Don't want to waste my life...

Notebooks, pens, conversations and scribbles on paper is howwe dream. We call it our Dream Notebook. Every idea, dream, vision, hope orcreative inception is written down on one of many spiral notebooks that stackin my room. The reality of those dreams is an entirely different dimension ofthought and action, however. When I process the amount of time, effort, faithand resources it will take to accomplish a dream, the thought almostdebilitates me. Not because I have fear or don’t believe it can be done; on thecontrary, I know it can! It is the cost that keeps me from moving forward withanything that comes my way. The cost of time, the cost of friendships, the costof investment, the cost of loneliness, the cost of ridicule, the cost emotions,the cost of material things.

I know the cost. I know how much a person can lose forfollowing a dream, personally. I have seen a dream come to life and thenwatched in horror when that dream died. It cost my family everything. That iswhat keeps my husband and me from rushing. That is what keeps our feet firmlyplanted on the ground. So we question ourselves as a result. Do we have what ittakes? How will this affect our family? Will people come to Lord as a result ofthis vision? Where do we start? Will people support us? Will people believe inwhat we are doing? Will we be doing this alone? How will we get youth to come?

The chatter in the mind is loud and we are trying to keep itquiet. It is amazing how words of encouragement can sustain even the weariestsoul, the most doubtful mind and the loneliest souls. Feelings of inadequacies constantlyrise to the surface and I must tell them to be silent. All we can do is walk,one foot in front of the other, believing that we are doing what God has calledus to do. Believing that he will equip us, believing that he will show us theway. Trusting that He will pay the price when the cost is too great for us tocarry.

We take one step and then another and another. It lookslonely so far, it looks impossible. Yet I know my God can comfort, I know thewith God nothing is impossible! Those are the things I hold onto. Those are thereasons we take another step toward the dream, on this adventure.

“This is the promisethat empowers us to take risks for the sake of Christ. It is not the impulse ofheroism, or the lust for adventure, or the courage of self-reliance, or theneed to earn God’s favor. It is simple trust in Christ-that in Him, God will doeverything necessary so that we can enjoy making much of him forever. Everygood poised to bless us, and every evil arrayed against us, will I the end helpus boast only in the cross, magnify Christ and to  find in our own experience that it is betterto lose our life than to waste it.

Therefore, it is rightto risk for the cause of Christ. It is right to engage the enemy and say, ‘Maythe Lord do what seems good to him.’ It is right to serve the people of God,and say, ‘If I perish, I perish!’ It is right to stand before the fiery furnaceof affliction and refuse to bow down to the gods of the world. This is the roadthat leads to fullness of joy and pleasures forevermore. At the end of everyother road--secure and risk-free—we will put our face in our hands and say, ‘I’vewasted it!’"

John Piper – Don’t Waste Your Life

Revolution

Revolution

Noun

1.       A forcible overthrow of a government or social order for a new system.

2.       A radical and pervasive change in society and the social structure, especially on made suddenly and often accompanied by violence

3.       A sudden, complete or marked change in something.

The word sounds dangerous, almost anarchist. Synonyms includes the words: anarchy, destruction, innovation, insurgency, metamorphosis, mutiny, overthrow, radical change, rebellion, reformation, reversal, revolt, rising, shake-up, shift, strike, subversion, transformation, turbulence, turnover, underground, unrest, upheaval, uprising, uproar, violence.

I looked up the word the other day after praying for our youth. I heard the Lord say, we were going to start a revolution. Not the kind you might think of, but a revolt against the oppression of this world, against the darkness that is closing in. The revolution will be established in our youth in this country. It will be world changing. The result with be a new social structure and order of young people coming together to impact the future in such an incredible way that the natural byproduct of their actions will result in a change in not only government, but schools, churches, homes and society. I will be radical and pervasive. Young people pushing back the darkness, which has gotten comfortable here in this country; it will be intense and violent. Not physically violent, as Jesus was not physically violent, but spiritually violent. The youth will enter the war at hand against the evil that is rolling over this nation like a thick fog.

“From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffers violence and violent men take it by force.” Matthew 11:12

Violence

Noun

1.       Swift and intense force

2.       Rough or injurious physical force, action or treatment

The word sounds like the opposite of love. Yet the only way a follower of Christ can take the kingdom of heaven violently is with love. It is that love that becomes the violent force against the kingdom of darkness. Love swiftly and intensely overtakes wickedness. By proclaiming love and acting in love, we are waging war against all that is wicked in this world. In the process of waging war, there is a necessity to take stands that are dangerous and even life threatening. In order to bring about “Revolution” in love, there will be injuries and sometimes rough encounters with darkness. We as seasoned Christians in this country are not very familiar with this kind of faith. We have been handed a wimpy version of God’s Word and a powerless doctrine. We have been sold a bag of goods that says, “As long as we are morally upright and good, then we are good Christians.” It is the lie Satan has been telling God’s people for thousands of years. There is no power in Christ, being intense and violent is “bad” and “evil.” When in reality, God created us to be violently opposed to the kingdom of darkness.

As I list the synonyms, think about the words in regards to waging war against the kingdom of darkness: assault, attack, brutality, clash, destructiveness, disturbance, ferocity, fierceness, harshness, onslaught, passion, raging rampage, roughness, ruckus, rumble, severity, storm, struggle, tumult, turbulence, uproar, vehemence, wildness.

Similar words were used to describe John the Baptist and Jesus in their time. The Romans and the Pharisees saw them as a “disturbance”, as “destructive”, an “attack” on their ways. When they preached and healed people they were accused of causing a “ruckus”, an “uproar” and causing “turbulence” in the cities they were in. John the Baptist was described as “wild” and Jesus was described as “passionate.”

My husband I met a young man about 2 years ago. He was traveling with a pastor, who is extremely radical and full of intense faith. He was a “Timothy” to the pastor and I watched as this young man was given the opportunity to learn and grow before my very eyes, as he stood on the stage “practicing” his faith. It was a beautiful orchestra of spiritual music that is rare in today’s church. His name is Chase. I saw “world changer” all over him. His youthfulness was being tempered by intentional mentoring and he was receiving it. Bill and I prayed over him in the areas of weakness we saw and have kept in contact with him since. We pray for him as the Lord leads and I receive his newsletter and am friends with him on Facebook. He gave the ministry he is doing a name and I have seen it before, but it never really had any impact on me until the Lord gave me the word “Revolution.” The name he gave the ministry he is doing is “Love Revolution.” What? Love Revolution? A revolution in love!?!? A counter-cultural movement of love to bring about revolution. Not the hippy, LSD, sex with everyone kind of movement. We are talking about He who is Love, Jesus. He who created Love, God. He who spreads the Love, the Holy Spirit.

Love

Noun

1.       A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person

2.       A feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child or friend

3.       Passion or desire

4.       God (1 John 4:8)

Similar words are: affection, allegiance, appreciation, attachment, cherishing, delight, devotedness, emotion, enjoyment, fervor, fondness, friendship, inclination, involvement, passion, regard, respect, sentiment, taste, tenderness, worship, yearning, zeal

Love covers a multitude of sins. (1 Peter 4:8). Not guilt, not condemnation, not even punishment. LOVE… Love is what changes, not war, not guns, not protests… LOVE.  Love is true and powerful, when rooted in the Creator of this universe, God. LOVE was demonstrated to a maximum by Jesus when he took on all the sin of the world, because He loved us. There was no shame or blame or condemnation in His sacrifice, only LOVE. Love is the most violent weapon against the kingdom of darkness and it the weapon we will teach the youth to use in every situation.

Bill and I were talking about the fact that so many young people are being abducted right now. Older kids in Jr. High and High School are coming up missing every day. As we were discussing this “Revolution” we hope to lead a vision popped into my head:

Imagine a group of youth who want someplace to belong, something to fight for, and something to believe in. This social justice, globally aware, forgotten generation could revolt against the sex slavery movement with a vengeance and overtake this wicked movement with a violent intensity that would change this whole world. I saw them waging war on the sex slave movement, working together with complete confidence and resolve. I saw them walking behind veterans who were caring guns to protect them from the evil that they were walking into. I saw them in masses, like ants who, by sheer number alone took down a regime of sex crazed filth. I saw them have purpose, fearlessness, faith and determination to bring freedom to the captives in this world. I saw them understand the power of God, freely give the love of Jesus and completely utilize the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Changing the World.

This journey we are on has prepared us for this… Absolute and total resolve in the fact that Jesus is our Savior, we will share His love with all we encounter and we will be authentic in our weaknesses, shortcomings and faults. It has prepared us for this moment in time, when all we have done, dreamed and envisioned is right before us and all we have to do is jump. It is that time, that moment when we commit to the reality that this is what we were made for; this is what we are called to do. It is frightfully beautiful, insanely peaceful, and ridiculously purposeful.

If you would like to support this mission, please contact us. We have many needs that you can help us with. Our only car died, so that is an immediate need.We are also looking for a laptop. 

 If you would like to give a donation to help us start a “Revolution” you can send it to:

Bill & Teresa Beukers

7845 South Fruit Ave

Fresno, CA 93706

or

You can donate online

Please visit our new Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/RealAuthenticWorship

The days of blessing

Each day that we getcloser to the reality of starting a church, I am reminded at the journey thatgot us here. I am consistently living in the space between poverty and blessingand I have to remind myself daily that life is how you live it, not what youmake of it. My daughter talked and talked and talked the last two days with me,as we were hiding in the boys room doing a Extreme Room Makeover and I sawsomething in her stories that I had to share.

“Mama, people think I am rich,” Carah said as we painted theroom purple. “They do? Why?” my inquisitive mind could not wait to hear heranswer. “I think it is because of the clothes I wear and the house I live in,but we are not rich!” I had to chuckle at the notion that my daughter wasirritated that people thought she was rich. “Well we actually are very rich,Carah,” I told her, “We are rich in blessings, that is why people assume youare rich.” She pondered that idea for a moment and said, “Yeah, and people atschool know I have a beach house and they think that we have lots of money. Butwe don’t!” This conversation was delighting me. I saw my precious daughterstruggle with the tension of blessing and financial lack. She perceived in herheart the fact that the blessings we lived with were so great that peoplepresumed financial wealth.

We painted a little longer in silence as I considered how toapproach her heart.  “When someone asksyou if you are rich, tell them yes! You are rich. You are rich in blessing,rich in love, and rich in spirit. You wear some of the most expensive clothesthere are and you live in a house that has a pool, a guest house, a shop and anoffice. Your bedroom is decked out with name brand, top of the line bedding andyou have traveled placed most people would never be able to go to. You are kindand confident and stand up for what you believe in and you are covered withgrace from Jesus that gives you a gentle spirit. You are very rich. Wealth isnot determined by how much money one has in their bank account, wealth isdetermined by the character of our being, the blessings of God.” Her browfurrowed. She did not like the idea that she was rich. I couldn’t understandwhy. I let her process it in her head for a while as we continued to paint.

She didn’t say much after that as we painted. I could seeshe was trying to evaluate what I had said. The community we live in is rich inagriculture and tradition. Most of the farmers who live here have been here forclose to 100 years. Families who migrated to this country farmed the land andthen handed the farm and land down to their kids and grandkids. Most are Danishand Portuguese. Their farms are over 100 acres. There are not a lot of houseshere. When a house comes up for sale, someone from the community usually buysit. The same is true of the migrant farmers who work the land. Most are fromMexico and many of the families who moved here came 2 and 3 generations ago.They worked on the farms, their kids worked on the farm and their grandkids arenow going to school with my kids. Their kids, who graduated and went tocollege, still live in the community but work in the nearby large city. There isalso the Asian population, who have migrated to this country recently andbought land to farm. They are smaller farms, 5 or so acres, they live communal,with 3 to 4 families all on 1 property working the farm. Then there are the fewlike us, who ended up in this community on a fluke. There are not many peoplewho live here without some historical tie to this community.

As a result, there is class and racial segregation. It issubtle but noticeable. Early on, in elementary school, kids identify who the “rich”kids are and there is a certain order that must be followed. When my kidsstarted at the elementary school in this community, the kids perceived my kidsas “rich.” Carah experienced expectations that were placed on her to act and bea certain way that was in tune with being one of the “rich” kids. This is wherethe distain for being rich started.

“You know what I don’t like about people thinking I am rich,”Carah finally said. “I don’t want people to think I am a mean girl. I don’tlike it when people are mean to other kids just because they are rich.” Hertone got somber and tears swelled up in her eyes. “I am not rich, we are onfood stamps and I get hand me down clothes and we can’t pay our rent and ourcars don’t work and we can’t even afford to take piano lessons. I mean mosteverything in our house was given to us and we don’t even have enough money to…”her voice trailed off. “Do you know what happened at school the other day?” shesaid sharply. “My class was dismissed earlier for lunch then Mr. Moe’s class,which never happens. But we had a sub, so we got to the lunch line first. Whichlike never happens. We got our food and sat down on some tables that we neversit at, because we were dismissed first. Jennifer (name changed) came into thelunch room and told my friend, ‘You’re sitting in my seat!’ I was so mad andsaid, ‘You don’t own that seat, Jennifer!” She rolled her eyes and looked at myfriend and said, ‘Ugh, I always sit there!’ She didn’t even look at me and Isaid, ‘Well not today!’ Can you believe that mama?” Carah was getting riled up.“Just because she is ‘rich’ (she added air quotes) she thinks she can dowhatever she wants and people just let her. She cuts in line and no one saysanything. Well except me, always say something. It is so dumb. I don’t want tobe like that. That’s why I get mad when people say that I am ‘rich’!” She waswaving her arms around and moving around the room with a fierce intensity. Ikept painting, trying hard not to let her see the smirk on my face. I wasdelighted. Not only at the conversation, but at the way my daughter handledthis situation.

My homeschooled daughter had experienced class and socialwarfare. She saw her peers being mistreated based on their economic status andstood up in the face of injustice. It’s not the first time she has done this.She has experienced racial tension when a group from the same ethnic backgroundexcludes someone who is not by speaking their native language and not includedthem in a game. She has not tolerated that either and has fought for the kidbeing left out. I see her little heart being shaped by this experience.

“The next time someone asks you if you are rich, Carah, say ‘Yes,I am very rich,’ because you are. You are the daughter of the King of Kings.You are a princess,” I told her. She gave me a disapproving look. “You are aprincess. Your Father is a King, that makes you princess. That is why peoplethink you are rich, because you are. You are so blessed. Look around you. Evenwith all the hand me downs we get and the money we receive from other people,it is the best. God gives us the best. Not because He has to, but because hewants to. He wants you and brothers and mama and daddy to know that He lovesus, that He has not forgotten us. Our situation is hard, not having a job isstressful, but God always takes care of us.”

Carah kept painting. I saw a light bulb go off in her mind. “Likethis paint,” I said. We were given 2 gallons of paint, never used. The colorsare the colors of your brother’s high school. What are the odds? It is not a coincidence,it is God.” We finished the room, 11 hours later and stood back and look atwhat weaccomplished. “It looks awesome! Like a model home,” Carah said. “Yeah, itdoes,” I chuckled, “It looks like something a rich person would have in their house!”

“Better the little that therighteous have than the wealth of many wicked” Psalm 37:16

To all who wander...

As I reflect on the day to day process of planting a "Youth Church" I find that I run into all kinds of confirmations of "adults" who themselves are pissed off and disillusioned by the Churchianty BS they encounter by "Religious Zealots  who seek to destroy anyone who resembles John the Baptist. 

 I realized that has been my struggle as a Christian all along... My lack of understanding of who I am. I have been the John the Baptist, the Strider (from Lord of the Rings), who wanders in the wilderness like some kind of freak, trying to find the way, the purpose the truth in the midst of all the shadowy figures who call themselves "clergy." I saw a quote the other day and looked up the context of the quote by J.R.R. Tolkien and was ascended into a place of vindication of sorts at my journey and my plight on this long road of wandering. 

"Not all who wander are lost."  

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

(The poem appears twice in The Lord of the Rings' first volume, The Fellowship of the Ring. It appears first in Chapter Ten, "Strider," in Gandalf's letter to the hobbits in Bree, before they know that Strider (Aragorn) is the subject of the verse. It is repeated by Bilbo at the Council of Elrond. He whispers to Frodo that he wrote it many years before, when Aragorn first revealed who he was.)

It hit me like a ton of bricks... in my wandering I have been found. In my hiding, my roots have gone so deep that the cold shoulder of religious onlookers does not affect my growth. I have embraced the loud truth that I am a Wanderer, but I am for a purpose. I am not floundering or helpless or hopeless. I am being transfigured. In the ashes of what seemed to be nothing, God was stirring a fire inside that cannot be tamed; that cannot be shamed; that will not be easily snuffed out. In what seems like the end... is merely the beginning. I have been transformed. My eyes do not see what the religious church taught me to see. They see what Jesus sees; and it is not anywhere near the same. 

Today I was moved with anger and passion all at the same time when I heard stories of religion denying the basic rights of those who want to follow Jesus. Of shame and condemnation these people rule and my body convulses at the thought of it.

A friend of mine shared a "church" story with me today; her heart bare with the recent scar of condemnation, received by the abusive church leadership that resides in most churches today. What is worse is that her innocent, childlike, precious daughter took the brunt of the abuse of power in this corrupt place called "Children's Church." 

As she told me the story, I could feel the rage burn inside me. I wanted to make a whip and beat the crap out of this man who abused his authority with this sweet child who loves her Jesus. I wanted to lay hands on him and throw him out of the church with a fierceness that would scare the condemnation out of him. I wanted to flip the holier than thou table he sat at and make a ruckus! Instead, I listened intently at the hysterical childlike thing this sweet little girl did and burst out laughing at the imagery of it all.

While at church this little girl, at the prompting of her little brother, drew a mustache on a picture of the Pope, in a Catholic Bible. Oh my word... are you for real.... HIS..STER...ICAL!!!!! Hysterical! Now I am not an advocate of defacing a Bible or other people's property, but this is a child; and one who loves books and respects authority and does not have a history of destroying property. So, hello... funny. What was going through her head when she did that? Please little girl, tell me, cuz I want some of that!

The thought that a grown man would be so offended at a child pulling a "Saturday Night Live" move at church is beyond me. His offense became a sin against this little girl as he embarrassed and belittled her in front of her peers. He told her that she was acting like a baby and being disruptive and he could "NOT BELIEVE SHE DID SUCH A THING." Even after a sincere apology, this man decides that he is going to abuse his authority over this sweet child and shame her with condemnation. What is a child to do? Especially one who does respect authority and does not have a history of getting into trouble?

And if shaming her and her little brother was not enough, let's now go shame the mom for her lack of discipline and parenting skills to train this girl correctly. ARE YOU FOR REAL? Seriously? Whoa, whoa, whoa... lets back this train up a minute!

Let's break this down "Big Bird" style...

Jesus =Love

Love=covering sin

Covered sin= repentance

Repentance =change

Change=blamelessness

Blamelessness=holiness

Holiness=Jesus

Hmmm... I did not see condemnation in there, did you? Maybe a little guilt and shame? No didn't see that either... Oh now I get it.... No... really... I don't!!!!!!

If Jesus saw a little girl draw a mustache on the Pope, I will tell you this.... He would not bring shame and condemnation on her! If he did not shame a prostitute, adulterer or a drunk, why on earth would a "religious leader condemn a little girl for acting like a child. He told her she was acting like a baby. Which is so ridiculous! Last I checked the Bible said, " When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me." 1 Corinthians 13:11 

Obviously this "religious leader" did not put his childish ways behind him, because he acted like a child by calling a little girl a baby. That is as childish as you can get. And the leaders in the church are wondering why people are falling away and not coming to church anymore. 

I picture Jesus laughing at the little girl’s rendition of the Pope and saying something like, "He looks great with a mustache, and perhaps we should encourage him to grow one." It’s a (explicit word) book!!!! Is that pile of paper really more valuable than the heart of this child? WAKE UP CHURCH!  What freaking planet are you on?!?!?!? 

"Growing churches make up only about 20 percent of all U.S. churches today. The rest have reached a plateau or are declining"  http://www.christianpost.com/news/total-us-churches-no-longer-in-decline-researchers-say-45150/#sSOvH8AkMw6rGZSg.99 

The old way is passing away and the new is coming. This hierarchical mindset of churches is rooted in the Priesthood of the Old Testament that was replaced when Jesus died on the cross and veil that separated the Holy of Holies was torn from top to bottom as a sign to all that God was accessible to anyonel who would come to Him; not just those who wore the proper garments and held the proper titles.  Churches that continue to function under the Old Testament way will soon fade away. In fact recent research shows that on average that 3500 churches closed their doors every year. 

The good news is people are starting to wake up and are seeing that the Old Testament Priesthood churches have got to go, and they are. As the church ages and people die, churches close, because there are no new young people to sustain them. In the last 2 years, the sleeping giant is beginning to wake and see that it is time to plant. Close to 4000 churches were planted to replace the 3500 that closed, but that does not keep up with the population growth. So even though 500 more churches are opening than closing in America, it is still not enough to keep up with the number of people in this country. 

"In a spiritual sense, America has become the dark continent. When we come face to face with our present reality, it would seem that only the coldest heart could remain complacent about the need to reach Americans." http://enrichmentjournal.ag.org/200802/200802_096_ChurchPlanting.cfm

And it is no wonder, when the church leadership looks like the church leader mentioned earlier... A very consistent theme, I am afraid that has become an epidemic in this country. 

Mega churches are not the answer, either. They are a place, run like a business or worse, the government; who at best keep people in line, following the rules to be sure that there is a presence of religion in the community. There, people can hide and get lost. People scratch and claw their way to leadership positions, since there are not many, to fulfill a false sense of "calling". When in fact, true churches, evangelize, disciple, create leaders and send out to plant new churches; in unchurched areas. Here in America pastors build their own kingdoms on earth and have satellite campuses with video feed of themselves preaching. As if there is not enough leadership to go around. If there isn't, it is because the "Head Pastor" is spending too much time building his kingdom on earth and not enough time developing leaders and sending them out to plant more churches. Do pastors really believe that they are the only ones who know how to preach the gospel? I have heard that out of a pastors mouth, with my own ears, in my own community. People believe it. Believe that this false doctrine is true and so the lie perpetuates itself.

Lecrea, a Christian rapper puts it this way,

“Eric used to go to bible study as a kid
He got older and started doing what the hood did
A rival gang caught him slippin tried to take his life
But the gun jammed up so them beat him nice
He woke up in the hospital singing bible songs
Praise God he had a place to learn the bible from
But then he gets saved and wanna preach Christ they make him change his whole culture and way of life
He gotta get him a bachelors wear a suit and tie
Go to seminary
By then all of his boys will die
Jesus came to invade culture outta nazereth and used a couple fisherman who people saw as hazardous
The feet are beautiful if only they'd go
If ain't nobody in hood preaching how will they know?
Eric is better used taught trues in his context
Somebody please plant a church in his projects"

More false doctrine being preached… "You must go to seminary to preach the gospel, to plant a church, to lead people to Christ."

Even Paul, the great leader of the first century church, planted churches, discipled, created leaders and then abandoned them to the Holy Spirit. He trusted that the Spirit of God would impact the church and the leaders far better than even he could. 

I met a woman today at the little country grocery store by my house. Her daughter attends school with my daughter. They recently moved here to establish a better way of life for their family. She shared with me that she is a woman of faith and that her husband’s dad planted one of the churches in our little community. I listened intently as she shared her discontent for the American church. "I love Jesus," she said, "but I cannot stand the churches! They are so wrong in what they are doing. It doesn't look anything like Jesus." I asked her if she had a bad experience in church and she gave me the look of "duh...of course I did!"

She went on to tell me the classic story of church membership. Nowhere in the Bible, but everywhere in the American church. "The church I was attending denied me and my family the right to be baptized until we took a 6 week membership course.  I told the pastor, 'Are you serious?' I don't think Jesus would tell me I would have to be a member of His gang before He baptized me. If I want to profess my faith in Him publicly, I am sure He would do it right then and there.'" I chuckled at the thought of Jesus being in the room with this pastor and the look on His face when a family of 5 was denied the right to be baptized on the basis of church membership. Not faith in Jesus Christ, mind you, membership. 

I sighed, and told her that my husband and I would be more than happy to baptize her whole family in our pool ASAP. She laughed, and I could see in her face that she was trying to determine if I was serious. So I assured her I was. "I might take you up on that," she said.

I thought of Philip, who was moved by the Spirit to go out of Jerusalem to meet up with a man he never met. It was an Ethiopian eunuch, who was in charge of the Queen of Ethiopia’s treasury. He was reading the Scriptures and asked Peter about the prophecy in Isaiah. After Philip preached Jesus to him the Ethiopian says, “See, here is water. What hinders me from being baptized?” Then Philip said, “If you believe with all your heart, you may.” And he answered and said, “I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.” So he commanded the chariot to stand still. And both Philip and eunuch went down into the water, and he baptized him.” Acts 8:36-38

  

I must have missed the part that said, “and then the Ethiopian took a 6 week class on how to be a member of the Jerusalem church.” Or maybe it is just that it is not in there. He believed, Phillip baptized him, PERIOD!

We talked a while longer, I shared that vision God gave us to do a Youth Church and Mentoring Program to reach a lost generation. She wanted in; she wanted to be a part of it. I saw her light up. I know nothing of her spiritual walk or of her maturity, but I do know that she loves Jesus and wanted to follow Him. That has more value to me than any degree or title or experience. Love and Passion for the one who set her free. 

 So we continue to wander. Both my husband and me. We are not lost, we are discovering that in the wandering we are running into people who ARE lost. Wanderers who have no place to call home, nowhere to be a family. We see them and they trust us, because, like them, we are wanderers too. Only, now we know the purpose in wandering and have come o to embrace it.

Perhaps, our church planting will reflect that. A place for the lost to be found. A place for the wanderers to rest. A place for the misfits and forgotten to be loved. A place for the young to grow.  A place for the marginalized to be heard. A place for churched to be prepared to be sent out.

And so... we wander some more....with expectancy.

Eyes to See

My blogs have generally been about the deep places of my heart. The journey of reconciliations between my wounds and my love for Jesus. In the quiet desperation of pain, I have processed through writing and shared it with you. 

It has brought me to a place of complete and total surrender. Realizing that in all my pain and quiet suffering, that in all my anger and frustration with the silence of God, with all my sorrow and financial lack, one thing is imprinted on my DNA: I will always serve God. I will always love my Jesus. I do not know any other way. 

The Lord has moved in my life in a way that is unexpected and raw. I have to be true to the title of this blog... Real... Authentic... Worship... every day living that is not covered or religious or masked. It has cost me. I have been rebuked, belittled and questioned in my choice to live so transparent, yet I believe that is what God has called me to do.

So this next chapter of my blog will be about this new road the Lord has directed us too... planting a church. It will be the same... raw, true, transparent. Sharing the ups and downs of the journey. He has given us to see in a way we have never seen before and we will act on what he has shown us....

Eyes to See

My eyes are open and I see. I see the pain around me, the poverty, the murder, the drugs and alcohol that surround these kids. They are raised in it and know no different. They smile and wave to me when I see them. Quiet desperation of trials comes out in their words as they speak to me. Seeing someone stabbed in front of them, uncle shot in front of them, mom high again, brother in a gang, dad in prison, poverty in their everyday life.

Even in my most desperate times in life, I cannot relate to such intense struggle. Yet they smile. Yet they come to school and practice. I love these kids. I love their parents, who are in the place they are because of their own trial, their own pain. One of the moms I encounter is always high. She has five children who have five different fathers. She tries to do for them all she can in her brokenness. I see her drive kids to games and practice and appts. Her drug addiction keeps the pain she suffers quiet for a time. She lives across the street from a drug house. Always people outside with their smokes, 40’s and drugs.

I drive by there all the time. I wave to the men who hold the drugs. I smile at them and honk at the mom as I make my way to the school in the neighborhood. I see the colors flashing of gang territory and I do not fear. This community has come to accept us. They wave at us, joke around when we stop to see the mom. My husband drove to this street, to drop a child off from a football game,, and the men surrounded the car to make their presence known. He opened the door, stepped out and the intensity of violence turned into casual conversation. Asking about the game and thanking him for taking care of one of their own.

There was a drive by shooting in that neighborhood recently and still we go, still we wave, still we do not fear. I see them, these people who have endured hardship and I want to tell their story. I want to show them Jesus; I want to give them hope. For now, I just smile and wave. I build their trust, their way. I talk their talk and I walk their walk. I want them to know I am not there to change them, but to invade their culture with the love of Jesus.

One of my son’s friends told me his mom had been in a coma for over a year. When I asked what happened, he said he was not sure. He was at his grandma’s house for a few days and when he went home to check in with his mom, she was on the floor, beat to a pulp. No one knew who did it or why it happened. They took her to the hospital where she has been for a year. “She just woke up,” he told me. I put my arm around him to assure him that life was going to be okay, but he already made that assessment. He has already learned to adapt. My heart ached for him, but this is what he knows.

God is opening doors we did not expect or imagine, but we are faithfully walking through them. He is giving us eyes to see and we are taking it all in. He is giving us ears to hear and we are listening. He is giving us words to say and we are saying them. In this unexpected journey of love, I am healing. I don’t see thugs or gang bangers; drug addicts and alcoholics; poverty or filth; I see people that Jesus loves. I see families that are holding on. I see miracles and restoration.

As I dropped my oldest off to school today, one of the girls I talk to all the time, sees me, gets a big smile on her face and waves frantically… I smile and wave back. She turns to look at me again as she walks onto the school ground and waves again. I wave back in a silly fashion; she chuckles and then lifts up her head. I could see the spring in her step. I knew she saw the Lord. I knew right then that her eyes beheld the love of her Savior through me and I felt honored that the Lord would use me.

My son smiled and said, “You know more people than me.” I replied, “It’s because I want them to know Jesus.” He smiled and said, “They will mama, they will.”

Waiting.....

I sit at home, staring t the wall, wondering how I got here. Depression weighs heavy on my being and I fight it with everything in me. I am an overcomer! I can overcome, I will overcome… yet, the weight of circumstances makes it hard to fight.

This journey I have been on is long. I have yet to reach the destination. It seems to never end and I am growing weary. With all 3 of my children in public school, my purpose of home school mom has ceased. Without a job, finances make it hard to go anywhere, as gas prices soar; so I sit here, writing, wondering and waiting. Haven’t I been here long enough? In the waiting zone? Waiting for a miracle, waiting for an opportunity? Waiting for a change.

My physical body takes the hits of uncertainty, worry, pain. I am a woman of faith, yet I am uncertain. I am a woman of hope, yet I worry. I am a woman of joy, yet it alludes me. I am a woman of love, yet anger rises. Peace is what I long for right now, more than anything. The quiet assurance of hope that permeates my being is what I try to grasp for. I sit in desperate solitude, waiting. Waiting for the Lord, waiting for a sign, waiting for change.

I have to tell myself to breath in and out with precision, I have to pray myself to sleep, so that the weight of fear and sorrow do not torment me. Yet, sleep is far from me. My eyes droop with weariness, my body aches from restlessness.

Who am I? Surely a woman of faith can stay focused on all that is good, all that is holy, and all that is pure. Surely a woman, who loves Jesus, can overcome such small feats. Surely a woman, who is fighter, can knock out the tormentor, who pursues her every night. And then the heartbreak of failure falls around me. The chaos of intensity overwhelms me. And I am tired.

I sleep during the day to make up for the night, and guilt and shame knock on my door. They tell me that I am worthless, that I am failing my kids, that I am a horrible wife. They tell me that I am lazy and irresponsible and have no purpose.

My ears hear them and my heart fights to keep the words from planting in my soul. My chest aches with the constant tug of war of planting and digging up, uprooting and filling with good soil. I spend so much time keeping the weeds out of my heart that is not much time to nurture that which is already planted. The words of life in my heart have been neglected, as I have taken to keeping invasive weeds from taking over. A vicious circle, that makes me tired and frustrated.

I depend on words of life from worship music or the Bible or a friend to sustain me; the life support that keeps me from falling. And so I breathe, I wake up in the morning and thank the Lord that I am alive another day. I thank Him for the mercy He has on my broken being. I am thankful He knows my desire is to see my kids and grandkids and live a long healthy life. I am thankful He is holding me in this time, as I struggle to live day by day.

So I breathe, I wait, I hope for it all to cease. Though the sorrow may last for a night, the joy comes in the morning. And that is what I can believe is true, that the morning will come after so much darkness.

The Fight

Fighting… fighting… in the ring, face bloodied, body bruised. I am fighting. I will not submit, I will not go down. I will fight, until the end. I will hold on until the very end. I am weak, I am weary. I want to fall. I fight. This battle will not take me, I will overcome. The sweat drips down my face and drips, drips onto the floor where I stand. My eyes are swollen, it is hard to see and my face is red from impact. I have been knocked down, but I keep getting up. Waiting for the end. Waiting for the time when the bell rings. My arms swing aimlessly trying to hit my enemy, trying to keep from being hit. I look like a fool, standing here, but I do not care! I will not go down. I will fight!


I can barely make out my enemy now, standing on the other side of the ring. Lights blare in my eyes, people yell in my ears. All I see is its face, all I hear are its words. I swing, I duck, I weave; hoping to keep from being knocked out. “Till the end, till the end” I yell. I will not give in, I will not give up. My body breaks, I reach for something to hold me up, keep me standing. My enemy comes near and I brace for impact.

The faint voices of the announcers, the loud chants of the spectators and the intense words of the coaches mesh into one sound. I cannot make them out. All I see is the enemy, all I hear is its voice. I can smell the foul stench in my nostrils with a burn. My eyes tear up from the quiet violence it brings. I am not afraid, so I stand. I take the beating. I am starting to fall. I grab for something, anything, but nothing is in my way.

Slowly this broken body begins to ascend. Like a tree that has just been cut, my body slowly falls in beautiful irony and bounces on the ground with a loud thud. Blood swirls around my face and I try to make out where I am, what chances I have to survive. I feel relieved to be able to lie down and rest. I feel peaceful. Seconds that fade quickly into the sounds of those around me yelling at me to, “get up, get up!” I can barely make out what is being said. I close my eyes to sleep. I want to sleep. I want to rest. This fight has gone on too long, it has taken so much of me. I want to give up and surrender, so that my body can heal, so that my mind can rest.

Then the warm breath of my enemy touches my cheek. I cringe at the thought of its satisfaction. I squirm at the notion of its sweet victory over me. Its sweat drips onto my forehead and the faint sound of mocking laughter burns my ears. I have to get up. I have to fight. I have nothing left to give, I am battered and torn and disfigured. “Get up!” My ears pick up. “Get up!” My body shakes with pain and agony spills out of my lips. My body begins to move, and I am convulsing in terror. I reach up to grab some help and feel the ropes. I move, like a snail across the road, I move. In slow progression the rest of my body follows. Slipping and stumbling on my own sweat and blood, I fight to get up, to stand. One by one the parts of my body move in perfect harmony, as if being added to an orchestra in play. “Get up!” Its loud now, from many places, in many tones. I can hear it clearly.

My hands flail around grasping for some support. My legs push me up as my arms support my upper body. With one last push I am up! The hum of people around me is too great to take in. I ignore it, look around for a face that will embrace my brokenness, that will affirm my decision. I see it. The face of love. Without a word that face holds me up so that I can keep fighting. I breathe in a deep breath of faith, lift my hand up above my head and declare to my enemy standing on the other side of the ring, “YOU ARE GOING DOWN DEPRESSION, YOU ARE GOING DOWN!”