there is a God, what can you do?”

God snaps his fingers, and Earth appears. His hand rises and with it rise the Magnolia and the Palm, the daisy and the tulip, Mt. Everest and the Rockies.  His dancing fingers form Orion and the moons of Jupiter. Science is born. 

Man shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes. Man is not impressed and seeks more, “God, I am lonely and God I want more, if there is even a God at all.”

God breaths into the dust and the Earth is filled. Filled with lonely people seeking companionship. Filled with colors and races and languages.  Filled with doggies eager to play. Filled with enough to consume every day.  God spreads his arms offering his gift and smiles. 

Man turns his back, refusing to delight in the offering. He sits in the dust and throws a fit. Unable to create from nothing. Unable to know and understand it all. Unable to love perfectly. Man stands up and declares, “God?  There is no God at all.”