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!

Easter

John 20:11-13 (MSG) But Mary stood outside the tomb weeping. As she wept, she knelt to look into the tomb and saw two angels sitting there, dressed in white, one at the head, the other at the foot of where Jesus’ body had been laid. They said to her, “Woman, why do you weep?”

Why do I weep?

Maybe because I am a woman? (LOL).
Because my heart is engaged.
I miss someone.  And sometimes that someone is me.
My heart is drawn out to God.
My dreams are torn.
Worlds collide.
I feel relief.

But this weekend, I wept because I saw new life. I watched others as they probably felt all of these things while they heard about new beginnings that could spring from the God-shaped hole in each of their hearts.  Not just a beginning ... a NEW beginning.  Fresh. Clean. Beautiful. Worthy of tears.

Shake It Out

So far, 2012 has been one for the books! The trials have been ones I would have rather not experienced ... EVER ... but at the same time, the triumphs are starting to build.  So much of that seemed showcased as my "little" Miss M (who is now officially a teenager) danced to "Shake It Out."

I can't watch her dance to those words without crying.  It's a pretty personal statement of her own struggle. She's had to wrestle a good bit of darkness.  And we're starting to see some real light at the end of the tunnel.  Tears come even now.

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaaah
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh woah

It's Gonna Be Alright

Very uncanny week ... started with "Letting Go" at the single mother's breakfast at church and a very poignant letting go at Jeff's memorial yesterday afternoon.  This afternoon, prayer came like it hadn't for years, and as much as it was for another, it made my heart break, too, because I wasn't sure I could ever get back there.  And I even feel like I heard God speak inside me ... "THIS is what you are supposed to be doing. All that other stuff can wait."

I cried at every turn, too, it seems ... Nicole's passion as she read the scripture, Jeff's life now missing in a big jubybean-shaped hole, questions about auditions that I've been too afraid to commit to, a message on the heart that hit home, suddenly praying like I used to long ago (and so humbled that God could still find enough to work with in me), reminders of past relationships, and the great awareness that if I want to move forward, I have to do some letting go.

Of course, so many little music things keep cropping up again.  And it seems to happen with the seasons, so it isn't new.  So when I heard that Dennis Jernigan was going to be at Victory tonight, I knew I wanted (maybe needed) to be there.  And I did. 

This song captured my heart tonight ...

It's gonna be alright, child
Even through the darkest night, child
I'll even use the darkness
To teach you how to hear Me
It's gonna be alright now
Even if you don't see how
I'll even use your failure
To help you to draw near Me

Hear Me, I am calling,
"Child, come falling deeper in love with Me."
Trust Me, you must let go
Or you will never know any deeper love in Me

It's gonna be alright here
If you will let Me hold your heart near
I'll even use your sorrows
To teach you how to love Me
It's gonna be alright, child
I'll hold you really close and tight, child
I'll even use your woundings
To help you know more of Me

Hear Me, I am calling,
"Child, come falling deeper in love with Me."
Trust Me, you must let go
Or you will never know any deeper love in Me

Why do you hold on to the things of your past
Let go and cling to Me and love that will last
How can you know Me if you do not trust My love
Let go! You'll find My love is more than enough.

Emerging

This is my son ... nearly 19 years ago.  This is the smile and laughter and light in his eyes that made me so proud to be his mom.  What an amazing experience.  What a frightening experience!  Frightening because this life is developing its first impressions of everything in my care.  I made some mistakes.  But I also did some great things.  And I saw great things in him ... then and now.

As the years went by and some of the mistakes went unnoticed or more mistakes were made in trying to make up for the previous ones, the laughter all but disappeared.  It's been a personal heartache that the laughter changed, that the light in his eyes dimmed, and that he had to experience anything that got in the way of the amazing person God created to emerge into this world.

But I'm humbly changed and thankful and proud.  On his own two feet, he is experiencing not just some hard things ... but recently some wonderful ones as well.  I won't tell his story, but I will publicly say I am proud of him for following his heart.

And as I reflect on motherhood, it makes me reflect on godliness ... makes me want to be closer to God, closer to my children, and a better mother/daughter/friend/sister.  I'm so horribly imperfect and a workaholic and sometimes consumed by just making it through the tough places.  But I have my feet on the path.  And that's a good place to be.

My Boy is 18!!!

I'm not sure how that is possible ... and yet the road certainly seems that long when viewed in certain ways.  There have been shining moments and dark days.  But one thing remains, I love him.  For friends and family who don't know, we tried a move to Ohio to see if it helped bring an uphill curve, so it's been very different without him in Oklahoma!  And celebrating special days is not very easy.  I probably went a little bit overboard compiling all kinds of memories for his birthday, but here's his own blog page from my heart:  http://indigobleue.blogspot.com/p/happy-birthday-jeremy.html

My Own Tears

Evidently, my own love of dance is still alive. Through all the admirable antics of leaps, hip-hop and every other dance form I don't know how to spell (krunk???) ... by the end of the night, two pieces touched me inside. This particular one was my favorite. I don't recall the name. I don't even recall the music. But it was about addiction, and it moved me. That abusive manipulation personified shook me. I kept trying to keep my camera shooting through the tears. And when it was over quietly wiped my eyes hoping the girls didn't notice. But I was glad for those moments. When I feel deeply, I feel alive.

Life Blows By ...

It all happens so quickly ... life happens. Good things. Hard things. Important things. Beautiful things. Really HARD things. No matter how long the unfavorable circumstances seem to drag on and on, looking back feels like the wind. I can only pray that I can look back on moments like this and feel the same way.

Today I am lamenting. I am angry, too. And I wish I had the words to explain in ways that the world opposite from me could understand. But it would take a book. I have searched my brain for a suitable summary but can find none that is adequate beyond a diatribe.

I try to step back and realize that most of us never intended to be where we are today. I try to accept the fact that every individual has his or her own sense of reality. But when the past, present, and future collide and perspectives are imbalanced ... it all jams up in the middle like an old typewriter. No one's story is seen or heard. Well, I take that back. The loudest, angriest and most selfish voices get heard. And unfortunately, it is the ones who try the hardest to lessen the hurt who are hammered on the most.

The jam up seems so unfair. It's not uncommon. Just unfair. As the years roll by, I begin to understand how people can be bitter. But I understand it anew ... it's not just by being wronged. We have all been wronged. It comes (and feels rightly so) when having to have prolonged dealings with those people who are completely unyielding and cannot see a perspective other than their own hurt.

There was a time when I was extremely compassionate towards people locked in such a quandry ... hurt and hurting others. Down deep, I know I still do, but I think I have started to "qualify" it first. I am finding that it does no good to be understanding when it is a one-way street. In fact, I am shocked by how often the one who offers understanding not only does not receive it in reciprocation but rather like an inmate, those things that could have been a constructive instrument have been fashioned into a weapon and used against the one who held out his or her hand in the first place.

When I see someone wielding that weapon or hear someone squawking about all the things that others have done to them, instead of immediate compassion, I now feel suspicion. I don't take it at face value. I've seen too many things too closely that make me wonder what the REAL story is. I'm more tempted to examine the squawker! Does anyone see the years they caused heartache or sucked the life out of the one they claims hurt them? Does anyone know about all of the attempts toward healing that the squawker thwarted? Does anyone ever realize that the one playing the victim is simply doing what they do best - making sure everyone else is at fault? Never has the thought been more poigniant: When you point a finger at someone, you have three more pointing back at you.

Yes, I have been hurt ... extremely so. So in many ways I understand. I have my own squawking moments, too. I'm sure everyone does. But one thing I can say for myself that I can't always say for others is that I do actually try and understand. In fact, what has hurt me more than anything is understanding too much. And my greatest regret at times is that I haven't tossed it aside and been the first one to the squawking block. But you know what? I don't WANT to live like that. I crave truth. I crave harmony. I crave peace. I crave understanding. I crave transparency. And I crave it to my own hurt.

So on it goes ... selfish people consuming others and blaming them for it.

Whether I am the audience or the target, I can say that my heart aches most when I can do nothing to stop the cycle and the pain oozes through the ones I love. And I pray for it to end, knowing that it might take a miracle. And I plead with invisible voices, "Hasn't there been enough hurt already?" And I know that the toll will be felt by all, and probably the most innocent among us will hurt the most.

But at the same time, it strengthens my resolve to not let myself fall to circumstance. It shakes me enough to snap me out of whatever pity party may have been trying to cloak my shoulders. And I see how fortunate I am even amidst my own challenging circumstances. Yes, there has been enough hurt already. And tomorrow, I hope I can mark it with joy and appreciation and love. Instead of wind rushing through ... I will be looking for the breath of fresh air.