In April, at a special event, the Lord had asked me to walk in the cool of the day with him. We spoke about Job as the sun set. He asked me how it would be, if I learned that He had pointed me out as well, to the enemy. Have you considered my servant Tanya? I did not know what to say.

This Sunday, he told me to read John 7 and 8. I noticed how the scribes and Pharisees treated him. He reminded me of a church trial I had three years ago. My friends had been banned. I was not banned but a statement was read in the community recommending my friends and I were not to be trusted. I did not return. As the Lord brought this up, he asked me why I did not go back. I said that leaders instructing people not to trust me would prohibit me from community. He said oh. Then I got it. Scribes and Pharisees were telling people not to trust him. He still continued to go. I realized I had missed it. He said Man cannot legislate trust. I asked why I could not hear him during that season, instructing me to go. He said I could not have heard him, so he did not say it. I wept.

Then yesterday, I woke up with such energy. The Lord had been missing the songs I sing while doing stuff around the house, and I sang and sang. Order was in place to get a bunch of stuff done. The flow was so life giving. The Lord knew I was seeing my counselor that day and he asked if I would be willing to look at a memory involving my Dad. For the friends that get confused and think he was the satanist, I call him my step dad. But he met my mom when I was six weeks, married her when I was four, adopted me when I was six and remained her husband till she passed last November. He had been struggling physically in California. At 96 the list of things gone wrong was big. Yes, Lord. I trust. My history with him in healing has restored that. trust.

Then I got the call. He had passed. All the local family had seen him yesterday. He waited until everyone was gone. And the Lord called him home.

I realized all the energy came because the burden was gone. I went out to check my garden. My cucumbers were great. My dad love cukes. My tomato plants were being destroyed by ladybugs. I sighed. And I heard my dad. Maybe next year, he said. Just like he was there, sharing my disappointment.

That was when I knew my day was going to be very strange.

Recently the Lord had me look at the toughest thing I had ever seen.
With the viewing came questions that I am yet pondering.
In the midst of the time, his mercy was to show me something that would stay with me and remind me of eternity.
It was a book. It is a book. It is also life. It belongs to the lamb.
In it are written all the names of those He created
When someone prays for another person it strengthens their name being embedded in the book. It is like going over something that is already written. Making is more visible.
Each person has permission, through their life, to choose their name to be in that book or to remove it.
The book is also the Lord. Being written into the book, in varying degrees, parallels my experience of being ‘in Him”.
The authority on the earth of the good to keep the name in the book is always stronger than the authority of evil to remove it.
Each person gets to choose. Their choice has more influence over their name remaining in the book than anything else. Things that are done to us, curses that are laid on us, bloodline issues, ownership rights, blessings, affirmations, prayers…everything that affects us affects the name in the book. Our full names are written. The name itself breathes the essence of the person it is associated with.
It seems like all the enemys plans were to take my name out of that book.
But what the enemy intended for evil, God turned for good.
I see the book and its change through the ages. As people are added and as people choose to be removed.
The book is the lamb. The book is the Bride. The book is the church. The book is life.
Choose today who you will serve.
This day I choose, life.
selah.

I am not sure how many children need to be trained the way I was.
Perhaps those who hurt me were concerned that I would give them away by being an emotional basket case.
I am sure that along the way I have had friends who perceived me as coldhearted because of it.
The area of my heart that would have developed the capacity to miss people was seared early on.
People were there then they were not. To miss them in any way was cause for severe punishment. There was training done as well, to test.
If I missed someone or had any emotional reaction to their departure, I failed the test.
As I see the Lord healing my heart in this area during the last season, I am realizing the reasons he did not heal it before.
I didn’t want him to.
To miss people is painful.
The pain takes away my breath and I gasp, unable to form a coherent thought while the wave engulfs me.
I weep.
There is no obvious good to be gained.
I weep again.
Nothing changes and I still miss.
Today was a breakthrough day for me.
I must have been ready to hear him and not reject what he said.
I was in the car, driving.
And seemingly out of nowhere, he said…
the reason I am restoring your ability to miss is because
I want you to share my heart in how I long for, and miss, my Bride.
He steals my breath in a different way than the pain.
I receive that what is hard is yet good.
I weep, but not without hope.
Every essence that has been transformed by love will remain, in part, through eternity.
There are times ahead when my heart will not miss anymore.
And I guess, while I am here, when I miss, I will share
the fellowship of the sufferings
that perfect me.

I remember hearing, sometimes as a child, to say ‘when’. It usually related to pouring being done for me. It was my power to say when the cup was full enough. I think of that today. Saying ‘when’.

Recently the Lord asked me write down all the things I want.
Whew! I have a list.
I want so and so healed.
I want this breach of relationship fixed.
I want such and such for my daughters.
I want….
so much.
He has begun talking to me about my list.
Is it his list? Have I formed ideas about him based on my list?
When did it become about what I wanted?
Am I praying the right way?

Do I pray like a victim, just interceding as needed in the way I think things should go? How very arrogant! I repent.
I am looking at the Lord telling Moses that the Israelites are to camp by the sea. The wicked ones that pursue them will think they are foolish. And when God pulls out the miracle, and they get set free, an the wicked will honor the Lord.
When was the last time I prayed for someone to get into an impossible situation?
Not like a witchcraft prayer, so they would be punished or return to their senses, but so that, when God rescues them miraculously, the wicked, that pursued them, will honor God?
I look at God giving the wisdom to Moses, when three days out the water was bitter. The tree, into the water. My Jesus, his cross, into the water, making the bitter sweet. What a picture for me today.
How extravagant are His ways! How large is His understanding!

It does not seem coincidence to me that with the understanding of the power encounters in Exodus, we are in the place of difficulties that surface our hearts. It feels like the order of the Lord. The timing of Father.
I look at the next crisis. Food. God knew they needed to eat. And God knew they still thought like slaves. They did not trust Him. And hunger allowed it to surface. In this time of fasting, there have been things surfacing in my heart. About this person, or about that situation, or my attempt to put things together in my mind when I don’t know the whole story. How merciful is our King, that he would allow these things in my soul to raise their voice, so that I can become larger than my soul!

I am getting ready to do the outreach in the desert. How perfect of Him to place me in His word when wilderness is the scenario.
The humility it allows, and the submission it encourages, bring me into a deeper flavor of awe.
There is no God like our God. He is the Lord, and there is no other. Selah.

Today I heard the instruction- to study the tests in the wilderness next. To Exodus I go. Psalm 78 gripped me today. The sudden angle of God, that he knew they would be thirsty, he knew they could last three days, and he did not provide is highlighted. Why? My sense is that if he had provided they never would have seen the place in their heart that did not yet trust. Psalm 78 says God was upset before the quail…he had heard their doubt and unbelief- that makes me wonder- about life before the fall –and the absence of unbelief. Before doubt crept in. God is reconciling us back to that relationship. It is always on his mind.

I heard a man named Steve Carter say today, that wilderness is, about going into the unknown, alone, with Father. Truly my wilderness is that.

As I experience what is going on with my family, and with my friends, I am so aware of the different shapes the wilderness takes for each of us. My own has been to face what I did not have the courage to face- dying to myself and allowing Father to show me what is not reconcilable in my heart- so that I may know a different level of reconciliation with him. Intense. Deep. Hard to articulate and sometimes best expressed by tears. I am so grateful for friends who companion me through this desert. I am so grateful for Father choosing to lead me here.

I heard today that in the day of Moses, striking a staff was symbolic of entering a court room. I think of yesterday, the staffs in the room, and the corporate intercession that opened a heavenly appeal for us. I think of the soldier running the stick into the body of Jesus, and I know that resembled the appeal that Jesus’ life became on my behalf. Surely nothing is too hard for my God! My hope rests, and finds life, that he will do what he knows is best for me. It may not seem like he is answering my perceived need, but only if there is a reason- such as- my heart needing to be revealed and my lack of trust needing to be acknowledged.

All of his ways are good. And under his wing I rest. As the wilderness I explore. And become who he died for me to be able to be. Selah.

It has been a while since I wrote. So much has happened. So much has changed.
Yesterday my mom would have been 91, had she lived.
I traveled to Batavia to facilitate a heavenly appeal for an extraordinary violinist.
On the way I called my Friday morning friend to bless him.
What is usually a time where I bless his spirit for 20 minutes…turned into a time of AHS evictions. I think Mom would be able to respond from heaven in a way she was not able to respond from the earth. I long to hear the different response.
Father gave me a prophetic word through a friend after the appeal. And on the way home he overshadowed me to help me receive the word at a deeper level. I have gotten this word from him three times over the past few weeks, from different people. He is so proud of me. He is proud of my prep for the desert, and how I am handling different relational difficulties right now. He is proud of me. I weep.
I had to cross the Fox river last night to get to my destination. Since the fourth, and the time on the boat in that river, something between that river and me has changed.
The year has been about growth, especially in the area of connecting to God through creation.
I host an amazing group of people that take turns leading and it has been great fun and incredibly life giving for me. The Lord knew I would need the life giving stuff in the face of the chaos.
Five years ago, my husband’s dad died. The year after it was his mom. Then a dear friend traversed the brutality of ALS and passed away. After that a dear friend I had worked with who had found wholeness died as a martyr, from cancer. Last year my mom transitioned into eternity. Currently my aunt by marriage and my step dad are both in hospice care. And my husband’s best friend has methosalemioa. He has lived beyond the date they gave, and is on what he calls borrowed time. So much death,
and then there is the work I do for others, where spirits that have been stuck need help transitioning and I facilitate that. It has been busy, and challenging, and new.
In continuing my own healing journey, I am struck by how much the Lord has done. I pause, I reflect, and I thank him. It is all about him.
A couple of friends called up a few weeks ago. They wanted to give me my birthday present early. Okay….the Lord worked it out that half our group was delayed so our meeting did not start. They game and they handed me…a bag. Inside the bag was…a stone. They said it was a living stone. Sometimes living stones grow as you look at them. And it fell…from heaven. There had been a meeting in Palbook, a little Korean church up the road. And the gemstones had fallen. And they had scooped one up for me, for my birthday, and I am undone. I had asked, and asked, and asked for a stone from heaven. It never manifested for me. Because Father’s plan was to give one to others, and through men I would receive my request. I marvel at the hand of God. I marvel at his ways. And I marvel that he is proud of me. Who am I, that God should even notice me? And yet his love, sacrificed life for me. Wrecked. Surely he makes everything beautiful in its time. Surely his plans are for a future and a hope. I rest.

Something borrowed, something blue, something old, something new…

Thoughts emerge about getting the Bride ready.

The way we do church has got to change.,

We are not the Johnny Carson show. Meetings were not intended to revolve around one sheep bigger than the rest while the other sheep come and eat. And come and eat. And atrophy.

There is a longing in me for us to prove that together we are stronger than being alone.

So yes, I am starting a group. maybe more than one.

But I am not going to lead it all the time. Each of us has stuff to bring. A lifetime of seeing God. How do we rotate through and become the sum of more than just one? How do we make the risk acceptable so people feel safe to fall forward?

We are on the something new phase of getting ready for a wedding.

More beautiful than Miss America, more loyal than the armed forces, more sensitive than any new ager, and more anticipatory than any bridegroom, the Bride is emerging. I feel her gather…together we are her.

I had sent him a birthday card and written a note on the inside. I had told him how important Jesus was and that I hoped he knew him.

So he came. One day when I got home with the two kids, he was there. In the house.
Oh no.
He had decided to teach me a lesson. That is what Dads do for their daughters.
He had brought two friends. They were old men like him. men who grinned at others being hurt. Men who were so dead inside that they had to hurt and hurt and hurt others to get any kind of sensual sensation.
Oh no.
There was a younger man there, who took one of my kids and went with him to his bedroom. Grinning.
Oh no.
Me and the child that remained were ushered into the garage.
They had set up a workbench there.
Covered in plastic.
My child was placed on the workbench. They had blindfolded me while they stripped her and tied her down. She was crying.
oh no.
I cry.
One of the other men spat at me.
Renounce him. It was a growl.
Renounce him or else. Jesus.
I couldn’t.
And his knife came down. Into her body. Slashing and dicing and shredding her little body. Into ribbons and blood. Killing her. I could not think. It could not be. Oh my God. She was dead. I stood, numb. No. No. No.
They told me I was a bad girl.
I had to stand in the corner.
Renounce him. A different growl, same request.
Renounce him and we will bring her back from the dead.
That is what they wanted. My faith that they had that power.
Renounce him. Words for a life. Possible sin I could never absolve. But a life. Her life.
So I did. And with my back turned I renounced that I believed in his name and his love, and his power.
They turned me around.
And there she was. Pink and breathing. Her eyes were closed. But she was alive.
It is hard to recall all the emotions in the tears.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
And now that she was back, they knew they could do anything. And I would agree.
They had a container. It contained…the essence of a man. His spirit. Recently killed.
And they had a cat. A black cat, that was tied in a burlap bag.
And their motives are always to keep as many as possible from ever knowing the freeing love of Christ.
The child they had killed, that I thought was my girl, the child’s spirit had not yet left for heaven. So they killed the cat to connect them. The child and the cat. They put the cat on a spit. At his other end, the human spirit of the man chose to be attached for wicked purpose. They burned the cat so he could attach. Strange fires, human and animals.
I remember they burned the cat so long he dripped. I got burned by one drop, as I reached under him.
The men and their eyes grew glazed. The energy of entities in the room made it cold. There were chants, whispers, promises.
And then.
Somehow.
The spirit of the man was in me.
Hating God.
And the spirit of the child was in my child. Captive, unable to ascend.
The Lord saw. And He knew. And he waited.
Years for me. For him, no time.
And today he came.
He shined his light.
He applied his power.
He came and conquered. He came and saved. He made wrong things right.
And He brought the child home. And he compensated the earth. And he ushered the wicked one to the place his choices preferred.
He makes everything beautiful in its time.
Because that is who he is and that is what he does.

I am sill absorbing the freedom I feel tonight. And the joy that is pushing out the sorrow. That night is over. My morning has come. Surely he does all things well, and right on time. Awe leaves me without words. Who is like our God? And who can give him this glory except one who has seen his power here? And if these present sufferings are not worthy to be compared, then the glory that is coming…must be very great indeed.

So there I am, at the beach. This is my favorite place to be with God. The question is, where on the beach? Where should I go?
The Lord highlights an area.
Of course! My kids were baptized there! We used to do outreach there!
I have friends that still go there and pray!
So I arrive. And I am thankful, giving him praise for all the amazing things that have happened on that land, near or in those waters.
And then I pause to listen. I sense he wants to speak.
It is not those things.
What?
It is not those things that make this land special to me, when I think of you.
What?

What am I missing Lord?
This is one of my favorite places to meet with you. But it is not for those reasons.
Okay, then…why is this special Lord?
This land is special, Tanya, because it is here that you came to throw sand at me. It is here that you chose, when you found a truth previously hidden, to come and to tell me that I was not who I said I was. It was here that you trusted me with your deepest pain. It was here that you allowed yourself to get really mad at me. It was here that you got real with me.
Whoa.
That upsets what I thought I knew.
Again.
It is not always the happiest memories that go the deepest.
When I am willing to share my true heart in its messiest place, that matters far more to him than anything.
Feeling realigned to Him.
And every time I went to the ocean this time, that is where I found myself. Again. With him.

My primary redemptive gift is giver. Arthur helped me a lot in gaining the right actions so that the negative head of Leviathan could be quenched in my life and become food instead. At any given moment I am a part of a swirl that comes from before and moves into the future. Less and less of life is about consuming. More and more is about investing. I am not here to own stuff. I am here to steward during my time. This paradigm makes it very easy to see that the church in the western culture must undergo serious change. We cannot make a person be in the spotlight while others laze away. Each person in a group must be sparked and growing. If the one who has the most developed gifting is the center, that one will not be provoked to grow in their own areas of deficit. The Johnny Carson show was all about Johnny. That model is not good for the human heart.

So when it comes to giving, I love to give where I see Father’s hand. He is so much better than me at seeing the hearts involved.

But recently, he asked me to give into a group that does ministry. I have seen financial fiasco with this group. I have heard many complaints. I have been very hurt by the wounded financial posture here. And I asked-really?

He answered me this way. He showed me his son on the earth. Watching fishermen. That had not caught a thing. He saw their struggles. He filled their net. He fed them. I savor his goodness.

Then I see the same son, calling these fishermen. Training them. In ways they had not previously known. Fishing. Different bait, different catch. Enlarging their mind. Awakening their spirit. Gripping their hearts.

That, I identify with! I sing! Yes! I would much rather teach a person to fish than feed them God! I understand feeding needs be for a while. But then, let’s fish!

He gentles me. That is not the end, little one. A teaching moment approaches.

And I remember the day. The time he returns me to, time before and time after time. There, by the fire. After the fact. When the hearts have been revealed. The ugliness has been seen. And no model for reconciliation exists.

John 21. Peter is going back. Back to his old way. He doesn’t know how to re enter love. And Jesus. Sits by the fire. Cooking fish. The ordinary kind. To restore relationship. To make wrong things right. This is not about ministry. This is what love does. Love feeds the hungry. Love heals the sick. Love casts out fear, and doubt, and shame. This love.

And He says, give to the family, not the ministry. Give because they struggle in finding their way back. Give to the father, so he may feed his family. I work all things together for good. Give, and believe.

And here, is the peace. And the reason. And the hope. Not for what may be done for me. But what continues may continue in the faith of our living God. Selah.