Rest. It stirs up all kinds of images, but there is a spiritual rest that I am only beginning to comprehend. As I am seeking more revelation from the Lord, He has lots to say  about it. The following is an excerpt from a phenomenal book, The Rest of the Gospel, by Dan Stone. Better get your fork because this is meat. Pray over the rich truths within these truths this week:

“It is not your striving that releases Christ’s life through you. It is your trusting. Just say, “Lord, Your Holy Spirit it  showing me this truth. I embrace it by faith, just like I embrace Jesus FOR me by faith and experienced forgiveness of my sins. I now embrace Jesus IN me as my life. Teach me, convince me of this truth by the Holy Spirit, so that I won’t be captive any longer trying to produce this life myself.”

What’s good news to us now isn’t just that He died FOR us, though that is good news. It isn’t just that He’s WITH us, though that is good news. It isn’t just that He’s IN us, helping us, though that is good news. The really good news is that  He is in us, living His Life as us.

He has joined His Spirit with our spirit. In the unseen and eternal, there’s Deity inside us. We are not that Deity, but we are containers of that Deity.

A well of eternal life is springing up within us. That life is adequate, that life is sufficient, that life is never exhausted, never tires, never tastes bitter. That life is always light, always has mercy in it, always has a second chance in it, always carries God’s forgiveness toward others, always is love.

When we recognize this, suddenly the Oughts and Musts of Satan’s frenetic life become the “Be still, and be” of God’s life — the “Be still and be”  of His eternal presence.  A dramatic change of our point of reference results.  Satan’s invitation to humanity was “you become.” When we’re playing  the game of Must and Ought, we’re in the spotlight. Our performance is center stage.

But our point of reference is now the indwelling Jesus Christ. He has not part in the separation implied by Must and Ought. He lives in our sanctuary, the Holy of Holies, where all simply IS. We are invited to let that be, and let Him come forth.”

(page 62, The Rest of the Gospel, by Dan Stone. You can purchase this book through our website under Resources, Recommended Reading.)

I know we are all around children. And they are just worth laughing at.

Charis’ pronunciations have gone through funny evolutions in the age 4-6 years.

She went from saying:

Moo-shee for movie

Pa-sget-ti for spaghetti

Snar-gan-off for stroghanoff

Toob to tomb (as in “They put Jesus in the toob”)

Now we are in the season of six-year-old questions. A couple of the craziest  ones  lately are:

How did God make spiders? (Not why, but how?)

and

Did Jesus make toots (our family word for having gas)?

Chuck and I took on the task of painting our bedroom and replacing the flooring that Pearl had so graciously decorated for us.

All this in one weekend.

After two sleepless nights on a mattress in our living room, discount floor tiles that were defective and now had to be corrected, and a house that looked like a cyclone had not just hit it but had moved in and hovered for several days, I was over it.

To our dismay, our shower head broke and the garbage disposal kicked the bucket the same weekend.
Did I mention that we are not the best do-it-yourselfers?

So I was heading out to the store to fix the flooring first thing Monday morning and saying out loud:
“Lord, seriously? I am sore, my back is killing me, the floor looks terrible, the shower head is broken, now the disposal is trashed—”

I rounded the corner of the house and there is a long liquidy line of Pearl poop all over my sidewalk and driveway.

“And now this, Lord? Seriously??”

I slammed the door getting into the Jeep, turned the key, hit the radio on and shifted into reverse. And I heard Kari Jobe sing out:

“I  believe You’re my portion
I believe You’re more than enough for me
Jesus, You’re all I need.”

Thanks Lord. Seriously.

Someone asked me this the other day when we were talking about hearing from God.  In fact, when you start talking about any kind of intimacy with God, there are always lots of questions. But to be candid, those questions look a lot like doubt and fear.

It goes all the way back to the Garden when the snake hissed, “Did God really say?”

Hearing from God is not about getting a grade, checking a box, or receiving a gold star. Nor is it about failing. It is a relationship. It is about learning to follow.

Think of an infant who is BORN to walk. She is fully equipped but simply under-developed. So with time and strengthening, encouragement and modeling, that child will rock on her hands and knees, then crawl in some crazy, awkward fashion and then take her first wobbly, trembling steps. But it doesn’t stop there.

Those first steps lead to bruised hands and heads. Skinned up knees, lots of boo boos and band-aids.

But NEVER does the parent tell the child, “Stop trying. Why bother? It’s too hard. You simply can’t do this.” The parent knows that those little arms, legs and feet were designed for Running.

So listen for the voice Who calls you. Listen in songs, in nature, in the Bible and books. Listen even through others’ conversations with you. Listen for those words that ring a bell deep inside you.

And speak back. Talk to Him. All the time, about everything.
Talk to the One who made you able to Run into His arms.

The other morning, Chuck called me, all hyped up. He was taking the girls to school. “I know you are busy, but the sunrise is incredible! If you would leave right now and go to that peak at the park, you would still be able to see it. But you have to hurry.”

I hung up the phone and looked out my window; all I saw was a blurry, dismal gray. Not much of a motivator to leave my warm house and hot coffee. But I did.

I grabbed my keys and drove out of the little hollow that my house sits in and headed for the highest, closest place I could find. Even as the Jeep climbed up the first hill, the light started exploding around me. In my rearview mirror, I got flashes of reds and pinks in the sky. I strained to turn around to see it but couldn’t. Now I was totally motivated.

I drove back down another hill and back into the gray. Waited on a break in traffic. Where should I go? Time and colors were burning. The park was too far. Finally, my turn. Onto Northshore, I turned left. I climbed again but this time I was facing the sun. This time nothing between me and the sky.  I reached the top of a undeveloped subdivision and flash, there it was: the sun and blood reds and warm pinks slashing and splashing across the sky.

My heart was racing. All I could say for a few minutes was, “Wow.”

So quickly the colors in the sky merged and cooled and stretched out. Like an artist had just plopped some paint on a canvas and then with a loving stroke had smoothed them and diluted them into long, lovely strands.

“You sure are a show off,” I said quietly. And I heard, “My mercies are new every morning.”

As I have pondered this over several days, here are a few take-aways:

One, I want to be quick to share when I see something beautiful. If Chuck hadn’t called me, I would have missed this gift.

Two, I want to be quick to respond. If I had depended solely on what I could see, or if I had tarried, I would  have missed out.

And three,  I want to be quick to live in the reality that as beautiful as that sunrise was, it does not compare to the beauty of His mercy. That was the greatest gift — the reminder that every morning, because of Him, I get a clean slate to begin painting on.

“One thing I ask, and I would seek, to see your beauty.”

While hiking the return trip of a long trail in the Smokies with Charis, my six year old, she turned to me and said, “Mama, tell me a story. A long one.” I knew she was running out of gas fast and needed a distraction. So I began with the story of “a little boy who took care of sheep and sang songs of love to God under the stars.”

With full animation, I told her about Saul and Samuel, Goliath, and David’s wife, Michal.  Then I launched into the story about a cripple named Mephibosheth and David’s pursuing him:

“Mephibosheth looked out over the horizon and saw dust stirring in the distance and knew someone was coming. Then the servants called out, ‘It’s the king’s horses!!’ Mephibosheth’s heart froze.  ‘The king? Surely this is the day I DIE!’ ”

(Charis looked up with a gasp.)

“The riders rode into the remote village and stopped in front of the crippled man’s house. They gruffly called out, ‘The king summons you.’

All the sandy, dusty ride there, Mephibosheth looked at his mangled, useless feet. He looked at his worn and faded clothes. ‘So this is it. After all these years of fearing death because I am a descendant of Saul, David’s enemy, my turn has come. My grandfather is dead. My father is dead. And now me.’

But instead of death, King David offered something much different.”

Something rippled in my spirit. And in God’s loving way, while I told my daughter a story, He told His daughter a story, too.

“The great hall was beyond Mephibosheth’s imagination. As he dragged his feet along with crutches you could hear the sound echo — tap, slide, tap, slide, tap, slide. Closer and closer the cripple came to the throne, and his death. When he finally dared to lift his eyes to the king, instead of judgment and fury, he saw arms spread wide open and a broad smile. Then David spoke.

‘Mephibosheth because I loved your father, because I swore an oath to him, and he to me, all that is mine is yours. You will live in my palace, you will be my son, you will dine with me at my table. . . .’ ”

My voice caught in my throat as I said it.

Charis looked up at me and took my hand. “You okay, Mama?”

“Yep,” I said as I cleared my throat. “It is too good to believe. Just because David loved Mephibosheth’s father, he will would live the rest of his life in a king’s house and eat at a king’s table.  Just like God loved our father, Abraham. The same promise is for us, Charis.”

And the ripples continued.

Two days later I was worshipping and listening to one of my favorite team of artists, Shane and Shane.  The song, Carry Away randomly came on.  I have heard that song a thousand times. But this day I heard for the first time the line, “and I dine with you…only you, Lord.”  I thought my rejoicing spirit was going to blow the cars off the interstate like some kind of super power blast.

Oh crippled woman that I was, to be pursued out in the desert, only to dine at the King’s table and be called His daughter.

Hallelujah!

Carry Away by Shane and Shane

at what point did i,
did i know that i would be around?
at what point did i,
did i know that i would be found?
and dine with You

carry away my mind, carry me away
carry away my mind
carry away my time, sweep me away
carry away my time

who gave the right to interrupt my life
with thoughts of You
needless to say, i bid my rights good day
i’m here to live and dine with You
only You. Lord

if You will lead on
forsake not Your song in me
Jesus, song in me

(Philippians 1:6; 4:8, John 6:44; 6:65, Romans 12:2)

A Well Laid Plan

My friend Steve is one of the funniest people I have ever met. I kid you not, when he tells one of his crazy stories, people are crying because they are laughing so hard. Including Steve.

So I saw his wife, Christie, the other day and she told me that Steve came to her and said, “I have just remembered a funny story I have never told you before.”

That in itself is a joke because we’re all thinking that we have heard and enjoyed all of Steve’s stories for the last 15 years.

Did I mention that Steve has a memory problem? He can’t remember movies he has watched. Ever. So if you say, “Steve, did you see _____?” he will look at Christie and say, “Did I see that?”

This guy is funny.

The newly recalled story goes like this. (Did I mention that all his stories are true?)

A long time ago in his B.C. days (before Christ), he dated this girl and they  played pranks on each other. Well, this girl had scared Steve really badly. And putting one over on Steve is like declaring war.

So they had been out somewhere and were going back to her apartment, but they were driving separate cars. Steve races back, uses her spare key to get in the apartment, and hides in her shower to scare her. He waits and waits.

Finally he hears someone come in the bathroom and sit down on the toilet. Steve throws the shower curtain back and begins screaming and waving his hands around like a madman.

The woman sitting on the toilet, pants around her ankles, begins screaming and waving her hands too.

But it wasn’t Steve’s girlfriend.

It was the girl’s mother. Whom Steve had never met.

So here is a strange man in her daughter’s shower screaming at her, and she is on the toilet unable to do anything. But scream.

Laughter does the heart good like medicine…

I tell the women at our classes and events that the answer to every question is “Jee-sus.” Said with a respectful Southern drawl and hyper-pronounced syllables.

But it really is true. The question is, do we see and hear Him in all the places He shows up and speaks up?

For example, Salem got a hand made puzzle at church and she wanted me to see if I could do it. “It’s hard, Mom,” she warned.

A few days later, I was cleaning up the house and the envelope on her desk caught my eye. I felt a tug to sit down and do it. Being somewhat of a puzzle queen, I did what I always do with puzzles. I sorted everything out, turned the pieces face up and looked for the edges. It was clearly a box of candy. This is will be a piece of cake, er, make that candy, I thought.

First, I lined up the pieces that had the weight and kilos printed on them. Then I noticed there was a rough edge where it had been torn, so I grouped those knowing that they had to form one side of the box.

But a curious thing happened. It DID get hard. It didn’t make sense. There were only three colors on the pieces: blue, red, white. The product was clearly a Nestle’s Crunch item. There were less than 20 total pieces. How hard could it be?

Here is the “Jee-sus” part.

I had to stopping trying to make the puzzle work according to what I thought I saw. I knew the word had to spell CRUNCH. But the pieces just didn’t fit. No effort on my part made them fit. I had to stop looking at the word Crunch and look at each piece, how each was shaped, where there were color alignments. The curve of the U was actually the H turned slightly. And those ruffled edges I was so confident of? They were actually split in two sections.

I do Jesus like that. I approach His word, my relationship with Him, like I already know what it says and I know what He will say. I already know how to do it. I know a pattern, I have the system down. I already know…

But when I step out of my paradigms and boxes, I find I look at each piece with intention, curiosity and (dare I say it?) wonder. When I stop focusing on what I know, I find out what I missed, the angle of that piece, the curve of that letter is different… When I allow my heart and spirit to discover and wonder and relish the time looking at God and all that He is, I find a much much bigger picture that I thought existed.

And then I find I don’t know quite as much as I thought I did. Which is a good thing.

Ears to Hear…

“That’s it?” Amanda exclaimed as she threw her pen down on her open Bible. “That’s all it takes after two years of trying to do this God thing?”

We tried not to laugh because she was so fired up. But her incredulous, wide-eyed dismay cracked us all up.

I shook my head and smiled. “That’s it, friend. That’s really all I did to begin to hear from God.”

I hear these questions a lot: How do you hear God talking to you? How do you know if it’s Him? What if it’s not? How can I be sure? What if I am wrong?

Here is the scoop. A few years back, I heard one of my all-time favorite teachers, John Dee, talk about hearing from God. He said that God is the God who knows the language that our heart speaks and He is quite good at conversing if we will listen and believe. John also said that we don’t sit around stirring up God thoughts and notions on our own. He went to so far as to chide us lovingly that there is not enough good in us apart from Jesus to ever throw anything heavenward.

John said every heaven thought came from heaven to us and was pointing us back to heaven. His premise was that the Holy Spirit was constantly talking to us; pointing us to Jesus; causing us to learn, desire and hear. In short, John said, “It takes the Spirit of God to stir the spirit of God in us.”

Let me say that again: It takes the SPIRIT of God to stir the spirit of God in us.

I had to sit on that for about a week. And it dawned on me that all the good and God thoughts, warm fuzzies about Jesus, gentle convictions, desire for Scripture, hunger for worship, awareness of His beauty in nature, equating my joy as I looked in my baby’s eyes with God’s joy as He looked at me, the delight of enjoying great chocolate, cool grass under bare feet, a long sigh in the summer rain…all those notions and experiences were generated by His Spirit trying to awaken the God spirit in me to move me back toward my Father in awe, adoration and praise.

Over time, I purposed a step further. I decided in my heart that if I had a God thought, I would trust it was from God, and believe it was for me. After all, I never question hearing from the devil. Do you? So why then would we be so skeptical about hearing from the One who made us and loves us?

I  found once I had the willingness to hear from God, He had a lot to say! A perfect example is one time at the beach, I asked God to reassure me that I was in fact hearing from Him, that I wasn’t losing my mind. And I heard, Look down. When I did, I saw several seashells perfectly shaped like an ear and I heard this Scripture in my heart:

He who has ears to hear, let him hear.