Tuesday, October 30, 2007

I am an official stripper. Meaning, I’ve now stripped the stain and varnish off of half of my bed. It was wrist-killing work, until I ran out of stripper, but the wood that has immerged, pure, stainless and ready to be remade into something beautiful, makes it worth all the pain.

Somehow today feels as if it will burn up in the eternal fire more quickly than straw: completely useless. Nothing to show for it. Empty. Gone.

Why? I’ve felt slightly nauseous all day—anxious maybe? Perhaps I am attempting to ward off the attack of some nasty bug. It’s the same gut feeling I have when I’m worried about something, or being eaten up by guilt, but I can’t for sake of sanity and peace of mind figure out what could be eating me. Perhaps I am angry or resentful about this bumper?

Five o’clock came much too early this morning, and I didn’t get up to read my Bible. Instead I rolled over and dozed for another hour, until I had to drag myself out of bed to fix breakfast. I didn’t get very far in my reading later, either. All day I’ve seemed distracted and out of touch with the Lord. How can I go from hot to cold to hot so frequently and with such headlong impetuousness? It’s no wonder I feel sick.

Mulling over the discussion on spiritual gifts has also done another work in my heart and mind. Each new day I see new evidences of a strong tendency toward prophecy in myself—I’m so emotional, up and down, hot and cold, fiery and timid, and always harsh. No steadiness. No dependability. No predictability.

I need…

I don’t know what I need.

Yes, I do. I need Jesus. And a good, hard spanking for allowing myself to become distracted. And a period to put at the end of that round of foolishness.

Lord, I’ve reached a level place

Where I can gaze upon Thy face

And know without the smallest doubt

‘Tis Thou I cannot live without.

So with this truth before my eyes

Be Thou my only true supply

And fill me with Thy living water.

I am complete: Thy virgin daughter.

Monday, October 29, 2007

I’ve learned at least one sure way to turn heads in D-town. Wear something other than blue denim overalls or camoflauge. I dared to go to town today, alone, and dressed—as in, a cute outfit with a hat. I kept my tongue inside my mouth to keep from further exposing my very essence of foreignness, and pretended I didn’t notice the large, black exclamation points floating over the country folks’ heads. As the cashiers and librarians greeted everyone else around me, I felt just a wee bit wee and lost and outside in the cold. And just a wee bit amused that correct English seems to be such a rarity. I’m thinking of breaking out a French or British accent on my next venture.

I spent hours in the library, putting alternate feet to sleep because I can’t seem to sit on my bottom instead of my ankles, researching spa care, bumper buying, Canon owning and trying to order Jonathan Lindvall’s Bold Christian Youth Seminar. We’re planning to open up our home on Friday nights for an all-new, improved listen-through of these tapes.

After I got home I refilled Papa’s printer cartridge, installed the program he couldn’t find on his computer, tested both and got supper on early. Buying back his love is a nasty phrase to tack on my very productive day, but it’s certainly the best description I can think of. Maybe not his love, since I know, somewhere inside the cavern of my subconscious mind, that he still loves me, but it’s certainly an appeal to be reinstated in his favor. I hope I found a bumper that will satisfy, for a little less money than I’d feared, though my stomach still does nervous little flip-flops when I think of the lovely little whirlpool of a drain this will make on my finances. And just when I was hoping to make some purchases.

So I catch myself blaming Papa and justifying myself and thinking all sorts of logical things. Like, when you work for an employer, and you brake something on the job, the employer expects to replace it. So this is the same concept: I had no choice. I was doing a job he assigned me, as he assigned it to be done, and I broke the bumper. I shouldn’t have to pay to replace it. Especially since I really have no money since he won’t let me work for another employer.

Basically, it boils down to an issue of trust. I’ve decided I know what’s best for me and for all concerned. For someone else to handle my problem and let me off the hook so that I can buy the camera I want.

How childish.

Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that I really haven’t learned anything about responsibility? Who is whispering in my ear that the only good outcome of this situation has been an increases sensitivity to people with migraine headaches? Where did that dreadful fear that I might do the same stupid thing again come from?

What are my priorities? I think they are the Lord, Papa, others then me. Could it be that I’m really first, and serving the others is just might sneaky way of benefiting myself?

Lord, my heart is so deceptive.

When I claim it’s grown receptive

It is only that I’m fearing

Another, harder spanking’s nearing.

When will I become mature?

No more clouded or obscure

Motives leading me to linger--

Evade Thy disciplining finger.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Parking a camper on a concrete slab with a water hook-up, campfire grill, and propane heating is cheating—but it sure beats roughing it.

This morning, John Paul was permitted to have sole charge of my behavior during the meeting. My behavior was excellent, and his was too. He really is a good kid, and since I knew that his parents held him to a very high standard for a two-year-old, I did not blench from flicking his hands when they found wandering pleasures in teasing someone else or playing with his shoes. And he exhibited a very strong tendency toward self-discipline when he flicked his own hand to prevent it from getting into mischief. That little man is a charmer.

Emily’s birthday was beautiful. A beautiful day for a beautiful girl and beautiful outfits. April, Jacinda, Lindsey, Shoko and I decided to most appropriate apparel for the occasion was whatever looked the worst. I voted Lindsey the best-dressed hill-billy in the state of Arkansas, and that’s a pretty high calling since there are some pretty well-dressed hill-billies here. She poked pink plastic cups inside her two pig-tails for a truly top-knotch hair-do. And we elicited a few admiring glances while rendezvousing on the Tech campus. Emily’s family is sweet, quiet, and very good at making delicious food. Her grandparents can’t possibly be in their 80’s. I decided without a doubt that some day, sixty-five years from now, it would be a phenomenal blessing from the Lord to find myself married to a man like her grandpa.

The Sperry’s made our camping a family threesome and added a little more age and activity to the schedule. They have five kiddos, all homeschooled, from the age of two to the age of eighteen. Katherine, the oldest, grins almost as frequently as April, giggles almost as much as I do, and has a metabolism that could power a nuclear plant. Unfortunately, she’s still a couple of inches taller than I am—a mistake which I must forgive in light of her nobler qualities.

My new, old, little, big brother Zach followed us home, wagging his tail. That is, until his poor old Babe overheated and we had to rescue him.

My shower tonight was beyond description. It seems I have a new obsession—showers. Truly, in a place of cold, smoky, dustiness, getting clean feels heavenly. I pray I am at least as enthusiastic about purifying myself from spiritual grime.

Lord, Thou knelt to wash my feet
And promised me a paracleet
To purify me by Thy letter
Free me from my sinful fetters.

Lord, I wash now seven times
To cleanse my soul of guilt and grime
In the water Thou has spoken
Will my filthy heart be broken.

Friday, October 26, 2007

When a kite soars too high, it always comes crashing to the earth—very quickly and painfully.

I think I’m pretty much as low as I’ve been in a very long time. I’ve tried on about every emotion for size, and finally settled with discouragement. Not because it’s the most flattering, or the most comfortable, but because it simply seems to fit the best at the moment.

My priorities are about as warped as a beveled glass, and not half as attractive. It should be the Lord first, Papa second, others third, me last. Usually I have that nicely turned on end, and just when I was beginning to pat myself on the back thinking I’d gotten this little life thing figured out, I discover that I wasn’t really prioritizing Papa. Sure, I was doing plenty of things for him—whatever he asked—but I wasn’t thinking like him.

So that bumper on the pick-up that I smashed is still smashed. And I’ve caught up my facebook twice and never managed to find a new bumper (to the tune of $300. my dearly beloved pocket-book). And I heard about it today at lunch, just before I was supposed to call Jacinda and firm in details about Emily’s party, just before I was supposed to pack for a camping trip I don’t even want to go on.

Tears seem the only remedy for a heart that feels at once guilty, defensive, wounded, repentant, angry, humbled and broken into a million pieces. How is it that I always disappoint him? How can I be so childish?

Of course I should have realized his bumper was a priority.

Lord, when Thou seemed fully worthy

Of my every moment’s duty

True obedience eluded

Through my negligence excluded.

Honor Father, Thy command

I have failed to understand,

Then I claimed it “single minded”.

Thou did well, when Thou, me, chided.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

I am now an official Arkansan. Or at least a licensed Arkansan. Linsdey says she needs to work with my on my accent yet, before I’m truly acceptable.

I can tell I’ve been hanging out with early education majors when a trip to Wal-Mart produces an important purchase like twistable crayons. Kiddie teachers or not, Emily and Lindsey know where to find good Bible highlighters.

We went out on the town today and Mom and I got our licenses, as well as my much longed-for paint. The rumors I’ve heard of spelunking in Leonard’s are true. That place is like the mazes of Greek mythology, but at least the workers are nice. As in, nicer than is necessary. The guy who mixed my paint for me gave us the contractors price—on one can of paint—which saved us about twenty-five percent. I can accept that as a gift from the Lord, though I certainly wouldn’t consider myself deserving of any gifts at the moment.

Lauryn and Emily allowed me to intrude upon their lunch date at Quizzno’s and I got to catch up with Lauryn and her prayer requests. “Those girls are precious” will probably be a most commonly used phrase in this journal, and I need to learn more creative ways to get across the same concept. “She makes my heart swell like a pregnant kitty.” Somehow, that’s just not cutting it.

Tonight I rediscovered a journal I began a year and a half ago about Josiah—or rather, my “Darling Brother”. That is to say, the brother I was trying to pretend I thought was darling. It brought me to tears as I read the sarcasm, satire and frustration that I poured out as I worried about whether he was saved, and tried to figure out why I couldn’t get along with him and how I could change things from my end. I only wish I’d kept it up. It would have been priceless to have documented the change in him. I wrote another note in it, this time to him, telling him how this journal was proof of the heart change in him. He was not the annoying, little boy I had written about. Praise God that person has died and been buried with Christ and a new man lives in his place.

The Lord gave me an extra nudge. When I logged into my facebook, courtesy of Emily’s computer, I was reminded of two of the people the Lord had laid on my heart yesterday. He’s answering my prayer to pester me about them. I feel so lost and helpless. All I know is that I want to do this thing for the Lord, and I want to see these girls brought to repentance and new life in Him, even as I’ve witnessed in myself and others. Why am I so timid?

Paul told Timothy to fan into flame his gift—apparently evangelism. And he said, “God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of POWER, LOVE and DISCIPLINE.” No one ever quotes that verse with the last two, but they really struck me. God’s given us His power to speak out in boldness. He’s also given us His love for the lost to speak out in boldness. And He’s given us His discipline—after all, we are His disciples. It’s not easy. It takes effort and practice—even for someone with the gift of evangelism, as Timothy had. But it’s something God’s given us, and we’d better be using it.

Lord, I’ve got the power inside

Which formed the moon to rule the tide.

I’ve got the love which sent Thy Son

To give His life for everyone.

I’ve got Thy holy discipline

Now freeing me from self and sin.

Why do I fear the broken soul

When Thou hast made my own heart whole?

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Snappaphopia is what I’ll call it. The unreasoning fear of mousetraps. Who could blame me? Mom tucks the nasty little snappers under the edges of counters, stoves or bookshelves where I discover them by accident with my toe or the tip of a broom. After each near heart-attack, I must reset the murderous devices, which operation keeps me constantly in peril of my fingers. When I am mistress of my own house, I believe I shall resort to more peaceful means of securing myself from the varmints—perhaps treaties or bribes will do.

I spent much of my day balancing on a rickety ladder, stuffed up a skylight, with the brilliant sun shining in my eyes and paint dripping on my head. The result was two neatly painted skylight chutes, a happy Papa and a relieved me.

Overnight the clouds dissipated and the morning dawned glowing with the warmth of the sun. In my Bible reading this morning, I read about the man born blind, whom Jesus healed. I love the sunshine, and I can’t imagine how anyone could not love it’s warmth and light, or how anyone could possibly not see the light, or at least see the colors in the world, and know the sun is shining. But Jesus said people are blind to the light. Only He can heal them. But I should be bringing them to the light—pointing them to the light so that it can pierce the darkness in their souls and Jesus can heal them.

The DVD last night talked about the people we know who don’t know Jesus—especially our loved ones. Someone's been on my mind lately. Today the Lord brought her up again, reminding me of ways I could reach out, truths to share and the perils of remaining quiet. I spent an hour on my knees in prayer for her.

Then I got up, went back to my chores and did nothing the rest of the day.

How is it, I can read the Bible, burn with conviction and then get up and walk away is if nothing happened? I spent hours in the Word today, poring over it, yet my heart is still cold and hard and I am slow to obey. “Tomorrow,” I say. “Tomorrow I will step up and obey the Lord. I will have more time tomorrow. Today I’ll just prepare myself by praying about it while I do other things.”

It’s like the men who came to Jesus offering to follow Him and He gave them tasks. And they said, “Me first.” Jesus asked me to share His truth with Aunt Helen and I said, “I will Lord, but permit ME FIRST to go and paint that skylight.”

But I’m torn. My father asked me to paint the skylight. My father asked me to weed the yard. My father asked me to have supper on time. My father asked me to e-mail pictures to a co-worker. All those things got done—those temporal things. And the spiritual thing did not. Am I blaming my father for my lack of devotion? For my disobedience? The Lord won’t fall for that one. Especially since I now sit here detailing my day (in which I feel like I accomplished absolutely nothing) and still not writing that e-mail.

I don’t know what to say.

Jeremiah 1:4-10

“Now the word of Yahweh came to me saying,

“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you,

And before you were born I consecrated you;

I have appointed you a prophet to the nations.”

Then I said, “Alas, Lord Yahweh!

Behold, I do not know how to speak,

Because I am a youth.”

But Yahweh said to me,

“Do not say, ‘I am a youth,’

Because everywhere I send you, you shall go,

And all that I command you, you shall speak.

Do not be afraid of them,

For I am with you to deliver you,” declares Yahweh.

Then Yahweh stretched out His hand and touched my mouth, and Yahweh said to me,

“Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.

See? I have appointed you this day over the nations and over the kingdoms,

To pluck up and to break down,

To destroy and to overthrow,

To build and to plant.”

It’s not about whether or not I’m wise and learned and clever with words. It’s about my obedience—to go where the Lord sends and to say what He says. He says, “Don’t feed me that ‘I’m too young’ junk.” After all, I’ve just got to point the way to the Ancient of Days.

Lord, Thou asked a difficult thing

Since I have owned Thee as my King.

Thou asked that I would share Thy truth

Despite my fear—in spite my youth.

So Lord, I choose to speak Thy word,

May it be, in my hand, a sword

To separate the heart and mind

And lose the lost for Thee to find.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Another quiet, cold, rainy day. The second in a row, and the second since we’ve been here.

Obedience finally followed conviction. That's a step, I suppose.

Papa came home from work excited. For the first time in his life he is working somewhere that he is free, encouraged and even paid to honor God and encourage others to do so as well. Jeff pointed him to a young man who had just trusted the Lord a couple of days ago, and was being put off by his church for baptism. Through discussion they worked it out for Jeff to go ahead and baptize him and his wife tonight. Praise God for their obedience.

We all gathered around to watch the first DVD in the Way of the Master series on evangelism. Papa’s in charge of much of the dental clinic’s free day, and is trying to organize gospel sharers and hoped this would be some good “training” for them. It’s so exciting to see the gospel presented through the law, and to see mouths stopped and hearts opened. I’m so intermittent about sharing the Lord’s good news and I know it’s a huge weakness of mine. I should be sharing daily—weekly, fervently, honestly and in love—scattering the seed on soil that the Lord has prepared.

I’ve been voraciously reading John and Jeremiah and Mark and Psalms and just about anything God wrote. I’ve spent hours the last two mornings poring over it, studying it, making comments and asking questions. And I’m loving it, but I’m not sure I see a difference in myself. I have a huge hunger and thirst for God’s word now, but I still don’t like many of my attitudes, actions, words and thoughts. Why am I doomed to be trapped in the same old bad habits of selfishness, unkindness and unholiness?

Praise God, I know I am not doomed, because Jesus has freed me from the power and presence of sin! I can claim the victory through Him! I just have to recognize the battles…before they begin. Before I grumble. Before I poke fun. Before I am ungrateful. I’ve got to plan to be cheerful, thankful and kind. And I’ve got to seek the Lord’s help in prayer.

Lord, to Thee I must surrender

Let Thy will flow now unhindered

Through my thoughts and words and actions

That Thou be the main attraction.

Teach me how to make the choice

Silencing my fleshly voice

Letting Thine speak through Thy spirit,

To Thy world, that all may hear it.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Schedules are great fun to write up, but less than pleasant to stick to.

Today was our first attempt at living normally. We were all up and crowded around the breakfast table shortly after six-thirty, perhaps a little less cheerfully than we ought to have been. Papa seemed tight-lipped and short of positive things to say, which no doubt bespeaks a knotted, nervous stomach on his first day at a job he’s still not sure what entails.

The rest of us had a lengthy—as in overly prolonged—powwow, discussing, rehashing, revamping, debating, detailing and scheduling out our new home and its various chores and responsibilities, as well as working up a new daily schedule, dishes schedule and cooking schedule to bring our collective life into some semblance of organization.

And all the while, all color fled from the sky and left it grey and damp, until at last, disheartened it began to weep cold, clear tears.

I hate dreary days. Especially when they fall on Mondays. Especially particularly anticlimactic Mondays. It feels as if a wet blanket of gloom was suddenly cast over the busy-but-happy existence we’d been enjoying—as if nothing of interest will ever happen again, and no one of interest will ever come to see us again, and we will never break out of our cold, little cocoon to go do anything of interest again. I would be entirely bored if there weren’t so much to do.

And no one has come tonight. Which partly seems a blessing, and I’m sure it’s because many of them realize that it was Papa’s first day at work, and we need to be alone sometimes. But it still makes me feel forgotten, somehow.

On a more cheerful note, the emerald green highlighter that Lindsey so graciously gave me yesterday has gotten quite a work-out today. I was up at five this morning, stowing the notes from Sunday safely in my Bible, and poring over the gospel of John, and Mark, and the Psalms, and Revelation and even some in Hebrews. It was delightful, and probably still would be, were I spiritual enough to quit my whining and go dive back into it.

Lord, I fill my loneliness

With those who praise Thy holiness

Instead of filling it with Thee.

How stupid will I ever be?

The fellowship they bring is good

Yet often is misunderstood

As being what I seek, instead

Of seeking Thou, my Daily Bread.

Sunday, October 21, 1007

The morning dawned a bright and beautiful Lord’s day and every moment just got better and better. I love the Lord! I love His creation! I love His will.

The meeting was very uplifting.

Papa shared more on the church: discipline to keep it holy to God, and worship as a new priesthood to God. I love the way Jesus has opened up the way into the holy of holies so that I can enter and stand before God blameless and plead with Him before His mercy seat. It’s a shame I don’t take advantage of this ability so much more often.

Don shared how he had studied a Bible for John Paul, while waiting to adopt him in Russia, and highlighted the passages about God’s sovereignty. God’s complete control is such a huge subject of the Bible and yet I know so many people who miss it. He gave us pages and pages of passages. Since the move I’ve just been overwhelmed with a hunger and thirst for God’s word, especially as I’ve been spending time with God’s hungry children. I’ve got to know this book so I can share it with those around me who are searching and wanting to learn! Everything I read stands out to me—it’s all so good! I’ve never known a hunger and thirst like this. I can’t get enough. And most of all, I want it to last. I know the only way to continue to starve for God’s word, is to continue to feast on it and I must keep that up. It’s the only thing that satisfies me.

I want to study through all the passages Don gave us, and also the ones Papa gave us, and Mark five more in depth, and I need to get studying John so I can teach it, and there’s just so much I want to study! I want it all memorized! I want to be able to find the verses I’m looking for, to share stories and examples, to teach those around me. I keep filling my Bible with sticky notes, because I’m really feeling like I should be able to share important passages or topics with friends at a moment’s notice. I’m going to need the Lord’s help, I know, because the only way I’ll get it done is if I get up early in the mornings and study and pray. I must seek the Lord. I must point others to Him. My very spirit demands it—His Holy Spirit, really.

It's hard for me to watch others struggling. I simply want to fix everything and make it come out right. I am so grateful for the protection and nurture of a godly family.

Lord, so many orphaned children

Begging for Thy touch of healing

Seeking Fatherly affection

Offered by Thy resurrection.

Why am I a privileged daughter

Filled with Thy own living water

And the love of earthly parents?

Lord, is it so I might share it?

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Our woods are beautiful! And we have such an abundance of them. By mid-afternoon we’d finished most of the tasks we had to do. The house is really coming along, and the garage is organized, and the toolshed, and the wellhouse and the barn. So we coated ourselves with bugspray and headed out into the wild and untamed woods. We’re still not sure where our property begins or ends, but we certainly own some beautiful acreage—all the way to the highway. We’ve got a babbling brook, too, nestled down into a cozy valley. The woods are so different here. The plants and trees are different, and I don’t recognize them, and the dirt is brick red. So when the light filters through the pine needles and oak leaves far above to sprinkled the red ground, there’s so much brilliant color: red, green, blue, and warm, golden sunshine. I can’t wait to head back out with my camera.

Once upon a time I was a little girl with few private thoughts or emotions. Now it seems I need to hide my very heartbeat. Where is the balance between being candid, honest, transparent, and being pure?

Lord, each time I go some place

I search for one familiar face.

But Lord, I know it’s only right

That Thou should bring so much delight

That I should seek more earnestly

To be within Thy company

And come unto Thee eagerly

Since Thou dost seek to be with me.