Stop Setting Yourself on fire already…That’s my job

“Holy Fire, Burn away
My desire For anything
that is not of you and is of me.
I want more of you and less of me. Empty me..” – Zion’s Fire

Whether or not I realized it, I was in a fire – not of my own making, but of Gods. Why? He needed to make room. My temple was cluttered with too many voices, and too many things.

Matthew 21: 12-17

Jesus entered the temple area and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. “It is written,” he said to them, ” ‘My house will be called a house of prayer,’ but you are making it a ‘den of robbers.'”

The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple area, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant.

“Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him.
“Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read, ” ‘From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise’?”

And he left them and went out of the city to Bethany, where he spent the night.

—————————————————-

So how does a dirty cup, a triumphal entry and a cleared out temple tie into Matthew 23? Easy – I can talk the talk but stumble the walk. In missing the most important part, (John 3:16) I spend my time making up for lost time and hoping you don’t notice. And if you do notice, I might just set myself on fire.

Early on in my Christian walk, I wanted to fit in. More realistically, I wanted to morph into the walls and be invisible. I copied everything I saw until I looked on the outside how I really wanted to look on the inside. Right down to the shoes. If they wore it, I wore it, if they joined it, so did I. I’m not sure what I was hoping really, osmosis through copy write violations perhaps. False shame and false guilt turned me into the proverbial foot washer, hoping somehow my actions would make me as clean on the outside and everyone else seemed on the inside. I walked the “Jesus died for you, and I’m sneaking in on a borrowed halo” theology line. I talk a good line – but I don’t live it. Not when I spend my life looking grace in the face and working behind the scenes as if to say it’s not enough, twisting the fruit of repentance into groveling and penance.

I tend to set myself on fire just prove I fit in. Case in point:

I was attending a local women’s league event and at break went outside, and around the building to smoke – and hide. I had just lit my cigarette (with three other hiders like myself by the trash bin) when out walks a local pastor.

He wasn’t just any pastor – but the pastor who is over a church that we are considering joining. I wanted him to like me. I needed him to like me, because I wanted to join his church. Our pastor had taken a call out of state and we (my husband and I) were church shopping. I had (in my humble opinion) believed I’d tricked the first pastor in allowing me to stay and I needed to hone up on my costume changes to keep that going. I’m wrong on that assessment – but that’s another story.

Without thinking, I shove the pack of cigarettes in my pocket, and stick the lit one behind my back. That’s the funny thing about idols, they can breed fear, shame and dishonesty. In an instant , I communicated fear, dishonesty and distrust. The smoke billowing up over the top of my head comminicated the fact that my dress was about to catch fire. I can laugh about that today. But not then.

Lighting myself on fire, is not a new thing. It would take Christ to make an old thing like that, new. I needed a different kind of fire if he was going to have his way with me.

There is hope.

God also promises to replace those self inflicted fires with a new one -2 Timothy 1:6
“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands.”

Once he got me to stop setting myself on fire, and set me on fire for him through the Holy Spirt, we still had work to do.

Taking Time with Jesus

Taking Time with Jesus

Isaiah 43:1-4 (The message)

When You’re Between a Rock and a Hard Place
But now, God’s Message, the God who made you in the first place, Jacob,
the One who got you started, Israel:
“Don’t be afraid, I’ve redeemed you.
I’ve called your name. You’re mine.
When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you.
When you’re in rough waters, you will not go down.
When you’re between a rock and a hard place,
it won’t be a dead end—
Because I am God, your personal God,
The Holy of Israel, your Savior.
I paid a huge price for you:
all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in!
That’s how much you mean to me!
That’s how much I love you!
I’d sell off the whole world to get you back,
trade the creation just for you.


Oh that that were true God. I want to believe it, but people say I don’t. Do I?

“Sometimes I need to take time just to be with Jesus – to find out who and whose I am again.” Kathy Trocolli.

I believe that statement heart and soul – I also believe that if I don’t take the time, he will make the time. Can I hear an amen?

There is nothing like, burying most of your friends, losing a school, having health issues, teaching Bible Study, and leading prayer teams only to go home, wrap yourself up in a blanket on your back porch and stare at nothing for hours on end, believing that God and whole world hates you, – to get to your attention. He had my attention, trust me. The problem was, so did the enemy, and it was his voice I heard the most.

If you were to ask people their impression of me during that time period – they would have told you I preached a good sermon, taught a good class, but I didn’t know the gospel. That used to frustrate me to no end. How could someone think I didn’t know the gospel, just look at all of the things I get to do for God. Of course I know the Gospel. How could they even think that? Uhm… the fact that I shook like a leaf in the presence of Christians might have been a clue. Or the fact that when sharing my victories I was really sharing my fears. The “I cannot’s” of my testimony. Are you sure I’m called? Look at this mess. Really? Hmmmhmm. I wasn’t communicating victory, I was communicating defeat. And fear.

And so the cup breaks, and the real work begins.

Part of my personal testimony includes bits and pieces of loss, abandonment, and fear. when I was eight years old, I found out that I was originally given up for adoption and taken back by my grandparents as an infant. I’d been snooping in my mother’s room after school and found my original birth certificate and adoption papers. She was furious.

My father’s name was no where to be found. And neither was my father, as he had walked out on us when I was four. Even though the papers went on to show that he did legally adopt me, and I was given his name he still left. My mom tried her best to convince me that those choices were the best she could make when she had me and had no reflection on her current feelings or those of my birthfather. I had value and I had worth, and that our present circumstances (she was now raising me) should speak for themselves. At eight years old however, I reasoned that if she gave me up once, she’d do it again. And being adopted meant nothing if followed by being abandoned.

Much like Mary, I took those things and pondered them in my heart for most of my life. Imagine becoming a Christian, being adopted, being given a new name, and believing in your heart that it’s only temporary.
No wonder I shook.

Can you imagine being a Christian, gratefully receiving the triumphal entry of Christ into your life and yet believing it temporary? If not, you are blessed. If so, there is hope.

Zechariah 9:9
9 Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion!
Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem!
See, your king [b] comes to you,
righteous and having salvation,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Those words are repeated in Mathew 21
4This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:
5″Say to the Daughter of Zion,
‘See, your king comes to you,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’


– with the Triumphant return of Christ to Jerusalem.

Those are also words sung during Handel’s Messiah – something I participated in on a pretty regular basis. Shaking the whole time. “Arise oh Daughter of Zion!”

How is it, I can know those words? Sing them even, and yet not believe them. It’s true. My head was full of grace, but my heart was full of fear.

And yet, I knew God’s word. God’s word said “Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you.”

My temple, had thieves. No sooner than seeds were planted, the enemy would steal them.

It shouldn’t surprise any of us that the first thing Christ did in Matthew after his triumphal entry into Jerusalem was to clean out the temple.

The first thing to go false shame. And it would take a spiritual fire to burn that one out. But first, I had to learn how to stop setting myself on fire.

cont…

Oh Woe is me

The poem I posted the other day references the Father of Lies – Satan. I found it in an old prayer journal of mine. The same one that listed the seven woes warned about in Matthew. In learning about the dirty cup, and letting go of my rubbery mentality, God took me through the book of Matthew – I wrote down everything I learned, and pondered them in my heart for once, instead of just my brain.

Every time the water in my cup would go down, satan would speak an offering of some sort or other to pacify my heart. Junk Food – no more no less. I was so busy learning and teaching, I’d forgotten how to ponder, and digest. My cup was so full of misadventures and the fear of being found out (fog) there was no room for grace.

The only solution really, was to allow the cup to break. Then and only then could God get my attention long enough – to do something with it.

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to be blogging about the different things God showed me, not about leaders or rulers, but about myself. Someone else might read those verses and receive and entirely different message from God – and that’s okay.

Under no circumstances do I ever presume to say “This is an oracle of the Lord.” All I know is this is what I learned, and how I am trying to apply it to my life today.

My Cup Ranneth Over

I remember being a little girl in the playground. The normal taunts would be passed around, and sure enough someone (usually me) would shout back, “Yeah, well I’m rubber and you’re glue. What you say bounces of me and sticks to you.”

Brilliant rebuttal. Unless you are sitting in church, instead of a play ground. And you are now in your 30’s instead of ten.

I thought I had a word for somebody once, but I was wrong. It turns out I can be one of those people sitting in the pews, listening to the sermon, taking notes and thinking to myself, “Wow I really wish so and so was here to hear that! That really applies to them.” Funny how those sermons always seem to apply to someone else, but never me.

I was working at an office at the time and received a phone call after a staff meeting. Someone had left their coffee cup warmer on and could I please go turn it off. Feeling rather bothered by what I viewed as a silly request, I turned off his cup warmer and left his office, leaving behind a full cup of coffee. I knew if I left it there over the weekend the coffee would get all moldy, and frankly I didn’t care. This would be the day that God chose to speak to my heart. “Empty and wash the cup Deana.”

I was really not in a generous and giving mood that day, nor was I in the mood to do such a humble act of kindness for somebody. But I listened to the voice. Once I emptied the cup, I noticed that while the outside was pretty clean, the inside was stained black with coffee stains. Matthew 23:25 came to mind – “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean. “

Okay, well it didn’t exactly come to me like that, it was more of a “isn’t there a verse somewhere in the Bible about dirty cups? I think it’s Matthew.” and I had to go look it up.

This would be when brilliant, rubber hearted, me, thought I had a word for someone else. I mean, it was much too harsh to apply to me, right? Thankfully, I left that word unspoken. I cleaned the cup and put it back in it’s place.

I later shared my experience with one of my girlfriends. Joy has a gift for telling the truth. She also has the spiritual gift of prophesy and I was excited that God had actually given me a word and I wanted to know what to do with it. She listened to me and asked me what I thought God was trying to teach me with that. I went into my “them” rant and she very gently stated that when God uses an object lesson in her life, the message is usually about her and I might want to view it from that perspective. Truth telling friends can really rain on a parade, you know what I mean?

My life was, at that particular season, about to fall apart, but I didn’t know that yet. At that time, I was cloud nine head over heals in love with God, believing the Gospel for everyone around me, and hoping to keep the hidden things hidden. My hidden things were ugly. My hidden things had deep stains on my spirit. My hidden things kept me a prisoner to the fear of being found out.

The reality of those hidden things spoke to me more frequently than God and told me I could “go this far, but no farther, remember what you are.” Listening to the enemy is never a good thing, but I was so accustomed to his voice, I didn’t realize who was speaking. Listening to the enemy, I polished my outer cup while filling the inside with everything I could to hide the stains.

Hungry for a fresh word from God, I would sit and study, teach and learn and wonder why he seemed so silent. He had words for everyone else it seemed, but not me. That didn’t stop me from singing, or from taking everything I could from the bible and memorizing it to hold onto. My brain was filling up to over flowing, but my heart was breaking. I would go and sing, and literally shake when in the presence of Christians I feared.

Failing to fully grasp that simple message that God so loved the world (insert ME) he sent his only begotten son, brought on one of the worst seasons of idolatry, heartbreak, and brokenness I have ever experienced. My own cup, was running over and time was running out. Hidden things get moldy when ignored. If God couldn’t find a way to connect my heart and my head soon, my cup was going to break. And break it, he did.

To be continued.

Pollyanna this Ain’t Folks

This blog will seem random – and I guess it is.. It’s not my typical happiness blog – but part of a bigger personal psalms piece. It makes sense to me and is actually part of a bigger story to be explained later.

There are seasons, that are rough to bear. Storms that keep us soaking wet and unable to stand. Realities that lay thick in fog. Days where the devil seems to win, and God seems distant. Hold strong, and wait for the rider to appear.

In due time

There are seasons where it seems like the devil is winning
But they are only seasons
Not life times.

Things you should be able to trust become untrustworthy
they trick you into thinking they need you
or that you need them.
They tell you lies
About how special you are
How important you are
How they need you
Because you aren’t like “them”

Only “them” doesn’t seem to bad,

The longer you listen to the lies
“them” no longer seems to like you.

He’s good at that

The liar
And the thief

He needs you
To hide behind
Because he can’t face himself.

He’s told you the truth
You are special
You are needed
but not like this.

He twists it
Much like an unwanted vine twists over a fence
It’s the wrong vine
He’s grafting you to.
Don’t take hold.

He knows your weaknesses
He knows your fears
He knows your needs

He zones in on them
And Exploits them

Rather than listen the spirit
Who warns of an enemy near.
You feel fear
lack of faith
Or think yourself the enemy.

You feel betrayed but don’t why
And think maybe it’s just you.

You want to tell
But no one hears you
Or wants to listen

He’s built a wall of lies between you and them
Trying to keep you for himself
Trying to stay unexposed.

You believe the wall but
It’s just apparition
A figment of his imagination
Created for you.
and you believe it as if it were real.

It’s fog
If you reached your hand out
It would go right through
But you don’t.

You’ve stopped trusting, even yourself.

So you sit
And you wait
For the author of truth
To bring darkness to light

Time passes
Too slowly it seems
And soon
When things are almost forgotten

The rider appears
faithful and true

He is trustworthy
He is your redeemer

A sword in his mouth
Cutting the darkness
Showing the truth

No longer will you be called forsaken
Arise and shine
Daughter of Zion
For your time has come.

Standing
With no one to blackmail
Or blame
Or darken the sun.

Clothe yourself instead
with
Humility
Forgiveness
And grace.

Knowing your God has heard you.

————————–

We serve to an audience of one. But it’s easy to forget that. At times our witness appears to deny Christ, and we are denied in return. Been there, done that. I found an old prayer journal the other day. It was written during one of the worst fire storms of my life. A season where everyone it seemed had turned against me, and the enemy lay in wait – a season where the wrong choices felt right. A time where I almost threw it all away, I prayed.

One of my prayers was simple really – “Dear Lord, when the world has turned against me, teach me now how to seek out only you. Let your approval be all I need.”

I learned how to play to an audiance of one.

I’m Proud of my Country

My son Dillon attended a country school years ago that had animals of all sorts. One day while they were doing a pretend “archeological dig” where the students were to uncover class made artifacts, he and another student got into a mud fight. Half way through this fight they discovered the mud they were slinging had been enriched with Llama poo. Both mothers were called to please bring a change of clothing. After watching the debates, reading the stories, and listening to commentators, I feel as if our nation needs new clothes too. Or at least clean ones.

History was made on November 4, 2008. The United States of America voted in Barack Obama as our 44th president. I’m torn only in that, he isn’t the man a lot of us wanted. But according to the numbers 51% of America did. Truth be told though – the republican party failed America in a lot of ways over the past four years and America fought back. Our nation fought back by ousting some really good republican senators, who lost their posts not because of personal failure, but because of their ties to our current president, whose ratings are now below 25% approval. That is the lowest approval rating in my lifetime anyway for an exiting president.

I like W. I don’t agree with everything he does, but I still like him. I do not think it fair that he is judged on the fall out fiscal policies that were set in place during the Clinton administration. This recession was a long time coming. Jeff and I felt the first wave during the Clinton administration when we lost our life savings in the MCI stock scandal. We needed reform before Bush ever stepped into office.

Interesting to me, in this land of Free Speech, is how dirty this election got. The far right called Obama everything from a Marxist to a terrorist, from a Muslim to the anti-christ. I suddenly felt as if our nation had somehow been transported to the McCarthy era, where everyone who didn’t fit the norm was called a communist. Reputations and lives were destroyed in that modern day witch hunt. The far left, were no different. They called McCain out as a “certifiably tooney loons of a man” and ripped Sarah to shreds over not only her Christian beliefs, but her (true) lack of ethics.

If McCain had won – our nation would have prayed hard that he live the full four years. I for one have more faith in Biden‘s abilities to run our nation, than I do Sarah. Choosing her to woo the Hillary supporters backfired. According to CBS news last night, 80% of the women in the exit polls voted for Obama.

Barack, while not my choice for president, is a very well educated, intelligent man with strong ideals. He, like all of his predecessors, has hopes, dreams, and ambitions for this great nation of ours. I find him to be naive and wonder what the realities of being in the position of one of the strongest world leaders will do to him. Even so, our nation has chosen to rest its hope on him. His downfall to me is his stand on life. His voting record shows he supports abortions, and I do not. I rest my hope in God, who still sets kings. He has a greater purpose than my small vision.

Our decision has been made. We live in a land of democracy. Obama won not only the popular vote, but the electoral college as well.

As Tom Browkaw said last night, “When this election is over , we as a nation stop being Democrats and Republicans, we become Americans United and we stand behind our President.”

It’s time both sides hit the showers, put on clean clothes and get on with the business of running our great nation.

Success with Lamictal


It’s been five weeks since we made the trip to the Children’s Hospital in Fort Worth Texas, and I’m happy to report that Dillon’s new medication is working. He has not had a seizure since October 5. Dr Malik put him on a low dose of Lamictal (25 mg twice a day) and Depakote ER (250 mg twice a day.) Dr Malik has seen a lot of success with this low dosage combination and thought Dillon was the perfect candidate for that.

There are potential side effects that need to be watched out for and with the slow ramping up of the medication, we’ve been blessed to avoid those. The only one that came was a temporary and very mild case of pleurisy. That too is now gone.

Since coming home from Fort Worth, life has been busy. Between helping Charlie apply for colleges, fill out scholarship forms, and fall yard work, my boys have both competed in a Tri-State soccer tournament in Joplin (their team placed third overall) as well as a high school retreat. This week Charlie is in Washington DC with several classmates. When he returns, he’ll being finishing his applications, trying out for a play, working on a Youth Retreat, and being the world’s master guitar hero.

Tri-State was scary for mom, and annoying for Dillon. I went along to not only chear on my boys, but to keep an eye on him. Varsity soccer is rough and Dillon got creamed more than once. Creamed or not, he kept going back out there and I’m proud of him for that.
We only had one (or 2) real scares where he collided with the Goalie from Grace, took a cleat to the chest/throat, and hit another players shoulder with his head. All that and not a single seizure. He’s going to be just fine.

That is life in a nutshell right now. Living with epilepsy, means living, not waiting. And that is encouraging.

Her husband can trust her… She brings him good not harm all the days of her life


Prov 31:10-12

10 Who can find a virtuous and capable wife?

She is more precious than rubies.

11 Her husband can trust her,

and she will greatly enrich his life.

12 She brings him good, not harm,

all the days of her life.

Being married to a worship leader can be a lot of fun. I love listening to Jeff play, practice, and write. His heart for God deepens mine and brings me joy, most of the time. Other days, I’m not quite that spiritual.

I do not share his gifts for music, and there are times when I feel a bit jealous for his abilities to lead worship, write and sing with passion like he does. And there are times where I’m not always understanding of the time commitment that sort of dedicated life requires. Lacking understanding does not a motive make. I’m just saying that now.

Housework is not my strong suit. I’m more of an Erma Bombeck than a Martha Stewart. I hate housework and am convinced that my grandmothers white glove approach to cleaning wiped out all domestic genes in my body. There is only so much bleach water a body can stand and besides, I’m not really that good at it in my opinion. But that doesn’t keep me from trying and doing my best.

We have a room in our house dedicated to music. It’s full of guitars, a keyboard, drums, sound board etc.. this is a “musician’s only room please.” kind of room. And even though I do pick up the Gibson from time to time (I’m trying to learn how to play) I pretty much stay out of it.

Until today.

Today, I decided that it would be nice if I cleaned it up for him while he is away at a conference in Michigan. It was a nice thought, I meant well, really. So, I pulled everything off the bookcases, dusted and oiled all the wood. Cleaned the windows and blinds, swept the floor, carefully dusted all of the equipment – using a feather duster so as not to scratch anything and as I was about to leave the room I decided to check the fireplace.

I should have left the room. Instead I looked inside to see left over soot from last winter. How hard can it be to clean that up? So I pulled out my Kenmore vacuum cleaner and cleaned away.

I learned somethings today.

If you are going to vacuum out a fireplace keep an eye on what is going on behind you.
A hepa filter can only work so well.
Kenmore vacuum cleaners don’t like soot.
Freshly dusted musical instruments are soot magnets.

I’m pondering some things now.
1. Why did I dust before I cleaned the fireplace ?
2. Is my life insurance up to date?
3. Does anyone know how to get soot out of a Taylor guitar?

So, trust I’m not so sure. Ditto good. I am however pretty sure I enrich his life … I’m just not sure how.

Holy Bible, New Living Translation ®, copyright © 1996, 2004 by Tyndale Charitable Trust. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers. All rights reserved.

Early Morning Raccoons Can Make one Pentecostal


Not to make fun of the Pentecostal church, it is just that I have a baby raccoon on my back porch. Or at least I did before I baptized him – and everything else on my porch. You’ve heard of Baptism by Fire? well this was Baptism by Folgers. I was trying to protect my dogs who were just trying to protect their kibbles and bits. Note to self – Never, ever, open my back door while it is yet dark without turning a light on first. And use the restroom before letting your dogs out, or it can really get ugly.

Being surprised by wildlife at 5 am should in my groggy opinion, warrant the use of well, words preceded by “Holy.” That makes it okay right? I mean it’s kind of like following gossip with the phrase “bless her heart.” Down south, as long as you cap it with that, you are in the clear.

My dogs spotted our intruder feasting on kibble well before I did. They knocked me to the side when they bolted out the door. In my surprise, somewhere amidst the hissing, barking, growling, chasing, climbing screens (smart baby), and running came a string of phrases that would turn the ears of a teamster red I’m sure. I blessed everything from procreation to bodily functions, I questioned not only it’s legitimacy, but it’s mother’s temperment as well. And when I ran out of words, I simply uttered things intangible while I swung my broom at nothing.

This little bugger is not stupid. While they chased him to the doggie door, he jumped up onto the screen and watched them leave. He then jumped down to go back at their food. That’s when I baptized him with my coffee, grabbed a broom and started chanting. Out the door he went and back up the screen. It seems my border collie was laying in wait.

I finally got my dogs to come back in, sat down with a fresh cup of coffee to focus on my morning devotional and my friend came back AGAIN. I didn’t baptize him this time. It was then that I saw he was just a baby. He sat there for a little bit, looking at me with these incredible forlorn eyes. I felt sorry for him for a moment – looked him in the eyes and said “don’t even think about it.” and with that, he left.

My border collie is still sniffing the grounds looking for him. My regular collie – won’t use the doggie door now – she a bit on the prissy side, and it may take her a while to get over the fact that it’s been defiled. I had to let her out the regular screen door. But at least it is quiet again.

Oh yes, this is going to be a glorious day.

The Art of Giving and Receiving

Acts 20:35
In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’


I’m in a place right now where I’m really looking at giving and receiving. Not in martyred or co-dependant and manipulative ways. But rather, I’m looking at balance between the two. Being a caretaker who insists on pulling myself up via my own bootstraps continually, I’m learning how to bring balance to my daily life.

Giving based on a need to win approval or loyalty – is manipulative control. Or the kind of giving where the above scripture verse is taken completely out of context – it becomes martyred and tired. I say that because those who give without receiving are still controlling people, places, and things. It’s unhealthy. You know what I mean, I’ll do this if you do that, or the “I give and I give and I give (Superglue wrist to forehead for effect) and THIS is the thanks I get?”

Giving – is healthy when done without expectations. It’s also healthy when it’s balanced by receiving.

Receiving, I’m learning can be healthy too. We don’t always like it, do we? Some people might, but I don’t. When I’m receiving, I feel in debt to the giver and I don’t like feeling indebted. I don’t receive well. I have a hard time receiving gifts, compliments, even friendship. I’m much more comfortable on the giver’s platform. I’m much more comfortable when I’m in control. It’s about balance.

We can’t always be the givers and we can’t always be the receivers, especially in relationships. We need to take turns doing both.

I got a taste of what that looked like last summer and I decided I needed to learn how to receive better than I presently do. A friend of mine had their house broken into. All of her jewelry, money, and mementos from her deceased mother were stolen. They even stole her perfume. She felt emotionally violated, and I’ll dare say “raped” at least on some level. Her safe haven (home) was no longer safe. A stranger was in her bedroom. A stranger touched her things. Intimate things, private things, and their ghost stained her spirit for a long time. Emotional rape, to women, can be just as bad as the physical kind. It takes a long time to heal from something like that.

I know exactly how she felt. My house had been robbed as a child. It’s frightening. It’s violating. While I couldn’t replace what was stolen, or her piece of mind, I could do something nice. So I did. I bought her a bottle of her favorite perfume and gave it to her before church.

My gift to her was the perfume. I was the giver. And she was the receiver. Upon receiving the perfume, we immediately switched roles. She gave me her excitement, happiness and joy. And I received it. Right up until her husband took it away. Not the perfume, but her joy. Seeing her excitement, he publicly chastised her, telling her that “it’s more blessed to give than to receive.” And she shut down. He robbed her, and me of the flow of life. We were giving and receiving from each other in a healthy and positive way.

His criticism of her joy, stopped the flow and ruined the moment. I wanted to give him something right then and there too. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. But I didn’t. I’m a coward when it comes to conflict. I give praise, and stuff criticism down my own throat rather than someone else’s. And I received the wrong message – I received his message that well, receiving is wrong. I also sent him the wrong message, or the right one, depending on how you see it. I sent a truthful message anyway. By shutting down, I communicated distrust. By withholding my disagreement, I missed out on sharing my true heart. We both had a chance to give and receive and build a relationship of honesty and we blew it.

What I’ve decided this year is that HE is wrong. It is blessed to do both. To consciously choose to be one or the other only is unhealthy. It contaminates the well. There’s no flow of fresh air in this kind of one-sided living.
God is a giver of great gifts. He gives unmerited and undeserved favor on a daily basis. If all I focus on is giving whether it’s to him or others I deny others the joy of my receiving.

I’m a lot like my friend. I don’t receive well. This is a season where I get to learn and consciously recognize when I’m giving and when I’m receiving. That might sound odd to people who don’t struggle with this issue, but I do struggle and because of that, I need to learn how to be still and do both.

In my garden, for example, I give time, water, nutrients and care to my plants. If I don’t take time to receive the beauty that comes as a result of that, I’ll miss out on joy. In receiving beauty I receive my own kind of nourishment. I need to be still and open in order for that gift (which is really from God if you think about it.) to fill my soul. It’s about letting go of control and like the story below, it keeps the water living and my life renewable.
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Barton wrote this short piece, “There are Two Seas” for McCall’s in 1928. John D. Rockefeller used it as a parable in his speech for a United Fund campaign. It was also reprinted in the Reader’s Digest in 1946.

There Are Two Seas by Bruce Barton

There are two seas in Palestine.
One is fresh, and fish are in it.
Splashes of green adorn its banks.
Trees spread their branches over it
and stretch out their thirsty roots to sip of its healing waters.
Along its shores the children play as children played when He was there.
He loved it. He could look across its silver surface when He spoke His parables.
And on a rolling plain not far away He fed five thousand people.
The river Jordan makes this sea with sparkling water from the hills.
So it laughs in the sunshine.
And men build their houses near to it, and birds their nests;
and every kind of life is happier because it is there.
The river Jordan flows on south into another sea.
Here no splash of fish, no fluttering of leaf,
no song of birds, no children’s laughter.
Travelers choose another route, unless on urgent business.
The air hangs heavy above its water, and neither man nor beast nor fowl will drink.
What makes this mighty difference in these neighbor seas?
Not the river Jordan. It empties the same good water into both.
Not the soil in which they lie; not the country round about.
This is the difference.
The Sea of Galilee receives but does not keep the Jordan.
For every drop that flows into it another drop flows out.
The giving and receiving go on in equal measure.
The other sea is shrewder, hoarding its income jealously.
It will not be tempted into any generous impulse. Every drop it gets, it keeps.
The Sea of Galilee gives and lives.
The other sea gives nothing. It is named The Dead.

There are two kinds of people in the world.
There are two seas in Palestine.

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Giving and Receiving are choices that are made not day by day, but moment by moment.