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

So I began writing out a bit more of my testimony but I never got a chance to finish it.  I erased all my paragraphs I wrote earlier now after a steaming pile of sin forced me to seek Grace.  Now I am looking at my Savior from a new angle; it feels more like from the ground up.  Or back on the ground if you will. Seriously, what I find more dangerous than a murderer is a girl like me.  All presumptuous and proper.  I've got everything right and put together in one place.  In fact I might have dared to think myself better than you.  See, more so than a dead body to deal with at the end of a day's work, my sin secretly tries to hide behind a nice clean fa ç ade with no one to call it out.  That is, until my sin meets the Holy Spirit.  That's why I would like to say that my testimony is more a miracle than anything else.  I don't have any seemingly good explanation for why I need Jesus Christ's forgiveness and peace w...

Here are some late night thoughts: I've hated people that don't apologize as much as I do.  That is, until I realized I wasn't angry at their lack of consideration, but the fact that they could be so comfortable in being themselves.  Oh, the audacity of it all!  So what God  is showing me is that I'm completely valid in His eyes and heart.  I stand upon His approval and all else may run off like a drop of water on a bird's back. Make apologies where there are offenses.  Accept the grace from the only One that can give it.  Feel approved by the only one who knows the intentions of my heart.  I think I'll call this simple living. Oh and I forgot I even took this picture.   C'est moi avec le drapeau de Savoie Psalm 17 A prayer of David. 1  Hear me,   Lord , my plea is just;      listen to my cry. Hear  my prayer—      it does not rise from deceitful lips. 2 ...

I feel like I have to play for both teams when it comes to the topic of the Holy Spirit.  This whole week Jesus has brought about events that are far beyond my own knowledge and way of doing things, but the stories come through a person that I deeply trust.  I trust her by her fruit (Matthew 7:20).  She is rooted in the Word.  It is how we know God, His character, His fruit, His voice.  So, why must I feel a fight between my intellect and following the Holy Spirit?  Instead of t-shirts for the Twilight movies, I feel like I have to choose a TEAM BIBLE or a TEAM HOLY SPIRIT.  Selah. So here I am.  What I really want to do is wear them both.  I think Jesus does.  If I believe the scriptures, I must believe the work and miracles of God with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit and all its gifts.  I also find  myself on the outskirts of radical Christianity wanting to play along but feeling the need to appease my mind.  I ...

I have this Hillsong CD, and every time I listen to it I am brought back to a season in life that surprisingly brings some of the most innocent and fond memories of my life.  I am put back in the basement of a friend's house where we would hold worship nights and I return to my car driving the windy roads of western Omaha.  I envision myself looking into the dark night sky crying out to God for answers to lots of questions I had about my life and dreams and the orchestration of them all.  These times were not necessarily the happiest.  In fact, they were some of the loneliest.  I would consider them a great contrast to France--dark and light. One thing I find surprising is that when I hear this song that triggers these memories I am not pushed back into the pain, but into the thankful attitude of what God did in my heart of hearts.  He was awfully silent during that fall-turned-cold winter season.  I didn't get any answers I was looking for exc...

The first thing that drew me to look twice at the open doors next to my hotel was a strategically placed tray of eclairs.  I had just left my hotel building to spend a few hours walking around the city of Nice before returning home .   In a matter of about three brain synapses I discovered it was a church.  It went something like, "Eclairs--music--church--Jesus!" and into the building I went. The room was much smaller than a typical sanctuary of sorts and the only decorations on the white stone walls were pictures of their missions teams.  The crowd included various homeless men probably looking for an eclair just like I was.  You could tell this church was placed in the heart of the town where sex shops are the norm and poverty is plentiful.  During worship we sang songs that were familiar to me such as "Our God", yet obviously different in French.  There was a sort of "call and response" as I have heard it described before.  These people ...