“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” – Matthew 5:7 (Jesus)

It’s been a busy, fun, and interesting few weeks. The last two weeks of May I was with my sister Susie out West, having our annual “sisterly adventure” – a couple of days at her house in Scottsdale, Arizona, then eight days on the road in her motor home, exploring New Mexico and Colorado, meeting some fascinating people from all over the country (and one from Sweden), and taking long soaks in various hot mineral springs, with a few hikes in between. Then we spent another day or two at her house before flying home.

I returned to Louisville just in time to see my second granddaughter “graduate” from grade school in (for me) a very emotional ceremony. I was so proud of her as she gave her speech, and I was brought to tears as the students all sang “The Blessing” to their parents right before giving carnations to their moms. As they stood singing, I could see my granddaughter’s hands signing the song behind the kid in front of her. She and I had learned almost the whole song in sign language earlier that month, and I was touched that she wanted to sign the words, even if most of the congregation didn’t see her doing it.

Next on the schedule was a weekend family reunion, hosted by my cousin Owen and his wife. Saturday night’s event was at their home just a few blocks from our house and was supposed to feature a “talent show.” I had persuaded our daughter Joanna to sing “The Happy Wanderer” with me in honor of Susie, who couldn’t make it. (That song epitomizes Susie’s spirit of adventure.) I expected that if we started singing it, Owen would join us, yodeling for the chorus, as he had often done before. So, I tuned my guitar and carried it up the road to the party.

As it turned out, there were several men at the gathering who also played guitar, all of them Owen’s wife’s relatives, whom I didn’t know well. Before most of us had finished eating, these musicians were jamming together; it sounded like something they did often. One of the children came up to me at the dinner table and asked if one of the men could play my guitar. I thought, Why not? and said, “Sure.”

A few minutes later, I was notified that said musician had broken one of the strings while trying to tune my guitar. I guessed immediately what had happened.

When I went to talk to him, the man explained that he was trying to get my guitar in tune. I explained to him that 12-string guitars are always tuned a whole step lower than 6-string guitars. Surprised, he asked why. Now in full teacher mode, I explained that to lessen the strain on the neck, the guitar is tuned lower, and a capo is used when playing with 6-string guitars.

He said, “Sorry.”

I told him, “These things happen,” and that he was not the first to try to “tune my guitar for me.” As it turned out, it was still playable. In fact, if I could have picked one string to lose, it would have been that one, as it was least involved in my more intricate picking patterns.

As it also turned out, the “talent show” never quite happened. The jamming went on into the evening, and it was fun to hear. Also, while they were jamming, I was able to get acquainted with a 13-year-old cousin-in-law-twice-removed (or something). This was, in fact, more fun than “performing,” because I found that she was a young version of ME! – an animated, talkative, singing, guitar-playing, novel-writing, theater-loving young lady – named Annie, no less! So, it was a delightful evening, although not what I had expected.

The next day I was adding “Buy new strings” to my to-do list, realizing my guitar was way overdue for new strings anyway, and yes, it was all good. As I looked up the local guitar store, I randomly remembered the time I’d been performing a song with some of my best picking, and a teenaged boy had told me that 12-string guitars are for strumming, not picking. (Men.) I was momentarily struck with a twinge of irritation at men who thought they knew more about my guitar than I did, when something (or SomeONE) brought to mind a recent memory …

Flashback: Susie and I were getting cleaned up at her house after a day in the desert, and I had finished first. As I waited for her, I spotted her harp sitting in the corner. I said something about it to LeeAnn, Susie’s sometimes-tenant, who commented that she hadn’t heard Susie play it lately.

“I guess she hasn’t,” I opined, plucking at the strings. “It’s really out of tune.” I was itching to play it, so I got the tuning instrument and adjusted a couple of strings …

When Susie came out and saw what I was doing, she gently reminded me that her harp was tuned in the key of D, not C, which explained why several strings were not tuned to the “right” notes …

That’s right, folks. Less than two weeks before my cousin’s wife’s relative took the liberty of tuning my guitar, I did the same thing with Susie’s harp. … Well, almost the same thing, the difference being that the man at the party had asked permission to play my guitar.

In that forehead-slapping moment of realization, I was SO glad I had been nice about the broken string!

Update: Today I’m playing my 12-string guitar with brand-new strings on it, and it sounds wonderful.

Prayer: Lord, thanks for the reminder that it’s always good to conduct ourselves “in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ,” even when we don’t feel like it or understand why. I realize there are often things I’m not aware of – or don’t remember, so help me always to remember to be kind, because I need mercy, too. In Your name, amen.

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the forces of evil in the heavenly realms. – Ephesians 6:12

Films about demons have long been hugely popular among a certain portion of movie-goers. Unfortunately, these films contain more sensationalism than truth, utilizing just enough biblical references to give a semblance of legitimacy before launching into an orgy of terror and gore, with enough lewd sensuality thrown in to attract additional viewers from the porn enthusiasts.

The more sanitized Christian attempts at sending a message about evil all too often ends up awkward and strained, what we used to call “hokey,” now dubbed simply “lame.”

I can think of a few exceptions, for example, Mel Gibson’s film “The Passion of the Christ.” Another exception is C. S. Lewis’s classic fiction The Screwtape Letters. (I’ve seen an excellent stage rendition by the Fellowship for the Performing Arts.) I would put the new film “Nefarious” in that category. It’s been aptly described as “Screwtape meets ‘Silence of the Lambs.'”

Before recommending this film, I should probably put out a disclaimer. There are “religious” people who would not want to see it. The topic, the language, the violence might offend their sensibilities, and that’s OK. They are not the target audience. “Nefarious” is not a film to entertain church people, and it doesn’t attempt to entice the world into the Church with promises of “pie in the sky in the sweet by-and-by.” (Admit it, for the most part the world doesn’t think that far into the future and, frankly, doesn’t care.)

“Nefarious” is, rather, a startling, in-your-face picture of what’s really going on behind the scenes in a secular, sinful, self-righteous, and oblivious world. It’s a blunt wake-up call, a warning of what the future holds for those who continue to reject the true God in favor of satisfying their egos and fleshly appetites. It also accuses the lukewarm “religious” people (“having a form of godliness but denying its power.” – II Timothy 3:5) as being unwitting allies of the enemy.

The bulk of the film takes place in a maximum-security prison, where a young psychiatrist, a cocky atheist named James, (played by Jordan Belfi) is interviewing a condemned murderer named Edward (Sean Patrick Flanery) hours before his scheduled execution to determine the man’s mental state. Interestingly, the murderer is not pleading insanity, but demon possession. In the course of the interview the alleged demon does most of the talking in an elaborate, fast-paced dialogue.

At first James appears skeptical, even amused, but as the interview progresses, he is confronted with his own guilt, which he tries to deflect. At one point the psychiatrist even facetiously – and foolishly – invites the demon to come into him. (The consequences of that proposal are disastrous but only manifested moments after the present host’s execution.) Although James is presented with details of his life that a man who has been in solitary confinement could not have possibly known, he remains stubbornly unconvinced, and for the most part, unrepentant. The exception is one agonizing attempt to set things right, which turns out to be too little, too late.

The demon, “Nefarious,” speaks in his own twisted way, Screwtape-style, truths in reverse. For example, speaking of Christ – “the Carpenter” – as the enemy. When the prison “chaplain” confesses that he has never done an exorcism, implies that he doesn’t, in fact, believe in demons, and speaks blandly about “getting along,” the condemned man relaxes, smiles, and in the voice of Nefarious tells him in a low chuckle, “I like you.”

When the topic of theology comes up, the demon declares that he knows more about theology than all of them put together.

We do get occasional glimpses of Edward, the demon’s hapless host. Edward is a pitiful shell of a man, whose life has been taken over by an entity he is powerless to resist. (Flanery, by the way, should receive the Oscar for Best Actor, hands-down.) Edward is utterly, miserably helpless, and it is apparent that the wimpy chaplain and smug psychiatrist offer no help at all.

To me one of the most profound moments of dialogue was when the demon referred to their conversation in terms of a contest. James responds, “I didn’t know we were in a fight.”

Nefarious retorts, “That’s why you’re losing.”

This film doesn’t end with a gospel presentation and an altar call, but rather with a chilling reminder of the evil that is everywhere in this world, and that refusing to believe in it is not going to make it go away. There is, thankfully, a welcome glimpse of redemption at the end, but the impact of the film in general is sobering and, one would hope, convicting.

“Nefarious” is a wake-up call, because like it or not, we are in a battle.

The question is, which side are you on?

Prayer: Lord, we rejoice that You love us and have overcome evil! As we are called to be overcomers as well, we take up the armor You have provided us with. Help us to be ready to follow You, our Commander, into the battle, knowing we will win. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.” – Luke 12:2-3

One day I had become so sick of the he-said-she-said of the media, with every story being “fact checked” and every source labeled a liar, I asked, “Alexa, do fact checkers tell the truth?”

After a long pause, “Alexa” just shut down.

Just as I thought.

More recently, my husband Marty was asking me what the best antihistamine was for a constant cough. Having never thought of antihistamines in the context of a cough, I said I didn’t know. I suggested he “google” it. He typed in the search bar, “best an…” and his phone finished the phrase for him, “… tihistamine for cough.”

Creepy.

It would seem that there is no such thing as privacy anymore, at least not when there are “devices” around, and in the modern American lifestyle, there usually are.

The latest development, artificial intelligence, “AI,” has made evident some terrifying implications.

AI can make it appear a leader says things (s)he never said, and such deception can start protests, riots, even wars. (Where are those fact checkers when we need them?)

On a more personal level, the same kind of technology can make an innocent “significant other” look guilty and cause a breakup or divorce. It can even use a child’s voice for extortion from a parent. A woman recently testified that she had received a phone call in which she heard her daughter’s voice sobbing and pleading desperately for help. A man’s voice came on, telling her he had her daughter and started making demands.

It’s hard to fathom what kind of cruelty would subject a spouse, fiancé, or parent to this kind of torture, but sadly, nothing should surprise us lately. The Bible says the human heart is “desperately wicked” (Jeremiah 17:9). And of course, Satan, whose evil knows no bounds, has been unleashed in these last days.

Humanly speaking, we can’t control the masses. Prayer is the only weapon we have against the powers that try to manipulate the nations. On the other hand, it is the most powerful weapon on the planet! Use it daily.

On the more personal level, I have some additional suggestions that might save your family from AI-caused disaster.

Have a password or phrase that only you and your spouse or you and your child know. If, God forbid, you get one of those phone calls and the person on the other end of the phone doesn’t use that word or phrase, it’s not your loved one. Period.

CAUTION: Make sure that word isn’t one you have ever used for anything else. If possible, make it something obscure, or that isn’t even a real word. And when you discuss what that word or phrase will be, make sure there are NO devices around, even ones that are (allegedly) turned off. Take a walk in the woods or out in field with empty pockets, and whisper.

Paranoid? Perhaps, but better to be paranoid and safe. Nothing is more precious than your loved ones.

Regarding the passage of Scripture quoted above, while this seems to predict the present-day AI phenomenon (and it’s true, nothing surprises God.), ever since the creation of Man, whatever we say – or even think – there has been One who hears and knows. It has always been wise to live our lives as if none of our words, deeds, and thoughts were really “private.” The big difference now is that the God who knows us inside and out loves us and wants the best for us.

AI, on the other hand does not have our best interest at heart – AI has no heart.

“Therefore be as wise as snakes, and as innocent as doves.” Matthew 10:16

Prayer: Lord God, You are the only God. You alone know all things – what we do, what we say, even the intents of our hearts. We know there are those who are Your enemies and would try to usurp Your power over Your people. Keep us in the hollow of Your hand. Help us to be both wise as serpents and innocent as doves. For we are YOUR people, the sheep of YOUR pasture. Faithful Shepherd, we love You. In Jesus’ name, amen.

For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain. – Philippians 1:21

In anticipating my 70th birthday, I kept remembering there was a verse in Scripture that said Man’s life span is 70 years. I took that to mean 70 years is what we might reasonably expect to live, and every day beyond that is “bonus” – not that any of us is guaranteed tomorrow at any age …

Leaving this world is not a morbid thought to me. I have believed in heaven for so long I don’t remember ever not believing in it, and the more stuff that goes wrong (or inconvenient) in my body, the more I look forward to getting a new one. It was a couple of decades ago when I first heard Point of Grace sing, “I’m not unhappy, but I’d take the train today if You’d let me,”* Even then I already understood the sentiment. I look forward to leaving this world, not because my life here has been horrible – It has, for the most part, been wonderful! But I know that the next life will be even more wonderful, so I have nothing to fear.

During the pandemic I felt bad for the people who seemed consumed with fear. I personally stayed sane by repeatedly reminding myself that I wasn’t going to leave this world one moment before the Lord was ready to call me home, and I didn’t want to stick around one moment longer than He wanted me to! This outlook (divine perspective?) was a great source of peace to me, and I believe that peace (lack of stress) did, in fact, help keep me healthy. I did think at times that I shared the sentiment with Woody Allen, that “I’m not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”

Shortly after that milestone birthday, as I was congratulating myself on being “in the home stretch,” as it were, a young man in our church announced that his grandmother had just died. She had been a godly woman, serving the Lord all her life, right up to the time she died – at the age of 104! The realization that I might be only 2/3 of the way there shook me out of my complacency. If it turned out I was going to be around that much longer, clearly God had other plans for me besides coasting to the finish line.“

Give me a mission if I’ve still got the time, ’cause I’m open …”*

So, in taking inventory, I am considering what the Lord might have for me yet to do, and the list seems to be getting longer, not shorter! This comes as a surprise to me, and not an unpleasant one, considering a few years ago my biggest fear was that I would someday run out of dreams. Now I have enough goals to keep me busy, enough that I’ve been thinking I’d take 2024 off from blogging – a “Sabbath year” of sorts – and free up some time for making the rest of my published books into audiobooks, publishing a study guide for BARRIERS, designing the cover for Satan’s Worst Nightmare, getting that book published, making it into an audiobook, and taking my sister’s suggestion of publishing my blog as a devotional book, or organizing them into my “memoirs,” – or both.

I would have thought those were enough to keep me busy, but things that have happened serendipitously along the way have been more than I would have expected. (I guess I’ll be writing “New Experiences – at MY Age?! Part II” soon.)

I had been wanting to share with my readers some of the songs from the songwriting season of my life in the 80’s and early 90’s. However, all I had were demo CDs, made in a recording studio, which I needed help just to copy and mail to people, never mind getting them into “the Cloud” or other high-tech feat. (I know, the younger readers are probably laughing right now at this dinosaur.)

All that to say, recently this Nanasaurus asked one of the sound technicians at our church, to help get my songs where I could access and share them digitally. Within a few short minutes he had uploaded (or was it downloaded? whatever…) my songs to something called SoundCloud. He showed me how to share the links, and I thought that was that.

After I got home, I went to check my emails before heading for bed. I had been deleting and marking as “spam” the clutter, and my inbox had just started to get manageable. But now suddenly I was getting a whole new genre of emails, notifying me that one of my songs had been “liked” half an hour after it had been uploaded/downloaded. Someone else was contacting me to see if I wanted him to help me get another one of my songs onto a platform where it would be seen(heard) by a few thousand more people. And a young lady in an exotic but unknown place had fallen in love with my anniversary song. In the next 5 hours she commented 13 times that she loved the beat, it gave her “high energy,” she wanted to dance all night, she had the song in her head, she was getting a good workout, and she felt like she was in the middle of a big celebration! (Marty didn’t get that excited about that song – and I wrote it for him!)

And oh yes, I now had a follower already.

I read all the messages, blinked, and burst out laughing.

So, now that I may be spending way less time blogging, suddenly the songs I once spent a decade of my life trying to get published are “out there,” and I apparently have another “platform.”

So, I could be wrong, but I’m thinking if God wants me to do all that, I may be around a little longer.

… I’d better get busy.

Prayer: Father, thank You for never leaving me without purpose, goals, and dreams. And thank You for life’s surprises that were never on my radar, but if they had been, would have been dreams. And thank You for the promise of heaven, which is wonderful beyond any of my dreams. Help me keep my eyes on You until I finish the race, in Jesus’ name, amen.

* “Day by Day” Point of Grace 2003

[L]et us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. – Hebrews 12:1

Last Saturday was the culmination of a month of festivities in our new home town. The Kentucky Derby is for many Louisvillians the most exciting two minutes of the year, and Marty and I were privileged to witness it live from one of the many parties that day.

Tom and Julia have been throwing Derby parties for over twenty years, so it’s a special tradition for friends and neighbors, who arrive with hats and “fascinators” on their heads, dishes to share in their hands, and dollar bills for “betting” in their pockets.

I couldn’t have named one horse in the race before we got there, but it didn’t matter. To make the race more interesting, we all drew names out of an envelope so we would have a horse to root for.

When it was time for the big race, the guests gathered around the TVs in the living room, den, and patio. The bugle sounded, the band played Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home,” and the horses were led out onto the track in front of 150,000 cheering fans. The sunshine, the bright colors, the music created a solemn but festive mood, and we recognized among the throngs of ordinary people some celebrities who had come to Churchill Downs to see and be seen. We had only lived in Louisville for a few years and weren’t exactly life-long Derby fans. Still, having the name of a horse in my hand and being included in the event, I was starting to get into the spirit.

When the starting gun went off and the horses shot out of the gate, the roar of the crowd at the track was joined by fans in the living room, the dining room, and the patio. I knew that all over the world, on countless televisions, laptops, and phones, millions of eyes were fixed on the horses thundering down the track.

Just then, an unexpected wave of emotion came over me; I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. (The more pragmatic side of me thought, What the heck…???) Suddenly I felt for the jockeys hanging on and urging their horses forward and for the beautiful creatures that were running their hearts out toward the finish line.

The cheering that came from all directions grew louder as the finish line came into view, and one horse that had not been expected to do that well came around the outside and passed the one in the lead just in time to take the prize! The cheering reached a crescendo, and I sat there in tears, realizing that I had not been watching a horserace but an object lesson from God, a reminder to encourage me.

The author of the book of Hebrews wrote out a list of great people of faith in Chapter 11, which some call “the Faith Hall of Fame” – Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, and others, whose lives were filled with miracles and whose stories made it into the Scriptures. (Hebrews 11:33-35a)

The passage also commended others, whose names are unknown in the world but known to God. These were tortured, jeered at, destitute, persecuted, imprisoned, and put to death. (“The world was not worthy of them.” – vs 38a) I have always found those verses comforting, knowing that just because I’m not a spiritual “celebrity” and my prayers haven’t always produced miracles doesn’t mean I’m not a child of God or that I am not serving Him well.

But it’s the opening verse of the next chapter that came rushing back into my spirit so unexpectedly that afternoon.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. – Hebrews 12:1

For every one of us who believe in Jesus, we are also in a race, and it can be grueling. I know from experience that sometimes I can feel as though I am struggling on my own to just get through the week, the day, or the hour. You might feel that way, too.

You might be reading this in a hospital room. Maybe visiting hours are over, the floor is quiet, and you feel everyone in the world is asleep except you.

You might be experiencing unspeakable grief, so horrendous that people don’t know what to say to you, so they say nothing, and you’re left feeling utterly alone.

You might be the only Christian in your family, or in your class at school, or in your workplace. Every day seems like a swim against the current, and the enemy might be whispering to you, You’ve done your best, now it’s time to give up.

Or you might just be at a party, where everyone around you is going wild over two minutes of watching horses run. And then, out of nowhere, there’s a reminder…

We are surrounded by a “cloud of witnesses.” – Not just 150,000 in the stands, but millions upon millions who have gone before us. Not just the spiritual “celebrities,” but also countless ordinary people who served an extraordinary God, along with a myriad of angels, reminding us,

“You’re not alone!”

Can you hear them cheering us on? Perhaps not, but they are! They are rooting for us, encouraging us not to give up, and constantly declaring, reminding us,

“Don’t give up! He is worthy! He is sufficient! He is faithful!” This is what I was “hearing” from God, and when the race was over, I looked down and saw that the Lord had added an exclamation point.

I had the name of the winning horse in my hand.

Prayer: Father, Thank You for Your promise that we are never alone. Thank You for the cloud of witnesses that have gone before us, who can attest to Your faithfulness. Help us take hold of that reality and live our lives accordingly, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

And this is my prayer … Philippians 1:9

As I may have mentioned, I love to pray Scripture. I know Scripture is true (correctly translated and in context!), and in rightly handling the Word of God, we can pray powerfully.

One morning I was reviewing the book of Philippians, which I had memorized some years ago during the Scripture memory season of my life. (How that came about is another story for another day.) Today I was off to a late start, thanks to a distractible mind and lack of discipline on my part. (Not unusual – thank God for grace.) Torn between reading my Bible and praying (I didn’t have a lot of time to do both.), ever the multitasker (*eye roll*), I found myself doing both.

Making my way through the first two chapters of Philippians, this was my prayer:

Lord, I come to You as Your servant through Jesus Christ. Thank You for Your grace and peace. I know that You have begun a good work in me, and I’m confident that You will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ.

Thank You for those who have been partners with me in the gospel from the first day until now, who have shared in Your grace with me and given me so much joy. May our love abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that we may discern what is right and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of You.

Whatever happens to me, I pray that it will serve to advance the gospel. Even in suffering, let it be clear that my suffering is for You. May those who love You be encouraged through me to be more courageous and fearless as they speak Your Word.

It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of good will. Thank You for the latter, who do so in love. As for those who preach out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, Lord, You are the Judge. Even if their intention is to stir up trouble, help me still to rejoice that Your Word is being preached!

Help me to believe that everything that happens to me will turn out for my deliverance, with the help of Your Spirit and the prayers of others. May I in no way be ashamed, but have sufficient courage, so that now and always, Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. Thank You for reminding me that to live is Christ, and to die is gain! If I continue on in this body, let my labor be fruitful. I confess I am torn between the two. I desire to depart and be with You, which is (will be) better by far. But if it is necessary for others that I remain and continue with them for their progress and joy in the faith, I know that I will remain. May others’ joy in Christ Jesus overflow on account of me!

Thank You for the encouragement from being united with Christ, the comfort of His love, the fellowship of the Spirit, and the tenderness and compassion of Your people. May we always be like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.

Whatever happens, help me to conduct myself in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Help all of us to stand firm in one spirit, contending as one man for the faith of the gospel, without being frightened in any way by those who oppose us. Let that be a sign to them that they are going to be destroyed (and may they repent!), but that we will be saved by You. I know it has been granted to us on behalf of Christ not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for Him, since what we go through has been experienced by other saints who have gone before us.

Help me to do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but to consider others better than myself. Help me not to look only to my own interests but also the interests of others. Give me the attitude of Christ Jesus, who did not grasp His divinity but made Himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant in human likeness. Let me be inspired by His humility and obedience, even to death on a cross! Keep me mindful that His is the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess that He is Lord. To Him and to You, Father, be glory!

Help me to continue to work out my salvation with fear and trembling, knowing it is You at work in me to will and to act according to Your good purpose. Help me to do everything without complaining or arguing, so that I may become blameless and pure, a child of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation. Let all of Your people shine like stars in the universe as we hold out the word of life! Even if we are poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of our faith, may we rejoice and be glad, in Jesus’ name.

Amen

[The rest of chapter 2 is a personal message relating to Timothy and Epaphroditus, two of Paul’s fellow workers who seem to fit the earlier description a good servant of Christ. My only prayer as I read that passage is, “Lord, may I be like them.”]

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing. – I Thessalonians 5:11

I was not feeling very good about myself. I had tried to do something nice for someone and had got it all wrong. Gift giving with me is kind of hit or miss. Sometimes I know just the perfect gift, and it’s a hit. Other times … not so much. This was apparently the latter. “It’s the thought that counts,” I was taught as a child. “Thank them anyway.” But blunt honesty seems to be the way this generation communicates, and I knew beyond a doubt that however well-meaning the thought, I had blown it.

Oh well, I told myself. We can’t all be gift-giving geniuses. Anyway, it was time for the evening prayer meeting – On to other things. I attempted to dismiss the bad feelings and headed for the service.

As anyone who has read this blog knows, I love my church. They seem to do everything a Church is supposed to do. They care for one another, sharing needs through their large group email (those needs being met usually before the day is over), taking meals to anyone with a new baby or who has had surgery, and always, always praying for one another, especially in their endeavors to share the gospel. Guests or first-time visitors are met with warm greetings and genuine interest.

And the singing … ! There is no “choir” per se. A four-person worship team leads, and the congregation is the choir. Being surrounded by that multitude is like momentarily stepping into heaven, especially when the instruments stop, and the final verse is sung by unaccompanied human voices in four-part harmony.

While prayer meetings at most churches I’ve experienced have been lucky to have a dozen show up, this church routinely has hundreds at their Sunday evening prayer service. These people truly believe in prayer.

That evening, being one of the last to arrive, I slipped into the only empty pew left.

Immediately, two of my younger (twenty-something) friends came in. They greeted me with hugs and asked if they could sit with me. When I said “Sure!” they seemed excited, and one exclaimed, “We’re so glad we get to sit with you!” Their enthusiasm surprised me, but it felt so good I decided, I’ll take it.

Prayer requests were given, and one by one, we prayed specifically for one another. I remembered a couple of times when I’d had needs, and it had been such a blessing to hear someone pray specifically for my concerns and know that a couple hundred other people were praying in unison for the same thing!

After the devotional message and the closing song, the girls and I lingered and caught up with each other’s lives. Then after one more series of hugs, they were on their way.

I recognized a few pews away another young woman who had sent out a prayer request that week via email. Since I had prayed for her situation, I went over, introduced myself, and asked her how things were going. She gave me an update and thanked me for praying. We then spent a few minutes getting acquainted.

Thinking this young person probably had other people she wanted to talk to besides yours truly, I told her it was so nice meeting her and wished her a great week. As I started to walk away, she called after me and asked if I wanted to get together for coffee sometime. We exchanged phones and added our numbers into each other’s contacts. After we handed them back, I got yet another healing hug.

On the way home I reflected on all that had happened that day. I thanked God for the worship service that morning. I smiled, remembering the tiny daughter of friends, whose face had lit up when I came in, and the way she ran over to greet me with her little arms open wide. (Toddlers are such good huggers!) I thanked Him for the girls that had sat with me that evening, seeming to feel so privileged, and the new friend who had asked me for my phone number.

Psychologists these days like to talk about having our emotional “love tank” depleted or filled up, depending on the encounters we experience with others and how they make us feel about ourselves. I don’t think for a moment this is a new concept. This is the reason Jesus established His Church two thousand years ago – to be His arms of love around us. And as we “go forth into all the world,” as He commissioned us to do, the Church is there to refill our tanks after the world has drained us, physically and emotionally.

A doctor could no doubt do a better job than I do explaining the many ways the body heals itself and the parallels to the Body of Christ. I only know that that afternoon I had been feeling lousy, fighting tears. But I’d learned that I don’t have to let my emotions run my life, and they weren’t going to keep me from going to church. Scripture says, “Let us not give up meeting together.” (Hebrews 10:25) Sometimes you just have to decide what you need to do and do it. Consequently, my love tank was filled to overflowing that night – with smiles and hugs, prayers and songs, and an invitation to coffee.

When I hear people give various reasons they don’t go to church, I wonder, where do they go when the world wears them down? Do they realize what they’re missing?

(Maybe we should invite them to church … One more time…)

“Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.” Galatians 6:10

Prayer: Lord, You know how much we need one another for comfort, encouragement, strength, and emotional health. Thank You for the times You help us heal one another. May we continue to be Your agents of healing, for Your glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Jesus said to them, `Come away with me. Let us go alone to a quiet place and rest for a while.’  Mark 6:31a

“Ann! It’s time to get up,” I heard my husband Marty say.

It is? I thought, coming out of a deep sleep. It didn’t seem that late to me, especially on a Sunday morning. Church didn’t start for hours. I yawned.

As Marty walked through the bedroom, I asked hoarsely, “What time is it?”

He looked at his watch, replied, “Six o’clock,” and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Six o’clock!? Why would he think it’s time to get up? But I didn’t try to ask him through the door and over the sound of running water.

I tried to get back to sleep but found I couldn’t, mainly because I was too annoyed at the “rude awakening” I felt I had received. I tossed, turned, and grumbled. Finally, I figured I might as well get up. It was too beautiful a morning to lie in bed, stewing. I threw on some clothes, grabbed cup of tea, and went outside.

The early morning light splashed across the sky in pastel shades of pink and yellow. I walked barefoot in the dewy grass along the shoreline, watching the waterfowl paddling lazily on the glass-like surface of the lake. I smiled for the first time that day, and it felt good. I decided to stop being childish and adjust my attitude. This was too nice a time to spend pouting!

Sitting under a tree, I talked to Jesus. I thanked Him for the beauty of the morning and for the peace and solitude that had been a rare commodity in a season of small children and their demands. The breeze felt like the gentle caress of God, as the more I thanked him, the happier I became.

I didn’t have my Bible; I just let Him speak gently to me through His creation. I didn’t have my prayer list to go through, checking off each request; we just talked. I don’t remember if I sang that day, but knowing me, it’s a definite possibility. I only remember the feeling of my heart being filled to overflowing with peace and joy, as I communed with my Best Friend.

After an hour of two, I thought of Marty and how annoyed I had been with him. Now I was, in fact, grateful I had been awakened when I was. To think I had almost missed this special time! Then, suspecting the kids were probably awake by now, I headed inside to get them and myself ready for church, after taking one more leisurely lap around the yard.

When I saw Marty – the reason I had risen unusually early – I gave him a warm greeting.

“I’m actually glad I got up early! So, I’m not complaining, just curious – Why did you get me up at six o’clock?” I inquired.

“I didn’t get you up at six o’clock,” he said.

“Yeah, you did. You said, ‘Ann! It’s time to get up.'”

“No I didn’t. You asked me what time it was, and I said ‘Six o’clock.'”

“Well, yeah. But before that …”

“I didn’t say anything before that.”

Last week I wrote about how we hear God. I said He doesn’t speak to us in an audible voice – not usually. But, being God, I suppose He can speak to us any way He wants. As they say, “Whatever works.”

That day I realized, sometimes He sounds just like my husband.

Prayer: Father, I know You love me and will speak to me any way You choose. Thanks for not giving up on me when I’m hard of hearing! Make me sensitive to Your voice, and help me obey, even when I don’t feel like it at first. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way. Walk in it.” – Isaiah 30:21

I probably had that verse of Scripture in mind when I was writing the prologue to my book on prayer, BARRIERS (So, if prayers are so powerful, how come mine don’t get answered?) I was telling a story about a time in my life when I was praying for something I had been requesting for years, with the same seemingly nonexistent answer. I finally cried out to the Lord in my frustration, and I believe He spoke to me very clearly. Unfortunately, the words I used were, “When God speaks to you, you just know it.”

It has occurred to me in recent days that this sentence could be taken several ways, and one of them could result in a gross misunderstanding of God’s voice, with disastrous consequences.

In the context of the story, the sentences following explain that we can “hear” God’s voice in our hearts, as opposed to hearing an audible voice or seeing writing in the sky. That we “just know it” is meant to contrast with the obvious, visible, audible types of voices.

Another way to interpret the statement is that the Lord does speak to His children, and He doesn’t need a megaphone or billboard to do it. He speaks to us through His Word (the Bible), through circumstances, through His creation, and through other people, whether in person, preaching on the radio, or through their writings. God knows each of us intimately, and if He wants to communicate something to one of us, He knows exactly how to make it clear to us. He will see to it that we know He’s speaking and what He is saying. (We are without excuse.)

Either of those interpretations, or both, would be acceptable to me.

The message I do not want my readers to get out of that statement is that any time we hear a “still, small voice,” we can be sure it’s God. I have had times when that kind of “voice” is from the enemy, from the culture, or just my overactive imagination. I cringe at the thought that copies of this book are scattered all over the country, and in other countries (I’m guessing there are more copies of it in Uganda or India than there are in Kentucky right now.), and that anyone might draw the wrong conclusion from the statement I wrote so glibly. Of course, God is in control, and as I pray He won’t let the enemy hijack any of my words – spoken, written, sung, or prayed, past, present, or future – I trust He won’t let that happen. Still, the enemy of my soul (and my sleep) reminds me of atrocities that have been committed by people claiming, “God told me to do it,” and if I take my eyes off the Lord, my imagination can torment me with horrific scenarios that I might have a part in with my careless words.

SO. For the record, please note (especially if you have BARRIERS and have read it, are reading it, or intend to read it): To “hear God’s voice,” we need to know Him. We need to know His Word, so we can “test the spirits” (I John 4:1), because God will never contradict His Word in a “special,” personal message. As I later said in that same prologue, the better we know the Lord, the easier it is to discern His voice.

I have learned a great deal since I first published BARRIERS, and I hope to publish a new edition of the book soon, with a few typos corrected and chapters added. Regarding this prologue, I intend to change that sentence to read instead:

“Sometimes when God speaks to you, you just know it; this was one of those times.” (If any of you have a better idea, I am open to suggestions.)

Meanwhile, I’m praying that whoever reads this prologue will go on to read the rest of the book for full context, and that we will all seek the Lord – not a mystical experience for its own sake, but to truly hear God’s voice, and having heard, to obey His will.

Prayer: Lord, as writers we can struggle to put into words what You have taught us and what You have done for us. Thank You for understanding that we are imperfect, flawed people, serving a perfect God. It amazes me that You can take our feeble efforts and use them to advance Your kingdom. For this great privilege we thank You, in Jesus’ name. Amen

One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” – Luke 23:39-43

The year was 1973, and I was at college in Virginia. It was a small women’s college that had a club called the Religious Life Association (RLA). It was there that I had participated in my first ever “Stations of the Cross” during Holy Week. Having grown up in a Presbyterian church, I found the concept of reenacting the events of Good Friday unfamiliar but interesting. I must have still been thinking about the event the night I had that vivid dream, one that I still remember, fifty years later.

I was in the balcony of the dimly lit chapel, watching a group of students walking through the Stations of the Cross. From that vantage point I started to notice two things happening simultaneously. One was that others were joining the ritual. At the same time, as if to accommodate the growing crowd, the sanctuary itself was gradually expanding. Moments later, the ceiling had disappeared, and what had been the sanctuary was now a courtyard under a night sky. At some point the lights morphed into flickering torches. As I strained to see what was going on below me, it seemed that the “reenactment” was disturbingly realistic. The Man at the center of attention seemed to be the victim of a real beating. I heard voices shouting viciously. If this was an act, they were very good at it!

At some point I realized this was no reenactment of the Stations of the Cross – this was the real thing! And if that were true, that meant the One at the center of it, getting beaten bloody was – Jesus!

I couldn’t just stand there watching it happen. Determined to help Him, I tore down the stairs, although I had no idea what I would or could do to help, once I got to Him – if that were even possible.

Once in the courtyard, I pushed my way through the mass of people for what seemed like hours, desperate to reach my Lord and dearest Friend. Finally, I broke through and was alarmed to see that He was already being nailed to the cross! I screamed, “NO!” and grabbed at His hand but only succeeded in tearing His flesh even more. He winced in pain. As He continued to suffer the torture, I was horrified to find that the more I tried to “fix” what was happening, the worse I made it. I began sobbing hysterically, “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

He turned His head, and as our eyes met, He said through the pain, “It’s OK.”

And I woke up, strangely at peace.

Of course, Jesus wasn’t “OK.” And what I did to Him was certainly not “OK.” But even as a baby Christian, I knew what He meant. I was forgiven because of what He went through for me. Yes, my sin had helped nail Him to that cross, whatever good intentions I might have professed. I was a fallen, flawed, foolish woman! But I wasn’t going to get the punishment I deserve, because He took it for me. I only had to come to Him, see His suffering, believe it, and repent, and I would be forgiven.

And now, fifty years later, I am still a fallen, flawed, foolish, forgiven woman.

Prayer: Jesus, I can never thank You enough for what You did for me, even when I was in my sin and ignorance. Today I pray for those who don’t know what they have done to You through their sin – intentional or not. May they see their guilt, repent, and be forgiven as I have been. I pray, too, for those who do know the depth of their sin and how their sins and the sin of all humanity have hurt You, but who don’t know they can be forgiven. Please bring them also to the foot of the Cross, to repent and receive the assurance of Your forgiveness and promise of eternal life. Finally, I pray for those who have, as I have, received the gospel and been saved from the power of sin. May our faith grow ever stronger, especially during this time when Your suffering, death and resurrection are commemorated all over the world. In Your precious name, Amen.