The Warrior at the Well...

 

It's been a while since I've dusted off the keyboard of my Blog...

It's been a season.....for sure.

I woke up this morning with a heavy heart, not just for my past mistakes, but for the misrepresentation of them to others.  The misinterpretation of them by others.  The constant reminder of them in old stones thrown in current conversations.

I needed to see God.

His Mercy.
His Grace.
His Kindness.
His Forgiveness.
His Love.

I needed to see Him.

Have you ever felt that even though you know God, perhaps feel His presence, you simply need a moment where he comes before you and shows Himself where you can just about reach out and touch him?

I felt like that this morning.

Me, the woman at the well.  How many times have I committed the same sins as she?  Over and over it seems.  No, not those  sins, but poor choices no less.   Oh, perhaps like her, I had my reasons, valid ones.  Just as I'm sure she had her reasons too.  And like her, she wasn't the only one who sinned.  In arguments, in conflict, in.........indiscretions......... there are two people.   Yet I have always felt, have always been told, it is just me.   Perhaps it is.  Those who care deeply, try deeply.  Perhaps not in a perfect way, but in a way that pursues.  Runs toward.  Never away.

I've felt her shame often in this season.

How do you feel worthy again when punished repeatedly?

I found the answer this morning.

It was in an image before the images I share here.

It was that line in the sand.

There I am on one side.

The sinner.

Ashamed.  Humiliated.  Remorseful.  Raw.  Real.  

There they are on the other side.

The righteous.  They who apparently have never sinned.  Or who deemed their sins less a sin than mine.

And then there was Jesus.

And a stone.

And as I stand there very much aware of my own shortcomings, my own mistakes, my own bad choices, my own nakedness, -- I wait.  I brace myself.  I know I deserve some of what's coming.  Not all.  Not totally.  Perhaps a stone, yes.  Maybe a few of them.  But a boulder thrown, an avalanche, - no.

I know I've been wrong, confessed I was wrong, apologized for my wrong - yet each time I'm reminded of those past wrongs, I feel myself bracing for the stones thrown.  Each thing I've done in the past written on one and thrown.  As if the first one didn't make its mark, and still sting. 

I mean, honestly, the hardest stones thrown at me, are the ones I throw at myself.

But Jesus doesn't do that, does he?

He throws no stones.  

He sees me, the good, the bad, and at times, the ugly.

Today I needed to see myself as Jesus sees me.  

I needed to see Him.

And so with a "to do" list as long as my past mistakes and poor choices in the heat of the moment -- I went out to find Him.

As God always does, He delivers above and beyond.

On the way home from dropping off Brandon, I stopped at the store and got what I needed for my "Mission:  Seeing God".

A bag symbolizing God's love.  A drink and breakfast bars.

And after a few U-Turns on the freeway, I found myself.  

Sitting under the overpass.  Worn out, outcast, the product of my bad choices or unfortunate circumstances.  Dirty from past mistakes.  Hungry for redemption, forgiveness.  Thirsty for a new beginning.  The weight of the world seen on my face.  

I pulled over with my bag of redemption.  My bag of the Kindness that Jesus gave that woman at the well.  Food to fill an emptiness.  Drink to quench the thirst for Forgiveness He gave as he drew that line in the sand to make the spotless drop their stones.

I said simply, "This gift is for you --- you are loved."

And a worn face became a smiling face with a simple, "Thank You."

Almost home, I saw myself again.

Standing at the corner, dirty, no shoes.

Reminding me how often I fail........and am me.

Clearly a slow learner in repeating the same mistakes, good intentions gone bad.

I told God to keep him there at the corner.  

I needed to get another bag of forgiveness.  

And I laugh at wondering how many bags Jesus has had to go get for me over the years?

With Kolaches and Orange Juice in my bag from the Donut Shop down the street, I circled back to where indeed, Jesus kept him waiting for me.

And I gave him what I have been craving.

No, not the food.

Not the drink.

The Jesus.

I needed to see Jesus today.

And sometimes, to see him most clearly, you must become Him.

No, I'm not God.

Not pretending to be.  

All those stones thrown at me over the years make that quite apparent.

I simply needed to see His face in Love, Kindness, Forgiveness, Grace, Mercy.  

No stones.

Just His Redeeming Love.

And I saw Him.  

I was the beggar under the overpass.  And he came, he spoke to me in kindness, and in my mistakes, my bad choices, and whatever else it was that led me to sitting under that overpass, --he showed me love, not punishment.

He showed me that I am more than the sum of my mistakes.

And because God is God and loves to make sure you understand --  I was able to see Him twice.

There I stood at the corner.  

Dirty, Barefoot, looking defeated by circumstances, choices, mistakes.

And there He came bearing a hot meal and a cold drink.

Not condemnation.

Not in the list of all the wrongs I've ever done.

Not berating me for my mistakes, not reminding me how many times I've made them.  

Simply smiling at me as His Beloved.

He came for me...

Dirty, filthy, worthless, - a failure by the world's standards.

Of all the spotless people, he sought me out.

Me, ---messy, messy, messy, - mistake-filled me!

He came to me and extended a gift of kindness, love, compassion, -- forgiveness.

And I just marvel at that.

~ ~ ~ 

Sometimes when you see Jesus most ---

You need to go out and be His hands and feet.

Thank you Lord, for what you have shown me today.

Thank you for forgiving me, every day.

Lent: A Season of Prayer: Day 4

I have been going through the book, "A Treasury of Prayer" the best of E.M. Bounds -- as our class is taking an in depth look at prayer....

For these 40 days of Lent I will be focusing on one of the definitions of prayer, from his book, and others we are studying as part of our class.

I really love this one - as it relates to my Catholic, of sorts, background.... 
"Prayer is not a mere habit, riveted by custom and memory, something which must be gone through with its value depending upon the decency and perfection of the performance."

Again, I share here my views in sincerity -- but the times I can remember being in a Catholic church or even Sunday School --- I never once remembered "praying" or even "prayer".  

The rote repetition and the symbolism and the kneeling, standing, reciting, and even perhaps if some of that was considered praying -- was not for me.   My personality is more river rapids, that style of religion, of prayer, more of a dam.   And I suppose why I never really had much of a "Prayer-life" or "Christianity" that I remember until well in adulthood.  

If that's how it had to be done.

I know some in my family "Prayed the Rosary" - but that was a private thing -- I don't ever remember a group prayer, family prayer, anyone asking me to pray for them or how they could pray for me.

Not that they perhaps never did -- but as far back as I can remember, I do not honestly recall anything about prayer-life.  

Once I attended a church in adulthood - that's when I began to learn about prayer.  Praying in groups, praying during offering, the value of time spent with God, in prayer.

Once I had my son, Brandon, I truly understood prayer, that communion, that talking with God.

I was free to be the river rapids that I am -- God simply the banks to my river - trying hard to 'keep her contained when she flooded!'   

And oh how I have flooded over the years!  Which makes me all the more in love with God for how HE is there to hold me back.  Not scold me for overflowing, not saying I'm too fast, too slow, not clear enough, too murky.  No, God simply has shown me how HE is the banks to my river -- holding me tight and letting me be me.

My prayers have been written, shouted, screamed, cried, sobbed, and silent.

My prayers have thanked God, loved God, hated God, cursed God.

I've come to God as a Princess, a pagan, a peasant.

My prayer performance most often merely worthy of a participation medal than an Oscar.

And that's ok.

It's the doing that counts.

The honesty, openness, transparency, rawness.

Perhaps the best prayers I've ever prayed are the ones I never prayed, but that others have on my behalf simply because I was too broken to pray.

Which is why it is so important to allow others to pray for you, with you.

As I wish to do for this Lent...

This Season of Prayer.

Lent: A Season of Prayer: Day 3

 Lent:  A Season of Prayer:  Day 3

I think one of the most life-changing views of prayer for me came from Ann Voskamp.   Her book One Thousand Gifts has been a big inspiration -- HUGE.

Prayer is all around us in the thanking God for the ordinary, the mundane, the extraordinary.

The practice of counting it all as joy has been a challenge of hers that I have accepted.

As I type this, I'm on #923 gifts of eucharisteo - of thanksgiving, grace, mercy, joy.

That is 923 prayers of seeing God at work all around me, and in seeking his purpose in the things I would not necessarily count as joy.........

From her book:

Prayer, to be prayer, to have any power to change anything, must first speak thanks.  In every situation, by prayer & petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  Prayer without ceasing is only possible in a life of continual thanks.

Daniel 6:10
Daniel prayed three times a day giving thanks to his God...

Daniel was only a man of prayer because he was a man of thanks, and the only way to become a woman of prayer is to be a woman of thanks....

Counting those gifts daily - that momentary time to stop and reflect in prayer for the good all around me despite the not-so-good of circumstances I must live with -- has given me a freedom I have not felt in ages.

It has given me a HOPEISM that heals.......perhaps not my son...........yet.......

But me.

Lent: A Season of Prayer: Day 1

 On this 1st day of Lent Prayer -- I want to begin with what I knew prayer wasn't.  

I admit, I haven't really thought much about the definitions of prayer --- what it means at its core.  

But I feel I had a sense of what it wasn't.

To me, that was a genie lamp.  Where you go to where it sits on the shelf and rub it furiously and ask the genie, God, to grant your wish.  And that being the only time you go to the lamp.  In an emergency. When you think of it.  When you need something.

God does answer our "emergency" prayers in desperation.  He hears them.  That is true.  And if it is His will, in His time, that prayer will be answered in some way.  He will either move that mountain, or move you.

But it's the relationship he wants.  He desires.  That coming to Him daily.  Moment by moment.  He doesn't want to be put on a shelf and dusted occasionally, rubbed furiously when needed. 

He wants that daily cultivation.  

The moment by moment pursuit.

He wants center stage of your heart, soul, mind.

I bought a genie lamp to set on my desk for that reminder.

That prayer is a day by day, hour by hour, step by step, moment by moment drawing near to him in the good, the bad, the ugly.

The crazy, the mad, the wonderful.

Lent: A Season of Prayer: Day 2

A Season of Lent

40 Days of Prayer

Day 2

Last night as I was reading my Lent Devotional ---- again, I don't participate in Lent as part of any religion -- I do it because Lent, in Old English and Latin --- means "Spring" and "fortieth". It's a time to reflect on where Jesus walked in the Garden of Gethsemane, fasting and praying for forty days in his journey to Resurrection Sunday!

I never knew that about the "Spring" and "fortieth" until reading in this current devotional. It made me smile because I love Spring gardening season, and for me it typically does start on Ash Wednesday and lasts until Easter! That's my "40 Days in the Wilderness" as I whip my "Garden of Gethsemane" into shape.

How are you spending this Spring Season of Lent?
You'll find me in my wilderness, aka my "Where HOPEISM Blooms" gardens.

Anyway - a definition of prayer I thought of as I read my Lent Devotional by A.W. Tozer -- one of my favorite authors in the Christian realm --- is how prayer is a way we clear the wilderness of our mind of weeds so that our faith, our garden, can grow.

What imagery there!

When I don't tend to my garden, it becomes overgrown with invasive weeds that I don't want or need, if left unchecked - those weeds, that satan, will choke out the flowers and vegetables I do want and need!

If our prayer life isn't cultivated daily, if left to itself and neglected of being weeded of bad thoughts, actions, desires, complacency, --- it becomes overgrown with satan's snares that choke out all the good, the thankfulness, gratitude, joy.  It becomes dead and brittle.  A barren wilderness!  

Again, what imagery as a definition of prayer!

It makes me all the more fervent in pulling those weeds, those negative thoughts and actions, out of my garden -- er, mind.

I want to clear the garden of the bad, cultivate that soil to make room for the good.

And as any farmer or gardener knows -- that is a DAILY PROCESS. 

It will not be "once and done".

It is a daily habit - pulling weeds, cultivating that soil so the good can grow, and thrive.

A.W. Tozer puts it this way:
The bias of nature is toward the wilderness, never toward the fruitful field.  To the alert Christian this fact will be more than an observation of interest to farmers; it will be a parable, an object lesson setting forth a law that runs through all the regions of our fallen world...  We cannot escape the law that would persuade all things to remain wild or to return to a wild state after a period of cultivation.  What is true of the field is true also of the soul, if we are but wise enough to see it."

That is what this journey through Lent is to me for these 40 days.  That weeding, that cultivating, that taking the time to tend to things that make my garden grow!

My Faith, my pursuit of Christ, my HOPEISM.


The truth is that no spiritual experience, however revolutionary, can exempt us from temptation; and what is temptation but the effort of the wilderness to encroach upon our new-cleared fields? - A.W. Tozer

How often am I tempted to stay in bed and not get up and pursue prayer?   Simply being a born-again-believer with my fresh copy of that 'fire insurance' does not mean my fields will never need to be cultivated - weeded from satan's snares! 

The purified heart is obnoxious to the devil and to all the forces of the lost world.  They will not rest until they have won back what they have lost.  The jungle will creep in and seek to swallow up the tiny areas that have been made free by the power of the Holy Ghost.  Only watchfulness and constant prayer can preserve those moral gains won for us through the operations of God's grace.  The neglected heart will soon be a heart overrun with worldly thoughts.  The neglected life will soon become a moral chaos.  The creeping wilderness will soon take over that church that trusts in its own strength and forgets to watch and pray. - A.W. Tozer

I sit here stunned at that. 

Humbled by it.  

Inspired to weed more fervently.

Determined to pray more faithfully.

The Stripped-down bare of prayer...

 

I was walking in the rain the other day and came upon this scene.   This picture represents one cropped tree that was part of a long row of similarly stripped-down trees.

I shared about the "Winter" of it on my "Where HOPEISM Blooms blog, that story can be found by clicking here.        

But this image, in that row of images, made me stop, stare at this particular tree, and think of prayer.

Stripped down, bare, raw, real, transparent, transforming - prayer.

And how I want to be like that tree. 

That image of prayer.

Stripped down of any and all pride.
Bare to the bones in humility.
Raw feelings.
Real emotion.
Transparent authenticity.
Transforming truthfulness.

I want no leaves that I hold -- my wants, desires, wishes, needs, hurts, requests.   I feel prayer gets lost when we begin with all those leaves covering the branches of our prayer.

I want just the stripped down bare branches so that in my prayer, God puts the leaves on.

It's not so much what I can expect from God in prayer with my abundant leaves; but what can I bring to God in prayer in the barrenness of my branches?

I think as in that picture, Prayer - Communion with God - the Brokenness of our Unspoken-Broken that God already knows --- prayer is that trunk.  Upon which all other aspects of our faith grows.  Our prayers the barren branches that God covers in leaves in due time.  His time.  His season.

And as I walk the trail mesmerized by that tree, that line of trees, I simply seek what He would have me learn through the trials.  

He could have prevented the things I'm asking him to fix.

So is my prayer merely asking Him to change His mind?

As I wait for those leaves - my prayer becomes the communion, the conversation, the consecration of asking His help in getting through what He allowed.  The asking of what does He want me to learn from it.  The asking of how I can turn this mess, mayhem, mistake, madness, into a Ministry in helping others.  The seeking of more of Him through it.

I think the shared power of prayer comes in each of us joining in that conversation with God.

The silhouette of being stripped down bare in prayer ---

What a beautiful thing to behold.

And I wonder.....

What could that do in the life of a church?

What abundance could that bring from God?