When the Answer to Our Prayer Is a Much-Needed Delay

Before I let the horses out Friday morning, I walked the fence to be sure it was still intact after the storm. My frigid journey through the ice wasn't because I want a fine-looking fence, although I do, but because I want the horses safe. If they get out and on the road, an accident, with catastrophic injuries to humans and horses, is far too likely. 

I found a big cedar tree down, but it had fallen away from the fence. A large oak limb had smashed, but not broken, the wire closer to the barn. It was at least eight feet long and about as big around as a whole frozen chicken, admittedly an odd comparison.

The wire was pressed down enough that I could easily step over it, so it would be no problem for the horses. One step and they'd be out of the fence.

The limb had to go. When I went back to the barn for supplies, the horses were seriously unhappy. They were not on their best behavior. Whinnying. Pawing at the door. Stamping their feet. They wanted out of their stalls, and they didn't care why I was delayed.

I ignored them, and did what had to be done.

When the fence was repaired and the pasture was safe, I opened the stall doors. The horses raced out the barn door without so much as a nuzzle of thanks for me. I'd kept them safe, but their only concern was getting what they wanted...out of the barn.  

I wonder how often I've prayed in that same horsey way - demanding what I want with no concern for why God might have waited to answer with a yes. Was there a danger from which I was protected by the delay? Was He preparing something special for me or for those for whom I prayed?

All too often, I presume that I should receive what I want when I want it, but there was a reason Jesus told us to ask for God's will and not our own. His way is best. 

Waiting time isn't wasted time. He has a reason for the delay, every single time. God is at work, even when we don't see His hand.

Today, let's give thanks for His delay and look for the lesson in the waiting. 

"Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." Matthew 6:10 nasb 

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Working from Immediately and Getting More Done

Here are a few more blog posts you might enjoy:

When You Have a Plan but God has a Better One 

When You Give Up Techniques So You Can Prayer Powerful Prayers

When What You Most Need Has Been Prepared and Waiting for Fifty Years

When What We Expect Is Not What We Get

Biting Cat and The View from the Rearview Mirror

Biting Cat didn't come for breakfast yesterday, but that's not unusual. He lives life on his own schedule, and it has nothing to do with mine. I assumed he'd found a mouse that was more tasty than his canned food. He does that sometimes, but he usually shows up for dinner.

I went about my morning routine and headed to work.Almost to the stop sign at the corner of Highway 9 and County Road 278, I saw a large lump of roadkill in my lane. 

As I swerved to miss it, I got a better view. It looked oddly familiar. Long, fluffy striped tail. Dense, heavy dark fur. 

Was that Biting Cat?

When I was back in my lane, I looked in the rear view mirror. White belly surrounded by dark fur. My heart sank. It was Biting Cat. I felt sick, and started slowing to pull over, then changed my mind. "Lord, this seems unfair. I just cannot deal with one more loss this morning. I'm gonna have to get back with You on this cat carcass." 

I drove on, leaving my dead cat in the middle of the road. 

Half a mile down the road, I thought better of my decision, but I was already late. I just can't deal with that dead cat right now, I kept telling myself. I drove on to the office and sneaked into prayer time a little late.

When we were finished with Bible study, Lyle reached for missionary cards so we could pray for them. "I hope you pull my card," I told him.

Chuck looked over at me. "Do you need prayer today?"

"Yes, I do. I just left my dead cat in the middle of the road," I announced. There were surprised expressions on every face. It sounded like I'd dumped my cat, but I hadn't, so I explained the situation. "When I get finished with my work, I've got to go back and get that dead cat out of the road to bury it."

"Do you have a shovel?" someone asked helpfully.

"Yeah, but I sure didn't want to dig a grave today." 

We had special prayer for me, because the more I thought about the dead cat in the middle of the road, the more I needed a divine intervention.

Several hours later, I'd finished my pressing work, and left to deal with the sad situation. 

I wasn't madly in love with Biting Cat because, as his name implies, he's bitten me quite a few times. However, I'd spent years teaching him not to bite and he'd finally learned the lesson. In addition, he had learned to purr and let me pick him up. After those victories, I hated to lose him, even if he wasn't a good cat.

Biting Cat was also the least concerned about appearance of any cat I've ever met. He refused to groom himself at all. Over the winter, when his fur grew super-long and dense, he'd get dreadlocks. In the spring, I'd have to shave him slick to get rid of them. Unless you've shaved a near-wild-cat before, you can't imagine the size of the job. 

Biting Cat was a lot of trouble. 

Anyway, I drove home, filled with dread about the task ahead of me. I was dressed in my old leather skirt, tights, boots, and a nice sweater. I decided I'd rather get finished with the job than change clothes, which could've been a bad decision, but turned out okay. 

I grabbed my shovel and a garbage bag and headed to the site. I parked at the pottery shop, waited until no cars were coming. I marched toward Biting Cat's body with black garbage bag in one hand and rusty shovel in the other.

When I squatted down by poor old Biting Cat, I got the shock of my life. It wasn't my cat after all. 

It was a raccoon that looked just like Biting Cat. 

I can't describe the emotions that surged through me. Relief. Aggravation. Embarrassment. 

We'd had special prayer for me over a dead raccoon carcass in the middle of the road. It wasn't my cat at all. 

For a millisecond, I wished it had been my cat.

I loaded my burial equipment up as quickly as possible and headed home, grateful no cars had come while I was squatted by the roadkill coon.

There's probably more than one lesson in this story, but the one for today is how skewed the view is from the rear view mirror. Considerable agony came from my backward view. It was only when I took an up-close look that the situation became clear and I could view it accurately.

There's a reason the windshield is large and the rearview mirror is tiny. We're supposed to move forward, both when we're in a car and in life. Are there difficulties and sorrows in the past? It's important to deal with and learn from them so that we don't repeat our mistakes, but there comes a point when forward motion is required. 

Are we moving ahead or looking back? Today, let's get our eyes off the rearview mirror and put them on the road ahead. Move forward, to the future God has planned. 

"Brethren, I do no regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:13-14 nasb

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In case you missed yesterday's post, here's the link: A Very Un-Missionary Like Thanksgiving

photo courtesy of freeimages.com

A Very Un-Missionary-Like Thanksgiving

I've been reading the letters of Paul in the New Testament recently. They haven't been my favorite, partly because sometimes Paul reprimands people via a letter so that he doesn't have to reprimand them in person. 

I'm still a little fragile from the long season of caregiving, followed by Sam's death, and it's seemed like more than I can bear. I've persevered, however, because... Well, I don't really know why. Mainly because persevering is what I do. 

This morning, I opened my Bible with a mild sense of dread, in anticipation of more Paul-fussing. I hate to admit that, because it's not very missionary-like, but it's true. I'm probably not the only one who feels that way sometimes. 

I don't think a dread of Paul's fussing is a sin, unless you indulge it and avoid the Bible because of it, which I didn't. 

I've spent weeks whining to the Lord about how hard it is to read Paul's words in this season of life. When I picked up my Bible, I prayed, "Lord, I need a nugget of truth that's not fussing this morning." I know. That's not a very missionary-like prayer, either, but it was answered in an amazing way. I think God understood my heart.

Today, I read Galatians 2, in which Paul describes his visit to Jerusalem to talk with the elders there. He'd gone to present what he was teaching to the Gentiles and be sure they were all in agreement. 

My faded, hand-written note in the margin says, "Paul suffered much persecution in Galatia. He was stoned and left for dead. Run out of town. The church ladies and leading men of Galatia were stirred up and the city was divided. People tried to worship Paul and Silas and he barely restrained them. Taking the gospel to Galatia was costly to Paul." 

Suddenly, I realized that all the trouble was because Paul, who had been a major Jewish leader before his conversion, spent his life taking the gospel to the Gentiles. Since I'm a Gentile (not a Jew), Paul spent his life taking the gospel to my people. 

If not for Paul, I probably wouldn't be reading my Bible, much less whining about his words not suiting me.

I was cut to the core with conviction.

Sometimes I forget how much it cost those early disciples/apostles to spread the gospel around the world. They were persecuted over and over again. Most of them died martyrs' deaths. 

Paul could've been a top-dog-leader if he'd stayed in Jerusalem. Instead, he walked the path of obedience and paid dearly for it. His life of pain and suffering was the price he paid to bring the gospel my direction.

Tears streamed down my face as I repented of my negative feelings toward Paul's words and thanked God for this man who gave up the life he had to embrace the life God chose for him. I thank God for Paul's impact that persists nearly two thousand years later. 

I'd like to have the legacy Paul has, but I don't want to pay the price he paid to have it. I'm ashamed to admit that, but I doubt I'm alone in my reticence. 

What I realized this morning is that Paul didn't want all those hard times either, but he wanted obedience more than he wanted an easy life. That's what I should want, too. But do I?

This morning, I'm thanking God for those who have given so much to bring the gospel to me, for those early disciples who sacrificed to carry the news of our resurrected Jesus around the world. 

Today, I'm embracing Paul's "fussing." Bring it on, Paul. You've earned the right to your hard words. 

More important, though, is that I'm embracing Paul's attitude. Not me, but Christ. Enduring through whatever comes my way and setting my eyes on the goal, I press on. 

Disciples follow their Master, even when it's hard. That's what Paul did, and it's what we're supposed to do, too. Today, let's assess our depth of discipleship and make whatever adjustments are needed.

Embracing the life of a disciple may not be easy but, to have a legacy that persists thousands of year, it's worth it. 

"Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:13-14 nasb

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When I had a Nazareth Heart and Missed the Miracle Before Me

Why Sutherland Springs Still Needs Our Prayers

I've been home less than two weeks, and am still reeling from the effort of processing all that's happened since my return. I finally noticed the flag at half-staff and, for a millisecond, I thought it was for Sam. I know it wasn't sensible to think that an entire country shared my grief, but that's how grief works. It absorbs us and permeates every pore of our being.

The flag wasn't lowered in memory of Sam, of course. It was lowered because of the dozens of people who were tragically killed in the Sutherland Springs church shooting a few days before I returned.  

My church held a special service Sunday evening to pray for the town, the church, the families affected. I'm sorry to say that I stayed home because I didn't think I could spend one more minute grieving loss. 

Today, I'm rethinking that decision. I'm praying for comfort and healing for those believers who went to church expecting to see people they loved, hear lessons of faith that strengthened them for the week ahead, pray for those in need, worship the God they served, and go home to eat a nice Sunday lunch afterward. 

Instead, they saw people they loved gunned down, bleeding, and dying before their eyes. They were the ones in need of prayer. They were abruptly immersed in devastation that rocked their world and tried their faith. I doubt anyone felt like eating Sunday dinner after that tragic service. 

Their grief slammed into them with a barrage of bullets. The noise of gunshots, the smell of gunpowder, the scent of blood, will linger for a long time. They'll jump when they hear a loud noise. There'll be reminders all around them, and it will bring their grief rushing in like a flood when they least expect it. 

Trauma-induced grief is pervasive, gnawing, hard. The temptation will be to set aside the grief so they can move on, but that risks letting it fester and grow into an abscess of bitterness. The other temptation will be to hold the grief and let it control the future. Neither option brings freedom.

I'm praying for the people of Sutherland Springs, that the peace of God that passes all understanding will fill their hearts and their lives, that the perseverance of Christ Himself will guide them through the next weeks and months, that the love of Christ will still flow from them like a river of living water, that the grace of Christ will be extended by them to all who bungle their condolences and say thoughtless, unkind things. I'm praying that they will choose forgiveness, not because their attacker needs it, but because they and their children do. 

I'm praying that the body of Christ will surround them with help, and love, and hope and that they'll allow them to draw close and carry their burdens for a while.

By now, the church has been cleaned, the funerals have been held, paperwork has been filed. Life has begun to go on again, but the horror they've experienced will take a while to process. It won't be "over" soon.

The prayers of a nation sustained them during those first few days, but what about now? Are we still praying? They'll need our faithful prayers more than ever as the days pass and the memories of the news fade from our consciousness, but not from theirs. 

Even from a distance, we can be a part of their healing. How? Through prayer. Scripture tells us that our prayers are powerful and precious to God. Today, let's lift up the people of Sutherland Springs, even if we've prayed for them before, and ask God to see them through. 

". . . the prayer of the upright is His delight." Proverbs 15:8 

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In case you missed the last post, here's the link: Thanking God and Thanking You

If you're looking for an advent devotional, check out my book The Road to Bethlehem: An Advent Prayer and Devotional Guide, available on Amazon.

Thanking God and Thanking You

I don't have a word burning with passion that demands to be written today. Instead, I simply want to say thank you. You loved Sam well, and you grieved along with me. In so doing, you loved and blessed me more than you'll ever know.

Yesterday, I saw a friend from church when we were eating lunch at a local restaurant. "I've been keeping up, and I'm still praying for you," Kim assured me. It was all I could do to say thank you. I wanted to weep with gratitude.

Your prayers have mattered more than you know. In truth, they've mattered more than I expected. I'm so grateful. Thank you.

Your physical help has been invaluable. From visiting Sam, singing to him, reading Scripture to him, and introducing him to spray whipped cream (thank you Jerry and Sonya Iverson for that joy) while he was still in my home, to visiting, washing his face, kneeling at his bedside, singing to him, and sitting with him while I was gone, you've done what I could never have done alone. You've loved him and treasured him in tangible ways he understood. 

Sam felt loved, because he was.

I've received so many comments on posts, texts, emails, calls, and offers of help that I'm humbled and stunned. I can't begin to reply to them all, but I've read and treasured every one. Friends have shown up at my home to help with tasks they knew were needed but I could barely begin to accomplish. Again, I'm so grateful.

Ryan has been home since Thursday evening. It's been like the balm of Gilead to have him here. We've laughed, remembered, and begun to look toward a life without Sam. 

Ryan said, in his eulogy at Sam's funeral, "I don't remember a time without Sam because he's been there every day of my life. . . I told the people at work I was going home for my Grandfather's funeral." That's what Sam was for Ryan: A constant in his life. The grandfather my daddy would've been if he'd lived to see and know Ryan. 

Tomorrow, I'll attend the memorial service for my decades-long friend who taught me that an ordinary person like me could be a writer. He cheered me on from a distance, even when his writing career took a long pause. I hadn't seen him in years, but he often emailed me encouragement for a line well-written or a post that touched his heart. 

His tragic death is one more blow that, added to Sam's dying, seemed like too much at once. It's not. Today, both he and Sam are whole and rejoicing at the throne of God. They're with their much-loved wives and families and their long-served Lord.

Tuesday, I'll resume my "normal" life. I'll go back to the office, open my computer, and start emailing missionaries again. I'll work on prayer projects and plan for upcoming speaking engagements. I'll make a start on a mountain of thank you notes that are long overdue. 

More passionate blog posts will come, but none will be more heartfelt than the thanks I offer today. You've been the hands and feet of Christ to me, and you've helped our Lord carry Ryan and me through this very hard time. We're eternally grateful to God and to you.

Though expressions of gratitude vary from one language to the next, the meaning is still the same, and equally heart-felt. May God bless you for the love and generosity of spirit you've shown to us.

Shukraan. Merci. Gracias. Grazie. Thank you.

"I thank my God every time I remember you." Philippians 1:3 NET Bible

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In case you missed the last post, here's the link: Caregiver Chronicles: True Success: Living Like Sam

Caregiver Chronicles: Life After Sam

Someone asked me recently how Sam and I became connected. I hesitated. Finally, I said, "I don't want you to think bad of me, but I got Sam in a real estate transaction, but it's not as awful as it sounds." A moment of silence followed that revelation. 

In 1989, I bought a 120-acre farm in Union County. Sam had worked there for nearly thirty years and it was home to him. Neither he nor the owners wanted him to leave the land or the caretaker cottage in which he lived. Many people had looked at the farm, but no one wanted to make a long-term commitment to Sam, who was nearly 60 years old. 

I, on the other hand, had no idea how to take care of the farm. I needed Sam, so I agreed to let him stay. With that simple agreement, Sam became my responsibility for the rest of his life.

Sam did the work I couldn't do. He bush hogged, trimmed azaleas, shoed the horses, neutered calves, cleaned the fish we caught, built fences and repaired them. He did any job that needed doing, especially those jobs I didn't want to do, didn't know how to do, or wasn't strong enough to do.

And now. . . I still have the farm with bush hogging and trimming and cleaning and heavy work, but I don't have Sam. 

I've learned a lot over the years, of course. I learned to take the garbage out of the compactor, drive the tractor, build a fence, and use the tiller when Sam had the subdural and was in the hospital. I learned to clip the goats and trim their hooves when he broke his hip. I learned to trim the azaleas and garden for myself when he was sick with pneumonia. 

Yesterday, I needed to move something heavy and, for a split second, I thought about calling Sam. . . but he's with Jesus now. 

I sat down and cried. "Lord, how am I going to take care of myself without a Sam?" I prayed. 

That still, small voice spoke loud and clear. "I will help you." In that instant, I remembered all the answered prayers, all the times God had sent help at just the right moment, all the ways He's given me wisdom when I didn't know what to do. 

I'm in a new, Sam-less season, and I miss him, but God will provide, just like he always does. 

Last night, I finished cleaning the floor in the dining room that served as Sam's bedroom for the last few months. "Lord, I need to move my dining table back and it's too heavy for me. How am I going to get that done?" 

This morning, I found a message from a friend. "Do you need any help moving furniture back in place?" I laughed out loud. Yes, I do need help moving furniture! God has continued the work of providing for every need, just as He's always done.

This morning, I've found great encouragement in these words: "I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear. I will help you.'" Isaiah 41:13 And He will.

No matter what we face, we have a Heavenly Father who cares about every problem, ever need. If we face hard times and jobs that are too big for us, there's no need for despair. Instead, turn to the One who holds the universe in His hands, and holds us, too. Turn to the One who will never leave us or forsake us. Turn to our Father and let Him help you, just as He's promised. That's what I plan to do.

"I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear. I will help you.'" Isaiah 41:13 
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In case you missed yesterday's post, here's the link: When Sam Couldn't Stay and I Had to Say Goodbye

Visitation for Sam Wiley is Friday, November 10th 12:30 to 2 pm with memorial service to follow in the choir room at Hope Church, Tupelo. 

In lieu of flowers, memorials can be made to "Sam Wiley Memorial Fund" by mailing your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put "Sam's Fund #5136" in the "for" line. 

When We're Too Busy to Be Still but Rest Isn't Optional

I've grown as accustomed to writing about my daily life as my online friends and family have to reading about it. It felt strange to maintain digital silence on my recent trip, especially when I'm so dependent on your prayers. It still does. Because of security reasons, however, I had no choice. I still don't.

Although I can't share the details of the trip online, I can share what I've learned. The first lesson was the importance of rest. I can't believe those words are coming from a workaholic, but it's true.

Travel time from here to there was about twenty-eight hours. I never sleep on planes, but managed four hours straight of good sleep, plus napping after that. It was the longest (and probably the best) sleep I'd had in months, which says a lot about the weeks leading up to my trip. 

I wanted to hit the ground running. I arrived to find the plan was for me to take some time to rest. After my sleep on the plane, I felt more rested than I had for so long, I didn't think I needed to be still, but I did. 

I spent my first day at rest. I sorted through what I'd packed, read my Bible, and prayed. Uninterrupted quiet time, with no needs to meet other than my own, was precious and restorative. 

One of the families there observes Shabbat and the Sabbath, and I was invited to join them. On Friday evenings, we met for a brief service. We always had a time of personal examination of our actions over the last week, followed by confession and forgiveness. It was beautiful to listen to children confess being unkind to a sibling, parents confess to children, children to parents, followed by the offended one offering forgiveness. 

A time of communion served as the beginning of a full day of rest. For once, I didn't clean house, do laundry, write, or sort through anything. I read books, took walks, and rested.

Two paintings hung in the bedroom I used. One said, "Be still," the other, "And know that I am God." 

For the last three weeks, despite both hard times, many hours of work, and breathtakingly beautiful moments, I've been still. I've known, in a deeper way than ever before, that He is God and He's in charge of every detail.

I intend to continue the ritual of Shabbat and Sabbath now that I'm home. Yesterday didn't turn out like I'd planned, but I still managed a very modified evening of reflection, Scripture, and stillness. Tomorrow will be my day of rest. It's already planned.

Being still isn't popular in this country. We're a busy people, and we leave little room for rest, but that doesn't mean our busyness isn't sin. In fact, it puts the emphasis on our ability to work hard to accomplish our goals, and robs of us a deeper understanding of the sovereignty of God and His ability to work in our lives.

Are we too busy to be still? 

If so, why not stop, confess, repent, and change. It's not easy, but it's also not optional if we want the relationship with God He intended for us. 

My experience of stillness over the last few weeks left me wondering how much more we could accomplish if we did things God's way. What would He do in our six days if we truly gave Him the seventh? How might He expand our reach? Extend our efforts? I don't know yet, but I intend to find out. Why not join me?

"Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10

"Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God." Exodus 20:8,9
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Today, I'm leading two workshops on what Jesus says about prayer at the Global Outreach Mission Conference being held at Harrisburg Baptist Church. The first sessions start at 3 o'clock, and I hope you'll join us. 
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In case you missed the most recent post, here's the link: Making Room in Our Hearts for Love

If you feel led to partner with this ministry, here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

You can also mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.

When Your Prayers Need a Little Help From a Friend

A major part of my work here is to write a portion of the history of the church in Gilead. Stories of our past are important. They help us cherish our victories and learn from our mistakes. When we hear about the mighty works of God, it encourages our faith, and helps to rekindle the flame of our devotion. 

I've collected stories from countless people, but memories made forty or more years ago are not as crisp and vivid as those made yesterday. Childhood reminiscences don't always come with exact time, location, or day, month, and year. My timeline of events has been fluid, to say the least. 

The task of gathering enough accurate information to actually write the story seemed hopeless, and I was close to giving up. Yesterday, I asked a friend to pray that we could "find the facts to go with the stories."

The answer didn't come in the way I expected. A friend was home sick and at work on his computer. When I arrived for time with him and his family, he was still working. 

"Hey, I found something," he said. It was an article I needed. 

"How did you find that?" I asked. "What did you Google?" I was surprised to find he'd entered almost the same thing I had in the search engine, but come up with an entirely new set of hits. 

The "almost" had done the trick.

His daughter and I joined in the Google-fest. Pretty soon, we had links for more data than I've gathered in all my searches combined, and all of it accurate as to date and location. We also found a repository of actual files I can access when I get home. There's a treasure trove waiting in "Box #3." 

I have prayed about this project at length. I've whined and complained about my difficulty with information. I've despaired and wept. I've informed God I needed data and don't know where to get it. I've formed a plan to find the info I needed. I don't know if I've asked specifically for help with finding the information, but I think I have.

Does God know about Google? Yes, He does. Did He know about the information I hadn't yet found? Of course. 

No matter how small (or large) our need, nor how specific our search, God can, and will, respond when we cry out to Him. If we cry out to Him.

It was only when I asked the body of Christ to participate in seeking God's help that the answer finally came. 

Scripture is clear. We, the disciples of Christ, are not on this journey of faith alone. We are one body, and every part is important. The plan of Jesus Himself is that we'll be so unified that we'll work together in ways that astound the world around us. 

The astounding part doesn't come without the working together part, however. I'm learning that hard truth all over again. 

Last night, we studied Jesus' long-distance healing of the official's child. He didn't have to be present to heal the child. In that same way, we don't have to be physically present with others to pray together. 

Distance isn't a problem for our God. 

Do we have a need we don't know how to solve and for which our prayers aren't yet answered? Maybe what's needed is to invite the body of Christ into our situation and allow them to help us with our need. Let's pray together, even if we're separated by thousands of miles. 

The prayers of my friend made a bigger difference than I imagined, and your prayers can make a difference, too.  

"Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for it will be done for them by my Father in heaven." Matthew 18:19 niv
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There are many stories I'd like to share with you about this amazing journey, but they can only be shared in person. I'll do another brunch (like last time) to allow an opportunity for story-sharing, but I'm also happy to share with groups of any size. Message me to schedule a time.
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In case you missed the most recent post, here's the link: When You Don't Have Enough Love for the Job Ahead

If you feel led to partner with this ministry, here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

You can also mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.

When Freedom Is What We Want, Repentance is What We Do

The first pre-teen/teen Whisper Gathering was utterly amazing. Seven young people joined me. We ate pizza, laughed, sang funny action songs, and learned about praying in a deeper, bigger way. 

We studied the experience of Isaiah in 1 Kings 6. He walked into the temple and a glimpse of heaven rocked his world. He saw God high and lifted up, and Elijah was never the same again. 

We learned that prayer and hearing the voice of God should begin with seeing God as He is,seeing ourselves in relation to His majesty, and repenting of our sins. In a very real sense, praying God-sized prayers must start with sincere repentance.

With that in mind, we had a period of beautiful confession before each other and before our Lord, gave our sin to God, and left it with him. We studied Elijah's life to see how a prophet prays with God-sized results. We pondered the biggest requests we could make. Then, scattered around the room, we prayed huge prayers and staked our claim on world-wide revival. 

Afterward, I asked them what they'd learned and what they'd do different going forward. One young girl answered, "Repentance is kinda fun." Another said, "I learned you have to repent if you want to have answered prayer." 

When they got ready to leave, one pre-teen ran over to me. "Miss Leanna, is it okay if I go repent of one more thing before I go?" 

You know it was.

I watched from the door as that little blonde-haired girl knelt at the altar, gave her sin to God, and left it with Him. She headed home with a smile on her face and joy in her heart because she'd learned an important truth. 

When freedom and answered prayers are what we want, repentance is what we do.

It's that simple. 

Want to restore the joy of your salvation? Begin with repentance. Need answered prayers? Start by repenting. Hungry to hear from God? Repentance should be first on the list.

"And everyone who has this hope fixed on Him purifies himself, just as He is pure." 1 John 3:3 nasb

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9 nasb

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In case you missed the most recent post, here's the link: The Vineyard Behind the Gate

If you feel led to partner with this ministry, here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

You can also mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.

Moving the Heart of God With the Prayer of No Words

A strange thought occurred to me this morning. Are there examples of praying without words in the Bible? As it turns out, there are. I read the gospel of Luke this morning, and it's full of examples of women who moved the heart of Jesus without saying a word. 

The widow of Nain is one example. The story's found in Luke 7:11-17. Here's the Leanna paraphrase: 

A widow's only son had died. In her culture, there was no social security or widow benefits. No nursing homes existed. No medicare or medicaid. Her entire future provision depended upon anything her husband had saved and her son's care for her. 

When her son died, she was grief-stricken for more than one reason. Of course, first of all, she loved her son like any mother loves. There was also the question of her future. What would happen to her now?

You may not have experienced this depth of grief before, but sometimes, it's so enormous, there are no words to say. Only tears. 

That's where the widow of Nain found herself. Weeping was the only response she could make. 

Then Jesus arrived.

News about Jesus had traveled throughout the region, so it's likely this woman had heard of His fame, His miracles, His power. A few days earlier, when her son was sick, she might have knelt before Jesus and asked for a miracle, like everyone else did.

This day, however, all she could do was cry.

Jesus and His disciples walked through the gate just as her son's funeral procession was heading out. She saw Jesus and couldn't say a word, but her tears spoke volumes, and they moved the heart of God.

Jesus saw her tears, entered into her grief, and revived her son. He "gave him back to his mother."

In His presence, she communicated with Jesus through her tears, and it was enough. 

I've been in the place of such profound grief that my only response was tears. I've been the one on my face before God, praying without words. In His presence, my tears were a prayer without words, because I gave those tears to the One who is our Comforter, and He comforted. He responded. He moved.

Do all tears serve as a prayer? I don't know. What I do know is that the widow's tears, in the presence of Jesus, were enough to communicate her need to Him and move His heart.

Whatever our situation, we can take it to Him, and He will understand. Whether we have words to describe our situation or express our need or not. Today, let's give our concerns to the Lord, and let our hearts speak for us. Use words only if we need them. 

How do I know this is possible? Because God sees our hearts.

"...for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7 nasb

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The picture above is of my little bedroom here in this beautiful place. In case you can't read the artwork, the lettering above the beds says "Be Still" and "and know that I am God." Exactly what I needed to hear.

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In case you missed the most recent post, here's the link: When Telling Our Story Reminds Us of the Miraculous

If you feel led to partner with this ministry, here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

You can also mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.

Becoming the Balm of Gilead

The hills of Gilead. 

In case you don't remember, Gilead was a mountainous area that included Mount Nebo, located east of the Jordan River.

It was from one of those Gilead mountains (Nebo) that Moses viewed the Promised Land. He died and was buried by God there. Some people believe Jeremiah hid the Ark of the Covenant in a cave on Nebo.

The prophet Elijah was from Gilead.

In the Tyndale translation of the Bible, (KJV) there's reference to the "balm of Gilead." It was used for healing and thought to be made from a specific shrub that grew in the area. Jeremiah used the phrase to symbolize hope. 

In a way, the land of Gilead is a place of hope and healing, and it's one of the sweetest places I know. 

A few months ago, I had the great joy of visiting that beautiful area, and am still in awe of the people there. They were the most generous, hospitable, and welcoming of any group I've ever met. 

In a very real way, the people were the balm of Gilead to me.

My time there changed me in deep ways. I came home with a new appreciation for their culture and a desire to be as gracious and welcoming to visitors in our country as they were to me. 

We, the church, should be among those with the most hope to share, the most healing to offer, for we know the Great Physician. We should be the balm of healing and hope to those in need. 

If my experience is any indication, becoming balm begins by welcoming strangers, whether they are from another country or from our own. Stopping to listen. Opening our arms. Opening our hearts. Opening our lives. 

If we want to be balm for those who need it most, we must be willing to slow down and invite others into our lives, our faith, our hope, our healing. We who know the Healer must we willing to introduce Him to those in need.

Here's our challenge for today: Look for that one person in your path today in need of hope and healing and be the balm of Gilead for them today.

"Go up to Gilead and obtain balm..." Jeremiah 46:11 nasb
"Bear one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:2 esv
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I'm headed back to that beautiful land tomorrow, and am eager to see the friends I made, to hear their stories, and breathe the air of Gilead.

My small group, the Sisters of Strength, are praying me through, just as they've done before. They've scheduled an alert on their phones at 12 noon daily to stop and pray. That's 8 pm where I'll be. My phone is already set. I hope you'll schedule a prayer-alert, too.

If you'd like to share in my experiences, you can join me for mostly-daily email updates. Please message me with your name and/or email address. I'll update as I have internet access. (I will not be able to share most stories on the blog for a variety of reasons.)

If you feel led to partner with me for the upcoming Middle East trip, here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

You can also mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.

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In case you missed it, here's the link to the most recent post: When Our Faith Rests on the Power of God