In Her Brokenness to Stand Alone, She Found Her Freedom

I have a special bond with nature.

I admire it probably more than I should. I drive the same route to work, to church, to town just about every single day and there’s one piece of nature that I can’t help but think about and admire as I drive. In the middle of an open field, the field surrounded by a multitude of trees and a creek and houses as a fence around the barren area, stands one lone tree.

I love lone trees. I enjoy watching them throughout the seasons. I relish in their beauty in the fall, and feel a tinge of sorrow for them in the winter. Oh, I know all the trees that surround this tree and the open field will all lose their leaves as the snow approaches but this lone tree loses them obviously sooner than the others. The limbs no longer reach upward toward the heavenly skies but jut out in a random array of mangled twigs and gnarly branches. It is not a pretty tree by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s loneliness is a haunting beauty that one can’t help but wonder about the “life” it’s lived.

But to stand alone.

Standing alone is a brave task.

It’s this standing alone that brings me to this post today.

Have you ever felt alone? Like no one could understand you? Like no one wanted to understand you? You stand alone in an empty field, barren and broken.

The tree I like watching through the seasons reminds me of myself. We all go through our own seasons of growth and we go through our seasons of dying off or feeling alone and we suffer loneliness and brokenness in this life. But often, I feel like that tree and believe no one could ever truly relate to the events that have taken place in my life.

I’m also reminded of a story which took place in the bible thousands of years ago. Jesus and His disciples had been walking along ministering to people over the course of days, weeks, maybe even months at the time of this story. Their feet, possibly bare, and wearing flimsy sandals at best, had traveled over dirty roads, dusty pathways, and rocky terrain. Their feet and the feet of Jesus were possibly scarred from injury, possibly wound infested, but most definitely dirty and smelly at the introduction of this story.

As found in Luke chapter 7, here the story goes as follows:

Jesus had been invited for dinner at the home of a Pharisee (one of the traditional Jewish people, and a religious leader of the Jews). As the dinner was about to be served, Jesus reclined at the table in wait for the meal. In comes what the bible describes as a “sinful woman”. We don’t know how she was allowed into this Pharisee’s home or if she had crept in quietly, unbeknownst to the men gathered there. But she had heard that this Jesus was here in this home and she had made her way to Him for one purpose.

To wash His feet.

But it was the woman who received

the best gift that night.

She knelt at Jesus’ feet and we are told she brought her alabaster jar of perfume (alabaster is a fine white material used to carve ornaments and jars into). This jar contained the woman’s perfume, possibly the perfume she used in her sinful life. Some commentaries deduce that this woman was a prostitute or “woman of the night.” She had seduced many men with her charm, her appeal, her looks, her perfume. And yet, this woman thought she could bring that alabaster jar and anoint the feet of the Messiah, the Savior of the world. In fact, she brought to Him all she had to offer. She had no riches, no fame, no true reason to believe Jesus would even see her, let alone greet her with a holy kiss or warm compassionate embrace.

Still, she came to those dirty feet of the Master.

And as she knelt, she began to cry over His feet. We aren’t told why she cried, but we can believe that she cried out her sins to the Man who knew her sins already. He knew her sinful life and loved her unconditionally. The woman then used her hair which should have been put up and covered, as was customary, to dry her own tears from Jesus’ feet, kissed his feet, and poured her perfume over them.

The Pharisee, indignant, asked himself how Jesus, this self-proclaimed prophet, one who could see into the future and knew things a simple man or even a religious leader did not know–surely this Jesus knew that this woman was sinful and should not be near such a religious bunch of men. She was not allowed to associate with such people; surely Jesus knew her sins and her lifestyle. How on earth could He allow this woman to touch Him, let alone become so intimate and close to Him?

We pick up in verse 40 of chapter 7.

⁴⁰ Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.”

“Tell me, teacher,” he said.

⁴¹ “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. ⁴² Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”

⁴³ Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”

“You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.

Jesus then goes on to speak directly to the Pharisee, keeping His eyes on the woman, comparing the woman and what she offered versus what he had offered.

“Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. ⁴⁵ You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. ⁴⁶ You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. ⁴⁷ Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”

⁴⁸ Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”

And again, to the sinful woman, Jesus replies,

“Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

This woman. How dare she! How dare she come into this Pharisee’s house and act the way she did in front of his guest! How dare she bring her sinful perfume used to lure men into lust and pour it out over Jesus, this religious teacher!

Yes, how dare she.

I love this woman. I’ve been this woman. Oh, I’ve never lived her lifestyle, but I have been reduced to my sinful nature and have hit rock bottom before the Lord. I have made mistakes and committed my own sins that Jesus has forgiven me from. And if the truth be told, I’m still a sinful woman. I sin likely daily. Whether it be my attitude or my thoughts or my actions, I know I’m far from perfect in the eyes of the “religious leaders” and in the sight of God. But still, I come. Like this woman, I come and bring whatever I have to offer at the feet of Jesus.

But here’s the kicker.

The woman came alone.

Like the tree in the middle of the field I described, she stood, rather knelt alone. Like the tree, exposed, this woman came to Jesus, knowing He knew her sin before she could even utter one word. Like the tree with gnarly limbs and ugliness in appearance, this woman came to Jesus broken and “useless” in the sight of men but was embraced as precious and even forgiven in the sight of the Savior.

And yet, she approached Jesus alone.

No one forced her to attempt this act.

She came alone.

And in her loneliness and vulnerability, she was forgiven immediately. Her faith in Jesus made her whole and worthy of His love and grace and mercy.

But she came alone. Standing alone is a brave thing to do. And this woman came to Jesus.

Alone.

 *Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

 

 

 

 

What You See Is Not Always What You Get

I have just finished reading one of two books I’m into these days. One is a book about finding your purpose and basically kicking fear in the teeth; the other is a book  called Boundaries by Townsend and Cloud.

My life coach lives and breathes by that book, among others, and recommended it to me when we first started our sessions. I read the first couple of chapters but never finished it. She suggested I try again and not to speed read, as is my tendency with books (I like to get as many books read in a year as I can and then share those results with my social media “family.”) But with this book I am really trying to take my time reading, highlighting and underlining and taking notes along the way. I am trying to slow down to take it all in.

As I finished reading this morning, I sat in my most comfortable arm chair, one I’ve written about before as being my comfort for days when I feel stressed, sensing the arms around me envelop me in a warm embrace. I feel safe there.

I rested in my favorite chair, worked on finishing up my once-hot coffee, now turning to a cool, almost cold beverage that I could barely swallow, and looked out my front picture window.

Across the highway, stands my neighbors’ house. The couple who live there moved in several years ago and the husband was one of my elementary teachers. The couple are both retired now and have much time to keep their lawn perfectly mowed all throughout the spring, summer, and fall seasons. It makes our lawn look like an episode of Hoarders (ok not that bad, but you get the picture–my husband and I both work full-time jobs so household work gets put on the back burner much of the time).

I looked across the country road to our other neighbors’ house, and their niche is landscaping. They have been neighbors to me and my family of origin for over 40 years. They have a multitude of trees, plants, shrubs, flowers galore, and they are both well into their 60s and 70s. They work hard every single day to maintain and keep their yard trimmed and well-groomed.

This home, I’ve been in several times in my life, as their girls were friends of mine growing up. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been inside their home. I know they have done home improvements and have created a unique space for themselves inside and outside their house. I can only imagine what it looks like now compared to what I remember from my childhood.

The first neighbor I introduced, well, I’ve only been in their house a handful of times and that was when I was really young. The people who owned the house before my former teacher and his wife were an elderly couple who had a basketball goal on their driveway and me and my dad and my middle brother would go play there from time to time. I only remember being in the house a few times; since the newest  owners, I can only imagine what the inside looks like.

That’s where this writing takes me today: does the outside match the inside?

I sat in my comfy chair, just looking out my picture window in the living room and across the highway to my neighbors’ house. What was it like inside these days? I can imagine it was a spotless and clean as they kept their yard–neat and tidy. I wondered if they sat in their living room, drinking their coffee, and after their quiet reading time, looked across the highway to our home. What would they imagine seeing?

Last summer, I made it my project to paint all the shutters on our house (that’s 10 to be exact). We live in a grey Cape Cod house where the white porch posts stand erect as they march across the front like soldiers fighting in a row in the Revolutionary War. Add two turquoise rocking chairs perched on either side of the front door, and on one side, an end table to match and you have my front porch. The shutters used to be a burgundy but I chose a more friendly yellow to paint them and freshen up our house a bit.

As I painted and listened to music, drinking an occasional sweet tea, I would have the opportunity to look inside the house, into one of our three windows on the ground level. There I would see our youngest son in the middle window, waving at me or asking me what I was doing.

I was trying to clean up the outside while the inside remained . . . well, not so tidy.

Don’t get me wrong . . . our house has it’s moments of being clean but with two boys and full-time jobs and with me and my writing gig, the house gets neglected more often than not.

So what would my neighbors see if they looked inside one of the three windows today?

The first window on the left would be my dining room/office. It’s where homework is done and writing gets written. Bills get paid here and books are arranged on one of two bookshelves in the space allotted as “the library.”  And I have MANY books. My husband frequently inquires about the elimination of books to create space for literature I see as really essential. However, how can I possibly part with any of my “babies?” I have tried over the years, but I never know when I will begin reading a book purchased years ago or if I’ll wish to re-read a book I have read more than once already. I just can’t seem to part with any of them.

The far right window, if the blinds were open, would reveal the master bedroom. It might find the television on with a football game playing or if in the evening, a popular and amusing sit-com. The bed would not be made and there would be a mountain of my clothes (right, I readily admit they are mine and my husband does not contribute to the  pile, but in my defense, I have a hard time deciding what to wear to work every morning–these are difficult decisions, you know?)

The middle window would open up to a view of my catch all room for laundry. Yes, it’s also the living room, but we seem to make it a room without a view. We excuse the piles of clean clothes folded, ready to be put away by the fact that we don’t get visitors or have parties of people coming in the front door for an evening of entertaining. We just live so far away from town that if we engage in social activities, they are with our friends in town and not in our country home.

I cleaned up the outside, but the inside was still a mess.

That’s how our lives look from time to time. Clean on the outside; messy on the inside.

From scripture, we see the time to anoint a new king of Israel. Samuel, saddened that the Lord would not allow Saul to be anointed, hears from the Lord that he is to go to the house of Jesse of Bethlehem to anoint a son of that man to become the new king. He was to “fill [his] horn with oil and be on [his] way” (I Samuel 16:1 NIV). When Samuel arrived the house of Jesse, he was to sacrifice a heifer and tell the household that the Lord that he had come to anoint the new king.

As the sons of Jesse were examined by Samuel, the Lord rejected each one. Samuel, in his confusion as to where the Lord was guiding him, heard God say, “Do not consider his appearance of his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (I Samuel 16:7 NIV).

Samuel asked if these men were all Jesse had to offer; in response, Jesse tells him there is one more son tending the sheep in the fields. When the last son arrived, Samuel noticed “he [David] was ruddy, with a fine appearance and handsome features” (I Samuel 16:12 NIV) even though he was the youngest.

The other brothers looked more kingly than the youngest brother, but God saw David’s heart and knew what David would look like as a king. He knew David from the inside out.

Does God know me from the inside out?

The answer is “yes”. Whether you are a believer or not, God knows you so intimately; more than you think you know yourself.

So, you can try to clean up the outside, but if the inside is not tidied up, God still sees the inside of man. He knows not only the outward appearance but

He Looks at the Heart.

What are you trying to hide today? What are you trying to fix up on the outside but your inside is falling apart? God sees our faults and loves us just as we are. We don’t need to fix the inside before we invite Him in.

We just have to open the door.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

Sound the Battle Cry: Picking Up the Excess to Prepare for Battle

Ever feel like you’re climbing an uphill battle? Ever feel like you’re fighting a losing battle? Ever feel like you’re alone in your fight? Ever feel like no one is around to even listen to you?

For me, depression is a battle that is not easily fought and won. And I fight it often alone. It takes a strength and courage that not everyone has in their arsenal  of battle weapons. Trust me, I’m not saying I have those weapons, but I’m learning how to fight.

I took a walk the other day and thought about what I could share with you in this blog of mine that started almost a year ago. So much has happened in my life in the last year. So much has happened in your lives too, I’m sure. My walk revealed that I am not the same person I was a year ago. And I shouldn’t be the same, should I? Shouldn’t I have changed in some way, hopefully in a positive way? Shouldn’t I have changed in some regard to make myself better over the past year?

In some ways, I have improved in my journey. I have faced demons that have battled for my soul. I have battle scars to prove my fight. But what does my journey have to do with what I’d like to share with you this day? Why has depression come to my life and my soul in all the greatness that I have experienced in my journey into my trauma and recovery from childhood sexual abuse?

Because Satan doesn’t take a vacation.

He’s always at work.

My walk reminded me of the scripture that talks of “girding your loins” in the face of the battle. I never knew what it meant to “gird my loins” and quite often just skipped over that part of the bible. However, I’ve been in two bible studies now where there has been a focus on those verses. The phrase is mentioned three times that I can find. Once in Ephesians 6:14, the New American Standard version commands, “Stand firm then, having girded your loins with truth . . . ” and I Peter 1:13 in the King James version reminds us, “Wherefore gird up your loins of your mind . . . ” And in Job, “Gird up your loins like a man . . .” So what are these verses telling us to do? And how am I going to connect the dots to my battle with depression?

Let me see if I can put this clearly from what I’ve learned in my bible studies.

Soldiers of bible times wore a long robe/tunic in their every day lives. But when an enemy would threaten them or their country, that long robe became a hindrance and would trip them up, rendering them useless and defenseless. So, girding their loins meant grabbing the long parts of that garb and tucking it inside their belt, allowing their feet and legs to move swiftly and move ready for battle. Now, of course, there was more to their uniform than just girding or tucking their garment into the belt they wore. That’s why the scripture goes on to discuss the breastplate, the sword, and the helmet. But girding your loins is the first order to follow.

As I walked the other day, I thought about girding my loins, tucking in those lengths of my every day life. What does that entail? My every day includes the following: my husband, my kids, my church, my family, my friends, my work, my writing, my self-esteem, my self-confidence, and I could go on and on . . .

So when my depression rears its ugly head, I have two choices: one, to allow it to trip me up and halt any progress I’ve made in this journey of life. Or two, I could gird up my loins, my loincloths, and prepare for battle. The every day of my life, as I mentioned earlier, deserve my very best. They deserve me fighting and battling. So, I pull them up and close to me and tuck them in my belt of truth, and begin to fight with the weapons my Jesus has commanded I take up and use against the enemy who “prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (I Peter 5:8).

I can not allow the every day to trip me up; I must gird my loins, pull up the every day and tuck them inside my belt of truth. They can trip me up or they can be protected as I begin the fight against the enemy called “depression.” And I must sound the battle cry as I fight.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

God is in the Business of Dangerous Prayers

Hearing this song live recently meant so much more than even singing it. I could truly absorb the words and lyrics along with the hauntingly beautiful melody deep within my soul without any interference of stage or personal insecurities or anxiety. I just listened and allowed the Spirit to wash over me in the most vulnerable and authentic way ever. Sensing God’s presence envelop my soul, I poured out my worries, my fears, my concerns about my present and the future vision He’s set before me and met Jesus face to face in that moment. I simply bowed my head in worship as the tears from my eyes streamed down my cheeks as I opened my hands upward to receive what wisdom and discernment and courage He wanted freely to give me. The following words are the most touching to my life at this exact moment (and the words that were spoken throughout the night were specifically designed for the vision God has set before me):

“I Am Not Alone”

You amaze me
Redeem me
You call me as Your own

You’re my strength
You’re my defender
You’re my refuge in the storm
Through these trials
You’ve always been faithful
You bring healing to my soul

You see, I KNOW that I KNOW that I KNOW that God has given me a GREAT vision for the future–for MY future. And I KNOW that the picture He’s put in my mind will require much courage, faith, belief, hard work, tears, and relentless, dangerous prayers. With all that, I KNOW that I am going to feel alone–likely often–but God is always with me. He amazes me, He redeems me, He calls me as His own. The scripture talks about the shepherd and his sheep and how the shepherd knows if a sheep of his own is missing or lost and GOES AFTER that lost creature. But what I really hold onto here is found in John 10: 3-4 where Jesus declares, “The watchman opens the gate for him [the shepherd], and the sheep listen to his [the shepherd’s] voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out . . . his sheep follow him because they know his voice” (NIV). I want to follow Jesus so closely that I hear only His voice. I crave that. I long for that. I desire that above all other pursuits in life. It’s become my daily, hourly, minute-by-minute passion. I want to be THAT close to Jesus that all I hear is the Great Shepherd’s voice calling to me.

Being that close . . . scary a bit, huh?

What if God tells me something that is truly scary? Out of this world crazy? A bit on the insane side? God wouldn’t do that to me, would He? If you are so close to His voice that you think you hear crazy, it might be humanly “off base,” out of touch, BUT WITH GOD, ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. So how close do I want to be to God? I want to live the scripture that says I am the apple of His eye.

Just a catch phrase or idiom we’ve accepted over the years? Or a bit more to it? And is that idiom scripture based?

ABSOLUTELY!

Being the apple of someone’s eye literally has to do with the pupil of the other person and the reflection one can see in the other’s eye. You are THAT close. And yes, scripture DOES say in Psalm 17:8, “Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings” (NIV). Keep me THAT close to You, God, and HIDE me in Your embrace from harm and the enemy’s attacks.

Remember the words I shared from the Kari Jobe song earlier?

“You call me as Your own”

“Your my refuge in the storm”

God, allow me to be that close to You in these dangerous prayers I pray for wholeness, for vision, for future, and allow me to live a relentless life of pursuing You in all of the steps I take, guided by Your shining light, leading me each step of the way . . . one step at a time. For with YOU, Father . . .

• I AM NOT ALONE.
• YOU WILL GO BEFORE ME.
• YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE ME.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

Discovering strength in shallow and intertwined roots

Trees seem to have taken over my writings these days.

I can’t help it. For some reason, I’m seeing so many analogies and stories that relate and connect between the beautiful trees in God’s perfect nature and to my own life that I just have to share what I’m learning. (Plus, I’m on vacation this week and am surrounded by not only the Great Smoky Mountains, but also the beautiful trees among the trails and peaks and valleys–whereas, my house is somewhat void of such magnitude and plentiful greenery.)

My family had decided to travel up the mountain into an area called Cade’s Cove. From what I can gather, this area was a plantation or settlement of pioneer people who found peace at their homestead in this amazing valley in the Smoky Mountains. Many buildings from that time still stand and tourists drive into the cove just to enjoy this trip back in time and the hopes of seeing wildlife on their journey.

Once you reach the visitor’s center, you can get out of your car, take pictures, hike, have a picnic, etc and enjoy the sunshine from between the branches of the vast trees. You can hear the birds chirp in a fresh way and find yourself humming along in tune with the water flowing from the mill nearby.

Now, this week, we did drive that trip into Cade’s Cove, but our sons were too enthralled with technology (and we didn’t choose the fight the battle so we could enjoy nature). So my husband and I got out of the car on our own, just to walk the pathway up to a few buildings and then down by the creek to take some pictures, just the two of us.

And then I saw this particular tree.

The roots were hard to avoid as they protruded from the ground and the walk was unsteady to get to the edge of the path. I took a picture of the roots, and at that time, wasn’t really sure why, other than it was just aesthetically interesting from this amateur photographer’s perspective.  

As I’ve looked back on my pictures I’ve taken, some posted to my Instagram or Twitter accounts, I have been drawn back to this picture in particular. Why? Why did I feel the need to take THIS picture at THIS angle? Well, I was thinking I had heard something or read something about redwood trees, and although this is obviously not a redwood, the story and the facts of the redwood apply to this picture as well as my life right now.

I researched and found that for as tall as the redwood tree gets, the roots are not as deep as you might think. We assume the bigger the tree, the deeper the roots (ok, I assume that). But it’s not the case with redwood trees.

“The root systems of redwoods are very shallow. The roots grow no deeper than about ten feet and yet they support a tree that is the height of a football field. It seems impossible but in reality, the roots of the redwood tree graft and interlock with the systems of the trees surrounding it, creating a vast interlocking root platform. This prevents the toppling of even the tallest and most massive trees when soil layers become fully saturated and soggy during prolonged flooding” (http://bit.ly/1PWs3GE).

AND

“Redwoods reach their incredible height because they grow very close to each other. Redwoods are always surrounded by other redwoods! Because the 100 plus inches of annual rainfall leaves the soil with few nutrients, the trees rely on each other for their vital nutrients. Only redwoods have the strength to support other redwoods” (http://bit.ly/1PWs3GE).

How does this apply to MY life? To YOUR life?

• We need each other’s support to survive.
• We need each other’s support to thrive.
• We need each other’s support to find strength. (sorry, I couldn’t think of a good rhyming word that meant “strength”–strive, maybe. LOL).

Bottom line: whatever you’re going through (for me, it’s personal journey of healing from childhood abuse and trauma), YOU ARE NOT ALONE. We need each other to lean on to survive the journey, to grow in our healing, and to find strength in our weakness.

• You need me.
• I need you.
• We need each other.
• We will rise.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

The Stolen but Redeemed Gift

My boys used to love the games at Chuck E. Cheese–heck, my husband still does! See, what they liked, beyond the fun and the challenge of the games themselves, was having the machines spit out tickets for how well they’d done on the game. They then earned as many tickets as they could with the money they’d been allowed and would take those tickets to a counter where they’d been eyeing that prize their friends would envy them for–as opposed to the plastic spider ring they actually could get.

Those tickets–that’s what’s been on my mind this week. I don’t recall what the tickets actually say, but I’m pretty sure they say something like, “This ticket can be redeemed for–”

So they serve as a form of money–or payment. We hold on to those tickets like they are gold and pick up stray ones we see on the floor that someone has dropped, unknowingly, without care on their part. What’s the ticket worth? Yes, I know it’s just a piece of paper that we use in a gaming exchange for prizes, but I can’t help but feel we all have that one ticket that means more than anything to us.

To me, that ticket was my childhood innocence. I didn’t know how much that ticket meant until it was taken from me. And the boy who took it–didn’t give me a wonderful prize of love or affection. Instead, he stole my innocence, joy, self-worth, and control. His way of “paying” for my exchange of my ticket was not how I would have dreamed of redeeming my prize. In fact, there was no valued “prize.”

I want that ticket back.

I want to take back the moment he forced me to become vulnerable to his urge. I want to take back the feeling of knowing what he was doing–all that he was doing–was so wrong. I want to take back my ticket of knowing that what he was doing TO me was not the way I wanted or deserved to be treated.

I want that ticket that takes away the feeling of being an object of pleasure.

I want that ticket back!

But he stole it from me.

And he stole it from my husband.

He took my ticket and didn’t give me a beautiful prize in exchange.

BUT–

I want that ticket back.

I want to take it back and have it REDEEMED by a loving, gracious exchange.

I know–I WANT to know–that Christ HIMSELF–can take that ticket of my innocence and can Himself REDEEM–“regain or gain possession of something”–in exchange for HIS purchase of ME. Christ REDEEMS us–“frees us from captivity by payment” by His death and resurrection.

Colossians 1:13-14 claims this truth:  “For HE has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in whom we have REDEMPTION, the forgiveness of sins.”

Christ paid the ultimate prize for me—He redeems me.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

 

The Robin and My Relationship with Jesus

Relationships are a funny business. Some last for what seems forever; others remain only for a season.

And with those relationships, come the memories–both good, and sadly, the bad–those lingering memories last longer than time itself. Those memories include fun times of silliness and inside jokes, along with stories that only the individuals in the relationship can truly appreciate and re-tell or re-live with authority. If you would indulge me for just a moment or two of your time, allow me to share with you one such relationship which I treasure close to my heart–and how a story shared between two people transformed my thinking and relationship for eternity.

Being the oldest grandchild in both family lines has advantages that I’ve been blessed to experience in my own life. Of course, there’s the “first” of everything . . . and the spoiling that comes from being first. But, I can’t say I remember enjoying those privileges because my cousins on both sides were only a year behind me in age. My middle brother is four years younger than I am and I’ve asked both he and our youngest brother if either of them recall the story I am about to share with you. Neither of them knew the story our grandpa told me–I guess I was the blessed one here for this special tale.

Our grandpa was a fairly introspective man, often spending his mornings awake before anyone, sitting in the quiet of the dining room, facing outward toward his favorite window, drinking his coffee, reflecting and praying. When we would spend the night, since I was the oldest and the only girl in my family, I got the comfiest sleeping arrangement of the grandchildren’s possibilities–I got the sofa, while my brothers got sleeping bags on the floor to “camp out”. From my place of rest, I had full view of our grandpa, his back to me.

On more than one occasion, I would rise from my comfortable blankets and go join him for cereal and milk or doughnuts and juice. Our grandpa loved us dearly and uniquely, and even more importantly, loved stories and loved Jesus. As a storyteller myself, even in those younger years, we created and allowed for a special bond between the two of us. I’ve often thought about this particular story he shared with me; it has embedded itself in theme and meaning so deeply over the years.

There’s an old traditional (Irish, I think) tale of Jesus on the cross and the robin. My grandpa treasured God’s nature and especially birds. I recall the tale as such: The robin, known for its distinctive red belly, legend has it, was originally completely brown when it was created by God. Jesus, beaten, bruised, bloodied–thorns forced into His sacred head, nails pierced into His compassionate hands, a stake driven forcefully into His mission-driven feet, a spear thrust into His warm and loving side–Jesus, dying on that brutal and cruel cross for our sins, still found peace and kindness for not only us, but also for the thieves on either side of Him. Legend has it that the robin came near Jesus where the blood drops ran down His face and cheek and began singing a lullaby of peace to comfort the dying Savior. As the robin flew closer to our Lord, the blood shed for our sins rubbed against the belly of the beautiful creature, allowing the feathers to absorb the moisture from Jesus deep within its soul.

I feel God speaking to me about this. Hang with me.

Oh, it’s a legend and it’s sweet, speculating how the robin got its red belly. I am readily aware that this is not biblical; however, I think God can speak to us all about our relationship with Jesus Christ. Two things have been given to me:

• Jesus comforts at all times, in all circumstances.
• The robin absorbed the blood into its daily living.

First of all, let’s consider Jesus’ role as The Comforter. In the gospels, it is recorded that Jesus hung on the cross next to two thieves, men who had truly been convicted of crimes against the law. One man mocked Jesus, while the other expressed his remorse for the crimes he had committed and asked Jesus, “Jesus, remember me when you enter your kingdom” (Luke 23:42 MSG) and Jesus replied, with His forgiveness demonstrated, “Don’t worry, I will. Today you will join me in paradise” (vs. 43).

Even as Jesus is breathing His last breaths, He is about the Father’s business of forgiving the seeking heart. And then in the book of John, it is recorded, “Jesus saw his mother and the disciple he loved standing near her. He said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ From that moment the disciple accepted her as his own mother” (Luke 19:24-27 MSG). Again, Jesus assures those in His care that they will be taken care of and loved on–comforting them in His discomfort.

The robin came to comfort Jesus and in exchange,

was comforted by His touch.

So that brings us to the robin’s role. Grandpa relayed the robin’s part in this play as one who comforted Jesus on the cross. But let’s look at how the robin could have such a deeper meaning for our own lives. The bird, changing in color from brown to red (the initial premise of the story), tells me the robin could represent Jesus Himself, taking on our own sins in His cruel death on the cross. He bore OUR sins, just as the symbolic robin bore the blood Jesus shed. But I think I’d like to see the robin as myself. Oh, not that I came close to God, the Son, on the cross. I would have likely been like the disciple, Peter, denying I knew my Savior–darn fear that overtakes me. But look at the details of this legend and why my grandpa shared it in the first place: the robin took on a different look after being in Jesus’ presence. It allowed the blood to cover its body, absorbing the new tone, the new covenant into its feathers and life and a NEW creature was created for eternity.

Wow, that’s good stuff there!

Whether we decide to connect the bird to Jesus Himself, taking on our sin or choose to have the robin symbolize our own lives, the message is still clear:

The robin came close to Jesus and Jesus’ blood changed it.

II Corinthians 5:17-18 proclaims this truth: “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation” (NIV). The Message relates this truth as well, saying, “We certainly don’t look at him [Jesus] that way anymore. We look inside, and what we see is that anyone unified with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone; a new life burgeons! . . . . All this comes from the God who settled the relationship between us and him . . .” (MSG).

So, while my grandpa, my special best friend, shared a simple story with me those many years ago, that story has remained close to me, allowing me to learn more about myself and my sins covered by the blood of Jesus Christ. His call is for me to live as the new creation He gives me through His transforming forgiveness and grace.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

recovery and the detoxifying body, mind, spirit

Hello, my name is Phoenix and I have a confession.

I’ve talked in past writings about the 29th of each month as I celebrate another milestone.

Today, I tell you what I’m celebrating and why it’s so significant for me.

Today, I celebrate six months.

Six months.

It may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but six months is a big deal to me.

Six months ago, today, I made a life-changing decision.

For the last year and a half, I have been traveling along on my childhood trauma recovery journey. Last summer–from May until August–my therapist and I were digging into memories from my past–memories I’d never discussed before. Haunting memories. Life-changing memories. But memories that needed to be explored in order for healing, restoration, and freedom to occur.

(I try to keep my Monday posts fairly clear of this part of my life, but today, that little bit I shared above is necessary, so my apologies).

As I would recall a memory or find myself triggered throughout my week, I found that one of my coping strategies became one of “bad habit,” of “unhealthy choices.” And it was six months ago today that I made the decision (at least for now), to stop this unhealthy decision and strategy.

Six months ago today, I decided to stop drinking.

Alcohol, in itself, was not bad, per se, but I had been using it about every day (and even if I only had one drink, it still wasn’t healthy). I didn’t drink to get drunk; I didn’t become an alcoholic, and I can’t say I’ll always stay away from alcohol, but for this detour of my journey, I had to choose not to continue the use of this substance for a numbing and coping tool for facing my realities of pain and hurt.

What did I do instead? Oh, I still had other unhealthy coping strategies, but I also found healthy tactics to add to my repertoire. Can I share three tools I found useful for me?

• Writing
  

I journaled. A LOT. Every day, I would sit on my deck, listen to the sounds of nature, feel the breeze and the sun on my face, and write–about ANYTHING. I would write about my feelings of inadequacy, my memories, my adoration of my husband and our kids. I would write about my worries, my fears, my vision for a better life. I would write about vacations from the past, and vacations I only had dreamt of for the future. (In that time, I also wrote a nine page letter to the boy who took advantage of me three decades ago). Nevertheless, no matter the subject, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And I haven’t stopped writing since. Writing is a way for me to express my thoughts when the words don’t come so easily or so quickly. Writing, for me, is a healthy escape into worlds I never imagined in reality.

• Relaxation

I also found my way into that world of adult coloring books. Even now, I have to smile a bit just revealing that. I have always enjoyed coloring. I’ve been babysitting and watching children for as long as I can remember, working in day cares and vacation bible schools, coloring the “BEST” picture for the child who had attached himself/herself to my hip because I was the safe adult with whom they connected. My dad used to color with me and my brothers (and as I recollect now, probably me MORE than my brothers). Such fond memories. So, when this trend for adults became more popular last year, I jumped on the bandwagon. I bought a coloring book and would sit outside, reading glasses on the end of my nose (yes, that’s a newbie for me), and get lost in the planning and coloring/designing of my pages. Soooo therapeutic and relaxing, my friend.

• Meditation
  

The most important strategy, and the one I am addressing today for YOU AND for ME:  I spent quality time every day in study of God and His holy Word. I began a bible study with an amazing friend and spent much of the summer in that study. Beth Moore’s study Breaking Free truly did force me into seeing the past for what it was–ugly, torn, broken–and allowed me to see a life of renewal, revival, and redemption. If I may (who am I kidding, it’s my blog–I can share what I want LOL), I’d like to share some truths I learned during that time of study:

• “Beloved [that’s me, that’s you], if He has become God alone to you, you have a powerful story to tell. Start talking.”
• “Finding satisfaction and fullness in Christ was never meant to be a secret treasure only a few could find.”
• “Long-term liberation comes from accompanying God on a trek to 1) identify the problem, 2) demolish the stronghold, and 3) continue to walk in truth.”
• “I’ll never forget realizing that a person I felt I couldn’t forgive had become an idol to me through my unforgiveness. Humanly speaking, I didn’t even like the person, yet Satan seized my imaginations until the whole situation stole my focus and therefore became idolatrous to me.” (Yeah, that one stung for a few days, but it’s soooo true.)

Don’t get me wrong. This is not a blog about how awesome I am or how great my life is right now. GOD is awesome and GOD is great in my life. Even in those times where I make my mistakes and sin against Him, HE is still great and kind and gracious and compassionate. I am reminding myself how much I’ve grown in this last year and a half and how far I’ve come, not only emotionally and mentally, but most importantly, spriritually. What does that verse say? “Not that I’ve obtained it [or perfected it], but I press on and go forward toward the prize that Jesus took hold for me” (para. Philippians 3:12.) So, even when I know I’ve sinned, I am aware of that sin and ask forgiveness the minute I’m given that knowledge by the Holy Spirit. All this happens with such grace knowing I am and can be in communion and meditation with God Almighty Himself.

Two verses I’m hanging onto these days to overcome my desire to fall back into old ways are as follows:

Ephesians 4:20-24 (The Message) “But that’s no life for you. You learned Christ! My assumption is that you have paid careful attention to him, been well instructed in the truth precisely as we have it in Jesus. Since, then, we do not have the excuse of ignorance, everything—and I do mean everything—connected with that old way of life has to go. It’s rotten through and through. Get rid of it! And then take on an entirely new way of life—a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you.”

Romans 12:1-2 (The Message) “So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.”

So, six months–no drinking.

So . . . can someone, please “raise a glass” and celebrate for me? Throw confetti? Shout out? Any healthy form of celebration is welcome and appreciated, and I graciously and humbly receive those “atta-girls” BUT I MUST give all the glory to my Father in heaven, God, the Messiah, for the great things He has done and is doing in my life. Praise God for rescuing me and redeeming me and adopting me as HIS daughter. I am the daughter of the Most High.

THAT is cause for celebration!

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

 

 

 

fire

The crisp air surrounded her, capturing her very being. Trapped in the tundra of her cold, empty space of existence, she shuttered and chattered there in the open field, the remote woods seemingly miles away from her gaze. No one would come to get her. No one would even know she was there alone, so isolated; her rescue was unforeseeable. Her limbs trembled as she stumbled over the rocky earth beneath her footsteps; her eyes grew weary and began to slowly close with exhaustion. She couldn’t take one more step toward the wooded space of protection.
Knees buckled as she collapsed there, the wind scraping against her once-upon-a-time pure princess flesh. The lines on her face now showed the hard rough edges that she had endured through the barrenness of her life. Lips cracked and torn like paper, her mouth longed to find refreshment and nourishment. The feeling had long left her senses; the extremities no longer felt attached, but far removed from the abuse she had suffered. The remains of her very life had become dust, broken pieces, and heartbroken as she desperately agonized for wholeness to come to her aid.

She knew the truth . . . or had thought she did at one time. But after enduring lie after lie and after having promises broken like glass over a metallic floor, she had abandoned all truth and any hope to find truth. Still, it was there, among the secrets she kept to herself as she began to run. Run from or run to? She never could quite define her path or her destination. The past demons that possessed her mind and spirit chased after her until she had found herself here–among the scattered dry leaves and the hardened sticks underneath her prone posture covered in a blanket of shimmering flakes of the purest snow. The atmosphere enveloped her and took over her very life, her grasp for another breath fading. She could no longer fight as she allowed one last tear to stream down her face. It was finally coming to an end.

 

HE saw her off in the distance. Her frame was not easy to dismiss there in the shadows of the barren land. She had taken that last step in HIS direction but HIS cry to her could not be heard, not even the echo of HIS call. HIS urge for her to draw closer to HIM fell on deaf, numbs ears. As HE watched her stumble across the field, steps so heavy to lift one more time, HE witnessed her surrender to find solace from her agony. HE waited no longer for her to move; HE knew HE had to go to her for any rescue to occur.

HIS steps were perfect–succinct and deliberate and determined. Each time HIS foot lifted, it came crashing down with such power and authority that she could never equal. HIS desire to help her made HIS path a quick and easy trek. As HE approached her lifeless, broken body, tears formed in HIS eyes at her suffering she had endured. HIS compassion compelled HIM to bend down next to her, and ever-so-gently, HE wiped that frozen tear from her face and brushed the hair from her eyes. On bended knee, HE carefully placed one arm beneath the backs of her legs and took HIS other hand to wrap around her shoulders, lifting her toward HIS broad, strong chest. There in the frigid air, HE held her tightly, trying to bring warmth to her life. Her only response was the glimpse of her eyes flickering open to meet HIS sincere gaze.

This was hope.

HE lifted her in HIS arms and gently positioned her against HIS body as HE carried her to a quieter and warmer retreat closer to the woods. HIS intent was never to harm her, but to give her life once again. HE placed her on the blanket there near the trees where protection from the raging storm offered more than what she had left behind. HE gathered dry leaves and twigs, along with sticks and wood HE had been keeping safe from the winds and elements.

HE piled handfuls of the dirty, dry leaves and grass and placed them on a firm plot of the land–in the center of HIS plan. Then, crossing the sticks for more foundation, HE deliberately surrounded the tinder with that sturdy kindling. From HIS fingertips, a snap was heard and beneath the sticks and dry grass, a single flicker of flame was produced and set among the debris HE had collected. As HE watched the fire take over the kindling, HE bent down and softly, carefully blew into the flame, allowing it to catch more of the tinder, beginning to produce a larger blaze among the pile. HIS breath onto the lifeless twigs and branches was the fuel necessary to create such a beautiful and warm reprieve for the girl HE carried in HIS rescue effort.

New life came to her.

She breathed in HIS genuine, pure love.

Her spirit began to revive once again.

She had been given new life through HIM.

 

Father God, take the ashes of my life.  Take the dry leaves of dirt and shame.  Take them and bring them closer to You.  Draw them together in unity along with the truths I do believe–those truths that remain sturdy and steadfast in the midst of my storm and chaos.  Ignite my soul, oh God, and breathe Your life into mine.

Breathe life into me, Father, so I may breathe that life from myself and out to others that they may draw closer to You.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

when brokenness is all you have

Oh the weather outside is frightful . . . no, seriously. It’s subzero temps combined with blowing and drifting snow . . . less than “delightful,” that’s for sure. And as I’ve been home with my family today, I’ve been thinking on what God wanted me to write . . . but I don’t want to force the writing. I never want to write “just because it’s Tuesday” or because I feel it’s been too long since the last post. I mean, I do have a goal of writing twice a week and really craft my writing with purpose, but if God doesn’t guide it, I don’t want to write it. (Hey, I should put that on a t-shirt or–EVEN BETTER–A COFFEE MUG!!! SCORE!)

But as I’ve watched weather reports and paid attention to the white-out view from my front window, I can’t help but think of warmer climates. And with those warm, fuzzy thoughts comes stories and memories made with my family in the summer months on the beach.

I’m definitely not a “looker” in a swimsuit and I don’t body surf or boogie board (I save those for my husband). I’m not one who enjoys digging into the sand on my hands and knees, feebly attempting to get ONE darn bucket of sand to stand alone as our “castle.” (Again, I encourage my husband to participate in that activity with the kids.) But, I do love the beach. I love the sun on my face, the sand between my toes, the sound of the waves crashing the shoreline. The enjoyment I get watching my family bond is something I can’t really begin to describe. A good book, a drink, my family–all is good in the world.

I’m reminded of one special summer in South Carolina. Oh, they’re all special, but this one seems to stand out to me because, if memory serves correctly, it was the kids’ first time in South Carolina. We have one kid who loves history and the Civil War era, so of course, Charleston was on the agenda; the other kid? Well, he loves horses, so we found a horse ranch for him to ride a horse. And . . . of course, GOLF for everyone!!!

The particular day that stands out to me was when the kids were trying to find as many shells as possible (and of course, we had to take them ALL back to the condo with us to clean off to give to family back home)! Our youngest though, didn’t quite get the concept of what a seashell actually was. He kept bringing us bottle caps or other “debris” in his little pudgy hands, only to have us remind him that what he was bringing was not the loot he should possess. After multiple attempts, I had hoped he had given up and gone back to getting back to his dirty, gritty fun, digging in the sand. I closed my eyes, knowing my husband was on “kid duty” for a bit while I rested. Next thing I heard was the thumping, flopping of that familiar walk from our little guy.

As water dripped on my sun-tanned skin from his hands, he held out his treasure.

“Here, Mommy.  I got these for you.” As I opened my eyes to his proud, cheesy grin, I saw what he had gathered.  Shells. Actual shells. But not whole shells. Broken pieces of what used to be a complete shell.
“Oh, honey, these are broken. Have Daddy help you find better ones.”

He turned to his dad, and held out the pieces, asking, “Daddy, you fix these?”

I looked at my husband in humility, and realized, as my brother, a pastor, would say, “There’s a sermon in here somewhere.”

“Isn’t it funny how we do the same thing to God? We bring the broken pieces of our lives and ask Him to fix them–to make them whole again?”

When we bring the pieces of our lives to Him–

WHEN . . . Yep, that’s right. We have to choose to bring all we have–and sometimes, brokenness is all we have–to God and allow Him to shape, mold, restore what we’ve brought to Him. God doesn’t expect wholeness in order to come to Him; there’s no way we could ever repair our own brokenness.

So, I’m reminding myself–quit trying.

Quit trying to approach God WHEN I’m fixed–WHEN I’m “in tune” with Him and His word–WHEN I’m feeling “good enough”–WHEN I feel lovable. Quit. Trying. I need to approach Him at all times, in all circumstances,in all seasons, with any piece of my life, and allow Him to work His grace and mercy for my good. Sometimes, my anxiety takes over–let’s be honest–MANY times, my anxiety takes over, and the lie of Satan chimes in my head. “God doesn’t want you.  Not like this. In fact, He never really wanted you in the first
place. You are unlovable and no one could ever understand you, let alone your GOD.”

Friends, these are LIES!!! God, I proclaim YOUR truth this day. YOU ARE THE AUTHOR OF GRACE AND MERCY AND PEACE IN THE MIDST OF ANY TRIAL WE FACE.

Jesus Christ, YOU ARE LORD. You take our brokenness when it’s all we have to give and You make us beautiful, as You raise us from the ashes.

Several years ago, I was introduced to this group called All Sons and Daughters. Their song “Brokenness Aside” plays in my head often. I leave you with this amazing piece and promise:  

“I am a sinner, if it’s not one thing, it’s another

Caught up in words, tangled in lies

You are a Savior and You take Brokenness Aside

And make it beautiful–beautiful”

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .