She was so busy trying to make sure I knew how important she was, that she never really answered how she was doing, only what she was doing.

She was so concerned with me knowing she had more influence and value that her first sentences were intent on proving that the world valued her and wanted her in ways I will never know the world valuing or wanting me. She spent our time speaking of herself, her awakening, her new open doors.

It was easy to listen. I was grieving. My mom had passed two days before.

It is easy to remember the dishonor that comes my way sometimes. It is easy for the brains of some to minimize the invisible experiences. It is easy for some to devalue the internal work I specialize in; they perceive my authority as a threat or me as someone they rise to impress. I remember the way the Lord solved that for me. I remember how he beckoned me on the day my heart broke. I remember his mention of how he too, was dishonored by men who thought their titles and their offers mattered more than his anonymity. As I was able to partake a small bit of what that was like for Him, my King, my focus on my own pain shifted, and the pain became an onramp into sharing his life more intimately. I bless Him in solving this that way for others. I can wait; He does.

That day in my office, when honor came from heaven, rises in memory. I knew he was there. He passed the test I give to spirits. He was not angelic; he was cloud. He had the ribbon/medal. I remember him explaining it to me. I remember knowing the Lord had wiped away the grief he felt when he realized he could have had much more healing on earth. I remember marveling that the Lord had showed him what he could have had, and the Lord’s wisdom and justice that he now got to give what would have been his to someone yet on the earth who was doing their work- working out their salvation with fear and trembling. I remember the honor when he chose me. Heaven honored me. Heaven gave me something of high value because they see me and know the cost. I remember the tears streaming down my face.

If God is for me, who can be against me? And if heaven honors me, how can it matter that man does not?

I think of how that experience also changed who comes to me for ministry.

Today I savor. The ways of God. His beautiful way of leading me. And Him, restoring my soul.

He weeps with my heart now.
His pride is a sacrifice in the incense of the holy place.
What you sacrifice once you always get to give.
It is the remnant that reveals what he rescued you from; it becomes beautiful because it now serves to reveal the depth from which he redeems.
Everything in heaven is changed by the cross.
The politics are settled.
The worries are done.
What he learned about stray thoughts here on earth is being magnified in heaven. The more you look, the larger it gets, in a way both unexpected and wonderful.
And it is never because of the deeds or focus of a man. But the deeds and focus of God within a man is what remains. Surely the grass withers; the flowers fade, and He who is the Word, became flesh and dwelt among us will stand forever.
The record, or testimony becomes a trail that leads to the throne. Heaven’s overlay is upon the things of earth for those who have eyes to see. The overlay carries the certainty. The earth is time to trust. When the certainty comes, the need for making sense loses its significance.
The idea that anything does not make sense is ludicrous when the old has passed away.

Fix your eyes. Let the revelation change you.
The hunger for understanding, the words and the intent, was hunger for God’s love.
The son goes farther than the father- this is not a challenge but a blessing.
Interpretations mature with heaven’s perspective.
How it seemed loses strength as the sun of a new day dawns and the truth of what is and what shall be molds over what was.
Hope without knowing what is hoped for, becomes faith in its remains.
He was led in the way that was right for him.
He was taught respect to prepare him for love.
He was affirmed.
He received.
He was ready.
And now.
He has permission to be a little boy and play.
He is known already for his zeal.
The appetite remains and the focus has changed.
Seeing through the eyes of heaven has created a cry for justice on the earth. Not just for the actions of others, but also for his own. Teachers everywhere will receive a new sound.
The fear of regret no longer blinds, when all condemnation and any possibility of it is removed for the last time.
Forgive what God has forgiven. Receive then, freely, what is released.
Pressed down, shaken together, running over.
The old has passed. The new must come.
Know the redemption! The measure of the wound is proportionate to the revelation needed for healing! Were you wounded? Aha! Then you get more of the cross!
The joy remains, as do the names in the wailing wall of my beloved.
Multiplication comes alongside forgiveness and gratitude.
Recognize the yearning to be great. We all have it. harness it under the cross. Let the blood that removes our name being associated with sin have its perfect work in also removing our names from the place where the glory belongs to the Lord.
From heaven, the view is that the night was divided from the day. And God said it was good.
The ode that remains is the one that furthers the testimony of Jesus upon the earth.
Selah.

Sometimes growth is as simple as defining what I am really mad at.
I know a teenager who is refusing to forgive someone right now.
They are of accountability age.
And they refuse, knowing they cannot be made to do so.
It is an internal work of the heart that involves mandatory participation of the will.
No, they say. I am not ready.
And it makes me SO mad!
How can a tree turn from the sun? How can water refuse its movement? How can air resist the wind?
I realize I perceive the infraction as small. Therefore I do not legitimize the need for a grudge to be held.
I have had to forgive far larger, and what the teen refuses to forgive seems petty to me.
But surely it is not petty to them.
And I realize the demand in my heart-
if I have to forgive what is impossible to forgive, then everyone around me should do the same!
Because if I have to forgive and everyone else does not, that doesn’t seem fair.
And lo, I have just stepped into judgment of another, the very thing I hoped to avoid by doing my own forgiveness.
Is my forgiveness then unconditional?
If others around me do not forgive, if they consciously choose to not forgive, will I still?
And I realize, this is the question of a laid down life.
This is the question my savior faced on a larger scale.
I am in awe again, of the work of the cross.
I am in awe again of his mercy.

I am having random thoughts this morning about letters, and the life of them.
I have been reading some stories that imagine the book of Acts in the Bible. As I read the stories I find myself interacting within the tale.
I realize I do this often when reading. And listening, and interpreting and…well, really all of my life.
I consider the Bible. How Jesus IS the word, made flesh and dwelt among us.
How in His words, and in His letters, I feel Him.
I think about how I can interpret the dream and feel the dreamer on the other side of it.
Or how, in giving a prophetic word, I sometimes pull from the future that is beyond the person.
I consider the unity of the brethren.
I ponder how the underground church in China operates, how there is non verbal communication about the time and location of a meeting, and how everyone knows and goes.
I am exploring today, how the grass withers, and the flowers fade, but the word of God stands forever.
Without the constraint of time, how does that all change?
Most of the times I have experienced heaven, there has not been verbal need. Thought is understood without speech.
And He is the word. And the word dwelled, and became flesh among us.
And somehow as I look at what is here and not there, I am left with bones.
Bones remain the longest of any part of our earthly bodies. The structure of our frame.
The way my spirit moves sometimes in heaven does not feel bone constrained.
And I wonder, if bones that are married with letters, are part of becoming one.
I think of John and his record- that we would be one with Jesus as He is one with the Father.
What if every word we ever think or speak forms the structure of who we are in heaven? And then how true we are to our faith becomes the level by which we are recognized in heaven.
Words.
I am speaking less of them these days.
But not as few as I used to.
Selah

I was in a group yesterday listening to some dialogue. One side of the dialogue presented the truth of heavenly stones come to earth. There was a need to defend this part of God’s manifestation on the earth, and almost a need to protect the reputation of the move. On the other side of the dialogue there was belief that other things in God are more important than the gems. There was also a lack of experience to color the dialogue.

I feel each side cannot hear the other in this. Having experienced the manifestation, I revel in the intensely personal nature of God who provides for me an actual piece of heaven. And I recognize the value in things he brings that I do not understand. It demolishes my idolatry of my intellect. There are moments when a gem is exactly what will be a part of my perfecting- there are other times when a gem might actually get in the way and cause me to turn towards the gem rather than the gem giver.

I walk with a group of people who dialogue and process through hard things together. For me it has immeasurable value. The new one who came needed to defend the gems because to him they were as important as what I consider immeasurable value. There has to be room for this. We all are made by God. All that we hold immeasurably value, together, makes us one.

This morning I was struck as I was driving, by a picture of the Bride.

She was overhead.
I always weep when he shows her to me this way.
Her arms were outstretched.
Her heart beat with a vibrancy.
I saw that I was close to her heart. That is, indeed, why some of my testimony is redeemed because of the Father’s heart it allows me to grasp.
I saw the young man- he was near her fingertips. In this season he is designed to be a part of the Bride manifesting on the earth which does include signs and wonders.
It is okay for us to each be where we are.
It is, in fact, necessary.
The important thing seems more that we respect each other as works in progress of Most High God.

I love that God used a gem to assure me I was in the right spot at the right time. I also love that he allows me to be in long term relationship with folks who are mature an suffer well.
In the words of Paul, in the book of Phillipians- 10-11 I gave up all that inferior stuff so I could know Christ personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering, and go all the way with him to death itself. If there was any way to get in on the resurrection from the dead, I wanted to do it.

Permission is granted to be the part of the bride you were created to be.

I remember the day. I was going into a memory from my past. The person facilitating for me was not well known yet. I watched her as I allowed the content of the memory to emerge. To make sure she would not fall apart. To make sure I would not have to rescue her. To make sure it was safe to let go.

And then I found.
Fear.
This was not a memory I could go to.
They would know.
He would know.
He would feel me accessing it.
He would use it as a doorway to find me.
And the final punishment, that I was born and bred for, would fall.
I was sure of this.

So I shared, with my facilitator, that I could not go because he would know.
She asked if it would be okay for us to ask Jesus about this.
Would I be willing to listen?

Yes.
And I heard a sound. A roaring sound. A rushing roaring wild loud sound. Crashing around me. Water. His voice as many waters. His answer to my fear. He said, in the midst of this loud crazy sound, that if Ray wanted to reach me, he would have to go through the sound of the Lord to get near. And I knew he would be unable. No power could get through this sound. This was the Lord. Uncreated God. The power stunned me.
In most of my healing he came as gentle. This sound of his power convinced my heart.

So I chose to look. And of course it was awful. And of course it involved Ray. But the fear of him touching me through my looking at the memory was gone. The sound surrounded me, the voice as many waters was my shield.

And when it was done, I chose to forgive. From the place of pain. Counting what it had cost me. All of it. I released my forgiveness. And then the Lord challenged me. Out of Matthew, chapter 5. Being perfect, as he is perfect. A step beyond forgiveness. A step into love. A step that was willing, in the place of being healed, of being healed so completely, of being able to say- when his book is examined, Lord, and you are judging him for his choices, let the actions he perpetrated against me be removed from his book. Because you have healed me. And his sin no longer matters or has influence in my life, other than to increase the justice and mercy I know from you. Let it not be counted against him, what he did to me. I choose love. To love my enemy. To not need to see him punished for what he did. To trust you that you will judge by the whole state of his heart, instead of the portion I saw expressed to me in violence and hatred and abuse.

And there was greatness there. Not greatness in me, but greatness the Lord had put in me of himself. It was me discovering his greatness. And it was greatness. Higher than my ways, or thoughts.

To be perfect, as my Father is perfect.

And the following week, during our preplanned family vacation, we visited Niagara Falls. And the sound of those waters…for me…was an echo of him. He knew. He knows. And He is knowing. Selah.

An angel showed up in my dining room a few days ago.
He was not intimidating.
He offered me a ring.
I asked who Jesus was to him.
His gaze went upward, his light changed and he began to proclaim that Jesus was the Christ, the one who is who was and who ever shall be.
I looked at the ring.
He looked at me.
This ring is an understanding of eternity that you shall need. I am giving it to you because of all the death that has been around you.
If it goes into your arms it will become strength to do.
If it goes into your thighs it will become faith.
If it goes into your heart it becomes hope.
If it goes into your belly it becomes joy.
If it goes into your back it becomes understanding.
If it goes into your feet it becomes mercy.
If it goes into your knees it becomes humility.

I asked where it might go to become love. He answered that love is already structured into me and that is why this ring works.

Where would you have chosen? I chose the belly. I miss the joy before so much death.

I heard a sermon after that. The sermon was being preached out of John. It talked about how John came to prepare the way. The valley will be filled. The mountains brought low. The crooked ways will be made straight and the rough places will be made smooth.

And it came to me, that the earth is round. And that if all these landscape changes took place, the earth would look a lot like that smooth ring. And I wonder if all of our paths were put together, and mapped out as terrain, if the terrain of the earth over time might be a reflection. I pause. I ponder.

It is the glory of the Lord to conceal a matter. It is the glory of the king to search it out.

The end of the day was a beautiful thought- what if everyone fought to do the dishes because they knew that he who served gains authority to bless, and that the joy of blessing the legacy that has entered the bloodline in one generation is exceedingly good?

The dishes were a joy this year.

The meal was rich and plentiful. Making the meal with others makes it more so.

There is something that has shifted and does shift each year when I put the bird into the oven. God notes the time. He orders the day around it. There is something significant between him and me when that part of the meal, which stays the same, yet always changes, is done. He speaks and sings and prepares, and adds and He becomes…life…in us and around us. He is always joy as we recall together the years it was not possible for me to remove the neck and gizzards myself. He is always hope as we put the bird in and expect the finished product to look and taste delicious. He is always love as he reminds me that the bird gave his life. While for the bird it was not a voluntary choice being made, yet it reminds him of his choice, that day. The full yes.

He gives me grace for the moments each year where all is not love. He longs with me for the time beyond, when all shall be so. He views Thanksgiving differently than most people I know. He was thankful before the Pilgrims. He is the tradition, not man.

He is with me each year as the meal becomes ready, in the moments where not everything is the same temperature and not everything turned out as planned; he reminds me of how my brain has changed, my capacity has changed, and within all that and above all that I am being made new. And I am a new creation, old things are passed away. And we share a moment, in awe of Him, and His ways, and His amazing grace.

I worked out in the morning. As soon as I got on the road the spontaneous thanks began. Thank you God for my breath, for this breath. For overwhelming my heart with your love. For the blood pumping from my heart, for keeping my heart’s emotions alive. Thank you for the brain you have given me. For taking me through the ups and the downs and the roller coaster moments an always circling me back into you. Thank you that you are YOU. We spend some wordless appreciation and tears there.

Thank you for my husband. What a perfect man you chose to perfect me, to sharpen me, to bump me into new levels of yourself. And each child comes next. The tears are streaming as the gratitude flows. My friends are listed and rehearsed and blessed. Every mentor. And each client. And our pets. And then those who have gone on, remembering an thankful for their touches and the the changes they have brought. Then the stuff. I find that when I let it flow through me spontaneously without filter, it is also a super good tool to see that balance remains, and order is in alignment with the ways of Him.

How great is our God! When he brought me out of captivity, we were like those who dreamed. Then our mouths were filled with laughter, and we began to sing. And they said among the nations, the Lord has done great things for us! Yes the Lord has done great things! And we are glad! Those who sow in tears, shall reap in joy. (I borrowed that last paragraph from David.)

Surely he makes everything beautiful in its time. (I borrowed that from David’s son.)

There are seasons more intense than others.
This has been a deep time for me. While my communion has enlarged, I am often left without words to express- the hard awful stuff has brought some completion and changes and I can feel the way I evaluate life changing. One thing the Lord has me doing is reading Scripture aloud to him. I am in the Gospel of John and am struck by how the changes in me have changed the way I read, the pace, the interpretation, the pondering.
Today I was in John 5. I had just heard Dr. Suuquina teach the Hebrew of the Pentateuch so the number 5 being highlighted as the number of porticos at the pool of Bethesda stopped me. How rich when the structure of a life points to God and His ways. Savoring. And I see how the man gets healed and the rulers are so bound by religion they cannot appreciate the miracle. Surely religion always needs to protect its laws lest it be threatened. I sigh. And then I stumble into Jesus response. I am struck that the Father judges no one, for he has given all authority to judge to the Son. And because the Son is now a man, the Father has given the Son the authority to judge the sins of all mankind. But he did not come to condemn. He came to seek and save that which was lost. And as I look at judging in that light, I see, he needed to judge my sin so that he could accurately divide between spirit and soul and die for what separated me from God. He judged my sin so he could assume the debt into his crucifixion.
What would it be like if we judged each other by that standard. If I looked at you and the places I saw your sin would only bring the awareness in me of how much you get to understand his life, his suffering, his death, and his resurrection. What if I did not condemn you for your deficits but it only brought the awe of what the completed picture of you might entail?
What a different picture than what we often do. Assess, judge, decide, opine.
It is funny that in the same passage Jesus notes it is not him that will incriminate me, but Moses. If I look to the law for my resurrection, the law has the power to proclaim my guilt before God.
I am undone by the truth that he looked at me, he saw me, he judged my sin so that he could assume my debt before God. I rest on that precipice today. All else seems smaller in comparison.

Yesterday, I looked at the hardest thing I have ever faced. In the greatest detail. With full emotional connection throughout.

I saw him as he chose to put every heart he was dying for, on the altar at the top of God’s mountain. I could not have doe it without being connected to God and being plugged into my timeline.

The way he came yesterday for me was unusual.
I thought I would write about that today.

I had been listening to a song by Will Regan and United Pursuit. I lean not on my own understanding…my life is in the hands of the maker of heaven. And then it changes into- I will climb this mountain with my hands wide open – I know that I can trust you.

When I began to connect with him in the time set aside for healing yesterday, he came as God. He came as a mountain. I was on his/its side. It was steep. And I was asked to just focus on the next step and to let my hands remain open.

He was in the mountain. He was the mountain. He touched me through it.

At one point I saw Jesus, off to the side. He was on the cross. And I saw a new component. In addition to taking on all sin, rebellion, iniquity, curses and covenants, in addition to taking all trauma, all disease, all infirmity, all sickness, in addition to the identificational thing he did there for each one of us, he also sacrificed.

He looked at every heart that he was dying for. He saw them, knew them, loved them. And he offered them up, as a sacrifice, to his father, on the top of the mountain, so that they would retain their free will. Through his suffering, he learned obedience. This was a part of that, I think. Loving so much that I would die for someone, yet still being willing to not demand any love or loyalty in return. Suffering in the truth that some will go their own way and find a destruction they were never intended for, and choose it, time after time after time, until choice is yielded to the substance of decision.

At one point, during my climb yesterday, I was asked to make my own sacrifice. The hearts that are dear to me, would I be willing, to identify with Abraham, to identify with Jesus, in my small way, and yield my rights to the role that I had perceived was mine as a christian? Would I be willing to stop interceding out of fear that if I stopped they would go astray? The indirect strength that came from Jesus as he made his sacrifice came to me through the mountain of God and aided me.

And if obedience is defined as alignment, it is greater in me today. And if suffering means choosing that which is right no matter how hard, I have suffered. I feel changed today. And I have much to ponder. I cling to the truth that he makes everything beautiful in its time. The fulness has not yet come.