Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it

Jesus Appears to Thomas 24  Now Thomas  (also known as Didymus [ a ] ), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.   25  So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side,  I will not believe.” 26  A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said,  “Peace  be with you!”   27  Then he said to Thomas,  “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” 28  Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” 29  Then Jesus told him,  “Because you have seen me, you have believed;  blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Forgive me, but I have thought Thomas to be such an idiot.  His hesitation and doubt frustrates me!  But that's just me--I've

The feat of writing a post and explanation for what happened this past weekend has kept me from even attempting it for some days now.  How do you describe miracles but not as to cheapen the treasure of their testimony? First I must begin to explain who this man Steven is, and who he someday will be.  Skeptical, I have been for some years now which is why I categorize his existence as a miracle. He is strong.  Meek.  Authoritative in speech, and yet the most gentle of men.  He hates all the usual things like Wal-Mart and loves all the usual authors like G.K. Chesterton.  His brokenness before the Lord was what set him apart from the crowd for me.  I honor this man with words of encouragement. "Steven, you are dearly loved and anointed by Jesus.  Not because you have done great things for Him, but because your heart longs to make Him the focus.  You know He is good even in the desert seasons.  You have chosen Jesus.  You have a closeness with Him that inspires me to seek Him a

"How abundant are the good things that you have stored up for those who fear you, that you bestow in the sight of all, on those who take refuge in you."--Psalm 31:19 A year ago today I received a text message asking, "Are you going to France today?" My friend was correct.  I was at the gate at Eppley Airfield about to board my plane on my route towards Europe.   France would not have been nearly so sweet had the Lord not allowed the hard seasons before-hand.  I spent some recent summer moments sitting under the stars with this same friend and breathing in God's goodness.  I knew He had been storing up good moments like that for the future.  All that waiting finally made sense. We can remember--my avid followers--how I waited nearly two months before I finally got to see the Eiffel Tower while over there.  I believe the wait was for that perfect moment when I first saw it.  God was not keeping anything from me, but storing up as the verse in Psalm 31:19 s

I am frustrated and I feel convicted for the watered down message I, myself, preach.  I don't want to be too serious about sin.  I don't want to get on someone's bad side.  I jump around the depravity of man so I won't be hated, but I sometimes persuade people to pray a prayer and yet hardly address the need for repentance. I need to stop befriending people into hell.  I want to be honest, but also realize I can't save anyone, and I certainly did not find Jesus on my own. Unless we repent from our sin, we will never taste the goodness of Christ. Despise sin.  Pursue Jesus. "I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes:  first for the Jew, then for the Gentile."--Romans 1:16

I've come to the conclusion that I don't think I ever really liked dancing. I was driving today and this fourth grader grabbed my attention in the car next to me.  He was grinning at me, waving profusely.  I smiled and gave a little nod and waved back to him.  I don't have children, but I understand we more clearly see the nature of the human heart in a child, unadulterated by the need to keep up appearances.  The boy wanted to be noticed.  As do I. As my eyes went back to the road I remembered doing the same things when I was in fourth grade.  That was the age I first auditioned for the Nutcracker.  Then and there, I was chosen, accepted, and noticed for what felt like the first time. To be honest with myself, I've had plenty of opportunities to return to the stage after leaving ballet five years ago.  I have made appearances a few times and if I really pressed hard, I think I could have gone back into it as more than a hobby.  But, almost as if I don't have

In light of what I perceive to be "shortcomings" with following Jesus--though we have been learning that is ridiculous to think we had anything to do with our salvation--but, I was wondering, why didn't Jesus choose to come back after all the apostles were martyred?  They lived completely, wholeheartedly for Him.  I live comfortably.  It doesn't appear that I am doing anything presently that would get me killed for Christ.  I live in America. But He chose to endure the blaspheme of His Name, the incorrect interpretation of His scriptures, the loss of so much of His creation, to find that in 1989 one girl would bring Him pleasure to save.  He endured the crucifixion to have relationship with a woman that seems to not do much for Him in the natural. Talk about a love that I cannot explain. I could gather from all this that it seems I am His favorite. Take heart beloved, you are far more loved than you thought.  You are His favorite. "Do not be afraid, l

While staring blessing straight in the face and awkwardly trying to make sense of the goodness that I feel, I realize God has outdone me once again. If one looked at past posts, some might really begin to believe that I was an emotional wreck and constantly underneath a little black rain cloud.  Though I believe that rain cloud served a purpose to remind that prosperity isn't promised in a life following Jesus, I am still at a loss of what God has decided to go and do. He is blessing me. Not that I won't acknowledge that I'm surrounded by a constant life of goodness in His presence, but here I am with said blessing...and so I stare at it.  Poking.  Prodding.  Not sure what I can do with it except learn to wear it well and worship the One who gave it. The Psalmist went a little further to say that he lifted up his cup only to receive MORE.  More eternal Life, and more of Jesus, because the blessing only made him more acutely aware of his need for God. So, I am lear

My sweet cousin, Brooke, inspired me to write this post.  She blogs herself about her own journey with Jesus ( read it here! )  .  I don't know what I'm going to end up saying, except that God has been doing a lot in my heart, more than I can physically "see". When Jesus pursues my heart, I feel like it can hurt sometimes.  Because when He is pursuing me, it means that the world is not.  He actually won't even stand for it!  Talk about a jealous Lover.  It's interesting that I could even want this world over His affections. Alas, that is where I've found my heart this evening. "She will chase after her lovers but not catch them; she will look for them but not find them. Then she will say, 'I will go back to my husband as at first, for then I was better off than now.'"--Hosea 2:7

God has been blessing me, and with things that I don't think I deserve... But, that's the thing, they are things I don't think I deserve.  Actually, who is God in this situation then?  If I deem what I should and shouldn't get, would I be more in charge than the Lord?  Yes.  So with much difficulty, I am learning it can be quite enjoyable to receive joys from Him. Things like: My porch swing. My parents. June weather. Iced coffee and happy green circles. Friends and their loving, encouraging words. Jesus!  You are the reason why I can and will enjoy these things.  Because they are merely things that point me to You.  You are the thing I don't deserve the most, but you saw fit to give me Your life. Lastly, I know this verse is talking of God's sovereignty, but it reminds me of the perspective change God gave me on my life, which is God's...however He sees fit. "But who are you, a human being, to talk back to God? Shall what is

So I've been carrying this weight around.  Jesus told me to empty my pockets the other day and I didn't realize what he was talking about. Religion rocks, my dear, I've come to find out. You see, I grew up in a Christian home.  Then, Jesus saved me.  So if the Devil can't get me with drugs or abuse, he'll get me with rules and regulations until I'm weighed down, unable to move. "Don't you dare lead on a man, young lady." "Be a submissive woman." "Dress appropriately." "Christian women are quiet." "Christian women blah blah blah." Actually, my western-Christian-world view friend, Christian women LOVE Jesus.  That's it.  Those many sermons I've heard over the years on godly femininity evoke wisdom, but they are not my identity or salvation--no matter how many times I've read Proverbs 31. I realized I was putting all my bets on a lifestyle instead of a Savior when God brought about

"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light."--1 Peter 2:9 There are so many times in my post-college graduation existence (these past two weeks) that I've been asked just what I'm going to do with my life.   I want to make much of Jesus. Can that be enough?  Whether I eat or drink, I'm enjoying Him.  I don't blame people for asking because they are probably just curious about my j-o-b.  I, myself, have started asking that same question...which translates into, "am I doing enough for you Jesus?" Not only have I felt a stronger pull to be in His courts worshiping, but on this side of heaven I have to have the faith that He is listening.  It can be harder to sit here and grow deeper in His Presence than to start out in a ministry or feel "useful" at church.  The former renders results that w

WE. ALL. DON'T. LOVE. JESUS. AS. WE. SHOULD.   To put it plainly, I wanted to live under a rock today and be left alone to my devotions, my songs, and my journal.  Perhaps it would be better for me and for God if I was all alone.  It would be "easier" to be alone with Jesus--I've learned that well--than to go to church on a Sunday and get involved with people.  I wouldn't have to face disappointing Christ anymore.  That's what brings the grief.   "Papa, I'm tired of disappointing you!" The only problem with this fear of  disappointing  God is the gospel.   And by gospel, I mean, Jesus and everything He came and did.   Just because I don't see my sin displayed, doesn't mean that I still wouldn't be a hater of God.  So, if I only preach one sermon the rest of my life, it may not be to the unbeliever.  It may very well have to be to the sinner-gone-good-girl trying to protect their appearances under the boulder.     YOU. CANNOT.

Somehow I keep looking over my shoulder wondering what God is going to do next.  Remembering some painful memories of the past, I still find I live in fear of repeating those situations that caused some moments of overwhelming grief. Deciding to look through what the Bible has to say about pain (as if I shouldn't have done this a few months ago...) I ran into John 16:21: "A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world." Therefore, the labor pains of realizing Christ as my JOY will not be repeated. The child of JOY in Christ, the-all-sufficient, has already been labored for.  And if He has been established as our joy, any other pain will not overwhelm. " So this is what the Sovereign LORD says: "See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone, a precious  cornerstone  for a sure foundation; the one who relies on it will never be stricke

I was holding my fragile glass heart tonight. "Will you please care for this?"  I asked around. The world's response was to knock it out of my hands, and at the feet of Jesus though I wasn't aiming for Him.  The aroma from the heart, which was apparently a jar of perfume, was reaching His nose.  He found it pleasing to Him. Though my hope was to keep the heart and never let it get broken, the fact that I didn't offer it to God in the first place suddenly came to mind. "I should have handed it to the Father first...oh no, is He mad?" I thought. Foolishly trying to fix the situation and bending down to gather the pieces and the oil, I felt a hand stop what I was doing. "I desire mercy, not sacrifice,"  I was raised to my feet.  I was in His arms.  It seemed that was what He was after all along. The sacrifice (though not entirely willful) made me all the more acutely aware of the fact that I do not love Christ as I should.  Only He

How great the pain of searing loss,  The Father turns His face away As wounds which mar the chosen One, Bring many sons to glory Christ, on the night he was betrayed, prayed three times that the cup of God's wrath be taken from away from him.  A man who always experienced the fullness of the presence of the Father was now going to experience the most agony.  The Father turned His face away and Christ cried, "Why have you forsaken me?"  Do you think that Jesus cried more over the separation from the Father than the wounds that showed his ribs? Perhaps it was because Jesus knew the over-surpassing, joy and delight in being connected to the God.  I pray we might know that more and more this Easter.

“…’ Jerusalem will be a city without walls because of the great number of people and animals in it.  And I myself will be a wall of fire around it,' declares the LORD, 'and I will be its glory within.'”—Zechariah 2:4-5 “Look into my eyes!” I would glimpse into Jesus’ eyes before I would turn away again.     “There is a part inside you which you don’t want me to see.  Let me see it!” Suddenly I felt vulnerable and on edge.  What could He possibly be looking at?  I had the feeling of a great dry land on my body that had never been watered or touched by His presence.  He was now entering into that waste and renewing it with His Spirit.  I apparently had never let Him in.  It’s like the junk drawer or the closet of odds and ends that you don’t know what to do with.   See, what God was doing was showing me how much more of myself I need to surrender to Him.  Not much happened outside of my spirit except a greater sense of what it means to be the bride.  A

The psalmist wrote at one point, " My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. "--Psalm 84:2 as well as " As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.   My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?"--Psalm 42:1-2 There is a great deal of angst within those sentences.  It's not--as a favorite pastor and teacher of mine has said--something you put on the back of a t-shirt with the picture of Bambi.  No.  You have been running.  You are tired.  You have had no food and water.  You ache, long, and groan for Rest.   Why don't I do that more?   Lord, bring us to the point where we cry out, "I gotta have more of You!" But of course, for the sake of tradition...

Maturity in Christ is a bit different from the world's perspective.  In America, you're titled mature if you're independent.  In Christ, your maturity hangs upon how dependent we realize we actually are.  There's no place for the occasional: I can figure it out. It's not a big deal. "Alicia...You want to become so, so mature.  But maturity in Christ is childlike dependence upon Me.  Return to the things you did at first.  That is how I want you.  Not walking, but loving my arms.  Come to me like a little child.  Desperate for love!  Repent of spiritual pride!" "At that time Jesus said, 'I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little  children.'"--Matthew 11:25 " And he said: 'Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little  children , you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.'"--Matthew 18:3 " Jesus

There are those moments when God really puts us in our place.  They usually surround circumstances we cannot generally control.  I'm a little in shock right now, but I'll get over it quickly when I look to the mass of the ocean (being Him) and not the tiny island I've made for myself ( my plans, times, strength, even my words).  Oh, this is a good view.  I've never feared God at all in comparison to what He is worthy of.  I thought I had Him and His ways all figured out.   "Guess again, Alicia." I made You promises a thousand times I tried to hear from Heaven But I talked the whole time I think I made You too small I never feared You at all No If You touched my face would I know You? Looked into my eyes could I behold You? What do I know of You Who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood But the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? What do I know? What do I know of Holy? I guess I thought that

What a privilege to have something so valuable to my heart that its very surrender is seen as the utmost form of worship. Abraham had Isaac. Hannah had her son. The sinful woman had the alabaster flask. The Father had the Son, and the Son had His very life. How grateful am I to have been given something so dear, very dear, to my heart that I may surrender it as worship to God. Maybe a few tears as well. "Now when Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper,  a woman came up to him with an alabaster flask of very expensive ointment, and she poured it on his head as he reclined at table.    And when the disciples saw it, they were indignant, saying, 'Why this waste?    For this could have been sold for a large sum and given to the poor.'   But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, 'Why do you trouble the woman? For she has done a beautiful thing to me.'"--Matthew 26:6-10

I sit in the same section of seats.  I always sit far off by stage right.  I even congregate by the same people, but since my trip to Europe I see Sundays a little different now. It is only a Sunday. I remember vividly as I unpacked my suitcase  on December 23rd , when I realized the person God had made overseas was colliding with her old life and routine. The only real difference was that the French girl had pillow talks with Jesus.   So there I was today listening to the sermon, but on this side of the Atlantic, I've been feeling a little out if place.  The closer and closer I get to the reality of Christ, the less and less I "need" those services (however, we do need to hear the word preached).  They become less and less about me actually (rather humbling to admit that revelation at this point in the journey).  I would like to give credit to God for why I don't go to church for the same reasons as before.  As an aside, the Spirit has been quick to also

Two weeks ago I attended the Onething conference at the International House of Prayer in Kansas City.  This was my first time going down there.  It had been a while since I've been able to engage in corporate worship, and it doesn't get much more corporate than 30,000 people this side of heaven. The music began to play and I was surprised how resistant my mind was to forgetting what lies behind and going to God in song. "Go over to the dance area," He said. "No...I really am fine over here, God" (about a minute later) "But, God, I want more of you!  I want to freely worship without distractions!" "Then obey Me." I have always somewhat feared the role of God called the Holy Spirit.  I've thought that to receive more of Him it meant seizing on the floor and foaming at the mouth uncontrollably (the latter is obviously an exaggeration).  However, with the simple act of obedience, those things that bound my mind from freedom to wo