Don't Give Up

'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'  ~ Jeremiah 29:11, NIV

Strange where blog posts come from.  For me, I usually feel a 'nudge' from the Lord to write something or share a song.  When I've tried to 'come up with something' on my own,  it generally falls apart.  


Today, I really felt moved to share this.  Somebody needs to read, hear and KNOW this.


Perhaps you're feeling discouraged today; you may feel at the end of your rope and you're checking to see if there's enough of it to place around your neck.  DON'T GIVE UP.


Suddenly, you may have encountered a detour on the path you were SURE was the right one to take.  The once bright, smooth and certain course has now changed into a dark, rough and unknown road, but you can't turn back. You feel like just laying down in the dirt and crying.  


Maybe something you've wanted to do your whole life hasn't turned out the way you planned.  Your dreams have been dashed and you've lost your confidence. DON'T GIVE UP.


You're angry, hurt, dismayed and frustrated.  But please -- DON'T GIVE UP!

God's thoughts are not our thoughts; neither are our ways His ways.  But He has a plan for your life.  He really, really does. 


Remember that.


Believe it.


And DON'T GIVE UP!

Worship Song Sunday -- Dwell by Aaron Keyes

'Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  


This I declare about the LORD: 


He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him. For He will rescue you from every trap and protect you from deadly disease.  He will cover you with His feathers.  He will shelter you with His wings.  His faithful promises are your armor and protection. ' ~ Psalm 91:1:5, NLT

A Cry In The Wilderness (Random Journal Day Link Up #2)

‘The angel of the LORD found Hagar beside a spring of water in the wilderness, along the road to Shur.  The angel said to her, “Hagar, Sarai’s servant, where have you come from, and where are you going?”  “I’m running away from my mistress, Sarai,” she replied.  The angel of the LORD said to her, “Return to your mistress, and submit to her authority.”  Then he added, “I will give you more descendants than you can count.”  And the angel also said, “ You are now pregnant and will give birth to a son.  You are to name him Ishmael (which means, ‘God hears’), for the LORD has heard your cry of distress.”  Thereafter, Hagar used another name to refer to the LORD, who had spoken to her.  She said, “You are the God who sees me.” (Hebrew, El-Roi) ~ Genesis 16:7-11;13

I'm linking up again today with Dawn, over at 'Beneath The Surface:Breath of Faith', and with Susie, from 'Recovering Church Lady - Pleasing God is Simply Not As Hard As You Think' for Random Journal Day. 

This journal is from 2009 and thankfully, looks quite a bit more like a journal should look (in my opinion, anyway).  One of my sweet friends, Mary, a fellow journaler, gave it to me as a gift.  It is purple (my favorite color), the front cover is decorated with a delightful picture of a teapot and teacup (I do believe I like tea almost as much as coffee) and is inscribed with the words of the Serenity Prayer, which, as a woman who has battled more than one addiction and obsession, and continues to do so, have become so very special to me.

 
This morning, I came across this short entry I wrote, dated February 11, 2009:

‘No matter what -- whatever is happening, however my life may look -- I MUST believe that God knows, God sees and God hears the troubles, the anguish and the cries of a mother’s heart and soul.

And that He will protect, He will intervene, He will rescue, He will deliver, redeem and restore my family…..’

How very appropriate an entry this turned out to be.  I read this today, knowing that God is faithful to do the above mentioned things, even while my heart is breaking for two people in my extended family -- my nephew and my niece, both of whom are in their early 20‘s.

My nephew’s girlfriend ended their relationship a few days ago and right before she did, she informed him that she had also just aborted the baby he didn't know she was carrying.  To say that my nephew is devastated would be an understatement.  He is in pain and is talking like he wants to die. His mother, my sister-in-law, cannot be with him.  She and the rest of her family drove to visit other family, located many hours and states away.  She and her husband take turns, every few hours, calling and texting him, to make sure he is okay.  Two family friends are taking turns staying with him.  My sister-in-law has shared with me about how helpless she feels to do anything.

While she does believe in God, I know from discussions with her over the years that she does not have any kind of loving, personal relationship with Jesus.  Just as I’ve been guilty of countless times in my life, running to the LORD is not her first response, but her last resort.   As a mother, I am interceding in prayer on her behalf.  

Believing that God knows, God sees and that God hears everything that is going on in this situation and that He will be faithful to protect. To intervene. To rescue. To deliver, redeem and restore.

Then there’s my niece, sister to aforementioned nephew in crisis.  Some time ago, she had a major falling out with an uncle.  Ugly, hate-filled words were exchanged between the two. They both drank deeply from the poisonous cup of unforgiveness.  Grudges were held onto tightly, like kites on a windy day. Lines were drawn in the sand, and have yet to be crossed by either one of them, although my niece does claim she sent him a Facebook message soon afterwards to say that she was sorry (certainly not THE BEST method for repentance), which her uncle claims he never received.  At the time, my niece was about 19, and she never felt the need to inform her parents about what had transpired between her and her uncle.  Yesterday, when her family came to visit this uncle and aunt, and she stepped out of the car, it was quite the surprise.   And not of the happy variety.

Her uncle lost his temper and bombarded her with hurtful, unforgiving words that cannot be taken back.  My niece’s parents were shocked, since they had no idea what had happened between them.  All in all, it was quite an ugly scene and my niece has been refused entrance to the uncle’s home.  Instead, she spent the day in her family’s car, while other family members brought food and refreshments out to her.  Her aunt had to sneak her into the house to use the bathroom or had to drive her to a food establishment to use theirs (believe me, I'm creative, but I cannot make up stuff like this).  She was able to spend the night at another aunt’s and uncle’s home a few miles away,  but because they were both working the next day, they told her she couldn’t stay at their house.  So once again, my niece has found herself sitting in the car today, waiting until it’s time for them all to leave.  The uncle, despite his wife's pleading and prayers, is resistant to changing his mind, refusing to offer mercy and forgiveness.  It is extremely windy and cold where they are visiting.   Her parents are already overwhelmed by their son’s issues, and now this has been added to their already full plate. My brother-in-law seems to be of the  ‘you reap what you sow’ attitude, while my sister-in-law is just at wit’s end over all of this and doesn’t know what to do.

Myself, I am absolutely livid to know that a travesty such as this is going on in my family (yes, they’re my in-laws, but they are still my family).  It is dysfunction to the max and my heart aches, because, as off-the-hook as they can be, I do love them.  

In my Life Recovery Bible, there is a sidebar with this life application for Genesis 16:7-13:

"When Hagar could not help herself and recognized her powerlessness over her situation, the angel of the LORD came and ministered to her. ....when we are ready to admit our need and cry out to Him, He is ready to step in." 

I know that I am helpless; powerless to do anything in this situation. But oh -- I can pray.  I have been. And will continue doing so.

Praying to El-Roi -- the God who knows, hears and sees the troubles, the anguish and the cries of THIS mother’s heart and soul -- not only for my own children, but for my nephew and niece as well. 

Believing that He will protect.  Believing that He will intervene. Believing that He will rescue, deliver, redeem and restore this family. My family.

God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything. ~ 1 John 3:20

Resurrection Sunday -- My Redeemer Lives! by Nicole C. Mullen

"But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and He will stand upon the earth at last." ~ Job 19:25, NLT

HALLELUJAH!!

Christ is risen!

Out Of The Tomb, by Ron DiCianni

He is risen indeed!!

My Redeemer Lives, by Roger Loveless

The tomb is empty -- He lives!!!

Empty Tomb, by Corbert Gauthier

A very blessed  and happy Resurrection Sunday to all, dear ones!!

It's Friday -- But Sunday's Coming!

But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed. ~ Isaiah 53:5

I'm sitting here, looking out my window from time to time as I write this post.  The sun is shining here where I live in New Jersey; the weather is slightly cool; not much of a wind to speak of, birds are singing, there's not a cloud in the sky.  Yet I find myself slightly disappointed.


Am I nuts? Possibly. Certifiably, I'm told by some.  Am I ungrateful?  No way. It's just that the weather seems like such a paradox in regards to the day.


Today is Good Friday, perhaps the most solemn day among Christians.  I can remember from the time I was a child, and well into my, shall we say, older adult years, it always seemed that the weather on Good Friday was anything but beautiful.  There were times when it started out that way, but as it got closer to noontime, the wind would suddenly kick up, clouds would roll in, and the sky would become gray and somber.  As if God was sending us all a much needed reminder of the solemnity of this day, some 2,000 plus years ago.


The day that His One and Only Son was beaten, bruised, mocked and tormented -- for us. 

The day that Jesus was forced to carry a heavy, splintery wooden cross through the streets (the same streets where, five days earlier, He rode triumphantly upon a donkey to the joyful praises of 'Hosanna!'), and up a hill. 

The day that our Savior took the nails for us -- US!! -- and with a crown of thorns firmly thrust and implanted upon His skull, hung upon that wooden cross, between two criminals, for hours in excruciating pain.


The day that Jesus took all the sin of the whole world upon Himself -- and died so that we -- selfish, prideful, ungrateful sinners that we were and are -- could live.  Forever with Him.

I would often wonder, as a child, why in the world this day of all days was referred to as "Good Friday."  Back then, nobody could seem to tell me why.  As far as I could see, there was nothing 'good' about it.  It was such a somber day. My mother would never permit music to be played on Good Friday.  TV was definitely NOT allowed on.  I wasn't even able to go out to play with my friends between the hours of noon and three o'clock (God rest her soul -- my mother was an extremely melodramatic person, so I don't know if this was the 'norm' among our family, friends and neighbors back then, or just something she came up with).  And, at three o'clock, I would find myself seated in our darkened church for Stations of the Cross.  Jesus, the Son of God -- gentle, loving, giving Jesus, Who loved all the little children of the world, was betrayed and murdered heinously.  What was so 'good' about that, I'd think as I fidgeted in my seat between my parents.


Absolutely NOTHING.


But as I heard and learned many years later, it could only be called 'Good Friday' because of Jesus's resurrection three days later.  Jesus overcame sin and death when He stepped out of the tomb that Sunday morning -- Resurrection Sunday!  Without that Sunday, there is nothing 'good' about Good Friday.  As our pastor always says: "it's Friday....but Sunday's coming!"  Hallelujah for that!


Today, may I encourage you to take some time away from the noise and busyness of life? Perhaps find a quiet place to sit and reflect on what our Savior, Jesus Christ did for you. Yes, Jesus died for all of us, it's true.  But consider the pain and suffering, anguish and rejection He endured for YOU.  Make it personal. 


If you've never, ever seen the movie, 'The Passion of the Christ,' I highly recommend watching it if you're able sometime this weekend.  Buy it, rent it, borrow it.  I watched it again this morning.  And indeed, it IS hard to watch.  But it really brings home exactly what Jesus went through for you.  For me.  For us.  


Below is a song that I heard for the first time today, from a CD I bought some years ago, but never played.  It is hauntingly beautiful, in my honest opinion.  Take some time to listen to it and meditate on its simple, yet powerful and truthful lyrics (which I've included). 


If you've never considered what Jesus Christ has done for you, I implore you to do so TODAY.  Seek Him while He may be found.  He desires that NO ONE should perish, but that all (and yes, this means YOU) should come to repentance.  He loves you unfailingly and unconditionally.  He died for you sacrificially.  


How can you refuse Him now?

How can you refuse Him now, how can you refuse Him now?
How can you turn away from His side?
With tears in His eyes, on the cross there He died,
How can you refuse Jesus now?


There's a story old, that has often been told,
Of how our Savior died, as they nailed His hands,
He cried, "they don't understand!"
As the blood flowed from His side.


As He hung there on the tree, He prayed for you, prayed for me,
There was no one His pain to ease,
Before He died, He faintly cried,
"Father, forgive them please!"


How can you refuse Him now, how can you refuse Him now?
How can you turn away from His side?
With tears in His eyes, on the cross there He died,
How can you refuse Jesus now?

The Solitary Chair -- Reflections From The Upper Room

Jesus Washing The Feet of His Disciples, by Albert Edelfelt

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under His power, and that He had come from God and was returning to God; so He got up from the meal, took off His outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around His waist.  After that, He poured water into a basin and began to wash His disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around Him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to Him, “Lord, are You going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” 


“No,” said Peter, “You shall never wash my feet.”


Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with Me.” ~ John 13:3-8, NIV

On the church calendar, today is known as Maundy Thursday or Holy Thursday, commemorating Jesus’ last supper with His disciples.  In the upper room that night before they ate, Jesus humbled Himself and did something shocking for His friends -- He washed their feet.  The ever impetuous Peter instantly balked at the mere thought of such a thing.


How would we feel, if Jesus came to us with basin and towel in hand?  I wondered….and felt moved to write about it.

The Solitary Chair

In my heart's home and my mind's eye, there is
a room;
A room with two chairs in which You wait for me
Each day.


You call my name......


Some days I come to You,
Some days I pass on by;
Too busy.


Or pretending I don't hear......


Today, Your voice invites
Me to
Come and spend some time
with You.


As I step through the door I see
a chair;
A solitary, lonely chair.

You smile and welcome me
to sit;
A towel is wrapped around
Your waist.


You hold a basin filled
with water;
Steam rising from it to
Your face.


I hesitate......


Confused
Unsure
Anxious


What is this that You have for me?


But to the chair I walk
and sit.....


Now with a look of compassion upon Your face,
for me,
A look which I just 
cannot comprehend, 


You kneel 
before me! 


Taking my feet --
My dry, dirty, shoeless, 
ugly feet --
Into Your beautiful, gentle, yet
powerful hands, 


And place them in
the basin.....

"OH NO!," I cry,
I don't deserve such honor, such tenderness;
I don't deserve such love from You,
Almighty King.


I am shaken
Humbled
Embarrassed even.


But there You are......


Choosing to take on the role
of bondservant,
Choosing to take Your place
at my feet!


Touching them
Washing them
Cleansing them.


Cleansing me......


Removing my feet from
the water;
Your once clean hands now stained,
From the dirt and filth
and ilk
That was once on me;


But now transferred 
onto You......

You take the towel from around
Your waist,
And proceed to dry
my feet.


From top to bottom, each and 
every toe;


Slowly
Deliberately
Tenderly
Lovingly.......


Your eyes, with Your sweet
unwavering gaze, 
pierce my heart to its core;


I am overwhelmed......

Overwhelmed by the love I see
in them.


Immense
Amazing
Unfailing
Unconditional


Who am I
that You would do such a thing
for me?


I am a forgiven sinner.


A recipient of Your grace and mercy.


I am Your Beloved. 

The Journaling Genesis

My bloggy BFF Dawn, over at Beneath The Surface  and HER bloggy pal Susie, from Recovering Church Lady  have joined forces (picture a bloggy Justice League!) to create "Random Journal Day" (insert fanfare here), where those of us out here in the blogosphere who also journal can select a random entry from one of our journals (be it new or ancient) and share it with each other.


I must admit, I initially balked at Dawn's invitation to give it a shot, post an entry and link up.  Who, me?  Really?  I know this sounds ridiculously childish. Because it is.  I mean, c'mon -- what's the big deal?  Here I am with a blog to which I frequently post stories of tears, fears, joys, victories, blessings and burdens -- and sometimes, things I'd much rather keep hidden away in the deeper, darker recesses of my heart and soul.  So what's the problem? 


Maybe I'm afraid that I'm not going to do this linking up thingie right. I've never done that before.  It's all new to me, and while I know that change is good, I generally shy away from it. 

Or maybe it's because I'm slightly embarrassed. When I began journaling in earnest, back in 2002, I hadn't really written ANYTHING since my high school days (way back before there was electricity, according to my darling teen daughter).  Looking over these early journal entries, they look so....crude, adolescent and amateurish.  I shared with Dawn that to me, this was akin to me jumping off the high dive -- but not being able to swim, while the hunky lifeguard is distracted, totally engrossed in convo with some little bikini babe.


But -- enough whining and hedging. I'm holding my breath and diving in!

Ok, seriously now....how pathetic is THIS?? My first journal
and this is what I grabbed for?  My creative spirit must have
been in a dead slumber at that moment.  Not a picture or sticker
to be found on this bad boy. 

November 7, 2002 -- My first journal and an entry made two weeks after receiving my diagnosis of an aggressive form of breast cancer at age 45 AND less than a year after coming to know Jesus as my Savior.  A dear friend who was my neighbor and the director of my children's preschool, had been given her own cancer diagnosis not long before mine.  She encouraged me to start a journal, simply writing down what was going on in my life, what I was thinking and how I felt, etc.  But it actually became so much more than that; it became my journey to a closer walk with Jesus:


"Happiness comes from smooth and happy circumstances; but real joy comes from trusting in Christ.  Joy is a quiet confidence, an inner peace that comes from knowing Christ.  We can lose our happiness when trouble comes into our lives -- and it WILL come! -- but it can't take our joy away.  As long as we have faith, hope and trust in the Lord, and continue to seek His face.


The most powerful testimony I can give is a godly life -- to let my life be an example of Jesus and His love.  Especially now, with this diagnosis of breast cancer.  What a curve ball I've been hit with that could fell me if I let it.  I could turn inward and become an angry, bitter person, shaking my fist at God and handing out engraved invitations to my pity party.  Or, I could give this ALL to the Lord -- leaning on Him, trusting that He knows what's best for me, and showing everyone, by how I present myself to them, (how I talk and how I react to the sure-to-come difficult situations), that Christ is in me.

Wow -- that was 10 years ago, and I'm happy to say, I'm still cancer-free, praise God!  But WHAT a long, unexpected journey that turned out to be. There were lots of dark, mountainous roads, pitfalls and scary detours.  Many, many times my walk with Christ looked more like a limp and on my worst days, a slow crawl. Yet those were the days that I felt His Presence the most, carrying me through.  And there were also so many joys, blessings, victories and lessons learned along the way. Journaling through it all helped me to keep my perspective -- my mind centered on what and Who was most important, my eyes on Jesus.


I often wonder what my life would have looked like, dealing with cancer, had I turned down Jesus's invitation to come to Him and turned away from His promise that "you will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart" (Jeremiah 29:13), choosing instead to do it all on my own.


I shudder to think of how things could have turned out. And thank God for how they actually did.     

My Precious Moments keepsake statue; a gift from a friend
during my time in Cancer Land. It's called, appropriately
enough, "Life Is Worth Fighting For."

And even though I’m walkin’ through 
The valley of the shadow 
I will hold tight to the hand of Him 
Whose love will comfort me 
And when all hope is gone 
And I’ve been wounded in the battle 
He is all the strength that I will 
Ever need 
And He will carry me ~ He Will Carry Me, by Mark Schultz

Palm Sunday/Worship Song Sunday -- Hosanna by Selah

The next day the great crowd that had come for the Feast heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem.  They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Blessed is the King of Israel!”

Today is Palm Sunday.  As a little girl, I loved Palm Sunday.  While there were no presents in it for me, as there were at Christmas, nor any baskets of yummy candy as at Easter (and not that this was what these two holy, holidays were supposed to be about, but hey....I was just a kid, after all), there was still something very special to me about Palm Sunday.  


In my church, several people would be stationed at the each of the entrances to the sanctuary, holding huge armfuls of the green branches to hand out to everyone as they filed in.  Sitting in my seat at church between my parents, I'd rub the palm branch with my fingers, luxuriating in the smoothness and the fresh 'greenness' of it; waving it until I would inadvertently wind up poking someone in the face or the eye with it (usually, my mother) and have it taken away until it was time for EVERYONE in the church to wave it, crying out "Hosanna in the highest!" I can still remember the sound of all the palm branches swooshing in the air. 


Afterwards, we'd go home and my mother would again highjack my palm branch and place it with hers and my father's, generally hanging them over some picture frame in our living room (I have NO CLUE what the significance was in doing that), where they would remain until just before the next Palm Sunday, when they would mysteriously disappear (only God knows what my mother did with them.  Perhaps she made special deliveries to our church rectory, since the burning of palms is where the ashes come from for Ash Wednesday).   


When I got a little older, I befriended a girl whose mother used to weave palms together to make crosses, much like this one:

I was so amazed at her talent (hey -- don't laugh. To me, it was a talent.  I couldn't even get the hang of making those crazy necklaces out of gum wrappers that were all the rage back then) and would try to sneak extra palm branches out of the church (such a thief I was!) to bring to my friend's mom so she could make me my own palm cross.  Sadly, I don't know of anyone who makes them any more.  It's a lost art. 


Over the years, I've attended various churches that, oddly enough, barely made mention of Palm Sunday.  The first year I attended the church I now call my home church, they didn't hand out a single palm (that has changed, thankfully).  What was THAT all about? I really wish I could tell you.


But clearly, Palm Sunday is not just a day for the church to hand out green, leafy branches with which to decorate one's house (or to poke another's eye out); so much more than the waving and weaving of palms. 


Way back in the day, the palm branch was a victory symbol. The Romans distributed palm branches to reward the champions of their gladiator games and chariot races, as well as in celebration of their military successes.  The Jewish community followed a similar tradition of carrying palm branches during festive times, most likely taking that from the Romans.


Passover was one such festive time, and it was during this time of celebration that Jesus made His triumphal entry into the city of Jerusalem, riding on the back of a young donkey. Many of Jesus' followers ran to meet Him, throwing their cloaks in His path and waving palm branches, not only in celebration of the festival, but to celebrate and acknowledge that this Jesus was their King, the One Who would bring salvation to them. Waving their palms, they cried out, "Hosanna to the Son of David!! Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord.  Hosanna in the highest!" (Matthew 21:9, NIV).


When the word 'Hosanna' is used, it's generally as a word of praise, which indeed it is.  But there is another meaning for it as well. The Old Testament Hebrew word, pronounced hoshiya na, (and later, recorded in New Testament Greek as 'hosanna'),  literally translates  'save, we pray; help, we pray,' as it is written in Psalm 118:25. 


Amazing -- in the Old Testament, Hosanna is a cry for help; in the New Testament, it becomes a cry of praise/adoration to and recognition of the One the crowd welcomed as their Helper, their Messiah, their King.  


Even more amazing -- when Jesus enters the city of Jerusalem, He is coming not as a warrior King, riding on a proud war horse, as one might expect. No, He makes His entrance as a humble King, riding on a lowly donkey, which in the Eastern tradition, was considered an animal of peace. Certainly not what His people expected of their Messiah.

Today, Palm Sunday, marks the beginning of Holy Week.  Jesus, after making His journey into Jerusalem, is about to embark on yet another journey -- one that is much, much less celebratory. 


It is a darker, harsher, lonelier path which Jesus will take to the Via Dolorosa, or The Way of Suffering.


Let's join together in worship of our King of kings, our Lord of lords, our Prince of Peace -- our Savior, Who suffered and died (and rose again!) for us, so that we could live.


Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord, Hosanna in the highest!