Before The Throne

I was listening to Francis Chan speak via YouTube the other day and I was taken by something he said. He talked about how when he prays, before he starts speaking, he thinks about the image of the throne of God from Revelation 4 and 5. He talked about how when he takes a few moments to visualize this it changes the tenor of his prayers. Take a moment to read them...

At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. 3 And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and ruby. A rainbow that shone like an emerald encircled the throne.4 Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were twenty-four elders. They were dressed in white and had crowns of gold on their heads.5 From the throne came flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder. In front of the throne, seven lamps were blazing. These are the seven spirits of God. 6 Also in front of the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal.

In the center, around the throne, were four living creatures, and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back. 7 The first living creature was like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third had a face like a man, the fourth was like a flying eagle. 8 Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under its wings. Day and night they never stop saying:

“‘Holy, holy, holy

is the Lord God Almighty,’

who was, and is, and is to come.”

...

Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. 12 In a loud voice they were saying:

“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,

to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength

and honor and glory and praise!”

Revelation 4:2-8 and Revelation 5:11-12

I was raised in a generation that has tried to make God more "seeker friendly." I grew up hearing that God was just like my best friend, that I could talk to Him just like I do anyone else. That He could handle my screaming and arguing and mess. And the life that He and I have lived hand in hand over the last 27 years has proven that He can handle my hot mess ugly cries. He is not swayed by them. He is not wringing His hands, walking the floor of heaven frustrated, angry or looking at me in disbelief. He is solidly on His throne, surrounded by (at least) 100 Million angels.

Unfortunately, in our attempts to make Him more accessible and less "angry and judgmental" to a seeking world, we have stripped Him of the awe we should have in His presence. I mean, if I stop and visualize those images from Revelation before I speak to the Lord, my prayers change dramatically. I no longer stand in His presence asking for the petty things. My prayers automatically become more respectful, more awe-inspired, more peaceful and I no longer see myself standing in the presence of God. I am on my knees, without option, laid out before the God who spoke breath into my lungs and who by His word holds all things together. I mean, the fact that we and all our filthy rags can even enter into His presence is humbling. Add to it that we can enter into His presence, speak to Him, He hears us and answers us? I mean, are there words for that? He. Answers. Me. A being that can utter a whisper and create life has a desire to speak to me. To hear me. To answer me. What do I choose to bring Him? Do I bring Him the eternal matters? Or the stupidity of my days? Do I bring Him the heart aches and soul groans for those who don't know Him and the pain of living in this fallen world? 

Lord, may I bring to Your throne the things that matter. The bigger picture. And when I bring them, may I leave them with You. Trusting that You alone can orchestrate this life into something beautiful and honoring to You. And thank You, Lord, that just like a parent, You delight in Your children. You delight in our honor and respect of Your rightful place. And You delight in the simple things that we bring You as well. May we find the balance of the Big and Small as we grow in relationship with You. 

Building a Home

As many people know...we are building a house! What most people don't know is that we started this journey a couple years ago.

Dave took a job in Houston (51 minutes from our home) back in 2013. We immediately considered moving to a small town between our current one and the city. But it didn't sit right and we wanted to wait until we were sure this company would be the place Dave planted his flag. Well, suffice it to say, it's planted. Firmly.

We looked periodically at homes for sale, but in the town we are moving to, there are few homes that fall into our median income price range. They are either multi million dollar ranches or small homes on very little land in dire need of repair. Dave doesn't have time for dire repairs, if ya know what I mean.

And, the way that we have structured our lifestyle revolves around our church community. They are our people, wherever the Lord has us, those are the folks we "do life" with. And our church was still in our current small town. So we stayed put and the pops racked up miles on the Camry.

Then the Lord called us to the city of Hempstead and to Hempstead Bible Fellowship. And so we started actively looking for a home there.

This lead us back to the original issue of no homes really matching our needs and income level. So we decided to build one. We found a sweet little piece of land, contacted a builder and now...7 months later...we are almost there.

The foundation is in, the utilities are being put in and the road is starting to take form. In other news...if you ever decide to build a home, do it on a piece of IMPROVED property...ours was unimproved and mercy...it's been a road to say the least.

BUT, they tell us that in just over a month we will be ready to move in! We are so excited to finally be close to being in our new home, and being close to our new family at HBF!

Anyway, the whole reason I started this post was just to add pictures of the babies. Cause they are the cutest and who are we kidding....everyone loves the blogs with pictures best. :-)

It's a GIANT SANDBOX, MOM!!!!!

They love mud.

Brush piles and no shoes. This is the life.

Forget the shoes. Let's do this barefoot.

Writing More

I'm trying to write more. It's a cry of my soul. I often find that my thoughts and emotions don't always make total sense until I get them out through the clicking of the keys or the scratch of pen to paper.

If you look back at the frequency of my blogs, you'll find I do this about once a year. I declare with great gumption and forthrightness: "I'm going to write more! I NEED to write more! I'm making the time! Hello again blog word!" And then I do for about a week, and trail off into the land of other things more pressing. The soul cry neglected for the world staring eyeball to eyeball.

Isn't that life though? The art of balancing the soul cries with the actual cries coming at us from all corners. The crib, the hunger, the laundry, the coloring and crafting and running and playing, the bill paying and the dish washing. The poor, the widow, the orphan...the pure and faultless religion that God our Father accepts (James 1:27). The cries come at us from every direction, seemingly all the time.

I recently read that:

Stephen King writes 2,000 words a day, “and only under dire circumstances do I allow myself to shut down before I get my 2,000 words.”  He finishes a 180,000-word novel in three months.  He says, “If I don’t write every day, the characters begin to stale off in my mind—they begin to seem like characters instead of real people.  The tale’s narrative edge starts to rust and I begin to lose my hold on the story’s plot and pace.  Worst of all, the excitement of spinning something new begins to fade.  The work starts to feel like work, and for most writers that is the smooch of death.”  Credit: here

Now, I know Stephen King has 3 kids, but I doubt they are still in diapers these days. So bless him for his 2,000 words a day. (I wonder if he was able to do that when they were in diapers?!) I would just like to eek out the ones that will be most helpful to my soul in these moments.

How does a writer get to the point where they think others will want to read what they write? I mean when did Stephen King say: "Ya know, I think I will call a publisher...someone else might find these 180,000 words of mine worth $20 a copy." Maybe it's just the drive of the goal of being published. I recently had someone tell me that I should write a book about my life experiences. When she said it, I have to admit, something in my soul sparked. Almost like a little lightening bolt to my spirit. We'll see what the Lord does with that. ;-)

For now, I'm just trying to balance the everyday pushes and pulls with the cries of the soul the Lord put in me. I seek to honor the soul He put in me and the soul work He has put in front of me.

Commitment in the Rain

In May, Texas got more rain than any other month on record. It was a good thing too because it was followed by months of little to no rain. The rivers dropped, burn bans started popping up and kids were set loose to explore the great outdoors again.

It started raining again today. Flood like rains. Downpour. Traction Control light on my van freaking out like of rain. Part of me wanted to go stand in it. Let the drips and drops pelt my head cold, feel the water trickle down the little hairs on my arms. Another part of me was glad for our roof and glass panes of protection from the driving storms. 

I drove out to the farm of a friend of ours. They have 4000+ chickens on any given day, along with cattle, pigs, turkeys, and various other animals. During those flood days back in May, they were so flooded out, the farm was wrecked. 300+ pound pigs were rootin' all over the place because of downed fences and wreaking havoc everywhere they went. It was a mess. And today, as I drove up the gravel road, tires creating water walls like Moses standing at the edge of the Red Sea, I was reminded of those days. 

I thought of our friend and the rain he had to willingly step out into this morning. He and his workers in mud boots and hooded jackets, in and out of the torrential pourings without option. Without option not because he really didn't have one. But without option because he had made a commitment. Commitments to his family to provide, his animals to care, shield and protect them, and to the hundreds of families his farm feeds every month. Once made, commitments are no longer options. 

I am guilty of making a commitment and then not keeping it. From the smallest things like not drinking a 5th cup of coffee that day to forgetting an appointment to breaking the vows I set on my wedding day to cherish, always love and always sacrifice for. I know that to be born is to be set up to forget, fail and otherwise stumble. It's the nature of this broken world.

But our society has gone the way of commitment ineptitude. We find someone who actually does what they say they will and we are baffled by their astounding character. We stand in awe of someone showing up on time to serve in a church week after week after week. In our small town, to find a contractor who will show up to quote a job is an amazing feat. And to have them actually complete the job they quoted, is downright unbelievable. Yet, for those who are men of their word, they are promised to see job after job after job roll in. People want to work with those who are committed and follow through.

I don't know exactly what prompted all this rambling except that I hope by diligence and doing the hard work, I can raise children who do what they say. I hope that when their generation grows up and becomes the farmers, contractors and church volunteers of the world, that my kids stand out, not necessarily for their intelligence or wit, but because they are men and women of their word.  I pray that I can raise them to look out the window, see the rain and jerk on the mud boots with a smile.