GIFT OF GRACE

This may just be the best Christmas season I have had in a long time....maybe ever! I have been so touched by the fingers of Deity these past weeks..given such sweet and powerful gifts that have left me no doubt that the hands of God work quiet, profound miracles in our lives today. I call them Glorious Impossibles! (I stole that name from Madeleine L'Engle).

(1) My new little great-niece, Stella Grace, is one of those Glorious Impossibles. God lovingly placed her in her mother's womb when the idea of a child had become almost a broken dream. And then...here comes Stella!  GRACE.

(2) Two weeks before her due date, my niece Stella's mom became sick, unusual since the previous nine months had been uneventful. She felt like she was "sick for a reason" and went to the hospital. Her doctor "just happened" to be there. GRACE. He determined the baby was in distress and immediately did an emergency "c" section. The umbilical cord had been knotted. The doctor said, "This baby has a story to tell...how her mother saved her life!" By being sick, and coming immediately to the hospital, my niece saved her baby's life. Had she hesitated, little Stella would have died. Indeed, she was sick "for a reason!" GRACE.

(3) Very shortly, it was discovered that the baby had severe MAS, caused by gasping meconium into her lungs. And Baby Stella, even before she had been held by her mother, was put on a ventilator. And all of us who had rejoiced only a short time before, gasped in fear. Prayers flew up to the throne. God must have been covered in them! Days were grim. Days were better. Days got worse...but now, Baby Stella is being healed. GRACE. Slowly, and thoroughly, God is healing her. And now, 15 days since her birth, it looks like God will soon be placing Stella into the arms of her mother! GRACE.

(4) Twenty plus years ago, a throat surgery took my singing voice. A voice major in college, I had been singing since I was a senior in High school. Classically trained, I always felt closest to God when I was singing. I worshipped in song. To stand and sing the glorious songs of my faith in church was the time I felt completely in God's will. But then, surgery... and the melodies were no longer mine. HOWEVER, God had used these past 20 years to show me new expressions of my passion for Him. GRACE.  

(5) And most recently, I have been teaching a Bible Study at the Renaissance. The ladies have been insisting I sing for them. In spite of all my explanations, and refusals, they continued to ask me.  

Two weeks ago...they reminded it was Christmas soon and as a Christmas present, would I please sing a carol! Well what do you do? You give up and say 'OKAY!" Going to a good musician friend's house one night just to see how bad I was going to sound and what we could do in the way of damage control, 

I picked up the mike and hit every high 'b" and "c"! I NAILED THEM! GRACE.

I was stunned. He was stunned. His wife, one of my best friends, was stunned. Wade was stunned. I can sing! Really and truly sing! I ended up singing not one carol, not two, but three songs...beginning with Amazing Grace...which sums up all of it..God's amazing GRACE...to my niece...to her baby, Stella, my great niece, and to me. I know His Grace is not limited to any season. But for whatever reason, during this season, I have felt it more surely than perhaps ever before. And while my voice isn't there yet, my heart sings the Hallelujah Chorus! GRACE.

     Welcome! The stone plaque has sat on my kitchen counter for years. Through many Christmases, colorful ceramic birds have nested next to votives, burning with the fragrance of the season. How is it today, that I feel like I really saw the word for the first time? Welcome!I heard the silent voice, felt the warmth of an imagined smile...Welcome! Could it be the mismatched holy family that on a whim I placed in front of the stone sign for the first time in 20+ Christmases? Oh, but it has to be! 

      Mary, with her cracked head scarf, handmade from mud by villagers in Guatemala, the sole surviver...of a past Christmas! Mary was widowed the second Christmas she and Joseph and Baby Jesus held the center of the mantel, when the garland came loose and swept away the entire nativity: shepherds, kings, even the angel, but of course, we know angels can’t be broken. They just “grow” new wings and fly away! All the worshippers, along with the One they came to praise, lay in pieces below the fireplace. I literally cried. I had already imagined the gentle fingers, thin and bent with malnutrition, working in the hot sun, molding the only thing available to use-- mud, to create such primitive, but beautiful artistry. I imagined that the price of the nativity could feed a family for many months...maybe years. And now, the precious work of those gifted, gentle hands lay in a worthless heap on my floor. Irreplaceable. 

     The following Christmas, my store-bought, highly polished, smoothly carved, Mary and Joseph once again found themselves separated from Jesus. Unlike the time recorded in Scripture, when Jesus was later found in the synagogue, this Jesus’ parents have never found Him. But I did. And Mary, with her torn head scarf, and lineage of sun-baked mud, now watches over a highly polished, wooden Baby Jesus, whose lineage can be traced to a shelf in a store! Joseph. From another stable, his journey long and unknown, a man lonely for a family, now has one. Much like the Mary from Guatemala, he, too, is made of clay. He bears rough edges, his mudline unknown, but he stands by Mary as they both watch the sleeping Baby, who bears no resemblance to either of them! 

     “WELCOME!” I meant the sign to speak to those who enter my home through the porch door.

Day in, day out...You...whomever you are...enter my home and feel welcomed! 

      Today...it welcomes me! Before a wounded Mary and a lost, homeless Joseph, I am welcome to approach the perfect, shining Baby, who in no way resembles me! I can be part of this nativity. I can go to this manger. I can come with my tattered attitude. I can bring my broken expectations, the bruises in my heart. I can lift up my cracking, pleading voice, and know that here, it is heard. I can fall on old, stiff knees and bowing, look up to see the Shadow of the Cross fall upon me. And I shout what only the heart can cry: HE MAKES ALL THINGS NEW! 

     From the ruins of three nativities, a brand new one was created. From the ruins of my past and present, God created a brand new future for me. And every day, His mercies are new. Like those of old, who journeyed to see “this thing which has come to pass,” I make the weary trip through miles of shopping, boxes of lights and ornaments, rolls of wrapping paper and ribbon, and finally reach the baby, to discover that He has been looking for me! Touching heaven, I stop and whisper to Him as He whispers to me: “WELCOME!”

        Those who know me would probably tell you that I can be stubborn, opinionated, impatient and...fill in the blanks!  I have all those qualities to my personality.  However, I don’t think my friends would say I have a hard heart, am a hypocrite or care nothing about the less fortunate, including the “widows and orphans” the President says are coming to our shores by the thousands.  Recently, a post stated that any professing Christian who questions the wisdom of bringing in these displaced people from countries that house and promote Islamic terrorism, is a hypocrite, and worse.  To do so, they contend, judges the faith tenets of another religion, generalizes the violence of some to all those who follow that faith, and does not reflect the mind and heart of Christ.   A comment to the post replied by suggesting that at their core, Islamic beliefs and those of the Christian, are the same!   

What I do NOT understand is when Believers react in the same way! 

I am convinced that at the heart of every issue we face in this country is a spiritual solution.  However, I doubt that the Church, the Body of Believers, is sure enough of what they believe, what they stand for, and who they are to be a force in such a solution. Or maybe we are just too timid to speak Truth because we might be attacked verbally, or Heaven Forbid! Get negative slams on FB!

Well, here goes!  

Christians absolutely cannot put Islam on the same level with Christianity, as was  suggested, by the writer who commented on the similarity of Islamic core beliefs and those of Christianity.  Sadly, many “Christians” argue that, as well.  Nabeel Qureshi, a former devout Muslim, knows better.  !n his book, Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus, Qureshi embraced the truth through a college roommate.  He says, among many other discoveries, “I realized I had missed the big picture. The Bible and the Quran were nothing alike.”

Christianity teaches a God who came to earth in human form as Jesus Christ, who died on a cross to forgive the debt of sin we all have; a God who rose from the dead in bodily form.  Christianity teaches that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life.  Jesus Himself said “NO man (or woman) comes to the Father but through me!”  Jesus said again and again throughout His ministry that He and the Father are One.  Jesus proved His Divinity when he rose bodily from the dead, and offers eternal life to anyone who will have faith. (Read just a little of the book of John for the Truth of what I just said!)

Our God died for the very ones He created, the very ones who betrayed him, and betray Him now.  Real Truth is found ONLY in the mystery of the God-Man. That is the core belief of Christianity.  And if we do not hold with that foundational doctrine, we can call ourselves anything we want to, but we are not Christians.  

(I John 4:14-15)

Islam teaches none of this.  Islam believes none of this.  Islam recognizes Jesus as a human prophet; yet even so, Mohammed is the greater prophet.  Islam does not believe Jesus died on the cross.  Islam rejects the bodily resurrection of Christ. 

Islam does not receive Jesus as God Incarnate. And Allah requires the extermination of those he calls Apostates: Jews and Christians.  A command that Islamists take very seriously as we see today.

As a true believer in Jesus, I can make a judgment.  Islam is a false religion that is enslaving nations of people by deception. Does that make me a hater of the Muslim people?  NO!  It simply makes me a speaker of Truth.  It makes me sad to see the results a teaching can have on the lives of it followers. Jesus says “The Truth will set you free!”  I pray for the Muslims.  I cannot, however, compromise the truth of salvation because I might be called a “hater”!  If I truly care about a Muslim person, or anyone who is being deceived, I want them to know there is ONLY one who can save them.  And His name is not Allah.  (John 17:3)

Jesus spoke many warnings about false teachers during his ministry. Jesus saw false teaching as a tool of Satan.   Jesus loves sinners;  but He never compromised the Truth for love. Indeed, it was Truth that drove Him to the Cross.  God’s love cannot be separated from His truth.  Jesus is the Living Word. And the Word is Truth. ( John 1:1-5) 

It may shock you when I say that Jesus did not come to unify people. His entire mission was to call out a people.  To set them aside.  Throughout His ministry, Jesus spoke in separation terms...separating the wheat from the shaft, the bad soil from the good soil, the sheep from the goats. And is there a greater symbol of separation than the Cross of Jesus?  Everyone is either on one side or the other.  The Cross is the eternal separator.   

Jesus wanted unity among believers.  In 1John 4:7 Jesus commands believers to love other believers.  Unity among believers, that was what Christ taught. 

Jesus is the answer to those who cannot bring peace to their own hearts.  Jesus is the answer to those who feel powerless and hopeless. He calls out to those of us who know Him to feed the hungry, clothe the naked.  But we give them no more than food stamps do, or local food banks if we do not give them the truth of God. John 6:27 says,”Labor not for the meat which perishes, but for that meat which endures to everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give to you:  for him has God the Father sealed.” 

The food for which humanity is starving will never be found in anything or anyone other than the Savior of the World. Jesus wants to save them, to give them a new heart and a new life.  He will not behead them if they reject him.  

So... I will not be discouraged by FB posts from those who do not know THE Lord.  The day will come.  And I will not be silenced by those who do not know THE Truth.  I speak to the Glory of God.  His pleasure and approval is that I seek. Should it not be yours, fellow Believer? 

In the words of an unknown speaker:  “The early disciples were fishers of men, while modern disciples are often little more than aquarium keepers.”

A SENSIBLE AND DRAMA FREE DEFENSE OF BEING PRO-LIFE FROM A NORMALLY EMOTIONAL DRAMA QUEEN!

A SENSIBLE AND DRAMA FREE DEFENSE OF BEING PRO-LIFE FROM A NORMALLY, EMOTIONAL DRAMA QUEEN

     I believe that abortion is the taking of an innocent human life.  I also believe that too many women who choose to have an abortion do so without the truth of just what is going on with the developing pregnancy.   I further believe that because of the lack of true and factual information and the false perceptions that society creates about the rights of a woman to her own body, a majority of women, if given trustworthy information, would reconsider their decision to abort their child.

     The scientific facts are:  As reported in National Geographic’s 90 minute video, IN THE WOMB.

Before a woman has missed her first menstrual cycle, and even knows she is pregnant, a little heart has already begun beating at 21 days after conception.  At 40 days after conception, brain waves can be measured.  At 6--11 weeks, every organ has been formed.  Yet, the little person is less than 3 inches long!  At 8 weeks, the baby can suck his or her tiny thumb!  At 12 weeks, the baby has eyelids, toes, ears, a fully formed mouth, fingernails and even finger PRINTS!  The tiny child also has a fully working circulatory system, the gender of the child can be distinguished, red blood cells are already being produced in the liver and the baby can make a fist with his or her fingers.

At “the moment of conception an individual’s unique set of DNA is created.  [This DNA ] is a human signature that has never existed before and will never be repeated.”

In other words, your DNA makes you not only a human being, but a PERSON...

AN INDIVIDUAL!  

There is a horrible hypocrisy surrounding the issue of abortion, as well.  Roe vs Wade guaranteed the right to a legal abortion throughout the full nine months of pregnancy.  Since then, some states have put restrictions on the access to the procedure.  However, while such restrictions might shorten the time frame for an abortion to occur, and mandate that a minor must have the consent of a parent, it is still legal in all states for a woman to terminate the life of her unborn child

It is the term “Child” you will seldom hear used to describe what is being formed in the womb of a pregnant woman.  It is most often referred to as a “fetus”.  While the word actually means  “tiny child” or “offspring”,  perhaps few people realize that, since so many who support abortion on demand deny that the fetus is a human child.  And are careful never to use the word “child”. .. as if the two words have different definitions.

Now, for the most telling hypocrisy of the issue.  Let’s imagine this.  A pregnant woman at any point in her pregnancy is involved in  an automobile accident. She miscarries the baby.  The accident is not ruled her fault.  She can sue for the LIFE OF HER CHILD.

      If a pregnant woman is an addict and her drug causes the death of the child in her womb, she can be charged with manslaughter.  She can serve a prison sentence!  However...and here is the blatant hypocrisy of the legal questions surrounding the issue of abortion:  a pregnant woman can, LEGALLY, enter a womens “health” clinic, make a deliberate decision to have her baby cut out of her body or burnt to death from injections of saline  and no one is charged with anything.  

We have set up a justice system that protects the right of a woman to INTENTIONALLY end the life of her unborn child.  Do you see the insanity of this?  While a woman using drugs is responsible for the  death of her child, she did not intend to kill her baby by using drugs.  She was a substance abuser whose habit caused her to harm her child.  And when a person accidentally kills an unborn child, she or he must pay a monetary penalty.  If the accident which resulted in the unborn child’s death is caused by someone being DUI, the penalty can be more severe.  S/he may have to serve time in prison.

     If the death is an intentional choice, as abortion is, it is nothing more than a mass of tissue.  It is the woman’s right to extract the tissue from her body. Or the “fetus”.  If the life in the womb is terminated, unintentionally and accidentally, it is then called a baby.  The problem here is two-fold.  The life in the womb is a child, as the scientifc evidence proves.   And the legal definition of murder is the INTENTIONAL taking of an innocent life.  What would you call abortion?

And last, but surely not least, as a believer, as a Christian, God tells me that the life in the womb is no less than a unique human being, into whom God Himself has breathed life.  Life that God has known before the beginning of time.  When God says to Jeremiah,  “I knew you before I formed you in the womb..”,  He says the same thing to each of us.  God is the Creator and the Sustainer of Life.  All life.  And He calls each of us by name.  He knows the number of hairs on our heads and the number of our days.  

     And that little yet to be born baby, gently rocking in his or her mother’s womb, is every bit as loved and cherished by His Creator as we are.  

MEMORIES IN DISHWATER

MEMORIES IN DISHWATER

     Okay. This is a self-indulgent post, but I will bet there are those out there who feel this same tug in their hearts! Yesterday I prepared lunch for my family. (I started to say "Nothing out of the ordinary there!") But that isn' t true. We used to meet for lunch somewhere almost every Sunday. At least we had an hour or hour and a half together before schedules demanded to be met. Then, that habit died as Wade and I began to spend Sundays in Atlanta. 
     So...this homecooked lunch was, I guess, extraordinary! While I prepared for 15 of us, three could not come at the last minute. But my Mackenzie drove all the way from Athens to be here! I set the tables as I would for a fancy dinner party. I used my best! Fine china, fresh flowers, beautiful fall squash in the centerpieces, fine crystal, cloth napkins, charger plates. And a "prize" for each family. Yes. It was tons of trouble, but also tons of Joy! And while I used what I called "company dishes" as a little girl, the very best company I could ever have is my children and my grandchildren!
     And then, they all left. And yes, most of the dishes had to be hand washed. And yes, it was going to take a lot of time to clean up. When I hand wash the china that I got as wedding presents, when I soap up the crystal goblets, one of which my precious Grandmother broke many, many Thanksgivings ago, (How I wish she were around to break another one!) and when I dry the sterling forks, I remember. 
     I remember that I am a woman blessed. I am surrounded by beautiful memories of a God-touched past. I am surrounded by beautiful things...none more beautiful than those I call "my family!" Young women, those that follow behind, a plastic plate, and a Solo cup is a whole lot easier, and things move more quickly, but Time has a way of flying rapidly on its own. With the busyness that women feel in their souls, the rush and responsibility of the demands made on us, there are times when hand washing dishes can be a blessed therapy! The "trouble" of using your "company dishes" is the sweet message of just how much you treasure those you serve!

In God We Trust

A million years ago..or it seems that long,  I was a voice major in college. I sang Puccini, Bizet and Broadway.  I could hit a high C and hold it.  I could sing the chorus of the Nightingale, in Barber of Seville, which has an F sharp above high C in it.  I was my voice.

More than 12 years ago, I had a surgery that left me unable to sing.  Or at least, I believed it had.
I could not hit high notes and for a long while I could not carry the tune.
I no longer ordered season tickets to the opera because I would weep through the production, remembering when I sang those arias.   I honestly did not know who I was,  if I could not sing.

And so, the Lord opened a window in my heart.  I began to teach Bible Study.
All the passion I had put into singing turned to Christ and His Word.
I was blessed immeasurably as the Bible Study grew.
Deep, rich relationships developed between the members. And most importantly, our relationships with our Lord deepened.
                                And one day, I listened to an familiar aria and I did not cry.

And that brings me to today...
A dear friend of mine called me yesterday to ask me to recommend a soloist to sing at her mother's funeral.  I gave her the name of a woman in the church choir who had a lovely voice.
She asked if I would mind taking charge of those arrangements for her.  Of course, I said I would.

I called the vocalist,  but had to leave a message for her.  I worried about having to wait to hear from her, as time ticked by. Finally she called;  and regretfully said she was unable to do it.
And she had no other referrals to offer me.
I called the pianist for other possible singers.  He and I had performed many times together in different venues in the past.
                               His first question to me was, "Why aren't you singing?"

Now, he knew about my surgery.  And, I reminded him.
His reply was "Gayle, these two songs are simple. You can do them on a bad day. You don't need another singer!"

I gave my normal round of explanations as to why it was impossible, but he said, "Be here at noon.
                                 You are going to have to prove to me you cannot sing!"

So, with no other choices,  I went.

On the way, I had a call with another suggestion of someone who might be able to sing.
Once again, I began to tell God all the reasons I could not sing at this funeral.
                     The friend whose mother had died was a perfectionist.
                     She had taken great care with every detail of the service.
                     I was afraid that my unused, unpracticed voice would detract from her perfect planning.

And He answered every my every argument with one simple, yet profound question.
                     "Can you not trust me this little bit?  You who teach others to trust?"

Still I hesitated. "Well, I will call this one other person and if she, too, cannot do it, then I will."
And as if there were a soft chuckle, I heard Him say,"Go on. Call her but she can't do it!"

I looked up, and out loud I said, "I will sing, my Lord. And I will trust you...with the whole thing."
                                               And I did. I sang. I sang.
There was no mike when I sang;  and when your voice is weak, a microphone always helps.
                                                   I whispered, "I will trust."

I discovered a former pastor was conducting the funeral service, a pastor who had witnessed a disastrous performance one Sunday morning years before, when my accompanist had gotten the pages of my song mixed up.  Rather than gracefully stop singing until she realized her mistake, I had kept singing louder!
Of course, on the wrong page!

Oh! How I began to fear another humiliation! And still he commanded me, "Trust me!"

When the funeral was over, and every note had been sung perfectly, I left the church with a new song in my heart, and a new sense of the trustworthiness of the Lord I serve.

Tonight, my former pastor called me.  He told me he had heard a lot of songs in his lifetime, but these were two of the best songs he had ever heard. He said my voice was clear and beautiful, but that what made it stand out was the Spirit behind it. 
               His words I will never forget,"Gayle, you sang in the Spirit.
                      And I want you to know it was a ministry to me."

I had come home by that piano, in that chapel.
I knew that the Lord Himself had led me to this moment of joy.
I knew that I "can do all things through Him".
                                           
                     I kept waiting to hear the Lord say, "Told you so!"

Being Beautiful

Like most women, if I use my time to examine my body, my hair, my face, AND THEN, look around and compare myself to other women, I come out feeling lousy. I wish my breasts were larger. I wish my hair was thick. I wish it weren't so gray. My face, well, it could certainly use a tuck here and there...actually, everywhere!

My mirror is NOT telling me I am the fairest of them all. And the more I look at others to compare myself, the harsher a critic the mirror becomes.

Why do we women do these things to ourselves? Compare and compete. Is it just part of the American way? Or could it be plain old sin?

Sin has always made the beautiful ugly.  What God created good, sin distorted. Sin is the result of our trying to be what we were never meant to be.
                              God created us to depend on Him to tell us who we are.
                                       Instead, we demanded to define ourselves.
                              God created us to live in relationship with Him.
                                       Instead, we demanded to be independent, to do things our way.
                              We rebelled, and God let us.
So, we wander through a maze of doubt, distortion, and delusion toward a destiny of despair.
     (Indulge me!  I love alliteration!!  And double exclamation marks!)

Afraid to face the harsh reality that the mirror may not lie, afraid that indeed, we are not the fairest of them all, we pretend that we can make ourselves beautiful.  We buy the big boobs. We tuck the tummy.
We lift the brow and inject the Botox.  We spend hours in the gym.  We sweat.  We eat grass.
But we are no younger;  and still, we are not beautiful enough.

Exhausted and miserable,  we raise the mirror once more. We cannot deny what we see.
In the mirror is revealed the truth of our condition.  It is not our body.  It is not our face.
Open and visible to us, is our heart. It is ugly. There is selfishness.  There is pride.  There is envy.
                                                              There is...sin.
The poison on the inside of us has contaminated everything on the outside of us. We are compelled to admit:  There is no beauty to be found.

Scripture says that Christ will give us a brand new heart and make us into a brand new person.
We can lay down our sin, our brokenness, and our selfishness.  We can give up our independence and throw ourselves on the One we can trust to do what He says.
                                A new person!! (Sorry.  But it deserves the double !!)
 Isn't that really what we want?  To be made over into someone we are not, someone who is beautiful?

2 Corinthians 3:18 says that with unveiled faces we can reflect His glory.   Every day we will be TRANSFORMED more and more into His image!  (No expensive surgeries, no high priced wrinkle cream, no gym membership and hormones!)  He asks only that I trust Him.  And He gives me His glory.    Talk about a beauty secret that needs to be shared!