"Broken Hallelujah"

"Broken hallelujah" I don't know why this song (Hallelujahs) has hit such a chord with me today. It is beautiful and haunting all at once. I have lived a charmed life, really, and yet I cry as he describes what love is not. It's not a "victory march", "it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah". Expectations are a few of the devil's favorite things. If I fool myself into thinking that the abundant life is going to be one that has a permanent toothy grin, then I have set myself up for feelings of defeat and betrayal. At some point in this life, your victory march will get interrupted by a funeral procession. If you're not prepared for that--because you thought if you did everything "right" you would be immune--it can really knock you out. But when you wake back up, this is when the beauty of the "broken hallelujah" is within reach. This is the bewildered, broken--"Lord, to whom would I go, you have the words of life"--cry. This is where faith meets the hard slap of reality and, after it falls, and while it's still holding itself in shock and awe, renews it's shaky vow: Hal-le-lu-jah. It's that moment when you experience for yourself the sentiment of Job: "Though he slay me, yet will I praise Him." Not because you're resigned to a malicious god, but because you have seen enough to believe He is still GOOD, in the face of what you are seeing now. This is the utterance of the one who remembers: "His ways are higher and His thoughts are Higher", "He makes known the end from the beginning". And in the end, He has promised us, there is a victory march. But for now, your broken hallelujah's are music to His perfect ears.

Who do I think I am?

Who do I think I am? I've been going through a bit of an identity crisis. A loss of confidence in myself. And while I recognize the stench of the enemy...I also recognize that there is something in here that God wants to accomplish with this unpleasant place I am in. When I was younger, I had more confidence than I knew what to do with. When I was younger--and before cancer--I had a swagger. There is something that I miss about that place in time. It is great to feel confident. It is fun to have a swagger. And while I do not appreciate the enemy's attempt to make me feel worthless and washed up, neither do I just want to go back to the confidence I had in myself, or the swagger with which I once entered every room. I think God is giving me the opportunity to replace my self confidence--which, btw, the enemy is happy for me to come back into, because he will have just as much fun stripping it from me the second time around--with a much deeper confidence. An unshakeable confidence. A confidence that is rooted and grounded in Who He is--not who I am. And as for the swagger?--presumably based on how good I feel about myself on any given day...or how good I look--I sense He wants to replace it with something much more useful. Fearlessness. Instead of walking into a room and feeling "socially on top of things", I can enter that same room--or back street alley--with the boldness of a woman surrounded by an entourage of love and power. The enemy is always trying to steal, kill and destroy. And if he can't have my soul--which he can't--then he'll take what he can get. He'll minimize me. He'll back me in a corner and accuse me: "Who do you think you are?" . That question that can make a grown man shake in his boots. It's a winning tactic the enemy has: kick 'em where it counts. He comes at us with partial truths: "you're nothing", "you're nobody", "there are tons of people who do that better than you", and if we have entered the arena based on our own self confidence, well, it's about to get ugly up in here. Your house of cards will soon become an unwanted game of 52-pick up. The fact is, we are dust, we are as frail as grass--God's word even says so! The devil loves to rifle through the truth of God's word and handpick what he then twists to use against us. The fact is: apart from Jesus I am nothing. But the Truth is: I am never apart from Christ. Why would I ever want to return to the empty promise of self confidence and human "swagger", when I can have the confidence of the King of the Universe? When I can walk into a room flanked with the Father the Son and the Holy Spirit. Who do I think I am? I'm the luckiest girl in the world;)

Instructions for when the sky is falling

"Be wise in what is good and simple concerning evil. And the God of peace will soon crush Satan underneath your feet." Today the enemy is scheming panic. But I will be wise in what is good: Who my God is. What He alone can do. How His love never fails. I will be simple concerning evil. I will not fill my mind with what the enemy is possibly up to. I will not make it my business to scheme against the plans of the enemy. I will keep my eyes on the King of Heaven. "Now I...will praise and exalt and glorify the King of Heaven because everything He does is right and all His ways are just. And those who walk in pride He is able to humble. (Daniel 4:37) The enemy himself is the originl "pride walker". And the God of peace will soon crush Satan underneath my humble feet. My hope is in the Lord, I will not be put to shame! The very One Who made the sky, is able to keep it from falling...or to rescue me when it does.

A Thanksgiving "make-over"

"Believe ye that I am able to do this?" Matthew 9:28 Talk about being caught up in the cares of this world...today is Thanksgiving, and I am stressed out of my mind. Instead of resting in the fact that we are here-at home-for a purpose, I am beyond stressed. Stressed over this turkey. Stressed over the money we spent for the meal. Stressed over the desire to create "holiday magic". I am tired, though I slept 8 hours. My joints ache. I feel like I'm 80 years old. I'm grouchy. I'm worried about money, about making time to pray today, about how much victory I have already given the enemy. These are small things in the scheme of this life. But God wants my small stuff too. Nothing is too hard for God. Not even the little impossible things. Like my mood. I have done my best to spread my stress and tension around. Can God take my mess and bring about an attitude change in me? "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.". That is a lot of power us mama's have. I want to use my power for good. Lord, I pray You would take this day and redeem it for your purposes. Take my worry, my stress, my regret (over not brining the turkey?!), my bossiness, etc., and transform it all. Save me from myself. Quiet me with Your love. (Zephaniah 3:17). Accomplish Your purposes in this home today. Help me keep my eyes on You. The author and perfecter of my faith. Lord, work Your beauty from ashes. May Your Spirit fill this place. Start the conversations that need to be started. Remove judgement and replace it with Love. Savior, like a shepherd lead us. "Roll on Jehovah, Thy way". Only You can bring the beauty You have planned. I surrender all. (now, if You'll just show me how;)

P.U.S.H.

P.U.S.H- Pray Until Something Happens

This morning, as I lay in bed, I felt a small sense that I should get up and pray for Tim (who had left early for a flight out of BWI, to do a gig in Cleveland). I didn't give it weight. I thought, I will pray for him when I get up...I have all day to pray for him. Again, I thought, maybe this would be a good day to fast and pray for Tim...but I already had a bite of banana bread...so maybe not.

Then, while studying the Bible, I got a call from Tim that his flight had been delayed-mechanical difficulties. That all the other flights to Cleveland had gone, and his had still not been re-scheduled. Immediately I remembered that "still small feeling" I'd had this morning. I felt so ashamed that I had not followed through with it. I told Tim, and he said he didn't think it would have made a difference. Right or wrong, I asked him what he thought prayer did do. He said he was just trying to make me feel better. Again-right or wrong-I told him I did not need to be made to feel better, but to grow and to learn. (why must I always assume the role of "teacher" with my husband, when God has convicted me that I should not? When will I learn to let the Spirit do that?)

I then went up to my prayer place, and proceeded to worship and to pray. I asked forgiveness for missing my earlier opportunity, and I truly prayed with the peace of forgiveness, and the peace that God was going to do something. I determined to be persistent in my prayer-until something happened. And I determined I would give thanks for whatever that something was.

About 45 min. Into my prayer time, the phone rang. It was Tim. The event was cancelled, due to his plane being delayed. I accepted this with a joyful heart. I know my God could do anything. I know His thoughts and ways are higher than mine. I know that I had not been obedient, and there are consequences to disobedience.

It reminded me of the persistent and humble prayer of King David as he begged for the life of his son, conceived in sin, with Bathsheba. Once he was brought the news that his child had died, he accepted it, washed his face and ate something. Our part is to pray. We do not have the wisdom or the responsibility for the outcome. This is one more facet of prayer. Pray until something happens-and when it does-trust that God is in it, even if you can't see Him. Your prayers were heard, the scripture prayed will bring a return, faith and trust are the required elements of the believer. "What is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

Trust Him for what you cannot see. And learn to listen and obey what you (ever so faintly) hear him say.

Persevering...through the Dog Days

I don't know what "the dog days" represents for you, but with my cancer, I always knew the dog days would come, and that they would be some of the hardest days for me.

I have 2 dogs, and when I look at what their day consists of, it goes a lot like this: bathroom break, couch. Food break, couch. Dreaming of food while on the couch. Bathroom break, couch. Being subject to whatever some human left on TV, as they lay on the couch.

I knew that the hardest days would be the days where I felt weak and worthless. Where I couldn't get up and do the many things I wanted to do-needed to do-because the energy and the brain power just weren't there.

Exactly one week after every chemo, comes three or four days where my activities mirror that of my dogs-thus the dog days. There's a lot of laying on couches, a lot of resisting to even get up to take that bathroom break; a lot of eating; a lot of dreaming of chocolate peanut butter Haagen-Dazs; and a lot of watching mindless TV.

The results are a draining of passion, a question of purpose, and a feeling (however unrealistic) that I will never be useful again. These, of course, are all lies of the enemy- lies that I am ineffective-which are-in fact-designed to make me ineffective. Never mind that just one day before the debilitating fatigue set in, I was having amazing opportunities to talk about Jesus, had begun writing a book, and was re-organizing my house. But everything comes into question after 2 or 3 dog days.

The Bible says: "We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised." (Hebrews 6:12 NIV84) I'm not calling you or me "lazy"-for whatever reason, the dog days come. But I do want us to have the antidote to the discouragement of the dog days. You'll find them tucked away in that verse, they are: faith and patience.

If you're like me, I don't find my weakened faith in the heat of the fire, but in the quietness of the cooling down stage. When nothing seems to be happening, and I'm not sure I am becoming like Jesus at all. I know I was-in the fire-but now that I can't see the heat and smoke, the enemy accuses that I haven't learned a thing and that there is no purpose for me-and there never was.

Step one in defeating the dog days: turn off the TV.
Step 2: turn off the incessant voice of the enemy, and counter it with God's word-the truth that produces faith. And be inspired by the timing of God, which requires patience.

This is exactly what Jeremiah did in Lamentations 3:20-21. He said:

"...my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind

and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;

therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:20-24 NIV84)

Jeremiah knew who God was, but it wasn't until he intentionally called to mind the character of God, that he overcame the debilitation of the dog days, and the lies of the enemy. When he fed his faith and patience, he was revived.

When the dog days come-and they will come-be ready to call to mind the word of God that will revive you. Too weak? Have a friend at the ready to remind you of the truth of Who God is, how in your weakness He is made strong...how His grace is sufficient for you. How He is the one that sustains you, the one who made you and will rescue you. If you do that, you will come out on the other side strengthened! And your enemy? Denied.

Lucky to have cancer

I don't mean to be offensive, or glib...I just have to tell you, that sometimes, I feel guilty that I have cancer. Cancer-the Boogeyman of disease and sickness. The one that commands respect-compassion-service-unconditional love. And, I am the recipient of all of these, because I-have cancer.

I can't help but think how different this experience would be if I had something else. Something less feared, and more loathed. Something less well known, and more inviting of skepticism. And what if I had something contagious?!

There's a sick woman in the Bible in The gospel of Mark, chapter 5. She did not have cancer. We know her as "the woman with an issue of blood", and she had it for 12 years! Furthermore, what she had made her "unclean". Someone to avoid, or your whole day was going to be spent in purification rites. Someone who-who knows?-might be contagious!

And if you know the story, you know that she secretly reached out and touched Jesus' clothes-believing it would be enough to heal her.

And it was! She was healed: "Immediately the fountain of her blood was dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of the affliction." (Mark 5:29 NKJV)

Fantastic! Jesus didn't have to be bothered, and she could move on in relative anonymity.

But Jesus was bothered. He made a big deal out of it. "Who touched me?."

Why would Jesus embarrass her like this? And, furthermore, why should Jesus (Son of God) have to ask such a question?

You see, Jesus was bothered, not by the indignant act of someone touching Him-neither did He worry that His question would make Him seem more human and less deity-but, He simply couldn't let her leave with only a partial healing.

"But the woman, fearing and trembling, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell down before Him and told Him the whole truth. (Mark 5:33 NKJV)

Which He already knew. It was she-and everyone else that needed to know "the whole truth".

Which Jesus related perfectly, in His response to her:

He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” (Mark 5:34 NIV84)

Do you see what Jesus accomplished in 2 sentences? Look closely:

"Daughter"-He identified her with a term of endearment, effectively calling her family.

"your faith"-He commended her to others (who had looked sideways at her and her problems-that she'd most likely brought on herself).

"has healed you"-He proclaimed her well. So that everyone would know, and no one would be able to doubt. (And if they did, they would be doubting Jesus- not this "undesirable woman").

"Go in peace"-She could exhale now.

"and be freed"-No more restraints.

It wasn't enough for the woman to be physically healed. Jesus wanted to restore this "daughter" completely and unequivocally.

I have cancer. And as far as cancer's go, I have a very manageable one.

I am lucky.

Let's look around us for the women "with the issue of blood".

Let's touch them.

Let's call them daughter and sister.

Let's pray for their healing. Let's free them from their suffering at the hands of-not their diseases-but their fellow man.

We have such power: peace and freedom are ours to bestow.




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Worse than

Worse than not looking like me, is not feeling like me...(I think)

Here I am, theorizing again, but now that I have begun chemo, and before it has changed my outward appearance, it has changed the way I feel. Normally outgoing and friendly, ready to join in almost any conversation, I walk through masses of people, feeling fuzzy. The room almost "spinning" as the cliche goes. And just when you're not sure if anyone else can notice how you're feeling-so out of place-a total stranger walks up to you, in a place where you are a "regular", and utters these words: "Are you alright, ma'am?" Ugh.

I found myself identifying (some might say mellow dramatically) with the "Gadarene Demoniac", the man with the unclean spirit, of Mark 5, in the Bible. The story says of him:

"And always night and day he was in the mountains and the tombs, crying out, and cutting himself with stones."

Ok, now even I think that sounds a little mellow dramatic! I'm not saying I was sitting there contemplating injuring myself when the helpful young man came up...I'm saying that this Gadarene guy was not the one cutting himself either. He was merely the guy trapped in a situation where he had no control. Someone or something else was calling the shots. And that is miserable.

Cancer is-at the moment-my "someone or something else" calling the shots...what is it for you? What has you so turned around, that you don't know whether to worship Jesus, or to fear him? (Mark 5:6-7). Is He your cure, or your judge? That can be the question in your head, and like the Gadarene, it was put there by demons themselves. The demoniac (full of demons identified as "Legion") put his hope in Jesus-the demons themselves begged Him for mercy and received it! And what was the outcome? If you know the story, you know a herd of pigs took a demonic leap into the sea...their herdsmen got really freaked out and told everyone in town...they all came out and saw the Gadarene "former demoniac" sitting there dressed and fully looking and feeling like himself again.

Happy end of story, right? Not exactly. The townspeople were scared of the big giant change that had occurred. Sure they had been trying to contain the demon possessed guy for years, tried chaining him, maybe even praying for him...and now, clearly, something huge had broken through. But it wasn't something they felt comfortable with. It had cost them something. Pigs, maybe, or maybe just normalcy. Things should go back to normal...in a normal way. Their brilliant plan to regain normalcy? Beg Jesus to LEAVE.

Jesus did leave. But not in a huff. Not shaking the dust off his feet from the undeserving town. He left there, among them, one abruptly changed life. And this charge to the transformed man:

"Go home to your friends, and tell them what great things the Lord has done for you, and how He has had compassion on you. And he departed and began to proclaim...all that Jesus had done for him; and all marveled."

I don't know what you're going through...I don't know what stage it's in. Are people looking at you side ways, wondering if you're alright? Are they avoiding eye contact all together? Are they asking you how you're doing, and hearing what they want to hear? Are they uncomfortable with the way Jesus is delivering you? Too quick, too dramatic, too slow. Too untraditional? They love you, (or maybe they don't), they want to help you...(or, again, maybe they don't). Just remember, they can't. There is only one Who the winds and the waves and the demons and the substances obey. Put your hope in Him, and you will never be put to shame. And, eventually, all will marvel.


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If I don't look like me, then who am I?

If I don't look like me, then who am I?

I have looked like me all my life. I have had a love/hate relationship with me. But at the age of almost 50...for the most part I have accepted who I am. And I wouldn't even want to look like ...Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Aniston, or Scarlett Johansson-because then I wouldn't look like me. My hair is not terribly thick, but I like it-it suits me-and I get compliments on it. My body may not be as voluptuous as some, but I like it:) Clothes are my friend:) They cover over a multitude of sins.

But now, all the control I have-over what I look like-is about to go away. Because now, I have cancer. I have kept my hair long, because I feel better in long hair, my husband likes long hair. I have kept my weight under a certain standard (granted, easier for me than others), because I know I don't feel good about myself when I'm over a certain poundage, and my clothes don't fit right anymore. Sure, I am aging, and there are factors I can't control. But I have (subconsciously, I realize) held on very tightly to the ones I could.

Who knew I was such a control freak? (that's rhetorical, for those of you who really know me;). I had prepared myself as best I could, for losing my hair. I even took pictures of me in a head scarf, to try and simulate it. It wasn't so bad. Maybe I could "rock the scarf" after all. I had a friend who said she and her husband wanted to get me a wig, when the time came. It seemed all my bases were covered. But even I knew I could only be prepared in theory-not for the true physicality of it.

Now my treatment has a face. And it is promising to be bald, threatening to be haggard, and possibly, even to be overweight. And my treatment has a season...Valentines Day, Easter, my daughter's graduation from high school, my 50th birthday. It's not like other seasons, when you think..."If I just plan enough in advance, I can get on a regimen where I could be in my best physical shape ever! And I can plan my hair color appointment just so...and maybe a few more layers would be better...(or maybe a few less layers?)..."

No. Now it is truly out of my hands. And now is when theory has to put some clothes on and walk around...and everyone will know if I still know who I am, or if I'm just pretending to know.

I am Lisa Jones. A daughter of the King. A beauty to her Daddy-God. A sharer of the good news. A comforter of others. A woman who longs to be used mightily in the Kingdom, and who considers it an honor to be on the front lines. Even if that means suffering. Especially if that means suffering. I am all of that-in theory.

Time to let God make me more than theory.

Who am I? I am His. Period. And He is enough.

Could He really love me?

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" (Romans 8:35)

My response:

-Shall staying up too late (yet again)?
-Shall sleeping in too long (yet again)?
-Shall saying things you wish you hadn't (yet again)?
-Shall the surprisingly unattractive overflow of your heart?
-Shall your inability to keep a clean house?
-Shall your inability to write a book, an article...post a blog?
-Shall your lack of exercise?
-Shall your financial state?

No! None of these are able to separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Jesus atoned for me once and for all time. I must confess and repent (1John 1:9), but I do not need to "go outside the camp". I do not need to rip my clothes, mess up my hair, and cover my face. (Lev. 13:45)

There is no guilt here. Not because I have not sinned, but because I am "in Christ Jesus"!
Ahhh...what a beautiful difference a Savior makes.






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Wake up

"Are you still sleeping and resting? Enough! The hour has come. Look, the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise! Here comes my betrayer!" (Jesus-Mark 14:41&42)

I think at some point, when our spiritual eyes are really opened, we will kick ourselves for not taking the opportunity to pray God's power into so many situations.

We were too busy 'sleeping'-sometimes with our eyes wide open...fixed on a flat screen. Sometimes day dreaming from thought to thought-if not page to page of the latest catalogue (that has arrived conveniently at our doorstep...designed to walk us out of the realities of the moment and into the land of want and desire).

Don't get me wrong, rest is commanded-sleep is a necessity! Just be aware of it's various forms-of it's seduction. It's escapism. It's consequences.

"A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest and poverty will come upon you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man." (Proverbs 6:10&11)

I think we forget to factor in spiritual poverty-don't underestimate spiritual poverty.
Conversations that never happened. A mind stayed on 'stuff'...the next deal, the next meal, the next show, the next game, the next distraction.

The answer-of course-is not busyness. The answer is to WAKE UP spiritually...to realize 'the hour has come'. Look around you! Jesus is being betrayed all over the place. 'rise, here comes the enemy'...and he is hoping you'll sleep right through...everything!

After asking his disciples to "watch and pray", the text in the gospel of Mark goes on to say: 'When Jesus came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy, they did not know what to say to him.'. (Mark 14:40)

Those last 9 words haunt me the most: 'they did not know what to say to him'.
Savior and Lord! Wake us up while there is still time!

What might be accomplished if we truly prayed without ceasing. (There are certainly an unceasing number of things to lift up to Him in this broken place.)
And Oh the things we would have to say to Him, when he comes back!

"She did what she could"

It's been a while since I've posted anything. I haven't felt like writing. I've still been Seeking Him Desperately...but just not publicly. Today, though, I felt the nudge to do it. I've been reading Mark. There's so much I want to share with you about Mark 14-but I'm gonna resist the urge to give you all the peripheral stuff-I'm gonna dive right into what hit me today.

In Mark 14, (you could go read it real quick if you want, I can wait. You've waited long enough for me;), Jesus is eating at the house of "Simon the Leper", and a woman comes in and takes this super expensive jar of perfume and breaks the jar and pours it on His head. The study notes assure me that this is a "common custom at feasts", and that "the woman's action expressed her deep devotion to Jesus".

So, I get that it's not as crazy as it sounds, but I'm thinking it would still take great courage to perform this act of devotion without being given permission, or being asked to do so. Which she obviously wasn't, by the response she gets after she does it. She probably already felt self-conscious, and then scripture tells us she was harshly rebuked, and everybody started saying how that was such a waste of perfume, and how it could have been sold for more than a years wages and the money given to the poor.

She must have felt so embarrassed. She probably started to doubt her own actions, and the burning desire she'd had to honor Jesus. After all,
Who did she think she was?
And did Jesus think she was a fool too?
Maybe she was just a stupid stupid girl.

And then! In comes her knight in shining armour! What every woman longs for in a man. A protector. Someone who totally understands her. Someone who actually knew the motives of everyone in the room! (a guy who actually can read minds) He openly honors her while subtly putting everyone else in their place. He called her actions beautiful.

This seemingly impulsive act that she had just been second guessing, was defined by Jesus as not only beautiful, but of lasting significance. (she was known, she was valued, she was loved)

Think about it: She had felt lead to do something for God.
She had risked embarrassment and scorn.
She endured (momentary) embarrassment and scorn.
And, as a result: She was given a place in the story of Jesus that continues on centuries after her death.

Something to remember the next time you feel lead to do something for God.

But here's my favorite part. Listen to what Jesus says in verse 8:

"She did what she could."

Jesus said this on the heels of telling her accusers, "You can help (the poor) anytime you want".

See, people like to talk. They like to say what should be done...what they could do...what they will do-or-what they can't do, about this messy broken world.

But Jesus commends this woman because,

quietly,

passionately,

obediently:

she did what she could.

So, what could you do? Wait-don't talk about it-actually do it.

"For the Kingdom of God is not a matter of talk, but of power"

(1 Cor. 4:20)

Imperfect as ever

Here I am again--back at the alter of the god of being understood and appreciated. (you wouldn't know about that, because it's one of the many blogs of the past few months that hasn't made it out of my notebook and onto my computer).

I hear the accusations again: "Maybe you're not even dancing with God--maybe you're out there all by yourself. (p.s. Every one's staring at you...and you look ridiculous).

But I am not alone. Even if I'm getting it wrong and I'm stepping all over God's toes. Even if I'm trying to lead GOD, and every one's laughing at the presumptuousness of that foolishness. Even then, He has not left me or forsaken me. He is out there--on the dance floor--claiming me as His--2 left feet and all. He delights in me and sings over me. He hates that I have to feel this way, but He knows what it will produce in me, so He is strong enough and loving enough to let me go through it. He doesn't show me visions of real suffering, and tell me to "snap out of it!". He looks at me in my awkward stages and sees the woman He has created me to be.

He loves me. He redeems me. And that is better than the praise, acceptance, and glowing reports of a thousand fickle men.

"When I don't fit in and I don't feel like I belong anywhere

When I don't measure up too much in this life,

I'm a treasure in the arms of Christ."

(Sanctus Real, Forgiven)

I've missed you all. Shall we dance?:]

The Real (Toxic) Housewives of NYC...

I gave in. After telling myself, "You do not want to watch these women be mean to each other for another second!", in a moment of weakness, when nothing else was on 900 some-odd channels, I watched it-The Real Housewives of New York City.

It was truly the train wreck you know you shouldn't allow yourself to absorb, but curiosity insists on staring at-with raised eyebrows and open mouth.

First of all, there is no occasion with these women where a confrontation is inappropriate. There is no offense too small to be harbored and held for later--as a weapon of surprise attack. Secondly, there is nothing these women won't say about each other--behind their backs--even though there is (or because there is (?)) a camera stuck in their faces. And, thirdly, their proudest statements are like tossed aside photos of the truth, in favor of the dark confusing negative. (OK, that would have been a really good analogy a few years back before the whole world went digital...now, not only are there no negatives lying around in old photo envelopes, but some people don't ever even take their digital pics off the memory card...no one I know personally.)

Here are some of the gems from the show: (not exact exact quotes, because I didn't write it all down, but it is as close as memory will serve-maybe even a little nicer than the actual quotes).


"L"-"I can't believe she said that to her face! I mean who does that? Sure talk to other people...sure subtle whispers...but to say it right to her face?!"


"J" - "I kept her hurtful message so I could play it back to myself whenever I started to feel weak". (as in, I could feel myself just wanting to get over it, but I fed my hurt and rage instead)


And, from the housewife who's being featured in Playboy, as she broaches the subject with her 2 young daughters:

"K" - "Girls, what do you think about mom being in Playboy?"

"Well," the one daughter responds, "with clothes on, yes, without, no. Case closed."

And the other: "You mean showing your weirdness for the camera?"

But later, when asked what her young daughters thought of her posing, she smiled and said:

"Oh, I talked to them about it, they're really excited!"


One of the Playboy mom's friends bragged to the other housewives enthusiastically saying:

"Well, every woman's dream of being in Playboy is actually becoming a reality for Kelly, here!" All smiles and endorsement. But once she's alone and speaking just to the camera...(oh- and the world), she was suddenly conflicted: "I don't know how I feel about her posing for Playboy...I mean she has 2 small children..."


And finally, in her own defense, Kelly, the Playboy mom, explains:

"It's not like I'm being photographed nude...I'm being photographed nude for the most famous book in the world!" (Hello!)


I don't know why my head is still spinning from it. It's reality TV. It's not a self help show, or even a serious documentary. It's art poking and prodding at life until it shows it's most prickliest, ugliest, self-absorbed-survivalist head.


And it's not that these women are the worst women ever. It's that they are like wounded animals--caught in a trap attempting to chew each others legs off in order to hopefully get out alive. (All the while wearing designer clothes, having their roots done, being spray tanned, and smiling like they're having the time of their lives.)


Anyone of us could do what they're doing...think what they're thinking. It's a dog eat dog world out there...if you decide to be one of the dogs. And we've all done it:

• Talked about somebody who hurt us, instead of going to them in truth and love and letting them know we were hurt.


• Enjoyed the drama of being wronged, and kept our hurt and anger alive, when we could have just gotten over it.


• Heard what we wanted to hear--regardless of what was actually said.


• Publicly acted thrilled for someone and privately criticized them.


• Redefined our situation with no allegiance whatsoever to reality and truth.

It takes so little to fall into that trap. All you really have to do is forget that there are 2 masters vying for your allegiance. One who has come only to steal, and kill, and destroy. And One who has come to give life, and life to the full. One has the keys to free you from the trap--the other set it for you, and is cheering wildly as you bite and devour one another.

So. It is up to you, and it is up to me. It can only be a dog-eat-dog world, if we decide to be dogs...(females, that goes double for us!). What if we decide to grow up in Christ instead? What if we decide to "do unto others as we would have them do unto us"? What if Love ruled the day?

Now that would be a better day.

my own worst enemy

"As I was walking past the stair,

I saw a man who wasn't there.

I saw that man again today.

I wish that man would go away."

I don't know who that little poem was written by...(Ogden Nash?), but I think-past the silliness of it-I can see a very real issue. The things that slow us down in this life, the things that keep us from moving forward, are sometimes only imagined. They are figments that loom in our heads, but nevertheless have power. But the power they have is only the power we are willing to give them.

In case you hadn't noticed I have been AWOL from this whole blogging thing. [anybody still out there who didn't give up on me completely?] Ironically, I have disappeared in the aftermath of an amazingly inspiring writer's conference. Something tells me it wasn't supposed to have that effect. But as with so many things, the longer I stayed away, the more impossible and daunting my return seemed. To top it off, I lay here sick today, watching endless episodes of America's Next Top Model. Not exactly the inspiration you need, to resume a spiritually probing self analysis...as this blog has come to be for me.

I guess the question is...what is this blog for you? Is it worth my continuing to share my vulnerabilities, my struggles, and my epiphanies? The man in the stair says it is not. He says I should just lay here half sick, and leave my blog half done...he says no one will notice or care. He tells me that each day that passes since the writer's conference, that I don't DO something big with my writing, is simply an indictment on who I am and who I never will be.

It doesn't take any believer very long to recognize who the man in the stair ultimately is. Yes-he is the very real enemy. But even so, that does not change the fact that the power he has over me is still only the power I choose to give him. Yes, I see him day after day, standing there in the stairway trying to block heaven. And yes he is quite the subtle yet relentless source of accusation. But aren't I-in fact-my own worst enemy for giving him power when I know full well he has been defeated? Why should I waste time wishing he wasn't there, (a constant source of snide rebuke), when I am really the one with the power to make him go?

I will pray Paul's prayer in Ephesians for myself:

I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ,

the glorious Father, may give me the spirit of wisdom and

revelation, so that I may know Him better. I pray also that

the eyes of my heart may be enlightened in order that I may

know the hope to which He has called me...and the

incomparably great power for me-who believes.

That power is like the working of His mighty strength,

which He exerted in Christ when He raised Him from the dead

and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all

rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title

that can be given, not only in the present age but

in the age to come.

(Eph. 1:17-21)

The man in the stair can stare all he wants, but he has no real power over me. May I never forget that. I will acknowledge his presence-because his presence is very real-but I will do a little staring of my own. And it won't be at him. I will keep my eyes fixed on the one who made my overcoming possible. "I will set my eyes not on what is seen"...a sick girl losing her Saturday as she lays sapped of physical energy on the couch..."but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal" (2 Cor.4:18). God has eternal stuff for me, and whatever that looks like, I'm gonna take it, and no man in the stair is going to be able to keep me from it!

And so, I will lay here a little bit longer and wait to feel better. But you know something? I can see the stairs from here, and they are completely empty...(for now). It's amazing what a little resisting will do to clear the stairs;)

Snow day epiphany (epiphanies can be L...O...N...G )

I love snow days because everyone is forced to stay in (for the most part). I love that-as dysfunctional as my family can be-we are all confined to this tall skinny townhouse, and I can feed them yummy comfort foods, and I know where everybody is...and I love it the most when the snow is still falling and no one knows when it will stop...and we just might be stuck in this small world for a very long time.

I like this small world because, with less and less options, the activities are more and more predictable. We will eat the same bonding (fattening) foods, we will watch the same movies-especially if the satellite signal is affected. The options get fewer and fewer, and the "unity" gets keener and keener.

But once the snow stops falling, the restless natives scatter, and you see the unity was really only a figment of the narrowing options available.

I apparently like narrowing options. There is something reassuring about us all proceeding in this controlled limited atmosphere. It is as filling and as comforting as the banana pancakes, the white chili, and the fried ice cream we consumed. But it is likely just as unhealthy.

I have been hearing a lot of mixed messages lately and, as you might have guessed, I don't like mixed messages. Way too many avenues leading who-knows-where, far from home, no doubt. And the opportunity to get lost in it all is a scary thing.

Fortunately, I decided a while back that I would make no decisions based on fear. So today-now that the snow stopped falling-I decided to stop watching the seeming conflicting messages pile up in my periphery, and look them each straight in the eye.

I didn't know where it would take me, and I worried that it would isolate me-from everyone. But I decided to trust The One who leads me and is with me always, and to set my fear aside, hold onto Him, and see where we ended up-together.

I started with the message from my "Perspectives" class...a study I'm hoping will give me God's heart for His world. So far-and I've only had 3 classes-the message is God deserves the praise of the nations and I should unapologetically spread the word.

Then there's my dear friend Oswald Chambers (author of My Utmost for His Highest), who tells me I am to be a proclaimer of the gospel of God, above all else. I know, I know, not too conflicting so far...

But then there's my blogging friend, Glennon, who has such a beautiful aroma of Jesus on her, and who lives to love God and love people, but refuses to draw any lines in the sand-even where the Bible does.

And finally there's Dr.K, who conveyed to me that I make some people feel "put upon" when I talk to them the same way I talk to believers in Jesus...which really rocked my world-and not in the good way-because that was something I thought I was doing right...(being myself with everyone). It sure seemed to simplify life.

And so, it would seem, I have the challenge of unapologetically proclaiming the gospel, while drawing no lines in the sand and squelching the talkative-believer-in-me who makes other people feel "put upon".

But are the messages really as mixed as they seem? Is the only hope I have of them all sitting down at the same table and behaving themselves, limited to the forced isolation of the rare snow day? Or could each of them come together in such a way as to broaden my horizons without compromising any of them?

I'd have to look and think and read and pray on that one.

First, I remembered my friend Letha. I had tried for years to get Letha to come to church with me. She was willing to be my friend-though we really didn't do that much together-but she showed no interest whatsoever in church. I finally gave up completely. Which sounds bad, but in my discouragement, I said to God, I'm gonna get together with Letha for lunch one day a week, and I'm going to determine not to give her any advice no matter what she says. (And let me tell you, she could say some things that were screaming for advice). I remember biting my tongue and just asking her, "so, what are you going to do about that?" As I look back on it now, I can almost hear God breathing a sigh of relief..."Finally! I was wondering what would make that girl just shut up and listen for a change..." (I said almost). But a funny thing ended up happening as I sat there week after week without a spoken opinion on everything I had an unspoken opinion on-which was everything. Letha started coming to church. Hmm...


Dr. K had suggested I might be afraid of other people's beliefs-which I quickly dismissed-but that it would be more endearing to cultivate a true interest in what others believe, and how they arrived at those beliefs. He suggested that I be more open and flexible...not I know what is right, but I want to know what you are thinking. That seemed to fit with the Letha experiment. And so I continued to ponder...

Shortly after these thoughts entered my mind, I stumbled upon an Internet article by David Wood, entitled: Hungry Homeless and jobless in Haiti. It seemed I wouldn't have to wait too long to see what some people were thinking about Christianity, and unfortunately it would be no mystery as to how they had arrived at those opinions. The article was insightful, about the plight the Haitians find themselves in, but the comments that followed were up close and personal for someone like me (and you, if you call yourself a Christian). They went disturbingly like this:

Vanleys: "Their only hope is Jesus Christ Himself! Instead of building a bullet train in parts of America, for the poor here, let's feed some families in need there. That's what the Lord would do. Bullet train, what a joke this guy is. Oh he's my president, but he's far from what he could or should be."

Emily29388: "If Jesus is gonna save'em all, I have to wonder why Jesus let them all get in this fix to start with. Oh yeah, he works in mysterious ways his miracles to perform. Mysterious indeed.

Vanleys: "America is next! You mark my words--gay marriage, abortion, gays mocking Christ on Easter out in San Francisco every year, and now our president banning Christian Day of Prayer. Folks, I got news for ya, 9/11 and Katrina were just icebreakers for what's to come."

bpd9227: "So...you worship a god who wreaks havoc and destruction on those its supposed to love? And what of the Christians killed in the many disasters...they accepted Christ, and yet they still suffered...why don't you fly down to Haiti yourself and help those people? Isn't that what Jesus would do? You big phoney!

Hammerofmac: "Jesus, what is he waiting for, an invitation? Let him go and help-they need it. But I think Americans need the help more--and I don't mean in food and water."

Wow. Those are some harsh criticisms of Jesus...but can you blame them? All they've seen of Him is what the loudest of us have shown them. For once, (maybe because I've been ruminating on all these mixed messages), I wasn't offended by their genuine-if insulting-
feelings. Their anger made perfect sense to me. We're called to proclaim the gospel unapologetically, but does that really look anything like Vanley's initial comment for earthquake crushed Haiti, "Their only hope is Jesus Christ Himself!"?

I don't know about that, but I do know this: nobody can tell me much of anything when I am hungry, thirsty, tired, in pain, or uncomfortable. It seems like, in this situation, words about Jesus are for another time. Maybe a time when they are asked for. And what would ever make the people of Haiti ask for words about Jesus? How about when we're acting so much like Him, they either have to ask us what makes us so different, (if they've never heard of Him), or, if we're related to Him (if they have).

When Vanley goes on to get political and complain about the president, I don't think that comment will draw out any interested questions about Jesus. I think that will just get chalked up to one more whiny American who naively thinks everything would be running smoothly, if only their guy would've gotten in. I won't even get into Vanley threatening America with God's wrath, or the fact that somewhere along the line bpd9227 got the idea that Christians aren't supposed to have any disasters. It all adds up to one big question: "Why does God let us speak for him at all?".

It seems like the problem of Christianity today might just be too many words and not enough action to back them up-or even to be invited to speak. The words of St. Francis of Assisi ring loud and poignant here: "Preach the gospel at all times and when necessary use words."

I include myself in the masses of well meaning Christians who have devoted themselves to study, but have opened their mouths on a study break and-quite unintentionally-hurt those around them with their enlightened ideas. And when I start living like my God is as worthy and amazing and compassionate and powerful as He is-and when I get that He wants to show that through my life and words-but not through my wordy instruction of how life after redemption is supposed to look-maybe then I will be a part of the solution, and not just an accidental part of the problem.

I think God just may be using all the mixed messages to bring me one step closer to Him. A step in which He does not become smaller and more controllable (like my snow day world), but bigger and more complex, and more amazing. And while I do not believe that all paths lead to Heaven/God, I do believe that God, in His love for all humans, devises ways to intersect with those paths...if only His people would stop setting up road blocks at those very intersections.
We've got to stop blocking the way and let them get close enough to see the beauty of the creator-somewhere past our imposing platforms-and seek Him under the shelter of the cross and decide for themselves. Do you really think if they got that close to Him they could so easily walk away?

God looks on the human condition at its worst and is not repulsed by people, but is longing to redeem them. The further we get from our own moment of clarity, however, the less tolerant and loving we are toward those who are still awaiting their moment in the Son. We feel we have arrived-when we have not. What we have is redemption. What we have to offer is not the definition of "cleaned up", but the invitation of introduction to our Redeemer. Our part is to make the introduction. To pray. To answer questions asked. To remain available and to watch the redemption process unfold-never with a critical eye-but in amazement of God's impeccable timing, and loving precision that results in redemption-and, ultimately, more introductions.

The snow is beautiful, but there is a big world out there, full of ideas and spiritual journeys that need to be genuinely (and not fearfully) listened to-really heard in the context of relationship-lifting Jesus up with every opportunity we get. Let's leave our pat answers inside our tall skinny townhouses and brave the elements together. "And surely", Jesus says, "I am with you to the very end of the age"...now that's comfort food.

one last thought...I am just naive enough to think this beautiful snow day epiphany will be beautiful to everyone, but realistically it will not. And so, if I must offend, may I offend my brother in Christ, who has the grace and the Spirit available to him, to get over it.

no frills friday

Are you ready to be offered? The question posed by Oswald this morning, in his devotional My Utmost for His Highest.

"Yea, and if I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of

your faith, I joy and rejoice with you all."

(Phil. 2:17)

"Suppose God wants to teach you to say, 'I know how to be abased'

are you ready to be offered up like that? Are you ready to be not so much

as a drop in the bucket-to be so hopelessly insignificant that you are never

thought of again in connection with the life you served?"

(Oct. 5th devo.)

Lord, I am learning that this is Your story. I'm learning more and more that this is not about me. I'm learning that everything that comes to us in this life, (good, bad, strength, weakness), are all assets to you. So, no matter what you have for me-be it seen by many, or completely unnoticed-I want it.

I know it is your will that I do Kingdom work. And I know-as I try to be obedient to you-You will give me the work that was prepared in advance for me to do. I am honored to be a part of Your story. I pray that whatever I am given to do, I will do it "in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ".

In Jesus name, Amen.

"There's got to be a morning after"

After yesterday (see After. Shock. Therapy) I was counting on Oswald (author of My Utmost for his Highest) to hit the nail on the head for me today-in my God's time. To give me what I needed. And clearly I needed comfort and hand holding. (OK, not Oswald's strong suit, but a girl can dream, right?)

Instead I got:

"Saul, Saul, why persecuteth thou me?''

(Acts 26:14)

"Am I set on my own way for God?

Obstinacy and self will always stab Jesus Christ...
When the knowledge comes that it is Jesus whom we
have been persecuting...it is the most
crushing revelation there could be."
(My utmost, Jan.28)

So no one-including Oswald-will give me what I think I need...
Hugs. Reassurances. An explanation of how I could have tried my best, and this is how it all was received?
All I want is unconditional love when I am at my ugliest, is that too much to ask?

What hope do I have if my best is hurting Jesus? (along with everyone else I live with)
And even though I recognize that the answer that is loudest in my head comes from a source that hates me, I still listen. "Check out." "You're done." "You are only making matters worse..."
"Oh, if you only had a river you could skate away on."

I want out. I want out. I want out. I close my eyes, and these are the only words I hear. They are my quite empty hope. I am, without a doubt, listening to the father of lies. And, as usual, his counterfeit offer is deceivingly appealing. He is the author of the mantra:
"There is only one answer-it's not a good one-but it is the only one."
Red flags wave as my head pounds. Where is the truth here? Where is the answer from the Lover of my soul? I'll have to intentionally stop listening to the loud-overly-eager-hater/liar, if I'm going to start listening to the still-small-loving-forgiving-wisdom-filled voice of truth. So...here goes...
The enemy wants me to focus inward. To analyze my every thought and hurt. To sit here and wait for someone to come along and scoop me up and distract me from this quite unappealing revelation of self. (either that, or have myself put to sleep)
But God wants me to face it. Look it full in the face and acknowledge it:

My best efforts are CRAP.
(and so are yours, btw)

I think maybe after you've been a Christian for as long as I have, the thought creeps in that, now that I am redeemed, my best efforts are godly...untainted. That, since I attempt to devote myself to knowing God and loving and helping other people, I am no longer a part of the problem. But I am. And if my best efforts could change that, then Jesus would not have needed to die on that cross. And survival of the spiritual fittest would be the gateway to heaven.

But Jesus is the gate. And not to keep us out, but to stand guard over us, when that wolf has his sites set on our furry little hides.

My eyes needed opened to the ugly fact that, somewhat like Paul, my spiritual zest had taken a wrong turn. (fortunately mine didn't involve tracking down those who I considered spiritually errant and literally killing them) But people were getting hurt, namely the ones I love the most.

Bottom line-the world is broken and I am an ongoing contributor to that. I am fragile and clumsy (a really bad combo) and I live among the fragile and clumsy. We will hurt each other along the way-even when we are trying our darnedest not to.

"We imagine we understand where the other person is,

until God gives us a dose of the plague of our own hearts.

There are whole tracts of stubbornness and ignorance

to be revealed by the Holy Spirit in each one of us,

and it can only be done when Jesus gets us alone."

(Oswald, My Utmost, Jan.)

Where does the hope come from then? The same place as always. At the cross.

"Where the wrongs we have done

and the wrongs done to us

have been nailed to a tree

there on the cross."

May I never again forget the perfect work of the cross.

"May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord"(Gal. 6:14)
May , "I consider everything else a loss compared..." to the cross (Phil 3:8)

May I, "resolve to know nothing except Christ and Him crucified"(1 Cor. 2:2)

So...the glimpse of me that the enemy intended to take me out with, my Daddy-God intended to strengthen and grow me with. But even if "What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger", no matter how strong I get, I will not fall for the enemies flattery. (with the intention of puffing me up, so that he can do the honors of deflating me later) I will instead remember:

"Little ones to Him belong,

they are weak but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me..."

Yes, Jesus loves you. He loves all of our weak little furry/mangy hides.
All I want is unconditional love when I am at my ugliest. Is that too much to ask?

No-thankfully-it is not.

after. shock. therapy.

broken. scared. small. unworthy and unwise.
accidentally toxic. broken...beyond repair.
Take it back. I take it back.
Everything. All of it. Make it right.
But I can't.
It's a horrible revelation that leaves me anesthetized-but still feeling everything.
C a t a t o n i c
What's wrong with me?! (I put the exclamation point because it looks like there should be one-but I'm too weighed down to exert myself to exclaim anything.)
Who can fix me...this? (Don't say God. You always say God-and they are sick of it.)
I don't know what to do with myself. Scratch. Start over. Be someone else.
Someone who doesn't have strong feelings. Someone who keeps her big fat mouth shut. Someone who closes her eyes, and doesn't have to open them again.
Someone who can stop crying.


What can you do with me God? I know you're there. I know you knew I'd be exactly here exactly now. And as unpopular as my-apparently unyielding and pervasive-views on you are,
I can't pretend that I have anything besides You. The fact is: I am Yours. It doesn't matter who doesn't like it, and who's sick of hearing it. You are stuck with me. (if it's OK to say that)


And why did I stop crying just now? Is it because I stopped being true to my feelings (whatever that means) and started writing what I thought I should. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

God, What can You do with someone who suddenly doesn't know a blessed thing?

"27 Dresses"?...Really?

I stayed up late last night engrossed in a movie that is mediocre at best. A movie that-the first time I watched it-I thought was silly and so-so and not worth my time.

Why? Who's in charge here? I don't even follow my own rules!

Meanwhile...there is something I am really trying to hear from God. Something that is eating at me. I just don't know the best way to handle this situation. I wonder why God will not just tell me what to do. I am eager to do it-whatever it is.

I have to ask myself, "Is there something between me and God?" I am so tired today, (thank you "27 Dresses"). I don't know what to think about the feelings I'm having. But I can tell you, I'm not having peace right now. I have quit my obsession with all things "********"but does it still hold a place in my heart that it's not supposed to? I'm not thinking about it...I have definitely distanced myself from it...But is it enough? I don't really want to think about it or talk about it-to God-because I really don't want to hear "You can't...". It's such a small thing, on the one hand, but it says something BIG. It says I don't trust God. It says I'm holding back. It says: "I'm in charge".

Today, Oswald said, in "My Utmost for His Highest",

"Does He (God) find me recalling the time when I did not care for

anything but Himself?

Am I there now...?"

You have only to look back to my Dec. 26 entry (slow fade) to answer that question. I am still trying to get back to where I was. But maybe I cannot go backwards. Maybe I have to look around to where I am now, and honestly assess the situation. And maybe, as Oswald goes on to say, it needs to involve shame and humiliation.

"If as I recall what God remembers about me,

I find He is not what He used to be to me,

let it produce shame and humiliation,

because that shame will bring the godly sorrow

that works repentance."

We are so politically correct in our thinking that this sounds downright wrong. "Shame? Humiliation? Just say 'no'!" There are even verses of scripture that seem to imply the same message. One of my favorites--and for good reason:

"There is therefore now no condemnation

for those that are in Christ Jesus."

How true that is! I am not condemned. But I am human. I still fall. And sometimes I even wallow. And I still kid myself about sin. And when I am finally at the place (miserable) where I am ready to look at it--just because the blood of Jesus covers it, is no excuse for numbness to it--I need to feel the pain of my "reign". And that's what it is, a reign. And so I ask, "Who's in charge?" Me. Apparently. Who gets the final say? Me. Apparently. Who has subconsciously created and sat on her own cardboard throne? Again...that would be me.

And why? Because I am so wise? Because I'm full of better ideas? because I'm trustworthy? Because I've never let myself down before? Please. Haven't I learned by now what a hot mess I am? My little substitute kingdom is not only ultimately opposed to God--it's opposed to itself! I don't even listen to me! Queen Lisa knew a bedtime of midnight was imperative to a good night's sleep last night, and so she wrote out the edict. But then, subject Lisa-who never was too good at taking orders-promptly opposed her own lordship. And for what? "27 Dresses"? Really?

In Jeremiah, the prophet says of God's people: "You do not even know how to blush".

Blushing: An outward show of one's own personal shame and humiliation. Blushing...I think we may have forgotten how to do it. Our culture celebrates the idea of no regrets--no matter how obvious the infraction. We say:

"I can't regret what made me who I am."

Yes you can! Jane, you ignorant slut--at least be wise enough to have regrets.

I must call all my little divisions (all my free radicals) out. I must corral them before the one True Throne that has never once been threatened by my microscopic coup...and I must give them all what they deserve. Death.

They don't love me. They don't have my best at heart. I am a fool if I listen, for even one more second, to their schizophrenic demands. Feel it, ponder it, let my cheeks turn red, until there is godly sorrow. Then comes repentance. And then I will hear clearly again.