SWEET WHISPERING IN MY EAR

The world seductively whispers in my ear--I have to be careful and not listen---it becomes distracting from why I am here.

The Deceiver knows my weak spots---understands what I long to hear--and sends someone, unknowingly, my way.
You are very attractive, you are intelligent, you have a warm personality, you are so inclusive
Whispering in my ear--magnetically pulling me into the deception--wooing me in my web of need.
Enticing--seducing--the alluring pull of charm and deceit with his slow smile and twinkle in his eye.

Stop---step back---do not listen---it is all a front---there are no good intentions-
it will not end well.
Consider the motives--consider the origin--consider the advantage he will gain by having my ear.
The distraction of the moment and the gain for a season will only serve to take me off His path.
Yield not to temptation--keep my eye upon the prize---send the deceiver packing and continue to follow His lead.

Instead--yield to the seduction to the only One Who is faithful---the only true love of my life.
Cherish His promise---understand His deep abiding provision for my every need and desire.
Look away from the world---Look only to the source of satisfaction and soak in His revelation
Of His Deep---Deep Love---Abiding--Faithful  &  True

"For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations."

Psalm 100:5

DEEP---DEEP LOVE

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OH HOW I LOVE JESUS


BLESSED SABBATH, DEAR FRIENDS!

QUIET IN THE HOOD

It has been relatively quiet here in the hood this week.  SO I thought I would resurrect an old "dillo" story.  My new Fort Worth friends seem to doubt all my dillo adventures.  Here is an Oldie-but Goodie!

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HOW MANY LIVES DOES A DILLO HAVE?

The NEVER ENDING dillo saga--took another turn last night. I have promised the new queen of the "Old Wire Road Manor" that I would get the latest devil that has been shredding not only my garden and flower beds, but even the this year's planted sod. Bess is such a little Southern Belle---who comes from a long line of Southern Belles---I'm thinking she is a little intimidated with the idea of the "Dillo Games"--but that's alright she has a house full of "men folk" to come to her rescue.

As I made my 1:30 AM patrol looking for Mr. Dillo---LOW AND BEHOLD --there he is in the front yard with his snout about six inches into the centipede sod. RUN GET YOUR GUN AND FLASHLIGHT, Annie! NOW--is there One ---I mean even ONE flashlight in the entire closet that works---WHY OF COURSE NOT! So I head back outside in my flip flops with my loaded rifle. Side note-I live in the woods---it is very hot---the snakes come out at night to eat---they only bite if you step on them---I can't see where I am stepping. I Diverge!

Notorious for their poor eyesight--you can walk right up to the dillo---BUT I learned they have very good hearing. As I take careful aim-about 4 feet away and slowly squeeze the trigger--I discover the safety is on--unlike the time I shot the house. OK--so I take the safety off and once again take careful aim and squeeze---Nothing happens---OH YEAH--you've got to put a bullet in the chamber. The sound that the lever makes to put that bullet in the right place and perhaps me muttering under my breath alert the dillo. He has removed his snout and his ears are up. As I take careful aim once again and begin to squeeze the trigger ----the automatic sprinkler system cuts on in that part of the yard at that precise moment. He is alerted and takes off running and I shoot. I pretty sure I missed him and hopefully missed my brand new car-will have to check that out after daylight.

I think he is in the thick bushes in the flower bed, so for the next 15 minutes, I shake, prod, and explore to see if I can get him out. I finally move enough branches and prod enough to be convinced that he got away. DRAT!

BUT WAIT---I am really sure God put this thought in my head--He needed a good laugh with the condition of the world--I think "Check the back". Ok--I go open the garage door to look out back and immediately hear something. Once again--no flashlight and it is pitch black in the woods. I run inside to turn on all the deck lights---thinking he will be gone. As I go back out the sliding door---LOW AND BEHOLD---there is that devil 2 feet away.

I once again---take careful aim---now I have all the rifle issues solved-so should be a sure thing. I SHOOT! GOT HIM!!! You know you've hit them when they jump straight up in the air and do an acrobatic move that any high diver would envy. For a creature with legs 2 inches long--it is amazing to see him go straight up and then do a back flip with a slight twist and take off running.

I on for the chase! He then runs into the lattice work under the deck and I line up another shot. GOT HIM AGAIN! This time he does a full round off with a complete twist. He heads for the woods. He doesn't get very far before he keels over on his side in a mound of leaves and is still. I think he's dead---but maybe I'll shoot him once more to make sure. I am on the tall part of the deck-8 feet off the ground, but I take careful aim and squeeze the trigger. NOTHING HAPPENS--I am out of ammo!

The devil then lifts his head and looks right up at me. Lifts his wounded body and starts for the creek with two extra holes in him.

Does anyone have an elephant gun I can borrow? 

NO MORE GAMES

I love to play games---since my earliest memories---"Red Rover", "London Bridge", "Hide and Seek", "Chase"---remembering the laughter and fun on the playground.  Then those wonderful teenage games---"Musical Chairs", "Tug of War", "Charades", and perhaps even "Spin The Bottle" a time or two.  Finally as an adult, card games galore, "Trivial Pursuit", "Word With Friends"---it has always been more about playing together than the competition for me.  Last summer above 10,000 feet we played a card game on top of a huge rock in the freezing wind and with damp clothes clinging to my body.  I cannot tell you the name of the game--I can tell you who I played with and how much fun it was.

We find ourselves playing emotional and psychological games with those around us, if we are not careful.  "I Got You", "One Up Manship", "Mine's Better Than Yours", "I'll Scratch Your Back If You Scratch Mine" and on and on.  Then there are the masks we wear as we play those games---masks to disguise who we really are, masks to pretend who we wish we were, all in an  effort to come out on the top of the heap.

I stopped playing those emotional games---I am who I am and while I hope you like me--I will not pretend to be someone I am not. What drives us to play games with each other?  The need for acceptance, our low self esteem, the psychological damage done over our lifetime---or some of all the above and more.  Who teaches us how to play these games?  Our kin, our friends, the world, or perhaps even Satan whispering in our ear leads us to a life of pretending and pretension.

God is NOT playing.  We do not have to chase Him, He wears no masks, there is no hiding from Him, and He does not have to guess---HE KNOWS WHO WE ARE.  He is stripped of pretense - an open book---no guessing games---He is who He is-The Great I AM.  Never fooled for a moment by the games we play--He is simply waiting for our cry---"YOU"RE IT!"

"Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them?" declares the LORD. "Do not I fill heaven and earth?" declares the LORD.

Jeremiah 23:24

THE NAKED TRUTH

One of the half dozen or so books I am currently reading (A Little ADD going on) is Beth Moore's, Why Godly People Do Ungodly Things.  She is such a gifted teacher and more important a profound truth teller.  I was hit squarely between the eyes with a few of those truths.  Truths which my head knows--but my heart forgets--conveniently.

 It stands to reason if you guys are not here, then you have no idea how many cookies I am scarfing down. Why in the privacy of my own home---none of you know what books I am reading, or shows I am watching. In the anonymity of the city, who knows what I am wearing and how I am acting?  Under the veil of aloneness, I lead a secret life.

 Watching these little grands, it did not take long to figure out if they went into another room and it got quiet--THEY WERE UP TO SOMETHING!  They seem to believe a wall separating them from my sight gives them license to meddle, snack, or even wreck havoc.  The wall will keep me from ever knowing what was done and who did it.

What state of delusion must I be in to think God does not know each and every thing I do, say, or think?  The child in me comes bubbling to the surface, and I begin to believe  I am out of His sight if I am sneaky enough. I am effectively burying me head in the sand.   "Sometimes we harbor an unexpressed suspicion that He cannot handle all that goes on in our minds and hearts.  The deep resistance to making ourselves so vulnerable, so naked, so totally unprotected is our implicit way of saying, 'Jesus, I trust you, but there are limits.' "  As I love to say, "Now you're meddling!"

What would cause me to pretend God is smaller than His true identity?  The All Knowing--All Seeing---Omnipotent---Omniscient God of the Universe---knows me better than I know myself.  My refusal to share my all with Him, "limits God's lordship over my life and makes clear that there are parts of me that I do not wish to submit to divine conversation."   BAM!!!!---GOT ME!

Not ONE THING is hidden from Him---He knows it all---my obstinate refusal to bring it before Him does not make it go away.  Hiding behind the mask of grace does not change the fact that I MUST bring it to Him---before slipping into that robe of grace.  I forget He is NEVER surprised by my admissions--my failures--my sins-----He is just waiting---for me to trust Him with it all ---and recognize His Lordship over every part of me.

"Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account."

Hebrews 4:13

WORRY NOT

I do not spend a great deal of time worrying---but when I do drop off into that deep black hole----it is difficult to locate the way back into the light.  Why do I spend time worrying about things which I have little if any control over?  Past experiences push me into the deep chasm of obsessiveness.  I worry about my future financial security----we have all seen the stock market free fall into a deep bottom---my past experience dredges this worry to the surface.  I have no control over the stock market---I do have control over my investments--so I am ultra conservative knowing at my age I do not have enough time remaining to recover.  Yet I still worry.

I worry about future health challenges.  I take care of the body I have been given and enjoy good health, but what does the future hold?  What happens if I suffer serious health problems---who will take care of me---how much will the care cost?  There is not ONE thing I can do about this, beyond what I am doing, but still I worry.

I worry about my children and grandchildren.  This world is a mess--more of a mess than ever.  It frightens me to consider the obstacles in their paths.  My children are all grown---my grandchildren are their parent's responsibility.  Cleaning up the mess this world is in is a bigger job than I can tackle alone.  Why do I worry about them--when God's Book is full of promises concerning their futures?

I just finished a great and inspiring book with a good deal of wise insight.  One of the quotes I took to heart, "Worrying is praying for what you don't want."  The scriptures instruct us to not worry for God is our provider.  Jehovah Jireh who knows the number of hairs on our heads and  provides food for even the birds of the air is our Great Provider.  What does it say of whom our God is when we spend one moment worrying about tomorrow?

The book is an amazing travel commentary of walking the 500 miles of "Camino de Santiago".  OH--- WOULD I LOVE TO DO THIS WALK!  The path is marked with yellow arrows ---all you have to do is follow the arrows.  "By letting go of the worry and placing trust in the arrows, I became confident that I would eventually arrive in Santiago."  Five hundred miles---no map--foreign country--dependent upon yellow arrows---faith and trust in the arrows.

We are given a set of arrows--a book full of arrows----all we need do is follow the path marked by the arrows.  Faith in the map maker and trust in the directions--will lead us to the goal.  "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself."    Worry not--He is here and He has the path all marked out.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

John 14:27 

CARING FOR THE DEAD

The Deep South is filled with tradition---traditions carried from one generation to the next.  It is a common thread which binds the past with the present - while some things change--others remain the same.  Care for the resting place for those whom have gone on before us is one of those time honored traditions.  I have friends who still attend "Graveyard Work Days".   In rural churches with cemeteries in the side yard or perhaps across the road, a day is set aside every year to spruce up the final resting place of those dearly departed.  Usually a day close to "Memorial Day" families and friends gather together---pull the weeds, mow the grass and place flowers to visibly honor these loved ones.  Dinner on the grounds follows the tiding up for all those left behind to remember and catch up.  It is a sweet tradition--filled with deep love and great fondness while wonderful memories bubble to the surface in the activity of the day.  A day to show great respect for those who have gone before.

There was a time when contact with those who had passed away was strictly banned.  Read the Old Testament---Numbers tells us contact with a dead body resulted in being unclean for seven days.  Being unclean resulted in being banned from contact with those who were clean for those seven days.  The contact resulted in being ostracized from society for a week.  The chore of embalming loved ones often fell to the women---since they were ostracized on a regular basis already---the sting was not so deep.

Nicodemus braved it all---he came in broad daylight--carrying seventy five pounds of an embalming mixture.  He anointed the body of our Savior--knowing the risk.  The sure stigma of being unclean was part of the cost, but it could have cost much more--even his life.  Nicodemus crept through the streets in the dark the first time he sought Jesus---a pharisee--he feared reprisal for contact with Jesus.  His time with Jesus was so moving--so life changing---he publicly acknowledged who Jesus was by this final act of respect.  He tended the dead body of the Master without regard for personal cost. 

What have I done to show my respect?  There is no body---the grave is empty--He is alive.  How can I serve Him with no regard for the cost?  By serving "The Least Of These"---I serve Him---it is the very least I can do. 

"Nicodemus, who had first come to Jesus at night, came now in broad daylight carrying a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds.  They took Jesus' body and, following the Jewish burial custom, wrapped it in linen with the spices.

John 19:39-41