Keeping Score

Excited chatter filled the large auditorium with heightened expectancy.  Ticket stubs firmly in hand people hurried to their seats and nestled into the place of musical storytelling at its best -- professional live musical theater.  A quick glance at the program revealed the actors, directors, musicians and technical personnel who in a chorus of one lended their talents to bring characters of a long-beloved tale to life once again on an open stage.

The lights dimmed and voices droned down to silence in that anticipatory moment when the audience collectively held their breath for the first downbeat of the orchestral score.  They were not disappointed.  When the music started all were in awe of the full symphony of music that cocooned the audience in a another time and space.  Lights on the stage became brighter, the large maroon velvety curtains slowly pulled back and the story began.  For the next two hours the audience was transfixed with the beauty and mastery of skill honed by years of intense lessons, diligent practice,  and determination to reach the goal of their God-given talents.  It paid off.  In the end thunderous applause met the troupe and they reciprocated with bows and thank yous before they exited the stage.

Remembering back to the days when I played cello and later piano in musical theater myself, I realized something really quite profound from a spiritual perspective.  Music may fill the senses but it truly comes from a place in the soul that only God designs.  There is a specific place where He wants each one to be, expressing His song in His orchestra.  Some are able to find their place and sing that song all their lives; others seem to drift.  I was one of those.  The gifting did not seem to fit anywhere.  Oh, I could do this or that and fill this space and that void, but it wasn't by design.  It was by someone else's compulsion.  Conformity can bring a slow cancerous-like ailment to the vision that God has placed within each one.  He has placed eternity in the heart (Ecc. 3:11).  There is no time for rabbit trails now.  It's time to take our places.  To tune our instruments, rosin the bow preparatory to placing it on the strings that play the tunes of God.

Any musician knows a cellist doesn't belong in the horn section and the horns don't belong in the violin section.  There is an assigned seat and that is the only one you are to occupy.  There are those in organizations where they don't belong simply because they don't know the score.  They don't know their place and worse, haven't practiced their musical score.  The result is discordant resulting at times with pain, confusion and unfortunately outright rejection.

These are turbulent times.  No one standing on earth need tell you that.  It's frightening clear to those who don't know the score.  It's important to study the music.  To be prepared for when the lights dim and the world holds its  collective breath for the downbeat of the revealing of the sons of God.  It will be a jaw-dropping moment for the beauty of the Lord will encompass the earth like a cocoon and in the next revealing moments all will see Him for who He is. 

It takes practice, diligent and earnest, to be a musician -- and so as a son or daughter of God.  He has given you talents that only you can fill.  He has made you in intricate complexity yet with a simple message of the truth of Jesus.  He displays daily what He did for all mankind through you in magnificent colors of grace .  Truly a gift incomparable.  Salvation pure, complete, assured.  No other religion, god or man can assure you of that.  Only Him.  Only God.  Only Jesus.

In an orchestra sometimes you play; sometimes you don't.  There are times of rest, there are times of furious and seemingly frantic notes that scamper across the audience in lightning speed.  You'll need to know how to read the score, be able to keep time, the crescendo of the sound, when to soften and temper, when to count the measures of the Lord. 

It may seem like you've sat in the same seat in your section of the orchestra for years.  Nothing has happened, nothing has changed, and yet the years that compile seem more a like a meaningless cacophony than a symphony.  Be encouraged.  Your best days, your best moments to play the heartbeat of God are before you.  They truly are!  Don't let the devil talk you out of it -- he isn't worth it.  Your part in the song of God may occur for many days or only a moment, but that moment will shine like the stars of heaven forever in that your obedience to the call He placed within your heart.  It will sound out in fullness the story of Jesus to a world that has no clue.

 

Waiting is a big thing.  Tremendous.  It's a class apart.  It's just as important to God as being completely active.  And in honing that critical skill many will see it and fear the Lord.  "I waited patiently for the Lord and He inclined to me ... and established my steps.  He has put a new song in my mouth--Praise to our God.  Many will see it and fear and trust in the Lord."  (Psa. 40:1-3)

Waiting.  Tick-tock.  The time runs through an hour glass like water from a faucet.  But God!  What do I do?

"Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength." (Isa. 40:30-31).  I used to think that was like waiting at a bus stop for transportation that never seemed to arrive, a frustrating and fruitless exercise of works.  But really, nothing could be farther from the truth.  Waiting is simply counting out the measures as in a score of music until your time to once again play out His tune.  The thing is, you're not only counting so you don't miss your place in the score; you're keeping watch.  You're looking at the conductor, the One who gives the cues.

Look at Him now.  He's looking right at you.  Keep studying the score (the Word of God), practice your lessons (obedience to the Lord), take your rightful place (not some contrivance man would try to mold you into their image), and then watch.  Watch Him.  Study Him.  And you will see it.  You will see it plain as day.  For He has held up two fingers pointing right at you, then turning His hand of love around to Himself, He points at his own eyes while mouthing the words, "WATCH ME."  I am transfixed.  My body is poised on my instrument.  I have studied for this moment.  I have prayed for this opportunity and He has heard my prayer.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus.  He is the symphony of praise for an audience of ONE.  The One true God.  The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  The Father of all, Adonai.  He is breathessly excited to hear your song.  He is intently listening.  He has His program, His plan that's about to be performed on a world stage.  In that downbeat as you play your part in the a symphony of praise your heart will swell in adoration and love to the composer of all life, of all being, of all hope, and saving grace.  Your life is safely directed by the finger of God who is conducting the end of the age.

I'll Be Seeing You ...

Fiddling with a stray thread on the bottom of my shirt, I stared at the floor.  Wasn't sure just how the events that had recently unfolded in my life led me here.  It had seemed so simple long ago.  But now the jaded envelope of life enclosed around me stealing and sealing my fate.  At a friend's suggestion I trudged myself here, but I was uneasy, unsteady and definitely not prepared for what my mind was screaming, "This is a mistake!!"  Without thought, I flipped open a magazine that had been tossed in the empty seat beside me.  With familiar disappointment, I quickly scanned the ad nauseum ads, stories that held no interest, and worthless subscriptions vying for the opportunity to glue themselves to my wallet.

A song drifted out into the reception area that arrested me into rapt attention.  Bing Crosby crooned and carassed the song as if he and the hearer were the only ones in the room.  I closed my eyes and remembered when I heard it last.  The stone of remembrance sank in the well of my heart and its ripples caused memories to flood my heart.

I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces all day through
In that small café, the park across the way
The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well

It hadn't been all that long ago he and I had shared that sweet embrace, the kiss of forever, two lovers who can speak the private, unspoken language of a wink, a look, and a touch. 

I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the mornin' sun
And when the night is new


I thought I had said goodbye that morning.  Did I?  Didn't I?  Or what if I would have ... with a sigh of defeated resignation I had to tell myself I didn't remember.  But when the policemen came to my door and the the world reeled at the news of a love lost forever, the axis of life shifted and I tumbled from reality into a place of shock.  Everything after spiraled.  Snippets and snapshots of life fanned before me as my soul reminded me of events that left me shattered not only because of the loss of David, but at the times when I hadn't been my best, lashed out at others or let the bruising of life cause deep gashes of shame, anger, resentment and unforgiveness unattended to and like the Samaritan story from the Bible, I had been left for dead, as it were, another of life's casualties that didn't make it in success.  I'd tried chasing after this and that.  Gotten good at it, too.  But in the end, it didn't make me truly happy.  Not the things.  Not the money (or the lack of it).  Not the new person in my life.  Nothing.  After all, I thought I was a good person.  Things just didn't happen like this to good people, did it?  I mean, is it really -- 


"Jennifer Lassen?"  


I lifted my head quickly, shaking worn-out cycled thoughts of fatigued depression, guilt, and anxiousness.  "Yes, I -- I'm here."  Rising from my chair the ashes of my thoughts tumbled and  littered where I had sat.  "Your mind is working overtime.  Get it together, Jennifer," I mumbled to myself.  


The assistant had a broad smile on her face as if I was the only person in the room.  Didn't really believe that.  It's part of her job, I reasoned.  Part of the routine.  Part of the price of peace.  A farcical play of pretense.  I played along putting on my good-to-see-you-too routine so I wouldn't lose face.  Silly, wasn't it.  But pleasantries and niceties are currency of relationships and the reciprocating price is low comparatively no matter if given with genuineness or not.  I acquiesced to being nice myself. 

The room was inviting lacking the usual sterile environs that accompanied a visit of this sort.  She led me to a surprisingly comfortable chair while handing me a steaming cup that held my favorite tea.  "Wow, this is great," I said with thankfulness.   The chair surrounded me in warmth as did the liquid that passed my lips warding off the chill trying to recirculate doom and gloom in the rooms of my heart. 


The assistant closed my file and placed it in a holder on the wall.  "He'll be in in just a moment."  She turned and left the room leaving me to thoughts that echoed off the walls, "What are you doing here, what are you doing here, what are you doing here?"  Sitting there I stared at all the items in the room that would hold either terror of mind or soothing of spirit depending upon your malady at the moment.  I looked for certificates or diplomas or something that would assuage my feelings of uncertainty about the qualifications of such a healer.  My friend had recommended him, but really and truly, what did I know of him?  Just what people had said and I had learned a long time ago, you can't trust what everybody says.  Don't let naivety be your guide.  I saw a yellowed and faded parchment in unfamiliar script encased in glass.  I immediately wanted to get up and inspect it to see if I could gain my insight about him.  This could be what held the clue.


But then the door opening interrupted those thoughts and he entered the room.  Not at all in a hurry, he looked at me and smiled a broad smile.  His face was riveting.  Eyes like fire that seemed to look all the way through me to the tag brand on my shirt.  He was tall, dark -- and quite frankly, handsome to a undefinable fault.  He sat down across from me and paused as if he had something he really wanted to say, almost like I didn't need to tell him anything and that he knew everything.  


"Life has been a bit rough, hasn't it?"  He took my hand.  His touch was full of compassion and his attentiveness to me was without guile in any form, not beguiling or intrusive.  Truly with mercy and peace.  I couldn't quite explain it now and probably thinking back I never will.  It was one of those moments of lucidity when everything comes into focus and the path to alignment is not all that far away.  


In that moment, I couldn't help it.  There was no way to stop it.  I had thought before I got here, I'm going to definitely have the "upper hand" in this conversation.  I would get what I could from the professional to stop the bleeding of life.  I would tell him what I needed in a no-nonsense manner.  But here in this simplistic moment where love reigned as king through the one who gave it, the emotions collided with my stubborn will.  I could not speak.  Tears flowed unchecked, streaming hot down my cheeks.


"People have treated you with gross injustice, haven't they?  There also have been moments that were complicit where you have said and done things you wished you could take back,  but knew as soon as they were released that would never happen.  It's a bruising of soul, a destruction, something you cannot redeem.  Only I can do that.  I died just for you so that you can be healed body, soul and spirit."  


My head was nodding up and down in short quick affirmations.  The things that he went on to say laid out all that had been done to me and from me.  Nothing I could dodge or ameliorate, contest or feign ambivalence.  All was wide open.  


He placed his hand on my heart and said with all kindness and love, "Your heart is beautiful to me.  I have been trying to win your heart for myself for a very long time.  The home of your heart has been defaced with graffiti laced with vehement angst against you.  I love you so very much.  If you would give your heart to me, I will make it a manor, a place of beauty where my name is forever etched with a diamond nib dipped with my very own blood." 


In that instant I knew where my future was cast.  It wasn't in the shallowness of cardboard religion, the enticement of the world's unending parties or political agendas, not even in the on-and-off-again relationships -- but one on one with this man of strength, power and kingship.  The Lord. The Messiah.  King Jesus Himself, the Healer, the Bread of Life, the Lover of my soul. 

He calmly wrote the prescription for me.  Immediate prescription was Acts 16:31.  

"Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, give yourself up to Him, take yourself out of your own keeping and entrust yourself into His keeping and you will be saved, and this applies both to] you and your household as well."


"You'll need this prescription as well," he said with a wink.  "Take it PRN (as needed) and all will be well."  He handed me the second slip and my eyes scanned what he had written.


"Psalm 23 and 91 1X day. Psa. 51 and John 14:13 PRN."  

"Thank you," I said with true thankfulness of heart.  He embraced me with affirming love that it took my breath away.  


"Remember my words.  I'm never far away.  I will help you in everything.  I will strengthen you when the day is long.  I will cause you to run and walk and be and do with confidence as never before.  Just whisper My Name.  I'm there."  


As I climbed into my car to go home I realize the Healer for all of His incomparable credentials and skill had applied to my spirit, soul and body a completeness of health, a wholeness unparalleled, a redemption of spirit that no one or nothing else could touch.  He, Himself.  By Himself.  Alone.  My mind had been renewed, my spirit reborn, my soul divested of the bruisings of life.  Suddenly I realized that the words he spoke so long ago to others is just as true today, riveting and replete with fresh-born power as the day He gave it.  He says it now.  Listen.  Listen to the wind words of the Spirit.  They're blowing.  Do you hear it?  Do you sense it?  It's not at the end of the road, the end of power or days stripped of validity.  These days are the days of fulfillment. 



"DO NOT let your hearts be troubled (distressed, agitated). You believe in and adhere to and trust in and rely on God; believe in and adhere to and trust in and rely also on Me.

    In My Father's house there are many dwelling places (homes). If it were not so, I would have told you; for I am going away to prepare a place for you.

    And when (if) I go and make ready a place for you, I will come back again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also."  (John 14:1-3)

I pulled into my driveway sensing the peace that had flooded and ignited my soul.  What a God, what a Savior, what a King!  I was totally smitten.  There are those that scoff at the beauty of God.  I've heard their squalor and squawking at a God that is so entrenched in love for them that they cannot understand, always inaccurately comparing earth with heaven, the inveterate palaces of the King.   I'm hoping I can insert through a fingernail breadth left open of a heart untouched for others to see the gorgeousness of the Lord.  Opening my car door and standing erect I looked heavenward and suddenly the strands of the song took an even greater depth that I just knew the writers never envisioned.

I'll find you in the mornin' sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you



If you know God, I encourage you to go deeper, go higher, go wider in your intimacy with Him.  

If you've never known him and want to, it's really very, very simple.  Just open up your heart and talk to Him.  Tell Him what you want.  Sit down in His office and let Him hold your hand, wipe away your tears, and make you brand new.  He'll do just that.  No one need check your baggage or have you jump through hoops of rules and regulations.  He'll save you.  No questions asked.

And if you're resistant and think, oh, what a bunch of hooey baloney, all I'm saying is this:  Just think about it.  Think about it without all the lashings of current popular thought that Christianity is a crutch, a doctrine of sissies, and an unforgiving, intolerant group full of pride.  You know what?  Some of them may be that. I say that with sorrow.  And if some so-called Christian has really hurt you, let me be the first to say, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry for the wounding.  But truly, who they are isn't what God is.  Bottom line:  God is love.  Full of mercy (who doesn't need that?), compassionate (we all need that from time to time), and brings peace (where in the world IS that??).  There are those who stick their heads in the sand and think the world doesn't need peace, grabbing instead for chaotic reformation laced with unspeakable violence and death.  


I'm just saying ... think about it.  All by yourself.  Alone.  With eyes and heart wide open.  What and Who you see just might surprise you.

 

Sending it by C-mail

Sent:  Today
From:  Me
To: adonai@celestialheavensabove.com
cc:  Jesus; Holy Spirit
Subject:  Sending you love
Message:  Hi, Father.  It's me.  One of your favorite daughters.  Man, I just finished reading your latest love letter ... again.  Want to know what's really amazing?  When I reread it, it's like the first time.  Alive, fresh, new.  No foolin'.  Wild, huh.  It's reciprocal, you know.  My love for you.  The love you send, though, is far beyond what I can comprehend, let alone give in return.  It's the week of the 4th of July (as if you didn't know) and a lot of Americans are celebrating "Independence Day."  A lot of the meaning has been stripped by pleasure seeking, callous minds, carcasses of thought unwilling to believe in truth, freedom, and righteousness.  To my way of thinking I believe there are those that haven't been desensitized and are standing up and making it count.  That's courage, don't you think?

Yesterday, I was thinking, wow, I can sit here in freedom and peace on my back deck without anybody buggin' me.  That without a doubt was borne of blood.  A page of history written by a pen of love.  Self-sacrifice at its ultimate.  (No one has greater love, no one has shown stronger affection, than to lay down, give up his own life. Love Letter John 15:13) Infinitely higher than a scale of one to 100, you did the same thing, sending Jesus to do what he did.  Doing His bit for your love for us all.  Still can't get over it.  Here I sit, free from all the scum of the evil that wants to shred and destroy people into oblivion, because You sent him ... and here's the kicker:  He was happy to do it.  He thought it was a joyous occasion.  Man, exclamation point and period.  That kind of love is fiery and all-consuming.  I am cocooned in the warmth of it.  I express my thanks, Adonai.  Sounds trite and incomplete, I know, but I'll say it anyway.  I hope it warms Your heart as well.


Your gift of extraordinary measureless love sits in a neat package on people's doorsteps.  If only they knew and understood what you've given.  Some look at it, read the label and even tell others, "Hey, I have the package" but I know that unless Your gift is opened and received with pleasure and joy, it remains a gift sealed gathering dust.  I'm sure glad I opened my gift of Yourself and didn't "return to sender."  I have never regretted one single day.



Your attention to everything I do overwhelms me.  You remember yesterday?  That moment you spoke secrets in my heart?  Man, I treasure them.  They're truly sustenance to my soul until the day you come to pick me up and take me home for good.  Remember when we shared the laughter?  You are so funny sometimes.  I'm so glad you have a sense of humor and aren't stuffy.  So many people think you're mad at them.  Really, isn't that it something?  Unbelievable.  I cannot for the life of me see why.  The only Father I have known -- you, oh, precious Adonai -- are loving beyond words and so watchful.  I know I don't have to worry about a thing.

I laid out the wedding garments you sent the other day.  Looking at the exquisite fabric encrusted with diamonds and pearls sewn with ribbons of light, I know I'll be ready come "going home" time and the prettiest bride the world has ever seen.  Thank you soooo much for sending all you did to make sure I'm ready for the wedding supper and giving me tips on palace royals etiquette.  That is invaluable.  I know I'll be the prettiest one of the bunch (though I know you feel the same way about all your "favorite" children; that's a joke, Father. I know I'm not the only kid on the block.)  Also glad I don't have to send you the latest picture of myself so you'll know what I look like or worse yet like they do at the airport with a sign upheld, a silent page of "Jane Doe."  That's not you.  Nosireebob.  You know me intimately and that makes all the difference.  Not like some of these song-and-dance gods that are two-timin' no-see/no-hear absent nobodies.  You are real!  (I'm twirling in love.)

Then when I come home and go to the big party -- I can't wait until you take me out on the dance floor and we have our father/daughter dance!  I want You to know I'm practicing so I don't step on your toes.  You're the King; I'm not and I'll follow your lead in humble submission across every inch of that promenade.  Promise I won't be embarrassing.  Pinky promise.  Until then I remain your forever daughter in love with you,

Come soon!!
Me
XXOO!

Straighten Up!

"It's off by three inches!"  He walked around the construction site with the tape measure bobbing on the ground in front of him.  Sighing, he muttered to no one in particular, "Off by three.  Going to have to dig again and move the concrete pier."  The tape measure rattled as he pulled it out of its encased metal coil in a wonky slither before hooking itself  to the end of the rigid beam.  Dirt was tossed, wooden blocks moved.  Another reading of the tape.  A rapping of the hammer rang out with a truing of the vertical and parallel lines. I went back to work and allowed the craftsman to continue his labors.  The melodic sounds of building a dream played out its tune.  

As a precise measurement in a building foundation is crucial, so in life.  Without exact measurements every stage of development will reflect whether the measurement was true or defective. God has the plans.  He is the builder.  There are those that believe they can build it all by themselves without the master plan.  But by what standard do they comport?  Where's the plumb line, the measure, the blueprint?



Amos 7:7 says, "Behold, the Lord stood on a wall made with a plumb line, with a plumb line in His hand."  Can't you just see Him?  Strong arms heaving heavy timber beams onto His broad shoulders, swinging with steely strength the hammer of justice, striding across the expanse of a construction site attentively overseeing every detail--truly every bit a man's man, but yet with tenderness and love expressed so dynamic in strength it will knock you over with a feather.  Certainly not this sickly, mealy-mouthed artwork that has really done Him a disservice to show who He really is.  He walks around with lightning bolts in the palm of His hand.  He is the God of all. The Almighty One.  The walking, living, breathing, loving God.  He's magnificent!  If you don't know Him, you need to get to know Him.  Really.  He will definitely take your breath away.

So how do you know what the measuring line is?  It's fine to talk in ethereal terms, but where does the rubber hit the road?  Right here.  Right out of His own mouth.  "I will make justice the measuring line and righteousness the plummet" (Isa. 28:17).  He said, "The world is out of alignment.  It's way off the mark.  They can't fix it, but I can."  And you know what He did?  It's really something.  He gave up the only Son He had just for you.  The beam was laid out in place, the plummet came down upon it on the cross spiked with love and made the alignment.  Boy, was it ever a heavy debt to pay.  An indescribable gift--one without measure and beyond price.  But you know what?  He thought you were worth it.  And even today where the world is off kilter, lawlessness cries to be the order of the day, lives are seemingly meaningless in value, and integrity lacking en masse, the measure of truth and illumination can still be found. Isn't that something?  That's mercy.  True mercy. 

I went out later to see how the building was going.  Now with the pier was moved, dirt back in place, and the beam firmly secured with a smile of satisfaction he said, "Look!  It's right on!"  And it definitely was.  It was plumb.  Level.  Perfect.  Now, that's something I couldn't do.  I didn't know how to "make it right" or what to do from there.  But boy, he does.  He my master builder. 



If you feel like your life is starting to list or even at full tilt, find the measuring line of justice and look up...to the plummet.  You'll find an alignment that cannot be paralleled anywhere on earth or in the universe.  I did.  It's the cross.  I can tell you from personal experience once you bring your life into alignment with His Word nothing else will be the same.  If you make Him Lord of your life today that saving mercy will bring you redemptive release.  It's your choice. 




Craig Nelson wrote a beautiful song; the lyrics express it in right on the mark.  Take them to heart.  They're for you:

The years had left scars,
And the scars have left pain,
How could He recognize me,
For I wasn't the same;
I knew I should pay and I knew the price,
For justice and law had demanded my life.

O but His tender heart heard my desperate cry,
And He saw all my past through merciful eyes!

Beautiful, that's how mercy saw me,
For I was broken and so lost;
Mercy looked at all my faults.
Justice of God saw what I had done,
But mercy saw me through the Son;
Not what I was but what I could be,
That's how mercy saw me!

Wherever you've gone,
You can't go too far,
That His eyes of mercy, can't see where you are,
He loves you so much to leave you alone,
You're flesh of His flesh
And bone of His bone

And His heart cries out for your heart  today,
See yourself through His eyes, then you will say,

You'll say:
Sin had stolen my dignity,
And all my self esteem;
But I was made brand new again,
When mercy looked at me.

Beautiful, that's how mercy saw me,
For I was broken and so lost;
Mercy looked at all my faults.
Justice of God saw what I had done,
But mercy saw me through the Son;
Not what I was but what I could be,
That's how mercy saw me!
 

Not what I was but what I could be,
That's how mercy saw me!
That's how mercy saw me!

What's the Color of Love?

What is the color of love?  You might say, "Color?  That's an emotion, not a definitive color.  What are you talking about?"  Oh, there's hues out there.  They crystallize into beautiful prisms of color poured out in grace from the Father's heart through someone else just to show you how much He really cares.  It's not often seen, but it's there.  And when you do, you'll know it.  It's billboard size in brilliance.  

Some colors are indistinct seen only in black and white.  A life of clouded grey darkens a bruised soul from anger thrown as projectiles of judgmental rejection, relationships are held for ransom and can and finally succumb to outright banishment.  Boy, it's hard to see the sunshine then.  It can be unrelenting cold daggers continually making frigid waters into icicles taking direct aim at a heart every time the thought of that person flies across the mind.  At ice storm's height the raging of the demons howling in the winds of hurt block out the voice of the Spirit of God and reason and forgiveness are unheard.  When the winds subside and ice cocoons the heart with sheathes of stubborn unforgiveness, the only sound can be heard is the crackling, snapping fragments of a broken fragile heart.  

Some people are color-blind.  They give apologies that tend to be more of a wannabe band-aid than anything else.  At best, the proferred "Oh, gee, I'm sorry" by the one that did you wrong can look like a warm, fuzzy teddy bear.  A lot of fluff, but no substance.  You can talk until you're blue in the face and, if you're anywhere over five years old, he'll never talk back or have a relationship with you that goes anywhere.  It's simply an exercise like your mother told you do, "Now tell your brother you're sorry," and you do.  But truly, you never really meant it in the first place and did it only to placate mother so she'd get off your back. Well, that's a nasty color.  It's black and blue.  A bruise that never seems to heal.

So what does all this really have to do with some color of God?  And for Pete's sake, what's it got to do with love?  Here's where the beauty comes in. Here when held up to the light of God you can see it in clarity like an exquisite diamond.  Love is completely unconditional.  It doesn't hold people for ransom.  It doesn't think back on the wrong and try to justify itself for why the silence is merited.  It doesn't place people in a box on the back burner hoping they'll catch fire and burn or place them on a huge burn pile as common rubbish and unredeemable.  It doesn't parade itself with banal superiority, complexity or exude rudeness laced with arrogance but, always exhibiting deference to another, strives at all costs to provide respect, honor, and dignity.  

I think the first color is transparent.  Clear to see.  Clear to hear.  Clear to cry.  Because without repentance of soul there can be no color.  No color at all.  Everything will be monochromatic, a narrowness of mind, soul, spirit that stifles and snuffs out all meaningful relationships.  The toll is great.  It's a life void of the redeeming grace of God.  There's no one that's immune.  Not even dear Aunt Lucy who people would say, "Oh, she's such a dear soul!  She just loves everybody."  Well, not always true.  That may be what is perceived, but not what is true when the door is shut, and the lights are off, and no one is in the room but Aunt Lucy.  In tempting moments, she may remember the hurt or nurture a suffered wrong close to the breast in unbridled unforgiveness.  Everyone has been hurt at one time or another.  Everyone.  It's how we deal with it that is the wringer.  We can try to be all self-sufficient and do it on our own ... and ultimately fail, yet again.  But when the Spirit of God is allowed to move within the soul things change ... and change rapidly.  Suddenly, the bright light of God is illuminated in spirals of glory that shoot through a person's soul to see exactly where a change needs to be made. 

That light illuminates the colors of God bigger than gigantic fireworks displaying awe of His love. "I did this for you.  I really did.  Do you see it yet?  I have redeemed you.  Take it.  It is yours for the asking.  I love you.  I always have.  I always will.  No matter what you do can change that."  And through that liquid repentance of heart as we seek forgiveness and truth we see the true color of love:  The red Blood of Jesus which not only absolves us of sin, but irradicates the pain and sting of the hurts we have accumulated and carried as favored luggage for years.  There is healing in that Blood.  Massive healing that cauterizes the hurt, seals it with His grace and mercy, and then His kisses that make you anew, awash by the Blood of Jesus.  It's red.  Blood red.  The hurt that was done to Him was carried for you.  

Oh, I know.  Sounds preachy.  Maybe so -- but that doesn't make it any less true.  He showed His true colors.  Show him yours and He'll make you new.

"If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.  If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love ...We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us! But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love." (Portions of 1 Cor. 13, Message version.)

Who Ya Gonna Call?

(Telephone ringing.)

RECORDING:  Hello, Celestial Soul Center.  If you know your party's extension, you may dial that now.  For all other inquiries, please press 0 or stay on the line for the next available representative.  


(Pause.  Harp music playing.)

RECORDING:  Your call is important to us.  Please stay on the line and the next available representative will be with you shortly.

(Pause.  More harp music playing.)

REPRESENTATIVE:  Hello, this is Agent 43789.  My name is Angela.  How may I help you?

YOU:  (Choking back tears.)  Hi.  Things haven't been going very well and I ... I ... well, wanted to talk to God.  Is there any way you can get Him for me?


REPRESENTATIVE:  He's in a meeting right now.  You can leave a message or I can take your number and ask Him to return your call. 

YOU:  (Tears freely flowing.)  Well, it's rather urgent.  My life is a mess and I just can't seem to get it together.  Is there any way I can talk to Him just for a couple minutes?  I really need to talk to Him.  

REPRESENTATIVE:  I'm sorry.  He asked not to be disturbed. Have you made an appointment to talk to Him?

YOU:  No.  No, oh -- so many things are happening right now.  I need help right now.  I HAVE to talk to somebody.  I have to talk to God!

REPRESENTATIVE:  Oh, I'm so sorry.  I'll tell you what, though, I'll switch you over to His voice mail and you can leave any message you desire.  He'll get it at His convenience and -- 

YOU:  Oh, never mind!

(Telephone connection terminated.)

*****

Some perceive God just this way, someone that's too busy, ineffectual, too judgmental, and most of all ... deaf.  How can a God that's supposedly loving and merciful hear me out of the billions of people that stride the globe?  How can He find me out of the crowd when my heart feels like it will explode with hurt, confusion and anxiousness?  


If you may feel that way I'll tell you this for a fact.  He is not ambivalent, indifferent or hard of hearing.  In fact, He sees every single sigh and whisper you utter.  He's not deaf nor blind that he cannot see.  He is a living God.  Mohammad died 632; Buddha died around 534 B.C.; many other gods have come ... and gone.  Oh, yeah.  There's funky and weird-looking statutes of them -- but they will never ever hear, see, feel or understand what you're going through.  

There's hope, though.  Truly.  When you need someone to talk to, there is a God that is very much alive.  Jesus will listen to everything you want to tell Him.  He's that close.  He died -- but unlike the others, He rose again by the power of the Holy Spirit so that you could be redeemed.  Now, that's love.  Love that's swathed in layers and layers of lush mercy.  Exquisite grace on display.

So when the challenges of life get dicey and you feel like you're skating on black ice, call out to God.  He's always available, always listening, always gracious to give us just what we need when we need it.  Whether it's salvation, direction or just simply love, He's the one that delivers in abundance far above any expectation.  

There's a verse in the Bible that is right-on proof.  You could call it His telephone number.  It's in Jeremiah 33:3."Call unto Me and I will answer you and show you great and mighty things you have not known."  

Call Him up.  I mean, what have you got to lose?  Come on.  What He has to say to you ... well, it just might surprise you and give you peace.

Like a Mighty Sea

Kona Inn - Kona, Hawaii (2011)

I ran down the plank that curled its way through a narrow alley opening up into a massive view of the warm Pacific Ocean water.  My view was not disappointed.  Surf was up!  Surfers with boards queued in the outer bay bobbing with the sway of the tide anxiously hoping against hope that the next wave would be the "big one."  


I quickly walked over to the edge of the sea wall, camera in hand waiting as well.  For I might just get "the one," that one picture to satisfy the longing of a wannabe photographer.  Never know.  This might be it.  

Surfer - Kona, Hawaii

Wave after wave came rolling in.  Surfers would get on their boards and try to ride it in; some waited; some fell while the waves kept rolling in without hesitation.



At every wave and the surfers mounted their boards, the camera clicked in rapid succession trying to frame that special movement that made them suspended in air or digital satisfactory proof they made in in the curl.  Surf spray shouted high, the waves pounding their exclamatory praise to the God who sent them.  


Just then I remembered an old song I had learned as a little child.  I started to sing it softly to myself and to the King who always stands watch with me (and points at things for me to shoot).  You may know the tune.  The words go something like this:

"Over and over like a mighty sea, rolls the love of Jesus rolling over me."  Just about in the middle of that I choked.  Couldn't even whisper.  Jesus' love was for ME.  The thought was overwhelming -- just like that mighty sea.  Here is the manifestation of it where I stood.  A "leftover" from a terrific storm that had been in Japan, I stood on the edge of Hawaii where it finally landed to bring in the last of its strength.  It still packed a terrific whallop that demanded respect.  No arguing or debating.  It evoked pure, raw awe to whoever would look its way.  

In that moment the tears flowed from my cheeks.  I was absolutely punched in my soul to know that that kind of God's powerful love and, oh, so much more was directed at me because of Jesus' gift of life.  Well, how could I contain it?  It was a moment that the Lord and I could shared on the sea all with the loud pounding waves.  Oh, I was in the midst of people, but sometimes there are moments that are exclusive, private and precious even in the midst of a crowd.  


There's a song that I really love.  It's "In the Presence of Jehovah."  I've learned that I don't have to be in my separate little library on the top floor of my home where no one else is to be in His presence.  I don't have to manufacture it.  He's as near and close as my next breath.  He's everywhere I am and I am everywhere He is.  We are one.  It doesn't have to be in commercial church or homemade home groups or really anywhere structured.  It can be as simple as taking some pictures of waves on a Pacific Island where people are having dinner by the light of tiki torches.  It doesn't matter.  He meets you where you are.  Isn't that fantastic? 


"Jesus answered, if a person really loves Me, he will keep My word, obey My teaching; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home, abode, special dwelling place with him."  (John 14:23 Amplified Version.) 

Kona Inn - Kona, Hawaii

The thing that got me, though, was that love wasn't anything I could foster.  It was given totally meritless.  I couldn't be "a good girl" to earn it in greater quantity nor could I be a monster and He love me less.  The gift was there for the taking when I asked him to be my Savior and King.  Simple as that.  It's a legal transaction.  A heavenly birth certificate made out in my name with Himself as the father.  


So next time the Spirit speaks to me with whispers of love, I will burst out in song and most definitely once again let fresh tears feed the rhema Word to my spirit and brings sustenance for the soul.  Rhema is the life-breathed, Spirit touched Word.  

Father, it touches me afresh today.  Please point me to the things I should see. Wrap me in your arms tight till the shadows of fear and darkness of the death passes by.  Laugh with me at the things that are before us to enjoy like puppies at play, children's laughter, the sunset on the water, and my husband's silly jokes made specifically to cheer me up.  And God, may I not be selectively deaf to the wind words You whisper in my ear.  Seal them in the night and cause me to be rock hard in my resolve to serve You only all my days.  If I do not rejoice, the rocks will cry out.  They aren't going to shout for me.  I will say and cry and shout "Over and over" ... (sing it with me) ... "like a mighty sea, comes the love of Jesus rolling over me.  Over the sea, over the sea, Jesus, Savior, pilot me.  Over the sea, over the sea, over the jasper sea."


Listen to the surf.  The wind.  The words in the waves.  He really does love you, you know.  With every breath.