A Flashback Before April

Last night I went to a Celebration of Life. In the background is a replica of "The Travail of the Flag" by Shelli Baker-Manuel Landon. Hers was the life that transitioned beyond the veil. The link gives a brief history of the full painting and prophetic vision that spurred it. I read it just now and tears flowed yet again. This is my flashback to an artistic, inspired life that briefly intersected with my own.

I don't remember where I first heard Shelli's testimony. I remember getting her book by the same title as the painting, likely a gift from either my mom or my aunt. (By the way, my aunt and uncle, Kathleen and Jim Kaseman, are pictured in the "Parade of Saints" in the lower left area. I went up close to the replica last night and captured a quick photo.) 

I also don't remember where I heard/read about her plea to God to allow her to paint like the masters. I don't think it is in the book The Travail of the Flag. But I do remember that the story and the book enraptured me! What God can do with an artistic life that is wholly given to Him moved me deeply. 

It seems that I immediately penned a letter to Shelli as a result. Within days, I think, we ended up at the same ministry meeting in Rogers, Missouri. Imagine my delight! I don't recall if it was my unsent letter still unfinished that I gave to her (probably) or her reply handed to me, but she ministered to me greatly then and beyond. If I still have that letter (or letters?), it will be like gold. If I have ANY letters from those who meant so much to me in those days, they will all be like gold!

Also connected to my new, slightly obsessive interest was Billye Brim's teaching on the Blood (and I may have heard Shelli's testimony in one of her meetings). I was insatiable for old songs about the blood of Jesus. I found one extra-beautiful hymn: The Cleansing Blood; and I wrote one inspired by Billye's book: The Blood and the Glory.

As I sit with this today, I think about the extreme obedience that marked me with Shelli's story. I am struck by the prophetic power of the arts when yielded to Him. Shelli's expressions have always been empassioned and without reserve. I've always admired her boldness. 

When my then-husband and I stopped traveling and dedicated ourselves to church staff, that's when I began losing track of people like Shelli. We were no longer at meetings, and it was more difficult to make those journeys once our eldest was in school. Then our second child came along, and I can only see this now when looking back, but we were headed for disaster! Chaos reigned for some time after I suddenly became a single mom. It is only now beginning to straighten out after 20 years. 

In recent years, I was reunited with Shelli (now with husband Barry Landon) during my time as a writer at Rhema. I recall being excited and praying for their potential way to help during COVID ... only I wasn't able to help spread the word much or make connections because it was just before my world went wild again. I stepped away from Rhema for what I thought would be a short time to help my dad. He passed on, however, and my disabled brother needed someone to assist him, so my back-and-forth life began. That continued until I crashed after my brother's burial. Only now have I somewhat resurrected.

Recently I was thinking about Barry and Shelli—wondering what became of the COVID device to purify air and hoping it had blessed them. The thought has been familiar, so I realize they have been on my heart for a while. I wish I had known what to do with that thought. I find that often when someone passes, they are on my heart for a time (or quite some time) before. 

Amazingly, God helped me to see a post about her memorial service. I went. The stories resonated once again, and I am challenged to set my own artistry free in God's hand. Shelli's life is so large! I struggle to think of someone who is so specifically inspiring to me. I was once a budding, multi-gifted creative. I don't know if I will be exactly that again, but I am on the precipice of just such a journey. 

I noticed the celtic carvings on her harp—so serendipitous to my return from Ireland the week before. Renewal. Restoration. Rededication. Revival. Shelli continues to urge me forward. ♥♥♥♥

The 4 a.m. Lord's Supper

A recent article (future to the rest of the world, as it will be published in June) was the subject of discussion yesterday. Even though the suggestion had been submitted by the editor many times, when it came to her desk as an article, it was sobering.

We were discussing the impact. The focus was a passage in First Corinthians 11:23-32 about the Lord's Supper. The sobering part has to do with judging ourselves and discerning the Lord's body. "For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord's body. For this cause many are weak and sickly among you, and many sleep [are dead]," (vv. 29-30).

Verse 31 swoops in with a breath of fresh air: "For if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged." I do believe I prefer to judge myself rather than to be chastened of the Lord! But even in that, He does it that we should not be condemned with the world. He is a beautiful, loving Savior.

In light of that, she shared some experiences and things she had witnessed. It inspired me. I had a plan. My intention was to come home after church, sit down to communion, and judge myself! I wanted to hit that cause of sickness and weakness, and eradicate it! I didn't. I ate a bunch of chicken and went to bed!

But I woke at 3 a.m. with the Lord's Supper on my mind. Our conversation yesterday brought up Smith Wigglesworth's practice of observing communion daily. I decided to do a bit of research. I came across this quote in an article on cfaith.com called Building a Wall Between You and Sin:

"The real change in Smith Wigglesworth did not come until he started getting up every day at 4 a.m. to take Communion.

"Like clockwork, every day he would begin the day remembering his covenant with Almighty God by taking the bread and the cup. Every day, he lived under the influence of that covenant. And every day, he became more and more bold - until, finally, he became one of the boldest men of God in history."

I looked at the time. I had 20 minutes until 4 a.m. I may as well launch this effort at 4 a.m. like Smith Wigglesworth! I gathered crackers, juice, and my Bible. I looked up scriptures and wrote them down on a card for future reference. But I spent my time in First Corinthians 11:23-32.

I got quiet. I asked the Lord to show me where and how to judge myself. When any specific situation came to mind, I apologized and asked for forgiveness. I repented for thinking low thoughts and asked Him to help me see things His way.

Then I thought about the setting in the scripture. Jesus, about to be betrayed, spent His last meal with the disciples and made a covenant. Knowing what was to come. Knowing His body would be broken. Knowing His blood was to be poured out. The blood of the new testament, the new covenant, His own "last will and testament" so to speak (but He would live again to oversee it). Wow.

So I spoke the words softly to myself before each element: "Take, eat: this is My body which is broken for you ..." I broke the cracker, and as I placed it in my mouth, tears came. "This cup is the new testament in my blood ..." The tears continued.

I don't know why I cry exactly. It seems like any time I am drawn out to God and express it somehow, tears are usually part of it. But in this moment, I don't even have the words as I reflect. It was simply a very personal time with Jesus . . . He and I connecting over covenant.

This will become part of my life, my dedication to Him. I will do this in remembrance of Him. I just don't know that I can consistently do it at 4 a.m. every day!