Christmas is hitting me deeper

God.

Infinite being that created all of humanity. Perfect, omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent.

Separate from us, those He loves.

When I think about being a follower of Christ, the resurrection of my Savior, Jesus, would seem to be to ultimate celebration of my faith, as it is when He conquered death. When His sacrifice gave us the opportunity to touch heaven, with a simple prayer.

But Christmas is hitting me in a place that is deeper than the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross.

I know the history, that the time of celebrating the birth of Christ is not in December and was partnered with pagan rituals to appease the Roman gods. I know that it has become a marketing event that has been replaced with Santa Clause and Winter Solstice.

But Christmas is hitting me deeper.

My heart was broken open this year. I saw my God in a way that I have never seen Him before.

God, like us, is spirit, soul, flesh. We were created in His image, and we are spirit, soul and flesh. God, had no understanding of what it was like to be human on earth, because He was only human in its perfected form, that way we were intended to be. He never walked in the sin that we lived in. His flesh never touched the wickedness we encounter daily. And even in His love for us, God never experience the temptation and assault of sin.

As I play Christmas songs that tell of the story of my Savior’s birth, while I decorate the tree with memories of our life, my heart is heavy and Christmas is hitting me deeper. Tears begin to well up and my heart and I want to celebrate the reality that my God loved me so much that He left holiness to sit in wickedness, to understand, to empathize with me, with you, with all of humanity.

Jesus, Immanuel, God with us. God with us! He came to be with us, to walk among us. But He didn’t come in glory, with angels hailing his arrival. He didn’t come with power and might to show His majesty. No, He came in the womb of a child, a young girl, who loved her God. He came by way of a young man who was to marry this young girl. People like you and me, afraid, uncertain, needing supernatural intervention to affirm the reality of the calling to carry God incarnate in her womb.

And so the angels came to confirm and affirm this miracle. And the earth knew He had come. As Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem to complete the census requirement, a star responded to the majestic King being born in the little city.

My God, my Savior, humbled himself, and was delivered the way we all are, a young girl pushing the baby out of her, water breaking, contractions overwhelming, and blood surrounding Him, as He made His way into the world, He created. His flesh, grown in the woman He created. His heart nurtured by the man He created. And this little family was established on this Holy Night and the whole earth celebrated the reality that HOPE had come. That PEACE responded to the cries of His people.

Christmas is hitting me deep this year.

As I begin to grasp more fully that love my God has for me. His arrival on this broken earth hailed a new beginning to time. He was the new wine that would establish a fulfillment of prophecy since the beginning of time. His arrival, was more than just God with us. It was God know us. It was God show us. God heal us. It was God deliver us. It was God loves us!

The Christmas carols echo in the background and my body responds in dance, with goosebumps, with tears as I fully immerse myself in the reality of my God, whose love is so deep He not only sacrificed His life as a remission of my sin, but he sacrificed His throne to touch us with tangible hands of flesh. To speak to us with audible words of life. To bring a shining light to a dark and weary world. 

Christmas is hitting me deeper.

The lights on my tree and the stockings hung, the presents under my tree, fade away in the shadow of the love of my Jesus. The nativities around my house give me a glimpse of that night. The night when the world rejoiced. When lowly shepherd and majestic wise men were equal. When woman and man were equal. When government and religion were overruled. And a baby changed the atmosphere of our existence. The baby, being nursed by a woman, He created. Fully human, yet embodied God. And yet He came, in the most helpless form, depending on broken humans to love and care for him, as He loves and cares for us.

It’s hitting me deep.

My Jesus, Immanuel.

Come let us adore Him...

Sleepless nights

My life has been consumed with sleepless nights.

Spiritual Warfare, meeting satan’s minions head on, as a child, in the dark, at night.

I have fought for years, trying to find the perfect rest of God’s peace. I still fight, as I write this at 3am, struggling to sleep. My mind wanders into places of hope and love, trying to find the peace, but I am awake with a vengeance, my body aches with restless motion.

Terror struck me in the dark, and I fought. Alone and wondering how to escape the realities of the nightmares, awake… in an unaided battlefield, no one taught me how to overcome.

Then I grew up, became a woman, a wife and a mother… and the sleepless nights persisted with a fiery, as I refused to allow my children to fight the same cold battle alone. So I walked the night in my home, praying and wrestling with the fear and anxiety the followed since childhood.

Still, more terror… 3:30 visitations from workers of darkness surround my home and I stay awake to battle. Not knowing the perfect rest that come from peace in my God, because I did not fully trust Him. I lay in bed, jumping at every sound and creak, every whimper my children made in the restful slumber. I suffer silently in the dark, fighting for peace.

The weight presses in and depression finds its way, but still I fight. I will not give into the terror, the fear of the unknown. Then my grandma and mom die in the same year and sorrow overshadows all of the joys and fears I possess. Not long after my father dies and sorrow looms a little longer. My exhausted body carrying the evidence of sleepless nights in physical weight, I struggle to lose. And then I break. My entire existence falls to the ground, like a tree struck by lightning, and a monstrous thud reverberates through my life.

I am a stump, a heap of broken flesh, on the ground, at the bottom. Nowhere to go, no more fight in me. I am shattered and torn from the life giving roots that sustain me. I cannot function and my life is consumed with sleep. I can barely move, my body is drained from life and all I can do is sleep to escape the pain of a childhood that stole my rest, in a place where I was not safe.

But the stump was not dead and in my rest, new life began to grow. New hope began to show and sprouts of joy overtook the stump until it was covered in growth. I was born again, into a place of healing and peace that I had never experienced before. I delighted in the reality that I could sleep, through the night, rest.

It was a time of bliss and wonder as fear no longer inhabited my life and anxiety fled from my atmosphere. But like most things in life, it was a season. A season I am afraid has ended, as my sleepless night persist again.

But all hope is not lost. In my sleepless phenomenon, I still have peace. I still experience rest. It is not that which my physical body benefits from, but my soul and spirit are at peace. I am finding a new understanding and definition of rest in these “new growth” sleepless nights. I find they are consumed with prayer, study, research, dreaming, hope and worship. Even on this sleepless night, I sit her, in the mountains, surrounded by God’s handiwork, listening to Julie True’s Healing Soaking music and reading Psalm 139…. And I am embracing rest. I resist the temptation to force myself to sleep and get up to find the rest. I am making every effort to enter into rest, Hebrews 4, so that I can experience the fullness of God’s glory.

So… I sit back, drink my Sleepytime Tea, and try to find the rest in the midst of my sleepless night. Knowing that there is purpose in it, knowing that “the darkness shall not hide from Him, that the night shines as the day; because the darkness and light are both alike to YOU,” Oh God. 

DANCING IN COLOR

I am watching Dancing with Wolves and am amazed at the repetitive content of history. 

 Two different races, two different worlds, two different languages, cultures, way of thinking.

They were divided by FEAR.

Fear of the unknown.

Fear of different.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of losing one’s culture.

FEAR.

Today, it is no different.

We are faced with many different races in one country, trying to co-exist in a world that perpetuates HATE and FEAR.

My heart grieves at the notion that WE as a nation, a people have lost the FREEDOM to CELEBRATE and to LEARN the differences of other cultures.

I was told by someone, who is not my same race that I do not have a “right” to understand or learn about her culture. That celebrating and understanding that culture is somehow “racist.”

I was told that when I identify certain foods with a culture that I am “racial stereotyping.”

I am not learning a culture or celebrating the uniqueness of that culture… I am being “racist.”

There is so much FEAR in the hearts of people, that we, as a people, cannot even enjoy the diversity and beauty and rich color of humanity that God created for us to be a part of.

In all areas, both sides, no matter how people spin it, or how history records it… Murder, death and war is all because of FEAR…. And the side with the most power, money, man power, and weapons wins… It has nothing to do with a color or race or culture. Rather it has to do with power.

We adopted a young boy from Rwanda when I was 12. He was exactly my age. My parents gave monthly to Compassion, so that he could go to school. The supported him until he was 21. They continued to keep in contact with him, even after our time of support was up. There was a war: tribe against tribe, black skin against black skin; rapes, murders, death, horror. It had nothing to do with color, race or culture… they were from the same place. It had to do with power, fear, and anger.

Justin, as we called him, lost his dad and 8 of his 13 brothers and sisters. He survived. He saw death on a level, I hope I never know. It had nothing to do with the color of his skin, but rather the HATE of one group of people towards another, of the same race and place.

HATRED AND FEAR KILLED 1,000,000 PEOPLE

That is what happened in our country with the Native Americans. They were afraid of the "white people" and they were afraid of the "natives." In that fear, we coin terms and propaganda to fuel that fear, which then turns to anger. On both sides there was murder of the other, in order to protect a mindset that hindered growth, friendship and community.

The soldier was named “Dances with Wolves” and he wanted to learn about this other race and culture. He took a risk, he went into the “enemy’s camp.” The Native American they called “Kicking Bird” wanted to learn about this other race and culture. He too took a risk and went into the “enemy’s camp.” Both were able to learn and grow and establish a friendship of trust and honor.

They valued each other and learned each other’s cultures, and CELEBRATED it. They did not condemn or steer away from the other. In fact, Dances with Wolves left some of his culture behind to become a part of his new friend’s way of life. He partook in the difference, he learned a new way, and he celebrated and mourned the loss with them.  It was a beautiful dance of give and take and celebrating the VALUE of HUMANITY.

It was what he called...

Many different kinds of notes blending together to make a beautiful symphony of music, that delights EVERY soul, without any FEAR, just PEACE.

In the end, Dancing with Wolves, learned, understood, partook, celebrated, enjoyed and lived within the culture. He embraced a way of life, different than his own, in the face of much hatred towards the Native Americans, took a risk and became an advocate for them. Kicking Bird, also learned the ways of the white man and trusted him with his family.

They loved him, he loved them....even though they were different.

We are a people, who judge an entire group of people by a small minority of people filled with HATE and turn it into BONDAGE of FEAR and ANGER. 

There is no justice in hurting one group because another group was hurt. 

There is no healing in demonizing one group of people, because of the IGNORANCE and VIOLENCE of another.

There is no HOPE when division is celebrated and no one has freedom to take a RISK in friendship of someone unlike us. 

May we, a people, bound up in FEAR, which leads to prejudice, racism, hate and death… learn how to dance in the harmonic sounds of DIVERSITY and LOVE… in a nation that has NEVER really learned how to DANCE IN COLOR.

The deep waters..

June 17, 2011


“He reached down from heaven and rescued me; he drew me out of deep waters.” -Psalms 18:16

Thank you Lord, for rescuing me from the deep, dark places of my heart. Thank you for giving me hope, by setting my feet on solid ground, so that I do not sink into the quiet abyss of pain and suffering; into the deep dark corners of the unseen heart of depression and hopelessness. Thank you for reaching out your hand to me. To me, this broken woman who is trying to BE all I want to BE and think I should BE.

I wonder how we get to the “deep waters” that consume us. How do we get to the place of needing to be rescued by the Living God? We are all there, or have been there, in some way in some capacity. I wonder how many of us have pushed the hand of God away and told Him, we can do it on our own; or even worse, I would rather drown. I have been in the place of almost drowning, the place of wanting to give up, because I became to weary to tread water. It was at that place, when death was upon me that I knew the only way I could live is if I stopped treading water and let my Savior save me. He watched me intently; to be sure I did not drown, as I stopped trying to do it on my own. And just as I began to sink into the dark deep waters, the Lord reached down from heaven and rescued me.

He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me” Psalm 18:19

Once he rescued me, He brought me to this place that looks a lot like freedom; open and big and filled with love and joy and peace. Not because he had to, but because He wants to; because HE delights in me. The creator of the universe delights in who I am. He delights in who he created me to be, flaws and all. The concept is something most of us desire. This unconditional love that covers a multitude of sins is overwhelming and is hard to grasp. All we have to do is receive it. Just open our hands, let go, begin to sink and receive the love our God has for us.

So here I am Lord, STANDING on solid ground, in this spacious place. Things look different, smell different, and feel different. It feels very dry and I am a little wobbly in this place, but I am determined to live here. I am determined to live under the shelter of your wings, so that I do not have to build my own fortress, to protect me. In my vulnerable state, I will trust that you will protect me.

I breathe a deep cleansing breath and look out to this spacious place where I now stand… I move my legs and take my first step.