Flatulent Laughter

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2. Vulnerable

   Raw

   Unraveling

   January 3, 2019

   This is the year of abundance, acceleration, new wine, restoration, unlocking, overflowing… or so my prophetic heart says. And so the school of prophets around the world concur.

   January 1, 2019

   I drive to Fresno to Bakersfield to work. I ask the Lord for a word for the year. He tells me exhilaration. I drive home that evening and ask the LORD, “That’s my word, right?” Then I hear the word extraordinary. I pray more and ask seriously, “So is my word exhilaration or extraordinary?” I want to be sure I get the right word.

   It is quiet in my car as I am conversing with my Father. The radio is off, highway 99 is dark and empty. I imagine God, sitting in the passenger seat, riding with me on the way home. I talk to him as if he is physically sitting there, out loud, mostly, because I am alone. And after I ask my question I hear the Lord say, “Flatulent, that is your word.” And the sound of laughter exuding out of the empty space in my car fills my mind and I realize that my God is cracking a joke.

   “I’m serious God, I want to know what my word is. Flatulent is not my word!” I am flustered, this is serious. I am trying to be sure I get the right word for this next season to have vision and something to hold onto. But it doesn’t stop. He keeps laughing, like a belly wrenching laugh and I am flabbergasted.

   “What? That can’t be my word!” passing gas with a sound coming out of my butt is not a spiritual word or vision. But it is. And so is exhilaration and so is extraordinary. God shared with me what it means and how it all pans out…

   This year will be exhilarating and I will encounter extraordinary people and I will learn to laugh at the stinky situations, like people do when they fart… flatulent.

   And so I ponder and absorb the words into my soul to prepare for the next season.

   January 2, 2019

   Coffee with my husband in the morning. We feel stagnant. We feel stuck. We had prepared for this new season for month, anticipating, expecting, praying, fasting, dreaming, talking, meetings, visions, prophetic words. The stench of stagnation overwhelms us and we are just done. So done. Get us out of this LORD. This is not exhilarating or extraordinary at all… it is stinky though. But I am not laughing.

   Years and years of waiting, trusting and believing God. Waiting for this moment in the earth. For the open heavens to release a flood of all those things we have labored for in prayer, in hope, in sorry…And we sit. Figuratively and literally. Sitting on the sidelines, in the pews. I am about to burst out of my skin, but it keeps the explosion neatly tucked away, allowing small bouts of frustration to seep out of my mouth to my husband.

   My husband says, “He’s done.” I am done. We were not created to sit and watch people play in the game. To sit and watch people play multiple positons while the rest of the team, sit and watch. People who are linebackers and receivers and tight ends, and D ends and running backs… But the quarterback tries to play all positions and then complains when a touchdown is never scored.

   Being unseen, but bursting with knowledge and wisdom and experience and giftings and talents and callings and vision. Expecting change but mundane persists. We are pushed aside again, asked to jump through hoops, and wait to be included by the quarterback. My heart is heavy and I sit in the pew, listening to old wine. Maintaining the old wine skins.  And so the lava of my pent up life begins to spill out in frustration and short temperedness and anxiety and fatigue.

   But wait there is more... Satan kicks us when we are down and trials and tribulations surround my grown children and I feel like I failed as a mother, I don’t know how to help, fear swirls around me like a reckless tornado. I am overwhelmed, but not by the grace of God. Not because I am exhilarated. I don’t know how to fix it, how to let go, how to embrace the present circumstances of married children dealing with their own struggles. With grown children dealing with their deep wounds. It is hard and stinky, but I am not laughing.

   I yell at my husband when he moves the clothes on the bed that I am folding, because the lava is seeping out. I tell him it is happening, but he does not understand the depth of the well that holds all that is within me.

   January 3, 2019

   11:20pm

   It is almost a new day. I am vulnerable and raw. I felt led to start up RAW ministries again, after being on sabbatical for almost 2 years, but I am stuck. I am about to blow… I am flatulenting… It is not pretty, it is stinky and loud. I cannot hide it. Anxiety rises and I try to push it down…

   It feels old, old wine in old wine skins. It feels the same, it smell stagnant. I am tired and have to go to work tomorrow, leaving me not enough time to do all the things I dream to do, all the visions God put into my heart. It makes me feel like a fraud.

   Perhaps I can laugh in the morning with His mercies falling on me. But as the day comes to end, I curl up into my bed, next to the man who carries the weight of this with me, who takes the brunt of my intensity, whose frustration pushes up against mine in conflict and we close our eyes in silent prayer, waiting for the new day.

   Hopefully, when I wake up, I will be laughing.
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The Gift of Christmas

The mist settles over me as the light from the moon illuminates tiny particles of water that glows around me. My body shakes, partly from the chill, partly from the Holy Spirit wrapping me in its presence.

I am not here. In the present. I am there. In the past.

I see a woman in pain, overcoming fear as she pushes the baby out. The baby, who is God. The child who came to the earth He created to hold us in His arms. But for now, He is the one being held. He is the helpless one. And the angels surround Him, holding back their intervention, yet praises are proclaimed around Him. Glory to God in the Highest, Peace on earth.

I am not here. In the present. I am there. In the past.

My father, who did not know Jesus, dances in the presence of what he calls the Christmas Spirit. The one and only time, besides his children’s births that he felt as if all the world was well in his soul. The Holy Spirit wraps my father in its presence and my father surrenders to it. To the peace, the joy, the hope that made my dad the best version of himself, every December, as he celebrated this feeling that he delighted in, Jesus, Immanuel. Even though he did not know Him.

I am not here. In the present. I am there. In the past.

My mom is extra. Given over to the overwhelming notion that she is saved by the child, who was born to deliver her from all that kept her in bondage. She does the most. She ensures that nothing is left undone to give us the best expression of herself and humanity. She fully embraces that best version of herself, delighting in the wonder her children experience, for a moment, a season, escaping the intense present sorrow of a failing marriage.

I am not here. In the present. I am there. In the past.

A home was given to us, homeless, without resources. Our only hope, Jesus. Our constant joy, Jesus. Our constant peace, Jesus. December 15^th, the day we moved into the home we dreamed of, that we prayed for. Everything we desires was framed in the house we were given by our God. A tree was put up, decorated and adorned at the reality that our God, our Jesus, who we were celebrating... remember us and lavished us with His love for us. That was the year we felt overwhelmed by his goodness, we had more gifts under the tree we could have ever imagined with no money to our name. It was the year we celebrated alone, just the 5 of us.

The fire warming us, the love surrounding us. The fog settling on the central valley farm land around us, the moon glowing and reflecting off the tiny water particles. Like a warm blanket and the rest of the world disappeared as we snuggled in the blankets given to us, the 5 of us, around the fire, thanking God for coming here to the broken world to know us. To empathize with who we, His creation, experience. 

And there, in the present and the past... the whole earth is engulfed in His presence and the world remembers the Saviour, who came to gave us the only gift that matters... LOVE

I am not here. In the present. I am there. In the past.

I see the angels rejoicing that God has come, Emmanuel. The Gift of Christmas.

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...

You Have a Notification

I am not an early riser. I stay up late, do my best thinking, writing, creating at the latest part of the night, just before midnight and sometime after. It is where I feel alive and safe and free. It is the time when the weight of the world finally falls off my shoulders and I can breathe. It has been this way since I was in high school. Thirty years of flying by the seat of my pants, late night, last minute spontaneity.

Recently, my way of life was challenged. It was called immature and irresponsible. This way of life I had lived with my God and my family was called dishonoring and undisciplined and uncommitted. It shook me to the core. Not because any of it was true, because it wasn’t. In fact, it was so untrue that I found myself trying to defend my beautiful way of life to someone I barely knew. Still my heart was shaken. I asked the Lord, why? Why was I feeling the need to pull my flesh sword out again to defend my spiritual way of life? It has long been sheathed, secured on my side, for use only in emergency against the enemy.

My heart was vulnerable and my spirit was agitated. So I pressed. I pressed into the spaces we dare not go. Those deep dark crevices of our being that has so valiantly hidden the ugly things away. Those woundings that we keep going back to that we just have not quite healed from. Those areas that only God himself sees and loves us anyway.

I hate being challenged. Not because I won’t take that challenge, but because I will. I will take any challenge, even ones I should not take to prove that I am strong, I am courageous, and I am an overcomer. I will vehemently do whatever it takes to win. It is a great character trait, but not without serious weaknesses.

So I pressed in.

7am God woke me up.

“What God? I am so tired. Do I need to pray for someone, did someone message me in crisis?”

“Get up.” I hear Him say.

My mind went right to, ‘I know God did not just ask me to get up at 7am, when he knows that I am a night owl.’

“Hey,” He nudged my spirit, “Get up, get up” His voice sounded playful.

I opened my eyes and said, “I am up.”

I started to pray and asked God what He required of me.

“Get up, get out of bed, make some coffee, sit on the couch and hang out with me.”

Now, if you don’t know me, you won’t know that God and I have a very personal and friendship relationship. I joke with God, and He jokes back. I argue with God and He argues back. I question God and He answers me.

So I respond with, “It’s the crack of dawn. I hang out with you all day. Why do you want me up this early?”

“You are taking that challenge sweet girl. You are getting up early, every day at the same time to spend time with me.”

So I proceeded to argue my point. That is so religious and scheduled and ridiculous to have a set time to spend time with Him. I felt like I was getting punished and forced to spend time with God at an appointed time. Like, I don’t need an “appointed time” because I spend all my time with God, in the morning, in the shower, brushing my teeth, drinking coffee, on the drive to work, at work, at lunch on the drive home, with my family, before I fall asleep.

Of course He laughed at the notion that I was getting punished. Because I wasn’t, but it made no sense to me. I built my entire life around the notion that my God was omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent. That I could reach Him, talk to Him, worship Him at anytime, anywhere and He would be present in an instant. So a set “appointed time” seems opposite of who my God is.

It was probably 7:35am by the time I rolled out of bed. I made coffee, which I never do, because that is my husband’s job, sat down and said, “Okay God, here I am.”

Of course He delivered. He shared all kinds of things with me, prophetic insight, visions, dreams, hopes, and areas that I needed to grow in. Deep intimate secret things, between He and I that shape me to be more like Him.

7am

“Get up, get up!”

Ugh… trying to find the strength and energy to get out of bed when I went to sleep at midnight.

The next day, then the next.

For two weeks I have been trying to get out of bed and get up with God. But now I don’t hear His jolly voice telling me to get up. I hear him like a Facebook notification that goes off on my phone. You know the ones that vibrate and make us jump. When we get a notification, we immediately check our phones to see who tagged us, liked or post or commented. Yet when God sends us a notification, we are not so quick to jump and check what He posted on our heart.

I love that God is not a punishing God. It’s still hard for me to get that mindset out of my bones, as this is how I was raised in the church. He is a loving, kind and merciful God. I love how He literally has my phone go off at 7am every morning with some sort of text or notification that wakes me up. It’s actually hysterical. I told God that I need sleep and that I don’t get enough. And He lovingly told me that He would multiply whatever sleep I got, so it would actually be more than if I slept in.

So…

7am, I wake up. It still takes me anywhere from 10-15 minutes to actually get out of bed. But I am up, spending an “appointed time” with God. Honestly, I am not really sure what I am supposed to do. I read, I pray, I worship, I write. I haven’t jumped on the whole read this and this passage every day for a year thing yet. And am not even sure if that is what God is requiring. I realize that even though I thought this was a discipline God wanted me to grow in, as I was challenged in that area of my life, it is not.

In reality, God is teaching me obedience on a whole other level. But I love it. I love that He trusts me with things that matter to Him. I love that He thinks I am able. Well sort of… LOL. I am, but with a slow pace. I am learning to hear the God Notifications that go off inside of me on a whole new level, in an entirely new way that I have never experienced before. I love that He is teaching me new things. It is helping me to take that next step into the dreams and visions He has placed in my heart when I was a teenager and even now.

Ask God to turn up the notifications in your heart, so when they go off, you jump and immediately see what it is God is saying.

Cyber Coffee, God, Star Wars

I got up to spend time with God this morning and have "Cyber Coffee" with my friend Ally via Marco Polo.

I am still tired, processing what God wanted me to embrace this morning to share.

As I was talking with her, I noticed in the background the tree, not decorated, on one side of my head... And the pile of fall decorations, needing to be put away on the other side of my head. In my hand, the Star Wars "Darth Vader" mug.

I usually don't pay attention to things like this, but God highlighted the scene. I took a picture in all my "just got out of bed" BEAUTY! 😂😂😂

The Lord showed me why he highlighted this scene:

You are "in between" seasons He said. Not fully immersed in one and not fully out of the other. You are about to be fully immersed in this next season... Get ready!

I was processing this concept. When the seasons change, my decorations in my house change. It is a process. I have to get the fall boxes out and put the fall stuff away... Then I have to get the Christmas boxes out and start to organize what I am going to use and what is going to stay in the boxes.

It is the same with us... There is a process and it takes time to pack one season up and fully embrace the next season. And everything changes. Not just the decorations. What we eat, how we dress, what we do ( based on the weather) how we celebrate...

I was wondering if the Vader mug represented anything or if I was reaching... But God told me that in the middle of all of it, was this thing that has always been constant in my life, shaping me... Star Wars.

It may seem weird, but we all have some kind of outside influence that God uses to help shape us... Sports, jobs, ministry, hobbies, fandom... Whatever.

Star Wars represented this constant state of change (all these movies, books, seriers, theme park) yet the same story, the same characters, the same outcome.

God was reminding me that He is constant in the changing of seasons. But He has the same story, the same characters, the same outcome. How the story impacts our lives, will be different and individual to each of us.

I saw the original Star Wars with my parents in 1977. I have a 1978 star wars calendar that has the words "Teresa's"s 4th" written in my mom's handwriting on July 23rd. Its been a part of my life story since I was 3 years old. The way it impacted me and my family is such sweetness...

But for someone else it may have impacted them differently!

Today I want to encourage you not to rush the change of seasons, rather enjoy the process of transition. Sit back, drink your coffee in your raw state of being and delight in the constant presence of our loving father, no matter what season or transition of season you are in!

CANCER again

The storm rages outside, thunder and lightning shake and flash the 6 windows I look through, as I sit on the couch in my sister’s house. Over 2,000 miles away from home, on the other side of the country, I watch as the storm thrashes around me. It is comforting and foreign. Living in drought ridden California for the past 6 years has made this encounter sweet and worthy.

The house is quiet and calm. Children are in bed sleeping, my sister and her husband and away on an island, capturing the passion of their love for one another. This trip was planned a while ago. I would come for a week and spend time with my nieces and nephew, while they were on vacation, then I would go back home.

This trip, however, it longer. I am staying another week.

Three months earlier:

The long two hour drive from Fresno to Bakersfield for work is a welcome treat for me to encounter my God. I worship and pray and have long conversations about our calling, where we are going, how He wants us to partner with him. Weddings and pregnancies and school and jobs all swarm around my head, trying to process and plan the next 6 months of the hustle and bustle of my life.

The oil fields turn into orchards and vineyards and many miles of land, filled with agriculture fill my view. My phone rings and it is my sister. She is young, vibrant and beautiful. A mom who has spent most of her adult life homeschooling children and pursuing a healthy lifestyle of clean eating and cross fit. Her heart longs to be valued and her mind fights to stay focused on all that is pure and holy, in the midst of healing.

Her voice is quiet and calm as she recaps her medical history to me. A long arduous encounter with many months of intense pain and bleeding. She has seen many doctors and had some procedures down to aid her body to stop, but it persists. Then, as if all of life stood still and I could see the wings of the flies flying in the air in slow motion, she said the word.

The word that is like acid to the soul. The word that is filled with filth and devastation. That word. The word I have heard too many times from too many people I love in my family…

CANCER

I don’t say a word, at first. I don’t know what to say really. Then as if a volcano of rage rose up in me I began to get angry. I started to pray over my sister and declare life and truth and God’s promises. I prayed against every generational curse and agreement and cursed cancer and commanded it to die. I couldn’t even shed a tear. I was not going to give cancer that place.

I spoke directly to the cancer and told it to go to the pit of hell where it belongs. I battled and fought in my soul and told my sister I would stand and fight for her. She giggled and said that her best friend did the same. Got angry and said, oh NO… not today.

My trip was extended and she planned her surgery the week after she got back from her vacation from her husband, so I could be here.

Yet I feel so overwhelmed. The battle is great. I asked the LORD if I could carry her burden and the emotional intensity of how cancer wrecks the mind with fear and anxiety, is so wicked and demonic that rest is fleeting.

TODAY:

the storm has passed. My sister successfully went through all her pre op surgeries. The cancer did not spread and surgery is in two days. The weight of this wickedness is so heavy that I am overcome with exhaustion and fall asleep at 6:30 pm. When I wake 4 hours later, the house is quiet and calm, everyone is in bed asleep.

CANCER again, but NOT ANYMORE. That’s it, you’re done!!! You cannot and will not find your way in my family anymore… My mom, grandma, dad, cousin and now sister… NO… You are done. No more.

The storm is gone and the sun shined its rays into the window today… it reminded me of the story her husband told me as he wrestled with the word… on his wife

He was having a tough time at work… nothing was working our right, frustration and heaviness weighed on him, as he wanted to be home and not where he was. At the end of the day, he was driving back to his air B&B to get some much needed rest, but there is a dark, fierce black cloud heading straight towards him. He had to drive through the storm. He had to drive in right through the middle of it. And he did. He pulled into a restaurant to eat, just as the storm finally passed. He sat down and looked out the window and there he saw a big bright beautiful rainbow. The reflection of the sun on the water that had just poured down.

It was a beautiful picture of their place. Go through the storm, rest, and remember God’s promise. It was then, when he told me that I knew my sister would be free of this wicked word that attacks. It was then that I was confident it would no longer be able to make its way in our family

And like the drought ridden California, that has persisted for years… so will cancer be in the many many generations to come… in a drought, with no life and place to grow.

Overwhelmed by His presence

Overwhelmed

Overwhelmed by the presence of God.

I cannot even begin to express the emotions that have overtaken my soul….

It was almost 11:30pm on a cold winter’s night. I was at a stop sign and a man with a stroller packed with items was crossing in front of me. My heart ached for him, it was cold and the Fresno fog was rolling in, causing the air to be wet and miserable for anyone without shelter. I pulled out and turned left and turned to me daughter and said, “My heart breaks for him.” I have a general sense of empathy for those who are in need and try my best to help in any way I can. I spoke out loud and said, “Lord, I don’t know what to do in these kind of situations, I want to help, but don’t know what to do.” This is something I say on a regular basis, as a resident of Fresno County. Homelessness is all around in abundance and I feel overwhelmed by the need that exists.

Overwhelmed.

I am a good Christian. I fight daily for righteousness, I follow God’s commandments the best I can. I obey God when I hear him speak and I stand for truth, love and grace in a broken world. I have been helping homeless people for years. I have had some amazing encounters with people who live outside the walls of our society, on the fringes of community life and have felt extremely blessed.

Tonight as I saw this man walking in the 40 degree temperature, I felt compelled to help, to do something. It is my duty, my responsibility to help the poor. It is in the Bible. It is what we should all be doing to some extent. So I asked the LORD, something or some way, perhaps I have never asked before. “LORD, what do YOU want me to do for this man?” It seems to me that I have asked this questions before, but something shifted in the spirit and in my being.

I heard the LORD immediately say, “Buy him coffee.” So we drove 100 feet to the gas station and walked into the store to get coffee. There was a rack of hats and gloves and the LORD said, “Get him a hat and gloves.” So we looked at the rack and saw some beanies and fur hats. The LORD said, “Get him the best! The fur lined hat, the double lined gloves.” So I did. My daughter filled up the large coffee and we grabbed some cream and sugar. We got into our car and drove to meet him on the street. I pulled over on the side of the rode, right in front of him and got out of the car. I could tell he was apprehensive at our arrival, so I spoke gently and clearly, “Hi, it’s really cold out here tonight, so we wanted to make sure you were warm. We got you some coffee and some gloves and a warm fuzzy hat.”

This gentle older man was so gracious and kind. “Thank you,” he said. “I am lost I think, I have been walking around for hours and don’t know where I am.” I was putting helping him put the gloves on his hands. His hand were numb from the cold and stiff. I was having a hard time putting the double line gloves on each finger, as he was not able to really move them. My daughter asked him if he liked cream and sugar in his coffee and he gently responded, “Oh yes, I would love some, thank you.” I finally was able to get one glove on and then put the fur hat on his head. It was black and red buffalo check with a brown and gray fur along the sides that covered his ears and dawned his forehead.

His countenance changed and a soft glow began to adorn his face. “Does that feel snug?” I asked. His smiled and responded, “Yes, it fits perfect.” My daughter and I were shivering from the cold. We had jumped out of our heated car and didn’t think about putting on a jacket. As I was trying to put the other glove on his left hand, he noticed we were shivering. “Are you cold?” he asked. “Yes, I said, but we will be okay, let me just help you get this other glove on. “Here you can have my jacket, to keep you warm,” he offered. My daughter looked at me in disbelief and I was wrecked. My heart was struck with this overwhelming emotion that I have yet to unpack. “No, no, I am good,” my daughter replied, “I have a sweater in the car. I had no words really. Just this encounter with humanity that broke me in suck a way that the repercussions of it moved me for hours. His jacket was unzipped and so I asked him if he would like me to zip it for him. “Oh yes, thank you,” he said, “You are spoiling me.” The sincerity in his voice was so transparent and authentic that again, I was struck by this emotion that I cannot describe. I began to zip up his jacket. I told him to wait a minute that I was going to get something out of my car. I looked into my Yukon and saw three warm items.

Before we left to go to Sonora today I grabbed a black zip up sweat shirt. I was getting ready to leave and went back into the closet and took out another jacket, a fleece one, just in case is was really cold when we got there. Then as I was loading the warm items into the back seat of my car, I saw another sweatshirt in my other car and took it out and put it into the back seat of my Yukon. It was one of those moments that made no sense at all in real time, but made perfect sense in my mind.

I took the black half zip sweatshirt and brought it to him. “Is it ok if I take off your jacket, so we can get this sweatshirt underneath to give you some extra warmth?” “Yes, of course, that would be great!” he said. So I helped him take the green jacket off, so we could give him some layers. As I took the green jacket off, it was pretty wet, both inside and outside. My heart was burdened with the reality that this man was walking in this cold with a wet jacket on, no gloves, and no hat and was completely lost. My daughter heard the LORD tell her that he was dehydrated, so acted quickly and got some water we had in the car, “Here you go, would you like some water?” she asked. “Oh yes, thank you,” he said. He could not get the cap off with his gloves, so we removed the cap and he drank the entire bottle as if he had not had water for a long time. I helped him put on the black sweatshirt, my daughter handed him the warm coffee and I told him that the jacket was not good to put back on.

I went into the car and saw the purple fleece jacket. The one my mother-in-law got me for Christmas to wear to my son’s high school football games in the winter. I loved that jacket. It had a zipper that went all the way under my chin and pockets inside and out. The outside pockets zipped up so that you could store gloves or items that would not fall out. Tonight, as the temperature continued to drop and the smoke raised from my lips due to the cold, I felt the presence of God so strong, it was as if HE was standing right next to me. I could see Him smile at me and say, “Yes daughter, give this man this beloved jacket. You are blessing him with my love and I want him to have the best.” I did not grieve or second guess this gesture, like I would usually do. Rather, I got excited to partner with my God in showing His love. I got the jacket and began to put it on him.

As I helped this beautiful soul put the purple jacket on his cold body, he beamed some more. It is purple… purple like royalty. This older homeless gently soul was my God’s son, his beloved creation that was alone, cold and lost. I noticed that jacket had elastic on the end of the sleeves and told him that it would keep the gloves on the cold out. We got some money and put it in the jacket pocket and showed him that it zipped up, so he would have to worry about it falling out or getting lost. I zipped up the jacket all the way to under his chin. He was covered and warm. His gray beard gleamed as the street lights bounced off the dew in the air.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Yes, but you have already done too much for me. I will be ok.”

God said… my God said to my heart with power and love. “I have more for you to do for him, so he knows I see him.”

“I have not done too much, I have hardly done anything, and wish I could do more. This is God showing you that he loves you and has not forgot you. We are going to drive to the gas station and get you some warm food. Do you want to meet us there?”

At this point my heart was overflowing with emotion. I did not feel sorry for this man or pity him. I did not feel obligated to help him out of Christian duty or obedience. Instead, I was experiencing the heart of my Savior. I was partaking in His love for us. Words do not adequately describe this encounter. He said, “I am lost. I am try to get to Vartikian Street. Do you know where it is?” It sounded familiar to me but I wasn’t entirely sure. I told him I would get my phone and google map it. The street was about a mile and a half away. I showed him on the map, but he still seemed confused. So we wrote it down on a piece of paper for him.

I gave him a hug and said, could you meet us at the gas station?

He said, “Yes, of course.”

Then we got in our car, made a U-turn on Polk to go the gas station. The gas station had no warm food. So we walked out to meet him and tell him. The LORD said, “You have a car, go to the 7-11 at the next street.” I greeted him, “What is your name friend?”

“Tom, my name is Tom.” He replied. I shared with him that we were going to go to 7-11 and get some warm food for him. We agreed that he would walk down Polk towards Vartikian to stay warm and get there as soon as he could. So we parted ways and went to 7-11. There we got some warm food, a wrapped muffin for later, a banana, and my daughter grabbed a gallon size water jug. She saw these warm fuzzy sweater socks for Tom as well. We got back into the car and drove to find Tom, on his way to Vartikian. We saw him on Polk sitting down. We flipped a U-turn and parked next to him.

“Hey Tom, here is some warm food and a muffin for later. Also we wrote our phone number down, so you know how to reach us. I am going to drive to be sure you are going the right way, so you don’t get lost.” I shared with him.

He smiled and said, “I feel like a little kid, and you guys came to save me.” I did not want to be his Savior and I did not want him to feel like we were doing this out of pity, but rather love. “No, we are not here to save you, we are just here to love you, and to show you that you are valuable.” I responded raw and wrecked by the presence of God. I was curious to know what was at Vartikian Street. So I asked him, “Are you staying with someone who lives on Vartikian?”

He responded, “Yes, there is someone who lets me stay in their den. I used to own my own company and have had a series of unfortunate events. I am a 60 year old man who just wants a job and a place to live. I don’t want to be a burden on people or ask for handouts.”

Here was this beautiful soul standing before me, full of life and joy and positive and kind. The moon was bright and the new day was upon us, midnight. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over. I saw him. Not his age, or status, or race or misfortune. I saw HIM… the intensely stunning SOUL of this human, and it was breathtaking. It was true and genuine and vulnerable. Tom’s soul was full of life and hope and love, even though his flesh was cold and wet and tired and hungry. This man who offered his only jacket to my shivering daughter, not knowing she had a sweater inside the car. This man who beamed hope in the midst of dire circumstances. This man whose only wish was to have a job and a place to live.

My daughter and I told him that we would love for him to stay in touch with us. That we would do our best to help in any way we could. I told him that we would love to have him over for Christmas and if he had no place to go, we would love to have him. “Really you would have me over for Christmas, wow, that’s incredible…. I will, I will keep in touch and call you.” He graciously responded.

We said our goodbyes as he was nearing Vartikian Street and told him that he had blessed us. His face again glowed and he said, “Thank you and God Bless You.”

Overwhelmed.

I drove away and began to weep. Not because I was sad for him or felt sorry for him… but because I had caught a glimpse of the deep AGAPE LOVE of my God. I had tasted just a sliver of this amazing grace Jesus gave us when HE left the perfection of eternity to empathize with his creation. Something in me broke… tears were overwhelming my face and I could not formulate words to articulate the encounter. Even now as I record this event with the written word, I am spilling over like a spring of water that just broke through the hard dry earth to give life to its surrounding.

Overwhelmed.

I saw the religious spirit writhe in pain as I partnered with my God to show His love to a son, an heir of the kingdom of heaven. I feel freedom in the tears, as if something that was a burden suddenly was lifted. Our purpose on this earth is to LOVE… PERIOD. To love in such a way, that it cannot come from our own good deeds, but from a depth that can only be found in walking with the King of Kings and LORD of lords. May we, God’s people not get caught up in good deeds, but rather be overwhelmed by God’s purpose for this world.

“Those who twist their mustache are easy to spot; but those who clothe themselves in good deeds are well camouflaged.” –Captain Picard, Star Trek, Next Generation