Tag Archives: Jesus

For Susan

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(I wrote this for my daughter Susan and then read it at my son-in-law’s funeral after he passed away recently at age 40 from Covid-19.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about love and what it looks like in a family, in this family.  There are many ways to express love, but these are some things that came to mind.

Love looks like a husband and daddy who would sacrifice by working long hours, sometimes weeks away from his family, so that he could provide a good living for them.  I know Chris didn’t like to spend so much time away, but he was willing to do whatever was needed to support them.

Once when we were talking about spiritual things, Chris told me about his grandparents.  He said whenever he went to their house, his mawmaw would always have a meal for him and a discussion about the Lord, without fail. It was one of his fondest memories.  Love looks like that.

But the expression of love that touches me the most is the way my daughter walked with her husband through his journey of illness and ultimately death. Although she was afraid and hurting deeply herself, her prayer was that Chris would not feel alone, would not be afraid, and would not feel pain.  

God answers prayers like that.  Susan had the gift of three days and three nights with Chris in ICU after being isolated from him for weeks, only able to see him through the ICU window.  The first night, Friday, he was awake all night, and he was in her words “high maintenance.” He only wanted her presence with him.  He couldn’t speak but only mouth the words because of his trach, but he talked to her all night. She said she would always be thankful for it because he slept most of the time after that, opening his eyes only once on Saturday night and mouthing the words, “Why me?”

Sunday night, right before he passed away, as the monitor showed his blood pressure dropping rapidly, the ICU staff rushed in and told her if she had anything to say, to say it then.  She spoke to him, and his eyes opened just a bit, and he looked at her.  She told him that she loved him, not to be scared, that he was going to see his dad and his pawpaw.  She told him not to worry, that she would take good care of the children, and in a blink of the eye, they would all be together again.  With each statement she spoke, he nodded that he understood. And then Chris was in the arms of Jesus, having heard in his last moments Susan’s voice, the most precious sound to him.

I would like to say to my daughter, “Susan, you have walked through this trial well.  I am in awe of your strength and how you put your own pain aside, desperately wanting Chris to feel love and comfort.  This is what love looks like.  When we love in this way, we touch the Divine. The days ahead won’t be easy, but the same God who carried you through this hard journey will be faithful to be with you. He will give you the grace to walk through them, one day at a time.  God has already seen this day, and He still has a plan for your family.  This I know.  God’s love never fails.”

We Are Okay

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There have been critics.  It’s a challenge for me to go on and write anyway.  I know I’m flawed, but Christ has declared me free.  I admire the female authors whose works I’ve been reading recently.  They are brutally honest and allow others to see their struggle, women who think outside the box but might not be accepted because they are too “out there.” Yet they are part of the body of Christ, and they reach people who would never be reached otherwise.  These women encourage me to continue asking questions, to search the heart of God and drink from His infinite well of truth, to think and to reason with the good mind God has given me.  So I pick myself up, dust myself off, and begin again.

When the Holy Spirit led me to write “Closing the Rule Book,” I immediately felt lighter, as if chains were broken off.  I felt free to become a lover of people and not their judge, according to the greatest commandments of loving the Lord and loving others as yourself.  Yet putting legs to it and walking it out—that’s the hard part.  I often joke with Mark as I’m waiting for him to make my latte each morning (yes, I’m spoiled!) that I’m going to my quiet time “to talk myself off the ledge.”  It’s wonderful having a husband who understands what that means!  The question that puts me on the ledge, though until now I didn’t have words for, is “How do I make myself acceptable today?”  

Here are some questions to ponder honestly—do we say what we are feeling, or do we say what we’re supposed to feel?  How much of our behavior is actually self-protection, but we’ve become so good at it that it seems normal to us?  Yet there is that undercurrent…a persistent though faint hum in the background that says “You are not okay.”  How do we make this interference in our thinking go away?  Only by the Holy Spirit and only by complete honesty with ourselves.  Do we have the courage to believe “I am okay just as I am?”  To believe “I don’t have to perform to be acceptable to God or people-please to be loved?”  The courage to take His nail-scarred hand and hold onto it for dear life, to believe He is always enough?  This is the first step—awareness.

You and I are acceptable just as we are.  Are there imperfections? Yes.  Are there areas that need growth?  Of course.  Mindsets that need to be changed?  Definitely.  Wounds that need to be healed?  Absolutely.  But is it in our power to “clean ourselves up”?  NO.  Coming to the realization and embracing the truth that we are loved just as we are frees us to hear His voice, to know Him, to walk with Him, the Righteous One.  And by the power of the Spirit working within us, we become a little bit more like Him day by day.  As long as we try to do it on our own, the more defeated we feel.

Religion said to me “You are not okay.”  Jesus said to me, “It is for freedom that I have come to set you free.”  Just for freedom’s sake—God gave us that.  If we had to clean ourselves up before we entered a church, the pews would be empty.  And if we had to clean ourselves up before we prayed and sought the presence of the Lord, we would never encounter Him.  How sad it must make God to see His Son hanging on that cross and then so many of His children walking away because they don’t feel worthy.  Once we embrace that He died for us because we are valuable to Him, we will see others as valuable too.  When that truth sinks into our hearts, we can “stay off the ledge,” whatever that looks like for you.  I’m leaving judging to the One who is perfectly just, merciful, and good.  And I’m asking Him again today, “Lord, help me love myself just as I am so I can love others the same way.” 

Late to the Table

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The journey to full freedom can be gut-wrenchingly hard.  “Deconstruction” has been unsettling as I leave behind long-held mindsets of what is and isn’t acceptable.  What is happening is that everything that has “propped me up” no longer works.  Lord, you know I love you.  I just want to understand.  As painful as it is, going back to where I was before I started this process is unthinkable.  As I’m beginning to know and live my own truth, I’m happier in the midst of the confusion because this is real, and it is an answer to my prayer to love Him and know Him more intimately. 

Part of living my own truth is understanding that I’m an introvert and a highly sensitive person with a need for much solitude and peace, and along with that, greatly affected by overwhelm and overstimulation.  This is the way God designed me, and for most of my life, I haven’t respected it.  I’m looking at Romans 12:1-2 from The Passion Translation on my little chalkboard in my office, my Scripture for this year, and I see progress.  I have stopped imitating the ideals and opinions of the culture around me, and I’m in process with the Spirit of a total reformation of how I think.  Finally, I’m beginning, a little at a time, to discern God’s will and live this beautiful life.

I know I’m not alone in the way I feel.  So many others have gone before me, but I am late to the table at age 65, late for my own feast.  Being “wired for compliance,” I didn’t ask many questions—well, some big ones I did.  Looking back, my questions were always about judgmentalism and “the rules,” my sense of justice kicking in.  But staying on board and drinking the Kool-Aid limited me.  Most importantly, it limited using my amazing mind to think and to reason, to come out of the box of false identity. As a result, I’ve been nibbling, scarfing down a bite or two or three at a time, but never feasting.

Why does religiosity (legalism) continue to rear its ugly head and stuff believers into old wineskins? This only divides the Church when Christ has called us to unity.  In Jesus’s own words, you cannot put new wine into old wineskins because the fermentation of the new wine will cause it to burst—it just doesn’t work anymore (Luke 5:36-38).  And look at verse 39: “And no one, after drinking old wine wishes for new; for he says, ‘The old is good enough.’”  Are we uncomfortable with freedom?  They say there is a high recidivism rate when an inmate is released from prison because he can’t acclimate to the world as a free person.  Is it possible that it’s easier for us obey the law than to step out into freedom?

There is nothing to fulfill when we come to Christ because He fulfilled the Law.  It really is that simple. The Lord has prepared a table for all of us in a spacious place.  I know He is calling me to come sit down with Him and taste and see that He is good, that He is for me, and that I am His beloved.  I never want to settle again for “the old is good enough,” because that leaves Christ out of the picture. He is always calling us up higher into His ways and His love.  It may have taken me a while to get to the table, but there is a seat open for me. There is one for you also. Let’s go and feast together!

Safe Harbor

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The words “safe harbor” keep coming to mind, that Christ is our safe harbor during all the storms of life. Sometimes the water is smooth, and we sail through easily with the praise of God on our lips. Sometimes the water is choppy, and we can manage okay if we send out a few prayer requests and dig a little deeper into the Word. Sometimes the seas are downright rough, but still we manage with the help of our prayer warriors and seeking godly counsel.

Then sometimes we are completely cast overboard.  So we look for someone to throw us a life preserver, something we can hold onto and stay afloat, and sometimes someone does.  We can climb back in the boat, praise God for our narrow escape, and go back to living life as usual.  But sometimes there is no life preserver.  You thrash around in the water as best you can, but panic seizes you. You realize that there is nothing or no one that can put you back in the boat. This is how I felt when my former husband died very suddenly.

Just as you are flailing around in the darkness in the water, you look up, and across the waves, you can see a dancing sliver of light. You frantically dog-paddle toward the light, and it becomes a teeny little brighter.  You think, “This is too hard.  I’m not that good of a swimmer.  I thought I was, but I don’t have the strength.”  But the light is beckoning.  And each time you bravely take a lunge toward that light, a wind seems to come up and push you a little closer.

“I am the light of the world.”  The words come from someplace deep inside of you. “In Him was life, and that life was the light of men.”  “I have come so that they might have life and have it to the full.”  “For I know the plans I have for you….to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.”  The words keep coming…“Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

The Spirit continues to bring the Word from your inner being and gives you the courage to keep slowly moving forward as the light gets brighter and shows you the way. You know those words and you know who the Word is. “Where can I go from your spirit?  Where can I flee from your presence?  If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”  You stop struggling and let the wind of the Spirit carry you home.

As a light from a lighthouse, He beckons us on until we make it safely back to harbor, safely in His arms. He will never leave us or forsake us. But sometimes he doesn’t allow us to get back into the boat because the boat is not what we need.  He lets us feel the panic or the ache or the longing so that we will struggle our way to Him and know that He is enough. No matter how many times we are cast into stormy seas, He will always show us the way to safety because He is the light.  Just like Peter in his fear of sinking while walking on the water, we will find that we were never in danger. We were right where we were supposed to be, with Jesus at arm’s reach all along. And though we may lose our way for a time, in Christ we are never lost.

This post was written as an entry in my journal during my season of singleness after the death of my former husband in 2007.  Then, seven years later, Mark and I moved to Texas and away from family following the direction of the Lord.  It felt at times as though I had again been cast overboard as homesickness overtook me. Reading this post that I wrote so many years ago comforted me at that time because it reminded me He was with us and had a good plan for us.  Now, in 2020, we’ve been back in Arkansas with family for almost two years. Still, with all that is going on in the world and the angst that I feel, Jesus continues to be my safe place, the one who holds my heart.  He is your safe place too.  No matter what you are going through, look for Him.  Run to Him.  He is faithful.  He will carry you through.  And if you will say yes to His will, it will be an amazing ride.

Treasure from Heaven

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How can it be that holy God would place his treasure in hands made of flesh that are going to mar its perfection?  God is so generous.  He is eager to communicate with his beloved children.  I receive words, pictures—metaphors for greater truths—because he has designed me to receive them.  A prayer begins, head bowed or not, eyes closed or not, I often receive before the asking.  I am undone.  I am not worthy.  How do I respond to this?  I immediately hear two words, with gratitude.

I know anything given to me is for the benefit of others.  I have long been receiving in intercession for our ministry, Hope Preserved. But as my desire has increased to be faithful to him, I have been releasing what I receive as he directs in my writing.  I admit that I’m somewhat fearful. It requires being completely vulnerable to let others see inside of me. And when my flesh taints the releasing, I have to trust his grace covers it all.

I started writing this blog after two years of inactivity.  Oh, I was always writing in my journal, but I had let the blog go, believing there was no one reading anyway.  This time I had clear direction from the Lord that he wanted me to write for him, and so Little Potted Plant was rebirthed.  I sent out emails to folks who had subscribed in the past who I thought might be interested. Mark sent out an email highlighting a post he particularly thought would help those who come to us for ministry.  I had very little response.

Discouraged, I went for a walk and talked to the Lord about it.  He showed me I was like a beggar with a little tin cup going around to friends, asking them to fill my cup by subscribing to my blog.  He asked, Why are you looking elsewhere for your cup to be filled when I am filling it to overflowing with my treasure?  And then the question that hit home, Didn’t you say you would write for just the one? “Yes, Lord, I did, and I will.”  What if the one is me? I have tears in my eyes as I write this. He was referring to “Audience of One,” a previous post, where he brought that truth home to me.

Recently I met with a precious family member to deliver prophetic pictures and words I had received from the Lord.  It was difficult and scary and beautiful and profound all at the same time.  It may be my natural wiring to receive these things from the Lord, but it’s not easy for me to release them, especially face to face.  Yet in prayer beforehand, the Scripture was given to me from Hebrews 10:38:  But my righteous one shall live by faith, and if he shrinks back, my soul has no pleasure in him.  

In the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30), Jesus is illustrating the deposit of gifting that is put in each one of us.  The one who received two talents received just as much praise as the one who received five because they invested it and got a return on their money.  The one who was afraid to do anything with his one talent was harshly judged. We are all given this “treasure,” this gifting that is uniquely fitted for each of us, the way that God has designed us.  

We have seasons where we are being filled, but at some point in time, the Lord asks us to release what he has given us. What that looks like is different for all of us.  We must accept that we won’t do it perfectly, and that’s okay.  But when we also realize that we have the fullness of God in the Holy Spirit backing us, we can do it. And when we do, we find that we are the ones most blessed.  It is worth it.  He is faithful!

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 2 Corinthians 4:7

Learning to Love Myself, Even the Broken Parts

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I have a big birthday coming up next month, and I’ve had a lot of angst anticipating this birthday.  I think what the Lord is showing me is that I have an unrealistic view of what “this age” looks like.  I’ve set up a standard that I should have it all together, my life figured out by now, and I’ve been panicking because I don’t.  The truth is that it’s never going to happen on this earth.  Perfection comes after this life, when I’m revealed in Christ to be fully myself, the one he created me to be.  That’s what sanctification is, and on this earth I’m still in process.

The last couple of days I was struggling to get out of a pit, lamenting the fact that here I was again.  In my time with the Lord, I sensed him tell me, “I love you whether you’re healed or not.”  I’m thinking if Jesus loves me just as I am, shouldn’t I love myself that way too?  If I place a higher standard on myself than the Lord does, is that not idolatry?  Because it’s saying, “I know better than you, God.”

Of course, this doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t desire to be healed and seek Christ for it.  The truth is that because of those wounded places in my heart, I’m driven to seek him more earnestly, and my intimacy with him grows.  Our broken places are where we often have the strongest encounters with the Lord.  And then out of those places where I’ve been broken and experienced healing, he can use me to be a vessel of compassion and understanding, offering hope to those with similar struggles.

So the challenge that I’m taking up and offering to you is to thank God for every struggle and see it as not just a place that needs to be “fixed,” but a place where we can encounter Jesus.  Sometimes it’s very hard to connect in those places because the pain is too great.  But we can whisper, “Jesus, come and get me.  Be with me here,” and he’s right there.  He always has been.  He was with us when we were first wounded in that place.  

Let’s recognize that there are little girls in us that have been broken, and when they are triggered, they hurt.  They cry.  They are “stuck” in the space and time where the original wounding took place.  We should ask Jesus to minister to them, yes, but we can also minister to them ourselves, from our core soul.  We do that by loving them and treating them as very valuable parts of ourselves because they are.  When we stop and recognize that the pain that put us in a pit is coming from a different part of ourselves, we are on the path to healing.

I’m now excited about my upcoming birthday and what God has in store for me in this new chapter.  And I am at peace knowing all I ever have to be is who he made me to be.  These are words from an old Amy Grant song that speaks to my heart, and I’ll leave them with you:

When the weight of all my dreams is resting heavy on my head 
And the thoughtful words of help and hope have all been nicely said
But I’m still hurting, wondering if I’ll ever be the one
I think I am…I think I am.  
Then you gently re-remind me that you made me from the first 
And the more I try to be the best, the more I get the worse.  
And I realize the good in me
Is only there because of who you are…who you are
And all I ever have to be is what you’ve made me 
Any more or less would be a step out of your plan  
As you daily recreate me, let me always keep in mind
That I only have to do what I can find  
And all I ever have to be…all I have to be
All I ever have to be is what you’ve made me.  
(“All I Ever Have to Be,” Amy Grant)

A Lesson from Baby Birds

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There are baby birds on the feeder outside my window, the momma right below on the ground.  Yesterday I saw a momma robin hopping along with a worm in her mouth.  I’m seeing a picture, a metaphor.  When the baby birds are still helpless in the nest, momma bird brings them food and drops it into their gaping mouths.  Then when they are able, they venture out to find food on their own.  Two things stand out—when they are in the nest, they must have their mouths wide open in order to receive the nourishment that they need to grow.  And when they are strong enough, they must venture out to seek their own food or they will die. 

The Word tells us to seek God, that we will find him when we seek him with all of our hearts (Jeremiah 29:13).  Before we receive Christ, we are also in a helpless state.  Once we have found him and receive him into our hearts, we have to continue seeking him if we want to grow.  Jesus speaks in the parables of searching for him as treasure hidden in a field (Matthew 13:44).  In every situation of life that I find myself in, I should ask, “Where can I find you in this moment, Lord, and how can I connect with you here?”  

In these uneasy days when we’re experiencing a global pandemic and racial unrest across the country because of the horror of a white police officer restraining a black man until he died, all caught on video for the world to see, it’s hard to know how to respond, to know what to do.  But it all begins with our intimacy with the Lord, for even Jesus only did what he saw the Father doing (John 5:19).  We can talk about it and fret about it and even join protests, but without God, nothing will truly change.

I’m asking the question now, “Where are you in this and how do I align with you, Lord?”  What does “Christ in me” look like here?  Maybe the world is changed one life at a time.  “Change me, Lord, in how I think about this.  What do I need to know about myself in this situation in order to receive what I need from you?”  And ultimately, “What does love look like here?”

The Word says, “We love because he first loved us” (I John 4:19).  It all starts with God.  Just like the baby bird will never be able to fly on its own unless it receives what it needs from its momma, we won’t be the light of the world unless we’re willing to humble ourselves and receive from the Lord.  Jesus is our model.  After he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death on the cross, God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name (Philippians 2:8-9).  First comes humility, then comes power. The transforming power of the Holy Spirit is the only thing that will change us.

Jesus, rescue me from my frenetic thoughts and my anxiety and help me to breathe.  I want to be changed.  I want to connect with you intimately in the sanctuary of your Holy Spirit, where you dwell, “Christ in me.”  Teach me your ways.  Help me to love as you love.  Amen.