Entering the Kingdom of God ~ from the perspective of the unsaved spouse

leaves

I’ve been walking with the Lord 10 years now.  Who knew He could be so good to me!?

Paul got saved first and I’ve got to tell you, I was not happy about it. No, if fact I was pretty ticked off. I wanted to know who came and stole my husband away. What happened to my “cool” husband? He started acting really weird and quoting the Bible to Chelsea and me and frankly, it only made us both mad. Just who did he think he was anyway? He couldn’t judge us like that! HE was trying to share his new reality but it felt like condemnation to both of us. We didn’t appreciate the change in him at all.

Did this happen to you; did you get saved before your spouse or them before you? It does not make for a happy marriage I’ll tell you that much. When Paul got saved, we were living on the grounds of an Episcopal church in a one-room cottage, as caretakers and grounds keepers. Much of our responsibility entailed installing many gardens and all things landscape.

We were also members of the church and attended every time the doors were open. Due to this; I felt we were more holy than the Pope! I mean, how much more spiritual or holy can you get right?  I would later learn that church attendance had nothing to do with how spiritual or holy you were, much later.

I was also very much into the social aspect of the church because it gave me an opportunity to cook and entertain, which is my passion. This led to me befriending the new caterer who began using the church’s commercial kitchen. I thought I had died and gone to heaven! I had found my tribe.

You see, I always joked around about writing a book entitled, A Day in the Life of a “Wannabe” Caterer; only eat the ugly ones. I lived for cooking and entertaining. As my friendship grew with this caterer, I began to help out and was able to share with her the many things I knew that would be useful in her business. I began helping with the flower arrangements, menu ideas, recipes and even working for free. Of course, I also worked full time during the week in our family business too. Every weekend, I would be up at the church lending a hand and have the time of my life.

I did get paid for my work after a few months, though. We become great friends, doing everything together for many years. We took care of each other’s children, we did charity events together, and we partied and cooked together, vacationed together; we celebrated life the best way we knew how.

And then Paul got saved. . .

That changed everything. He was seriously making me not want to be around him very much. He stopped hanging out with our friends and began going to meetings every chance he got.  We were still members of the Episcopal Church but when not attending a meeting there, he would run off to meetings where he could be around other people like him who were experiencing God. When he’d return from these meetings, he wanted to share and talk about what he’d experienced, but I would have none of it; I didn’t want to feel condemned by his words.

He really was only sharing the awesomeness of God, but I only felt condemnation. I began to find opportunities to be gone when he was home which often meant I was at my friend’s house, 35 miles away.

Our marriage began to suffer and I began to not even care. I felt hopeless. We had always been able to converse for hours and hours and now all of a sudden, we had nothing to say to each other. All he ever wanted to talk about was God and I didn’t want to hear it. What I didn’t know was at the same time that I feeling hopeless and experiencing these things, Paul was also. But, he wasn’t content to let things just drift apart, no! He began talking to God about how He would have to send him a new wife because he (Paul) was so holy and pure now that he simply couldn’t have a wife who smoked and drank and cussed like a sailor. No, he needed a holy wife. (Dang!)

I was already feeling somewhat rejected and not good enough anymore so I’m glad I didn’t know he wanted a new wife! Yes, even though I was mad at him and didn’t understand what was happening to us, I would have been devastated to know what he was feeling at the time. I only learned about this years later.

God told Paul He wasn’t going to get him a new wife but instead, Paul would have to fall back in love with me. Paul needed to start making a place for me in his “new” life. This struggle continued for a couple more years.  In the mean time, we left the Episcopal Church because they began ordaining gay Bishops and although we both had personal friends who were gay; neither felt it represented God at all. When we left the church, we also had to leave the cottage we’d been living in for years and that was sad. The good news was, we were getting our own place and that was a dream come true, finally.

Paul had begun praying in the local healing rooms a year or so before and was now in leadership. He still kept running off to other meetings and conferences while I kept on catering, but now I was working with my brother. We were almost living separate lives, but God was still working on this thing!

This is just an excerpt of the journey but needless to say, Paul did make a place for me. He prayed for me all the time, without me actually knowing about it except things began to feel different. He no longer fought with me or tried to correct anything I was doing. He literally just loved me where I was. And also, by falling back in love with me again, he made a way for me to enter into the kingdom. My offenses began to fall away. God started whispering to me there in that place and I even began to love my husband again.

Prayer works as we know but it also takes honor and respect. When I began to receive that (and I absolutely did not deserve it!), my heart changed. I felt a tangible place being made for me to come alongside my husband. I had no clue what it was, or what it meant. What I did know was that it felt good and it felt safe.

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I pray my story might encourage you to pray for your spouse and simply love them right where they are. We can change nothing on our own, but my Jesus certainly can. Persistent prayer along with respect and honor is a game changer and I know we all need change to happen.

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Note: This post is about a journey, not theological understanding. Many things I believed at one time are not what I believe now. I call it a progressive revelation. That is to say, if something I have shared in this post offends you, stop it; this is not where we land. This is where we have journeyed through. We’ve all come through many things . . . GG

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Removing my scales

 

lens

I’ve had some things on my heart lately that I wanted to share. Here are a few thoughts.

Do you ever wonder what lens you see things through? The apostle Paul, Saul at that time, had scales on his eyes that prevented him from seeing Jesus. He saw everything colored by the law and he made it his mission to go about making sure others followed it and punished those who did not. (Christ followers) His scales fell off during his encounter on Damascus road with Jesus. He got a new vision and a new mission.

The lens he previously saw things through was the lens of law and it meant death to many followers of Jesus. Do we have a lens of law and death we are seeing things through? Do we punish others for things they have done to us? Many times we’ve been genuinely hurt by people and we talk about forgiving them and we talk about moving on, but are we really doing this?

We sometimes find it difficult to extend mercy and grace to those who have hurt us. I know I’ve had this experience, many times actually! I would do the ‘Christian’ thing and outwardly say I forgave them, etc. but inwardly I wanted punishment merited out. I never said those words out loud but I promise you, my thoughts would sometimes play out some of these things. Thankfully, Holy Spirit alerted me to this and made me aware that my heart had not forgiven them nor had the wound from it been healed.

This is death my friends! This is not mercy and grace. Yes, bad things happen to good people everyday but good people need to remain just that; good people! What is in our innermost heart and thoughts will be made manifest on the outside through words and deeds.
Do we need our own Damascus Road experience, or at least another one? Jesus is in every encounter we have, every day. Let’s begin to see Him there.
Okay, since I’m an encourager, I want to encourage all of us today (not depress us!) and give some suggestions on how we can clean the lenses that we see things through. I have three things that we can do that I think will help that happen. (If you choose)

**Challenge**

Since we are the Heirs of Jesus, we are His Church and His Beloved (not yet spotless) Bride…..
1) Will we – spend an entire day believing we are sons and daughters of the King? How would that be different than your ‘usual’ day?
2) Will we – go a single day without pointing a finger at what the Church, (through man) has done to us? How would our posture be different if we walked in a place where we were not victims of what had happened to us but simply took responsibility for our own heart attitudes and our lives? (Hear me on this; I’m not saying the ‘hurt’ didn’t happen, I’m asking, what would it look like if it weren’t at the forefront of our minds, coloring our conversations and actions this day?)
And lastly……..
3) Will we – for a single day pause for each person we encounter, long enough to see the treasure that is buried within? Can we see through the pain and hurt they may be experiencing, NOT get offended or be reminded of a previous hurt, but simply love them, right there, right then? When we allow ourselves time to respond instead of reacting, we allow Holy Spirit to speak to us His heart for them. Then we can love because He loved first.

Perfect Love

 

perfect love

ter·ror  ˈterər

noun  1. extreme fear.

Terror – to bring terror through intimidation and fear.

I’ve been thinking on the recent events happening in Paris and even other parts of the world. I’ve also been thinking about the word terrorist, which loosely means to bring terror through intimidation and fear.

It doesn’t take a big man to terrorize someone with a gun. No, that man, or woman for that matter, hides behind that weapon with the intent to use violence and threats to intimidate or coerce, to get their way.

I know this is a very simplistic view but I’m staying with this view for a reason; terror isn’t my focus. Love is my focus. Perfect love casts our fear…. terror.

With all the media outlets spewing s much coverage of what is going on and what they think is going on, I can only believe it is helping the terrorist to spread the terror to even more people. I’ve seen this happening even where I work. Yesterday, they turned the TV channel on to CNN and let it play for a while. All the numbers were listed as expected; how many dead, how many wounded, how many terrorist found, how many dead, etc. etc. While not burying my head in the sand, I did not allow the terror to enter into my spirit. That was not the case for other’s watching. I could see how terror was doing its work; how they were hanging onto every word the reporters were speaking as if this terrorist were on their very doorstep.

After the reports began looping, repeating the same information all over again, I suggested we change the channel and watch some football or something. But even after the news was turned off, the terror was doing its work, having its way; I could see it on their faces, on one person especially. She was terrified that this would happen to her. She felt she had no control over her life and was helpless. I think this is what scared her most. She kept talking about moving away to the ‘islands’ because for some reason this would be safer. There was no comfort I could give her because she was so terrorized that she convinced herself that it was inevitable, only a matter of time. She expected it to occur.

To me, this is exactly the work terror is trying to accomplish, and I think it’s winning, for now. We have to see a bigger picture, a truer picture and not be moved by this spirit.

Just like that day when we were all shocked to hear what it happened in France and what happened the night before in Beirut; it makes us afraid. We need to collect ourselves realize that God knows this is happening, and the reason this is happening is because there’s not enough love in the world. Yes, this is a rather simplistic view, but don’t we tend to over complicate things anyway?

This is about a love deficit and love is what will transform the world. This Love the world needs is a Person and this Person needs to be encountered. These terrorist need love, they just don’t know it yet. Of course I don’t condone what they do, but what they do shouldn’t make me hate them. Nope, instead it should move me to intercede for them.

I believe we all need to look at it this way. I think when these atrocities occur; we should grieve not only for the victims but also for the perpetrators. The focus of our prayers should be that love with fall down on them. That love would overcome their hatred and need to punish others who don’t believe as they do. Our prayers should be that Love would work through us to be the instrument of change the world so desperately needs.

And then I read this……

“After her son committed a horrific crime, Terri Roberts expected rage and calls for vengeance. What she was greeted with instead healed an entire community”

Full article here Forgiven (Follow link or copy and paste into your browser)

This is what Love looks like.

Jump – A Testimony

woman hiking aka jump

March 13, 2013, at 11:36 am – revisited February 17, 2016

I ran in the house, pressed my back against the door and sighed, the chase was over. “You’re real, aren’t you?” I asked. The overwhelming love of God enveloped me and I began to weep tears of joy that could not be contained. My surrender had been a long time in coming. I fought against it as hard as I knew how. Thankfully, I did not win that fight.

I was a runner, you see, and had run from all kinds of things my whole life. Running and hiding was just what I did. Why did I run? In my mind, I had already blown it there was nothing I could do or say that would change my standing with God. I was afraid of Him and I knew God was mad at me and because of that, I wanted to stay hidden and as far away from Him as possible; I didn’t want to have anything to do with Him. I was afraid that if I looked at Him, He would see me and remember how much of a disappointment I was, how bad I was and had been. And since that was my belief, that was my reality.

Back in late summer of 2005, I began feeling like ‘someone’ was calling me or pursuing me. I couldn’t explain it nor did I tell anyone, especially Paul. He had gone all Jesus on me and was acting weird and peculiar enough as it was – he was the last person I wanted to talk to about these things. The feeling was a little unsettling.

As a family, we had started attending a Methodist church in the neighborhood. Paul said something to the effect of, “God told me I was to go there for one year on assignment.” I had no idea what that meant other than another example of Paul acting weird and being spiritual, again. My attitude was basically one of whatever; I could have cared less why we were attending.

At this new church, I had expectations of finding new friends and families we could interact with, as we had done at our previous church. We had only been in the neighborhood for a month or so and meeting new people who might live nearby was definitely going to be great. Or so I thought. My first encounter was pretty dismal and sad. There wasn’t much joy at all. The conversations with everyone I spoke with were so negative and full of hopelessness that I actually felt a little depressed by the time I left. Ick! People looked at me as if to say, “Just you wait and see. Things are bad and will only get worse!” No one was simply glad to see us or welcome us in.

My first impression was not great, to say the least. I left that day thinking; I really don’t want to go back anymore. Only bad things happened to these people and they were expecting more bad things any minute. Who needed that? I had enough stuff in my own life!

During this time, Paul spent his Saturday’s praying with a Healing Room ministry. When the adult Sunday school teacher discovered this she invited Paul to teach a few classes on healing. Paul had shared with me about his prayer sessions and the people he prayed for so I knew a tiny bit about the concept, but I didn’t really think about it too much, I wasn’t interested.

Paul agreed to teach the class two or three Sunday’s in a row. I must say, it was a pretty eye-opening experience for me; I can only say wow, what an introduction to spiritual warfare! (And I didn’t even know what that was). What Paul didn’t know was that for every problem that someone had in that room, God was to blame. Apparently, just about everyone was a victim of some sort of accident, illness or family crisis. They blamed God for taking their son from them in a car accident. They blamed God for giving their father cancer. They even blamed God for their financial woes.

All this blame that was being put on God grieved me in a way I couldn’t explain. Even though I was afraid of God and how He might punish me, this didn’t sit well. It didn’t feel right. Have you ever been in a room, trying to teach about God’s love and His desire to heal with a bunch of people who just want to crucify Him all over again? That’s what it felt like while Paul was teaching. A lot of anger got stirred up and Paul was being attacked over and over again.

I’m mentioning this because this is the place where God started waking me up. I began to see a tangible collision of light and darkness with my own eyes. I saw the battle Paul was fighting and began to try and defend him. Verbally that did no good so I began to battle for him in intercession, even though I had no clue that that was what I was doing. I began to cry out for his honor, his safety (seriously) and his heart. I did all this in my head so I wouldn’t be attacked too.

The following week, Paul enlisted some of his friends from the Healing Rooms to join while he tried to teach again. One person got healed while nine got angrier.

Have you ever noticed that victims take no responsibility or blame for anything that has happened in their lives? Everyone else is to blame for decisions you made or decisions you didn’t make. I came face to face with the victim spirit those Sundays and even though I had no clue what it was, I simply couldn’t stand it. I didn’t know that some people become what had happened to them, or that they got comfortable with this identity so much that they would fight to stay there.

These sessions stirred up so many things in me. There was a passion growing inside me that I couldn’t explain. There was also a longing for the things I had been seeing and experiencing to be true. I couldn’t talk to Paul about it because I was afraid he would laugh at me and I would be ashamed, and then I would find out that I was wrong. I didn’t want to share these things with anyone who I thought might dismiss them as silly because as long as they were only mine and in my head, I could hope, even though that was a word I could afford to even say out loud.

After the Sunday school class episodes, one of Paul’s friends tried to connect with me and invite me to a book study they were about to have. I declined because I didn’t feel like it was something for me at all, I wasn’t interested in church. Over the next few months, she continued to invite me; by phone, by flyer, by postcards, email, etc. The book they were going to be reading was Captivating by Staci Eldridge.

Also at this time, in August my dad was diagnosed with throat cancer. This really scared me; he had never smoked a day in his life. It scared me because here I was, a seemingly intelligent person smoking at least a pack a day and enjoying it, thank you very much! It scared me so much that I made a decision to quit there and then. Well, that is when I finished the carton I had just bought, but the next week for sure!

In order to quit, I needed to change other habits too. I found I couldn’t sit out on the back porch, drink wine and read my fantasy novels anymore; all of that was part of my smoking experience. I also realized I needed some new habits and a new place to do them. And yes, I did eventually quit smoking.

The doctors told dad that he needed to immediately begin the chemo and radiation treatments, and he needed both at the same time. Besides the obvious problems this could cause, one of our major concerns was what or who was going to care for mom when and if things go bad for dad? She had been diagnosed with dementia many years before and needed constant care at the time; dad was here sole caregiver. That meant if dad was hospitalized we would need to come and stay with mom. And that was not an easy thing, for many reasons.

Mostly dad had outpatient treatments which allowed him to continue to be the primary caregiver for mom, with us stepping in only on treatment days.

One week, I got a call that dad was put in the hospital because his white blood cell count was dangerously low, due to either the chemo or the radiation, I forget which one. While visiting dad, who was sleeping, I noticed my sister was reading the book, Captivating; the one I’d been invited to read with that group of women. Interesting, I thought. I began asking my sister about the book, trying to be nonchalant, as in an, I’m not interested kind of way, but trying to act conversational instead. She didn’t hear conversational at all! She kept going on and on about how this book really spoke to her and was teaching her many things she never knew. It was even helping to heal things from her past sorrows, she said. That intrigued me because her past needed so much healing; even I knew that.

To back up for a moment here, my sister had also been talking to me about God, almost as much as Paul. This generally led to a much-exaggerated eye-roll on my part and a “Geez people, just leave me alone! I don’t need saving, I’m not lost” as my response. Little did I know!

While on my journey to quit smoking, I had changed my reading habits. That included reading other books besides the fantasy novels which I’d been reading exclusively for over 20 years. When I arrived home from the hospital, I ordered that book from Amazon before I could talk myself out of it. It arrived in two days and when it arrived, I consumed it! I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Could these things be true? Could I have been believing lies all these years; God wasn’t really mad at me? WHAT? I hardly dared to believe this good news. I had to find out.

The Captivating book study was still going on and I knew where it was taking place. During the book study, Paul would go to the same house but instead of taking part of the study, he would go out with Randy (the hostess’ husband) to a local coffee shop and pray for people.

The evening I finally went was a divine appointment.

Earlier that afternoon I had helped celebrate a friend’s son leaving for college by throwing a party at my house. Paul was present at the party for a little while but excused himself to go meet up with Randy to pray for people. Since this was a party I had two or three glasses of wine, as usual, but somehow the party just wasn’t there that day. I wanted everyone to leave, I was feeling this strange pull to go attend the book study and find out about the people reading this book or more accurately, find out about if what this book said was true! As these things go, a couple of friends wanted to linger and hang out for a while, but I kept on feeling anxious that I was going to miss something if I didn’t leave soon. I was feeling so antsy and fidgety.

After everyone had finally left, I rushed to get ready for this meeting. The entire time I had an ongoing argument with myself about how stupid I was being. “They didn’t want me there. They especially didn’t want me there if I’d been drinking!” On and on these thoughts went but there was also a pull that kept right on telling me to go. No, it kept telling me to run!

So I went.

I was so scared when I finally pulled into the driveway I was almost in tears. The lump in my throat was so huge I was having trouble breathing. I took the deepest breath I could and went and knocked on the door. The person who opened the door had a look of shock on her face but quickly changed her expression one of welcoming and hospitality.

I followed her into the living room where there were about 10 other women sitting around the room. They looked as normal as any tea party I’d ever been to and not scary at all. My heart was about to beat out of my chest.

Since the meeting had already started by the time I had arrived, I went in and sat as close to the door as I could; just in case I needed to escape.

And I watched. And I listened.

It was like nothing I had ever seen in my life. These women spoke with an authority and power like nothing I had ever seen in my life. I wondered, who were these powerful women and how did they learn this stuff? I was actually a little bit afraid of them! Power just exuded out of them as they prayed. Then even swung a sword and made powerful speeches. (They were making declarations but I didn’t know that at the time) They prayed like I had never heard anyone pray. There was something about those prayers that felt tangible as if the things they were praying for were being granted, even as they were being spoken. What?

Later, they placed the sword in my hands and prayed mighty prayers over me! I didn’t dare move. I didn’t know what was expected of me but I didn’t want to mess it up. They declared and prophesied many things over me. (I didn’t know that’s what they were doing at the time) It felt good but I couldn’t for the life of me explain why it felt good.

I was shaken and undone at the same time.

Paul walked into the house with Randy before our meeting ended and was quite shocked to see me there. He just smiled and went on into the kitchen, saying nothing. He didn’t even question me when we got back home. I didn’t discuss my experiences with him; I was processing too much to even articulate actual words. My mind was reeling. I wondered, had everything I’d been taught or thought I knew been completely wrong? How could God not be mad at me? No, that just couldn’t be true. Maybe some of these things were true but there was no way ALL of it could be so.

The New Year had come and gone and I continued to attend the book studies, mostly watching and learning. In February Paul, along with a few others were invited to go to Toronto, expenses paid for 4 days. I was still struggling with belief for myself, but I really felt Paul should go for sure. I didn’t know what the Toronto Blessing was all about but knew it would somehow change his life. And, hey, it was free right?!

I dropped everyone off at the airport in the pouring rain and all the while, I was trying to reconcile in my heart and mind to all the things I had heard about God. All my previous foundations had crumbled and I didn’t know where to stand. I didn’t even know what I believed anymore.

It wasn’t really a bad place but it was an unknown one. And walking in the unknown had never been a strong suit either. No, I was more used to knowing exactly what was going on and where I was going, or at least in my own opinion I knew and had no problem telling you either. Oh, the idea of being so wrong is quite humbling and the opposite of pride, which I had plenty of, for sure!

And even more humbling, I felt pretty silly having so ridiculed Paul for his walk with God over those past few years, Ha. BUT, there was no way I was going to let pride have its way if any these things turned out to be true. I was torn, wavering between two opinions, literally. I couldn’t breathe and just wanted to get home!

I pulled the minivan into the carport and ran through the rain to the back door. When I got inside I shut the door behind me and leaned my back up against it, looking into the room. I knew He was there waiting for me, waiting on me. I said, “You’re real, aren’t you?” My heart exploded and when it did…I jumped.

I jumped.

He caught me.

Miracles – What I’ve begun to see in my everyday life

 

DSC09677

The miraculous isn’t only blind eyes opened or even the dead raised; it’s so much more than that. I don’t know about you but for me, when that term is bandied about I almost always think of a creative miracle and rarely attribute it to anything else; until recently. The other morning while Paul and I were drinking our coffee, Paul began to describe some of the phone calls he received at work a few days prior.  There were those he categorized as “crazy, God showed up” type of calls as he prayed and the person was healed, they were even shouting about it over the phone. And then there were the calls where it seemed like the person wasn’t receiving the prayer or even listening, but instead kept interrupting to explain what was wrong with them or their circumstances. These types of people didn’t receive a perceptible healing or breakthrough. Many were frustrated or angry. Whatever it was, they were not noticeably changed during the course of the call. Some people were rejoicing while others were angry and upset.

As I listened to Paul talk about some of these calls, I felt a shift. It was like, hold on a minute: Isn’t the fact that they were bold or brave enough to call a prayer line pretty miraculous? It certainly would be for me. And, isn’t the fact that they let a total stranger pray for them miraculous too? There had to be some fear issues that they had to overcome. I felt like my box for the miraculous was entirely too small. It was limited primarily to a physical event and that was all. And that did not sit too well with me; it didn’t sit well at all!

Since that morning I’ve been pondering the miraculous and inviting Holy Spirit to give me more revelation on this because it seems that I might have discounted some miraculous things happening all around me that are wonderful and should be celebrated. But yet, it doesn’t mean physical healings and raising the dead are not wonderful things; what it does mean is that you and me can walk in the miraculous on a daily basis. I think it’s a wonderful when I walk into the grocery store and discover I can love everyone I meet. Is that not a miracle? Sure this is easier when I’m having a great day but it’s possible every day!

It’s a miracle when someone overcomes anger or disappointments and gets emotionally healed. It’s a miracle when we have a disagreement on Facebook and yet we can continue to converse with each other, and no one gets offended. It’s a great and rare thing but it does happen.  Did you know it’s a miracle when someone who often is very reactionary, suddenly shows humility and instead of reacting badly, instills order and peace to circumstances around them? That’s a miracle also. These things may not seem all that miraculous to you but believe me, they are. It’s a big deal when someone gets breakthrough and overcomes things. Change is a miracle. Maturity is a miracle. Even counting it all joy is a miracle! Miracles happen because God steps in when we step down. Of course we co labor with Him but it’s not co laboring if we’re trying to do everything all by ourselves. We have to take all of our ‘already know everything’ and set it aside and let Him show us what He has in mind.

I don’t know about you but I can be fairly stubborn sometimes and don’t want to change. So when I’m changed, it is a miracle indeed.

Something as simple as our joy and trust in an invisible God is miraculous too. Yes, I am aware many have seen Him with their spiritual eyes but seeing God is not like seeing your spouse sitting right next to you. We don’t have to engage our imaginations for that. All we have to do is reach out our hands and we will feel them. With God it’s not like that and because that’s the case, the angels marvel that we can worship Him and have a relationship with Him without even seeing Him with our physical eyes. They are spirit beings and they interact with God all the time. It is a miracle to them that we can walk in faith for those things not yet seen and trust that God is faithful.

All of our lives are a picture of the miraculous. What may seem to us as every day, mundane stuff, to us is supernatural or miraculous to someone else.

We are not alone in this journey and we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. But we have to allow Him to strengthen us; then the miraculous happens. Let’s expand our miracle box. All of our lives are a picture of the miraculous.

Bedtime Stories

bedtime stories

What we do that brings rest to our spirit is important. What we do in the solitude of our rest brings creativity. Being creative is what we were born to do.

Before Chelsea was even born I was reading to her. I read the Hobbit to her, I read the Lord of the Rings and I read Beatrix Potter. I made a conscious decision to read to her every day. I listened to classical music when she seemed agitated, or if I was agitated.

I didn’t do these things because I was trying to make her some super intelligent genius. No, I did these things so her creativity would grow. When she was at rest she was free to grow and also she was free to dream; whether she dreamed while in the womb, is up for debate.

Once she in my arms I read Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit books to her until she was at least a year old. When she fell asleep I would continue to read the little book to the end, every single night. When she was old enough to hold the book herself I let her choose the book we would read before she went to bed. She always chose one of the Berenstein Bears or Green Eggs and Ham. She loved these books so much. In fact, she loved them so much she began to memorize them. She would read the stories to me instead of the other way around. Actually, she wasn’t reading at all, she was simply repeating back to me what she had memorized by what the pictures conveyed.

She did learn to read early and she continues to be a reader to this day. And another thing, Chelsea is super creative. Whether that’s from all that peaceful time in the womb and in her early years where she was allowed rest so she could dream, I don’t know. It doesn’t really even matter.

What does matter is that we are all created to create and we all have this innate, ability inside of us. Yes, it does take on different aspects of each of us but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Not everyone was created to be a painter, but some are, just like not all are created to be public speakers and again, some are. Whatever it looks like, there is creativity built in each of us all. So, if you’re thinking you’re not creative, go spend some time at rest and let it bubble up out of you, it’s there waiting to be tapped!

You are unique and we are all waiting for your creativity to be revealed! No pressure but……..