Messenger

Sometimes on Fridays I join up with Lisa Jo Baker’s Five Minute Fridays.  She gives a word prompt to write about for five minutes with no editing.  Today’s word prompt is “messenger”.

 

Messenger:   One who bears a message, one who has a purpose, an important word or action to share with their audience.

Every day, I am a messenger.  What message are people receiving from my life?

Jesus commands, “Go and tell the world.”  Not, “go and tell your family or your close friends.”

“Go and tell the world!”  The world is a scary place; they might not like your message.  Back in the day of the prophets, the recipients of their message often killed the messenger.

Am I willing to go to such scary lengths to share the Message?

Do I have a message to share?

Am I allowing God to infuse my soul with His message so I can then “Go and tell”?

I’ve been listening to Dan Allender’s series on the “Wounded Heart”.  Something he said grabbed my heart.  He says if you are totally at home in your home, then your life is already a violation of the Gospel.  Jesus didn’t limit the expanse of where we are called to share the message.  He didn’t say feel free to stick within a 10 mile or even 100 mile radius of your comfort zone.

Jesus says “Go to all the world.”   Am I willing to accept my calling as a messenger for God no matter where it may take me?  Am I willing to stop feeling comfortable in order to get out there and be a messenger?

“Go and tell.”  Go and be a MESSENGER!

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Hands – In Honor of my Dad

In loving memory of my dear Dad, gone for 2 and 1/2 long years now……

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Hands that held so many responsibilities, so many stories, so many memories.

Hands that were rough-hewn and callous and bloodied so that your family would be well cared for.

Hands that lifted many a weary troubled heart to their heavenly Father.

Hands that could be both strong and tender.

Hands that cradled that well-worn Bible lovingly every morning.

Hands that patted the heads of many little ones.

Hands that gripped a basketball or a baseball bat to play with your baby girl even though you were weary from a long day’s work.

Hands that covered mine when you were teaching me how to drive tractor when I could still barely reach the clutch.

Hands on my shoulder to say you got my back, and you’re there behind me all the way.

Hands that would playfully “chuck” our chins when we were little.

Hands that constantly moved when you were talking, shaping your story in the air.

Hands that were firm when we needed punishment.

Hands that guided mine when you were teaching me how to cast a fishing line.

Hands that were lined with care, creased with love, and gnarled with hard work.

Hands that showed me the way to the Father.

Dad, I miss seeing your strong, big-veined hands.  As a nursing student, I picture your big “lovely” veins criss-crossing your hands – they would have been perfect to practice inserting IV’s.  (Sorry dad!)  I miss those hands emphatically waving in the air as you made a point or showed us the story you were telling.  I miss seeing those hands holding your Bible every morning.  I miss the guiding presence of those hands.  Most of all I miss seeing those hands on the small of Mom’s back when you were walking together.  I really miss you in every moment of every ordinary day and especially on the special days of my life.  But Dad, I just want to thank you for being such an awesome Dad and for always showing us love with your hands even when you were punishing us for bad behavior.  Thank you for never harming us kids with your hands.  Thank you for never raising them in anger against us.  For you and your example of what it means to live for Jesus, I am forever grateful.  Because of your loving, guiding hands I am a strong, confident woman today and I have hope of one day grasping your hand in eternity as a “welcome home!”

 

 

The song Daddy’s Hands by The Judds

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzvN4qwqEIE

 

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Glue (Five Minute Friday w/Lisa Jo Baker)

Shattered dreams

Broken lives

Disjointed beliefs

A soul that’s splintered

I look at the pieces of my life.  And I despair.

There’s harsh words spoken with which I broke relationships.

There’s secret sins that ripped apart trust.

Just when I think that there is no hope for the million scattered pieces – Jesus shows up.

And He picks up those tiny shattered soul-bits.

Those soul-bits – unlike me, Jesus doesn’t condemn them and throw them away in disgust.

No, Jesus takes His glue and He puts the pieces back together again.

The glue of His love, His forgiveness, His mercy.

The glue of Redemption holds me together and gives me hope for today and peace for the moment.

Jesus knows the price of this glue He uses to redeem me.  He knows the stabbing pain of broken pieces.

After all, His body was broken for me. There on the cross where God looked away.

God looked away from His broken Son so that one day He could look at me in all my brokenness and glue my broken soul back together again.

“Crowd” (Five Minute Friday with Lisa Jo Baker)

Pressing

Jostling

Shoving and pushing

Smells of humanity wafting over her.

Disdain and rejection distancing her.

But yet she fought her way through that crowd just to touch a fringe of cloth.

His cloth.  The cloth of the Healer.  The One who doesn’t reject.  The One who doesn’t disdain.

Murmurs of disgust from the crowd and exclamations of “how dare she” hissed all around her.  Trying to discourage her courage, her passion for healing.  Just a touch of His garment, that’s all she dared hope for. 

“Who touched Me?”  He asked. 

“Oh no!  How could He know?!  Now I’m caught, now I’m going to be humiliated and berated!”  She tries to melt back into the crowd at first but then, she catches a glimpse of His face.

That face that knows all, yet loves deeply.

That face that isn’t accusing but is genuinely desiring to know who had connection.

That face that seeks each pair of eyes in the crowd and intimately knows each one lost in that crowd.

A crowd of humanity with all their brokenness and all their diseases and yet a crowd who stirs in Him the deepest love one could ever hope for, the purest healing one could ever pray for, and the divinest intimacy one could ever dream of.   

Tree

Five minute Friday with Lisa Jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com/).  The word for this week: Tree

“You can let go now, Daddy”  Crystal Shawanda sings this song. “You Can Let Go Now, Daddy”

And it always take me back to 5 year old me and my brand new bike.  Without training wheels.

At the top of the big long hill……and a massive old tree in line with the bottom of that big hill.

Dad had just come home with my first new bike.  I was like a kid on Christmas morning.

I was ready to strike out all on my own.

“Let go Dad!”  my overconfident little self shouted.  And  off I went…

Down the hill……

In a straight trajectory toward our massive old maple tree

In my excitement, I forgot how to brake.  I never thought of swerving.  I was paralyzed with fear of the monstrous tree looming in my path.

I’m grown now.  No longer quite as confident about taking on the world by myself like my 5 year old persona was.
 
But still I do the same thing – I tell God “Let go, I got this.”  Only to head straight for that debilitating disaster in my path.  

Like my dad, God stands watch but unlike my dad, God can catch me in time to rescue me from a bent frame.  He’s ready to be my Brake, I just gotta shout out that I can’t do this on my own. 

Don’t let go, God!

And like the song, I too had to tell my Daddy good-bye and tell him he can let go and leave this earth.  This week two years ago, I let go of his hand.  Death took him away from me. 

And now I hang on tighter to God as I walk this valley of grief.  He keeps me from crashing into the trees of cheated anger and bitter sorrow.


Picture credit: Google Images