Thursday, October 12, 2017

Irrigate My Soul

Oh my! It's been more than 2 years since I've written anything about anything. You might think that I've fallen off the planet or that nothing has happened in 2 years but that's just not the truth. Many, many things have happened and I'll see if I can resurrect some of the more lofty events. But for now, I  will share a story about a failed garden and a need for irrigation. (Notice I did not say 'irritation.')

I have been thinking about it.

John (the husband) and I have a home high on a mountain in Estes Park, CO. I realize it's an extreme privilege to own this and spend time there. A wonderful meeting up happens out there: our grandson arrives (along with his parents and uncle) and when he gets out of his carseat, he stamps his feet as fast as he can and shrieks and flaps his hands when he sees us. Oh, the joy of seeing all that joy!

(Perhaps that's what I will do when I see Jesus face to face... stamp and shriek and flap...)

There are days when John and I are at the house without family and guests to feed and we take on home-owner projects. This past trip we tackled the garden. It's not large, but it's not small either. The garden has been a special challenge because it is not located in Iowa with Iowa soil and Iowa rain and Iowa seasons; I have the Iowa thing down...
But this garden is at 8500 feet elevation with weather that is terribly Colorado unpredictable.

It has a 6 foot wire fence around it to keep out the deer and elk. Last year, 3 deer jumped the fence and lunched on the delphiniums. I duly chased them out yelling, "What were you thinking?"

Last year, I failed to take seriously the desert-like rainless quality of the summer and my plants died a slow, dry, painful death.

This summer, we fired up the existing irrigation system and watched to see what would come up. Most everything grew well but bloomed not at all. It was a garden full of weeds. I pulled out everything I didn't like as I discovered how ineptly this and that bloomed. Except for the poppies and 3 delphiniums, the garden grew weeds the best.

On one of our hikes this past summer, I dug up about thirty lovely blooming plants on a very remote trail in Rocky Mountain National Park. I gently tucked them into my backpack during the hike and then into the garden ASAP. Every plant immediately died. How rude. I later found out it is terribly illegal to dig in the Park.. it's a no-no.

There was one thing that grew exceedingly well - 2 giant mulleins. I found out through a neighborhood newsletter that mulleins are a terrible nuisance and getting rid of them is a priority. There went THE most beautiful and tallest grower in the garden; the one plant that grew really well was a terrible nuisance with no respect.

My only success: a small patch of poppies and 3 scraggly delphiniums.

Well... I have a dream! I have a goal of filling this garden with colorful beauty and I'm not giving up. We will see who wins this cause - the Colorado environment or me.

Step one: check the existing irrigation system. Does it work? Well no... Mostly it leaked. John dug up all the tubes, pipes and sprinklers for inspection and improvement. Most everything was replaced with new parts and given new locations. The goal was to irrigate every square foot to give all thirsty plants a fighting chance at life.

Step two: plant bulbs. I ordered over a hundred alliums and grape hyacinths and dug them in. Alliums are in the onion family and I'm counting on the tastebuds of deer and elk to reject these beauties. My grandson helped and it took hours to accomplish. Oh, we have... high hopes!

As I was fixing and planting and planning and digging, I couldn't help but think of my current spiritual life, the garden of my soul. It seems to be growing weeds as well. It's been neglected. It's been too dry. It needs cultivation and irrigation.

I need to plant some good stuff like God's Word... and some prayer cultivation would help me bloom. Regular irrigation by the Holy Spirit would nurture my heart into a more loving relationship with Jesus. It's not that I have given up my faith, it's there. It just needs to grow and do the bloom thing.

I WANT my faith to grow. I want to hear that 'still small voice' and feel the nudges of inspiration from the Spirit. I want to tackle each day with a dose of worship and praise, followed by labor that produces Kingdom blooms and Kingdom beauty. Oh, the joy of it! Abundant joy!

So come, Holy Spirit.

Help me see You at work in my life. Help me to grow and bloom. Pull out those weeds. Cultivate my heart. Plant Your Word. Irrigate my soul.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Escaping the Country of the Blind

My pastor, Craig Luttrell, brought this devotion to our staff meeting this past week and I thought I'd post it for all the world to see - starting with you!  Enjoy!

Escaping the Country of the Blind
by Kyle Idleman from his book"40 Days"

Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in Your law.
Psalm 119:18

The British author H. G. Wells is most famous for his science fiction novels such as The War of the Worlds, The Invisible Man and The Time Machine. But he also wrote short stories, including one called "The Country of the Blind."

It's a story about a fictional village in Ecuador, nestled high within the Andes. This village had been cut off from the rest of the world and long forgotten. And in this place, everyone in the village was blind.

The blindness had begun long ago due to a disease that caused all the children to be born blind, and it had continued through more than fifteen generations.

One day a lost mountain climber stumbled into the village. He had fallen down a remote peak and miraculously survived without major injury.

It didn't take the climber long to discover that he was the only one in the valley who had sight. No one even understood the concept of sight or had any idea of what seeing meant. These people had long forgotten what it was like to see the majestic mountains around them or the sun washing the clouds with color overhead. There was no descriptions passed along through the ages of what it might be to see. It was not something they understood. The people had no explanation for what their shriveled eyes were or why they were there.

Initially the foreigner tried to describe sight to them and help them understand the concept of sight. But every effort was futile. They didn't understand. In fact, they thought he was crazy and defective. If this man wanted to stay in this land, something had to be done.

And the man wanted to stay. There was a young lady there who had stolen his heart. But a marriage to this insane foreigner was unacceptable to her father and the rest of the village - unless…

A doctor there felt confident he could cure the man with a simple surgery to remove the man's eyes. It was his eyes, after all, that were affecting this man's brain, the doctor declared.  And everyone in the village said, "Thank heaven for science."  The surgery was scheduled.

On the day of his surgery, the man went for a walk. He simply planned to go to a lonely place where the meadows were beautiful and wait until the hour of his procedure. "But as he walked he lifted up his eyes and saw the morning, the morning like an angel in golden armor, marching down the steeps," Wells wrote. "It seemed to him that before this splendor he and this blind world in the valley, and his love and all, were no more than a pit of sin."

So the man kept walking, and he looked up at the mountains with renewed vision and began to see gullies and chimneys where he could climb back through the towering gorge. And soon the man who could see escaped the country of the blind.

We live in the country of the blind. We experience awakening. God opens our eyes. We're able to see, but it doesn't take long to realize that there are people all around us who think we really need to be cured of our sight.  

We come to church on weekends, and our eyes are opened and conviction comes in our hearts. We know God has spoken to us, but Monday comes and we find ourselves back in the country of the blind.  Everyone thinks we're a little bit crazy; we've taken this too far; and what would really be best is if we would go back to being blind.

Or you come back from church camp after a spiritual awakening. Things are going to be different. But you find yourself in the country of the blind, and the people all round want to cure you of your sight.

This is where we live. And we must continually open our eyes. We must focus on the heights above and press toward the beauty where God wants to draw us.

We must continue to pray David's prayer, that God would open our eyes - each day - so that we might see what God wants us to see even in this country of the blind.

To do
Change your perspective. Plan a retreat. Block off a weekend on your calendar. Or a day. Or an hour, if that's all you can do. The key is to break out of your routine. The goal is to go somewhere to look and to listen, to see the Scripture, to open your eye s and refocus on your heavenly Father. Start now with a walk around your block and pray as you go.

Do you live in the country of the blind?

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Communion Faux Pas

So…  Today is Maundy Thursday or as it's also called, Holy Thursday.   I looked up the word Maundy and found it comes from the Latin word mandatum which means commands.  For those of us who celebrate Maundy Thursday, we are reminded that Jesus washed his disciples' feet and commanded them (us) to do likewise which means, in modern terms, our lives are to be full of putting others before ourselves in loving service to them.  Very little foot-washing happens in our society, but there surely is plenty of other things we can do for others that is an expression of love.  This blog today isn't really about that topic, though it probably should be…

Another event that is celebrated on Maundy Thursday is the Last Supper.  This is when Jesus spoke to His disciples and told them to share in His body and blood.  Jesus passed bread (His body) for them to share.  He also passed a cup of wine (His blood) for them to pass and from which to drink.  They (we) were commanded to remember what Jesus did for each of us as He gave His life,  paying the price for our sin, so we can be with Him forever.  Praise God!  My whole life (?) is focused on this fact.

Well, I'm wondering how that Last Supper went.  Was it as smooth as our verses in the Bible make it sound?  How full was the cup?  Did the disciples slosh it about?

The act of taking communion offers an unusual array of experiences in our current times.  It seems every church has its own way of celebrating the Last Supper or Lord's Supper.  Some experiences even have a bit of 'slosh' factor.

My husband John, our son Jack and I attended a different local church one Sunday for no special reason… just because.  I had a Sunday with no responsibilities and as this is rare, we jumped at the chance to see what another church here in town is doing for worship.  I call it continuing ed.

The music was really really good and really contemporary and the message was really inspired.  The pastor is  obviously an excellent teaching pastor and walked the congregation through a description of the temple and how this is foreshadowing of Jesus.  It was terrific!

Next came communion.

This particular church served communion by passing trays of crackers and tiny thimbles of juice in the pews.  Easy, right?  Right out of the chute, I saw this was going to be a problem because the two trays were passed at the same time.  The tray of tiny bits of cracker was handed to the end pew-sitter, followed quickly by a huge tray of thimbles of juice. This meant I would have to juggle the bread tray in one hand and take the next tray of little tiny sipping thimble cups with the other, then take a thimble cup and pass the trays on.  Three hands were needed and I only have two.  I watched other seasoned veterans around me nimbly handle all of this and followed their lead.  John, however had a major problem.

When John took hold of a tiny little sipping thimble, it it didn't budge from the tray holder.  He tried another which also didn't move.  Determined on his third try,  he grasped the tiny little sipping thimble firmly… too firmly... and exploded it right then and there… between his fingers…  in the tray…  in the pew. Displaced juice flew onto Jack, onto the kid in front of Jack and onto the person two rows to the north. They were all sprinkled by the exploding juice.  We saw spots of it on shirts, jackets, and purses and wooden pews.  How such a tiny bit of juice could make such a splash defies logic.

And… of course... we got the giggles right then and there as we were visiting another church here in town… pew-shaking scene-making giggles happened right when we were supposed to be respectful and reverent and remembering.

Much explaining and many apologies were exchanged after the service concluded to those splashed upon with juice sprinkles.  The chances of long-term stains were slim and all were graciously received.  Thank you, gracious church members, for making this communion faux pas a bit easier to live with.

(As a side note, John has trouble with spilling red liquids as written in The Great Spill. 

The next day, during my Bible reading time (something I'm trying to do more often) I came across a verse in Hebrews that describes the juice sprinkles perfectly:

Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed in pure water.  Let us hold on to the confession of our hope without wavering, for He (Jesus) who promised is faithful.  Hebrews 10:22-23

Those juice sprinkles are such a visual!  My heart is sprinkled clean - I experienced it!

Communion juice stands for the blood of Jesus and to be a bit graphic, when He was on the cross, His blood fell out of him and splashed and sprinkled onto those around Him.  Literally.  This verse from Hebrews says that as we are believers in Jesus and confess our sins and trust Him for forgiveness, our hearts are sprinkled clean with His blood.

His blood cleanses my sin.  I need this and I welcome this and the clean conscience that results. Bring on the sprinkling!

Now, dear readers, on a serious note, we all need this blood, for without it, things will not go well for us.  Seriously, there is nothing you and I can do to get rid of sin in our lives.  Nothing.  No amount of right-doing will erase the wrong-doing. You cannot earn it or buy it or use someone else's life or hope enough to be rid of sin and the guilty conscience left in our life because of sin.  It's only through Jesus and His sprinkles of blood that you and I are rid of sin - yes, I know… this defies logic.

 Heap your (my) sin on Him and let Him pay the penalty which He did when He died on the cross.  Pray for this and believe.

So tonight, as you celebrate the Last Supper, remember what Jesus has done - that is our mandatum.  See Jesus' act of service in the washing of feet and do likewise (perhaps don't exactly chase someone with a basin of water - but do something in love) - that is our madatum.

The spilling and giggling?  That's not such a good idea….

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Messiah 2014!

So…I'm conducting our community's production of Handel's Messiah 2014!  I still can't believe it!

This Messiah thing has been (insert tune) "a long… and.. winding... road" and I'm gonna take a few minutes to jot it down.  I hope you are encouraged by this "long and winding road" story;  our stories encourage and should be heard, so here goes mine.  I promise I'll make a point.

"Let's start at the very beginning…"  (peppy little tune from "The Sound of Music.")

A good friend of my mom's (Peggy) keeps me posted on my hometown's news and recently informed me that one of my classmate's father (Wayne) died.  He was a trustee in the small country church I grew up in (a trustee was a bigwig.)  The news of his death got me thinking about Wayne and the time he came to my house and how it impacted my life:

1974:  I was 16 years old when Wayne and Art called and asked if I was home and could they come over and talk to me.  This was before email and cell phones, in fact, it was almost before computers and cool-whip.  They came and actually sat down on the couch (!) and I'll never forget what they asked:  they wanted me to pull together a choir of adults at the church to sing for the big anniversary shindig coming up in the summer.  Our church had had a choir (until that director died) and they could think of no one else but me, at age 16, who might  do this.  I was floored….  stunned, even….  but of course I said yes.  Oh, I was scared to death! I remember my high school vocal teacher helped me pick out music from the high school files and loaned me the risers and robes.  All 22 of us (22% of the church membership) rehearsed down in fellowship hall and sang with all our might in 4-part harmony.  It was a grand occasion and successful - at least in my mind it was.   I situated Art and Wayne up on the top row of the risers (you ask why I put creaky old Art on the top riser???)  We were the Mormon Tabernacle Choir right there in Lotts Creek, Iowa.  All 22 of us farmers!

We went on to present a couple of successful cantatas with the 22 at Christmas time until I left for college.  I can remember pulling out my coronet and playing while the choir (donned in the borrowed robes from the HS) processed in and out at the beginning and end of the cantata.  I was the only person who played an instrument in the whole church.  Frankly, I was a terrible coronet player but it had to be done...

1978:  When I was 20, the pastor of a church I was attending in Aberdeen, South Dakota asked me if I would start a contemporary singing group out in Custer State Park.  He was sending 10 high school student singers to a ranch in the Park and would I head them up, rehearse them and take them out to play gigs and spread the love of Jesus.  I was scared to death but, of course, I said yes.  I would even get paid about 20 cents an hour!  It was quite a summer!  We lived in a barn that lacked electricity, used an outhouse and took a cold shower under a hose.  We sang and gave testimonies all over the Park to folks in RVs and churches; we even sang on stage at Mount Rushmore!

I will never sing those songs again… I am still sick and tired of them…

After college, I taught elementary and high school music in several schools and started choirs large and small:  swing choirs, standing choirs, good choirs and not so good choirs, some choirs that the audience raved about and some that should not have had an audience.

1980:  I can remember at Green Mountain High School, there were only a handful of students who were not in the choir.  We packed that choir into that tiny room - the site of my notorious faux pax as I shouted (yes, shouted) out over the rehearsal room loaded with HS singers, "Get it up, boys!"  The entire choir howled as I turned red…  I was young - 22, to be exact , and was saved by the dismissal bell.

1992:  I stopped teaching when our second child was born; with 2 kids to wrestle to the sitter in the morning it seemed a good idea to be a stay-at-home-mom, which of course is a good idea if you actually stay at home.  As the kids got into Sunday School, of course, I had to teach the music and then, in 1994, one of the pastors at my church asked me to start a contemporary adult choir.  I didn't want to do it and I was scared to death… but I knew I should and did and am still directing this same choir today at First United Methodist Church here in good old Marshalltown.  On a good day, we fill the 32-seat loft and we still do cantatas, but I don't have to play coronet as there is a fine trumpeter who loves to play and plays well.  Thank You, Lord!

2014:  This past September, I received a phone call that made my stomach do the flip:  I was called by Gail who is the chairman of the Central Iowa Choral Society here in Marshalltown and she asked me if I would conduct the community's Messiah presentation this year.  After saying no, I said yes and I was scared to death.

To say that I've had very little experience with Messiah is not completely true:

1965:   I was about 7 when I was exposed to this great work and incessantly begged for a recording of it for Christmas.  I don't know where or how I first heard it - it must have been my kindergarten teacher (hurray for teachers!) as our black and white TV only got 2 channels and the probability of it showing Handel's Messiah was slim.  I played that recording over and over, conducting my stuffed animals and dressed-up cats (alive) who were set up in soprano, alto, tenor and bass sections in my bedroom.  (They were a rowdy bunch.)  I remember being fascinated with the thought of Handel's obsession when writing it locked up in his tower (is this true??) as I was passionately conducting up in my secluded bedroom.

1978:  In college, I was the accompanist for the choir's presentation of the Messiah.  I was a terrible accompanist but at least I listened and paid attention to the conductor.  I picked up many tips for how to conduct it... but probably not enough...

1980:  While teaching high school music at Green Mountain, I had the choir sing a couple of songs from Messiah as I thought every student should be exposed to this great work.  We made it through the songs in a lively manner.

1998:  We lost a doorbell because of the Hallelujah Chorus.  My mother was babysitting the kids for a long weekend during which a violent thunder storm swept over our house.  A close bolt of lightening must have hit something on the house causing our electronic doorbell to play it's selected tune of the Hallelujah Chorus over and over and over - each time at lightening speed - nonstop.  This of course happened in the middle of the night and my mother grabbed a chair, jumped up on it, reached up and grabbed the doorbell speaker off the wall, leaving a hole but successfully stopping the deafening chorus…  We have since replaced it and a joyful 'hallelujah' still rings out as someone hits our doorbell.

2002:   I entertained friends by sitting on the floor with my back to the piano keys, arms crossed behind my head with my hands on the ivories and played Hallelujah several times… I think alcohol had something to do with it... Those were the good old days - this chickadee will never be that flexible again.

While these said Messiah experiences are vast and unusual, they are hardly preparation to conduct the community's presentation and… I am scared to death.  Ok, maybe I'm not scared 'to death' but I'm definitely nervous, not confident, unsure, unprepared, unequipped, and I'm definitely out of my comfort zone.  The effort needed to learn the music and put this forth to the public is vast and will need countless hours of prep and energy and sleepless nights.  You should see my stack of books and CDs, my notes and study aides… and I've been listening, listening, listening…  I'm not actually sure I can do this….

And that's right where my attitude should be as I start this thing - I CAN'T do it, but with God all things are possible.

If I thought I could do this on my own, that I didn't need help and thought I was the world's best conductor, I would not need God.  I would get the glory, so to speak.  But knowing that I can't do this on my own, that I need God's help, will give testimony to how gracious and real God is and He will get the glory.

This is a good idea!

I do believe I'm called to conduct Messiah 2014.  It's been one big circle:  I started conducting Messiah in front of attentive stuffed animals and alive cats… and now, I'll conduct in front of singers, some attentive and all of them definitely alive.  Philippians 1:6 says:

"I am sure of this, that He who started a good work in you (me) will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

I have to believe that God prompted me to conduct my stuffed animals and unruly cats nearly 50 years ago.  He started and instilled that passion in me.  And I have to believe this invitation to conduct is also prompted by God… The next step.

You have been called to do things, too.  You've been called to do things that make you feel nervous, not confident, unsure, unprepared, unequipped and out of your comfort zone.  You may even be scared to death…

Will you trust that God can lead you?  That He can make the impossible possible?   That doing this impossible something is His plan for you?

Countless folks in the Bible have felt this way.  They accomplished all kinds of stuff in God's strength.

So have you and so have I and so will you and I continue to do so.  There's no way around it.  God calls us to do things that make us rely on Him.  Our response is to go and do stuff for Him - go and sow some seed - even if you are scared to death.

It is not lost on me that I'm asked to conduct this community Messiah choir 40 years after my first invitation to start a choir when I was 16 at Lotts Creek.  This is my 40th year of conducting and this astounding opportunity has been laid into my waving arms.

All I can do is trust.  I can prepare.  I can study.  But the real conducting and the best ideas will be a result of my trusting in God to get this done.  I'm trusting that I'll have the wisdom, strength, discernment and ability - all to God's glory.

Messiah is all about giving God glory.

Handel wrote on his original score, at the very end, after the last "Amen:"

                        S. D. G.

               which stands for 

                       Soli Deo Gloria

               And it means:

                    To God be the Glory

 I have written it at the end of my Messiah score.

In fact, I suggested the entire chorus write S.D.G. at the end of their scores…  Let us all be of one mind...


                    To God be the Glory

Thursday, August 21, 2014

3 Knock-Your-Socks-Off Books

So… it's back to school time and lots of kiddos and backpacks and moms holding hands of little tykes  have been traversing (some actually skipping!) the sidewalk in front of our house.  Kids from all over the world walk by our house and it's an education to watch them as I peek out the window.  However, I don't want to be seen peeking because that's creepy and I don't want to be the little old lady who creeps about in that creepy house.  No need for cops to come.. etc…etc…

Anyway, as kids go back to school, it's time to get back into a routine and get something done for a change. If you are like me, it's this time of year that I pull out something educational to read and try to learn something.  I also become more diligent in reading the Bible which is always a good idea.  I guess I kinda try to be a student before the big blast comes:  Christmas!!!

If you have any inkling toward this said kind of behavior, boy, oh boy, do I have some book suggestions for you!

Though I didn't always agree with absolutely everything, I slowly devoured 3 spiritual books over the last 5 months or so that were excellent, excellent, excellent, and I'm here to share this short list with you:

1.  The 10-Second Rule by Clare de Graaf

A good friend of mine was reading it and told me not to read it because it was really challenging and convicting.  And I agree!  Don't read it!  I'll save you from following the lead of the Holy Spirit and having more fun than humanly possible!

2.  Draw the Circle (The 40 Day Prayer Challenge) by Mark Batterson

My pastor threw out the challenge to read this one on prayer.  It's good…  really good… and practical. This is the companion book to The Circle Maker,  also by Batterson.  I have not read The Circle Maker because I gave it away..  by mistake… as I was following The 10 Second Rule.

3.  The Purpose of Man by A. W. Tozer

My copy of this book is marked from beginning to end - just one big underline and star system, with some notes and blurps written in the margins.  The choir will be getting some nuggets from this book during our retreat this Fall.  Only read it if you want to better understand what God is all about and how you fit into His plan.

Has my life been changed?  Time will tell.  

Will your life be changed?  Time will tell.

Has anyone read anything they really like that is spiritual in nature?  I'm always looking for a good read.

And… I'd love to hear your comments about the above books; what did you like and not like?  Were you challenged?

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Rescued by The Almighty

So…  A week ago, I was at the National Worship Leaders' Conference in Kansas City.  It was a very inspirational conference and is unlike other conferences, hence it is difficult to explain.  People's eyes glass over when I try to share about all the time spent in worship, how many seminars I heard on the topic of worship and how many conversations I had with other worship leaders about worship.  Just know, it was an extraordinary time, exhilarating, in fact.

However, the first step to attending the conference was to drive there.  I don't mind driving, in fact, I enjoy listening to podcasts and music cranked fairly loudly.  This I did and after grooving and driving for about 4 hours, I stopped for a bit and noticed a warning light on the dashboard… but it went away…. so on I drove.

One more hour completed my drive and I landed at the condo where I was staying.  Now the warning light was on a lot and it was red (two strikes.)  So I dug out the owner's manual and its advise for this warning light was, "Stop the car immediately.  Do not drive.  Call the dealership."

The oil pressure was low.  What did that mean?  Had I destroyed the engine?  It was making an ugly churning sound that made me think the engine was not happy.

I called a very perky fellow at the dealership and asked if 1, I could possibly find some oil, and then 2, possibly find where to put it, could I then 3, possibly drive the car to the his dealership ?  His answer was, "Absolutely not."

So I called AAA (who was surprisingly upbeat) and requested a tow truck.  No problem!

The tow truck came to my rescue in record time (bravo, AAA!) and soon my cutiepie midget Cooper was on this huge flatbed from the Almighty Tow Truck Company.  That is what it said on the side of the tow truck:  The Almighty!  What a name!  The Almighty came to my rescue!

Isn't it so true!  The Almighty delivers all of us who call for help.  Just as I was not able to fix my car, I'm not able to fix my life's problem of sin.  I need an Almighty Savior, an Almighty Deliverer, an Almighty Jesus to scoop me up, ransom me from my sin, deposit His Holy Spirit within me and then guide me forever, calling me His own.

My response?  Bravo, God!  I'll praise and worship You; I'll live for You, by You, thru You, and with You forever!  I do mean FOREVER!  That's what happens when you accept what the Almighty Jesus has done.  I am delivered forever!  You can be, too!

The driver of the Almighty Tow Truck was adequately friendly and was rewarded with three of my freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a bit of $ for a beer when he got off work.  I climbed up the ladder on the side of the truck and got into the cab and bounced along as he drove to the church, the tow truck making those incredible snorting sounds only those great big trucks can do.  Quite a few heads turned as he dropped me off at the church where the conference was starting.  In pomp and with a snort, I was safely delivered to the church by the Almighty.

Have you called upon the Almighty to deliver you?

What is your situation?

Are you trying to de-sin your life on your own?  You need a Deliverer.

Are you in trouble and see no way out?  You need a Deliverer.

Are you tempted beyond your control?  You need a Deliverer.

Are you sick, tired, frustrated, unfocused, confused, despairing…?  You need a Deliverer.

No situation or circumstance is too large or too small for the Almighty Deliverer Jesus.  There is no sin He can't handle,  no problem too large, no despair He can't cover with hope.

Jesus is always listening for your call.  He will come to your rescue.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Challenge: The Game With Minutes

So… The pastors at my church purchased prayer books for the staff (me) to read and pray through during Lent.  I thought this was a bit bold but also thought the book must be pretty meaty if they were going to insist we all read it.  The title is "Draw the Circle:  The 40 Day Prayer Challenge" by Mark Batterson.

I'm here to tell you it's fantastic and I'd suggest this book for anyone interested in prayer.


I don't think I agree with everything Batterson says, but it's definitely worth wading through and reading.  It is EXTREMELY challenging.  I actually look forward to reading each morning and am tempted to read ahead.

On Day 26, Batterson introduces a Missionary named Frank Laubach.  In 1950, Laubach wrote a pamphlet that revealed his 'technique' for  experiencing God's Presence in daily life, minute by minute.  His technique is a way to train your thinking to think of Jesus all day long.

Attempting to experience God's Presence all day long had a profound effect on Laubach and on anyone that tried it.    Here are some journal entries that will stir your soul!

Frank Laubach
I'm really curious and I'd like to try this.  Some parts will be easy to incorporate, some not so.

I've put a link to the pamphlet Laubach wrote.  It's called "The Game With Minutes."

(Thanks, Mark Batterson, for putting this in your prayer book!)

Enjoy!  Be blessed and challenged!