Remember…

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By Ed Traut


Psalms 103:2 (Message Bible) O my soul, bless God, don’t forget a single blessing!

  • So often when we are overwhelmed by life’s challenges we forget what the Lord has done.  
  • It is better to recite what we do have rather than what we don’t have.
  • It even promotes faith when we list and name one by one all that God has done and is doing.

Prayer:  Hallelujah!  I lift my hands up to praise You and to worship You because You have done so much and are doing so much for me and my household.  I count each blessing and I am naming them Lord, because the enemy wants to make me focussed on such small insignificant things.  I praise You for Your goodness.  Amen. 

Ed Traut
Prophetic Life

Who is in Charge?

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By Ann Farabee

What? Why had no one told us there would be a drill today?

Usually, as a teacher, I was made aware of a fire drill ahead of time.

I knew immediately that something felt different. My students and I would not be lining up and marching out of the building silently to take our fire drill position in line on the playground. Instead, this drill signal was the one informing us that we were to take our students into our classroom CLOSET and wait together until further notice.

My students stared at me for a brief second before we all  began to walk that direction. We had practiced it, but had never put it into practice.

My 24 students silently moved to pack themselves tightly in that small space, and the 25th person was me. None of us could see our hand in front of our face. So we stood in the darkness. My position was to stand facing the closet door. In other words, if there was a shooter and the door opened, I would be shot first. As a teacher, I was always prepared for that, because I knew that my role would be to protect my students.

 In the darkness, I was praying silently as we held to each other. However, it was different from previous drills in my teaching career. Fire drills we were used to. Following those instructions was simple as we lined up and marched out of the building together silently, while making sure I had all of my students with me.

This drill was different. After an eternity, the closet door creaked open, leaving a crack of light visible in our dark space. There stood a police officer, looking serious and comforting. As his eyes met mine, he asked, “Who is in charge?” Without hesitation, I responded, “I am in charge. I am Mrs. Farabee, and my 24 students are accounted for.”

 I realized that I would have done anything to keep them safe – including sacrificing my own life. A classroom of students and their teacher become a family.

I would not have had it any other way.

Honestly, even though once we knew we were safe, that day did not return to normal at all.

Why accept normal when one feels greater than normal love for each other?

For a teacher, the classroom and their students are a home and a family every day.

As I stood in that closet with my 24 surrounding me, I knew.

I would have given my life for them in a second.

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, an announcement was made that we could go back to our normal schedule.

Trust me. Nothing was going to feel normal that day.

However, I acted as if it had just been a drill and we were supposed to get right back to work.

I found out later that a fast food restaurant that was within a couple of blocks of our school had been robbed and that the robber had headed the direction of our school on foot. So, we went into lockdown. It gripped my heart with a plethora of emotions.

Those words still ring in my heart today, “Who is in charge?”

I knew the truth all along –

Fear not for I am with thee.

Isaiah 41:10

A Heart that Hides

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By Rhonda Sassano

A Heart that Hides

Holy Spirit,  I am still feeling vulnerable.  And I’m protecting my heart from further pain.  It’s ridiculous, I know!  I’m such an absurdity!  I pull away and then wanna be close and then I get close and then something happens that I don’t like and instead of leaning in, I pull away!  WHAT DO I WANT FROM YOU??? How can I sense the closeness and much-longed-for intimacy when I’m constantly in and out and up and down and here and there and yon… I want to be able to push the emotions aside and just live from a place of … peace.  Deep inner peace that nothing shakes. Even as I write this, I’m aware that I do have that peace.  It’s just covered over with a few (ok, several) layers of mixed feelings.  Grief.  Sadness. Loss. Lack of hope. Too little joy.  And yet, I know where to find the antidote for each one of those things! Some days, I just cannot convince myself to reach out. To look for You. To seek Your face… I  let the paper tigers of  disappointment, frustration, and the possibility of rejection to come between me and You, to stand in place of the Veil, to keep me separated from Your Presence…it’s all too convenient to just not go there.  

I know what it is:  it’s the letter I received from a sweet young friend, offering help and a perspective that isn’t fully informed.  And now I need to have a conversation with this friend.  The potential for disaster is 

H U G E…  and my heart is closed up so tightly, all the inner recesses packed with excuses (and lies) in hopes of cushioning the blows that await me.  This never works for long.  But still.  There’s no convincing my heart to relax, to come out of hiding, to remain ready to receive, to just to see what happens.  Huh uh. . . the potential for pain is too great.  

It’s one or the other, though.  Either Mr heart is open to everyone, including You, or closed off and protected from everyone.  Including You. 

Selah.  

So I wait, with my heart deep under cover.  Will my friend realize? I’m usually so open and free, surely the difference will be noticeable! Even without intent, I must admit the spirit is felt rather than seen.  How many times have I just sensed when someone is hurting, even though their words and expressions belie the inner turmoil? That’s my spirit touching the other person’s spirit.  It’s wonderful and scary at the same time… I really want others to encounter the spirit of Jesus when they encounter me!  

Jesus, help me!  In your Name, I command my spirit to be open, to come out of hiding, to throw off the layers of lies and excuses, to enter a state of vulnerability!  I’d rather risk the wounds myself than be the one wounding her!  

I don’t feel any different.  But I choose to believe that Your Name has power over my heart and mind and spirit.  I command my emotions to be quiet.  I acknowledge you, but you are not my dictator.   Yes.  Peace is slowly stealing across my spirit, seeping in to all the crevices and secret spots, soothing the fears.  I trust You, Holy Spirit, for the right words at the right time.  This is a deep relationship, highly treasured and highly valued by us both.  By You, too. Our relationship will weather this storm and be stronger when it’s over.  

C’mon, heart.  You may not be able to trust me, or her, but He is trustworthy.  And if wounds occur, they will heal by His hand.   Heart, you are safe.  Not from pain, but from 

Brokenness is never wasted by a good, Good Father. 

“God is not looking for those who can but those who will.”

Carefree But Cluttered

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By Ashlie Miller

As mentioned last week, we can sometimes overlook beautiful things around us – like the plums we did not notice growing on a tree in our yard. However, we can sometimes overlook and neglect things that do not bring beauty or no longer contribute to our lives – things that may keep us from growth, harmony, and peace. 

One of my older sons, JT, has been making the most of having a room to himself while his older brother is serving at a camp this summer. He is good at keeping his space well-organized. Still, he is also a teenager, and like many his age, his space can get cluttered with trash, things that need to be returned to their proper place, or items that no longer contribute to this stage of his life (does a 16-year-old still want the toy or shirt from 6 years ago?). While cleaning, he had an epiphany. While discussing our day during our family devotional bedtime routine, he mentioned his hard work and frustration at himself for the things that kept his room messy. He spoke of how it gave him time to ponder how little things add up and get in the way of a peaceful atmosphere. “I wonder what things I have let clutter my heart?” he commented. 

It is challenging to live a truly carefree life and not have some order, isn’t it? Sure, the idea of a carefree life may sound like living unencumbered by rules, order, limits, and responsibility, but living this way is chaotic, without peace, harmony, or true beauty. Perhaps some of the beauty in our lives is obscured by this chaos and figurative trash of worthless pursuits or past passions. We may label them as petty or trivial – “It’s just an old habit, part of my personality label, part of my past that I cling to, it has become my identity.”

What then? Well, in my son’s case, it is time to do deep cleaning, literally moving objects to discover trash and dispose of it properly. In doing so, we find treasures and delights, perhaps. But even if not, cleaning and resetting the environment makes for a new sense of purpose and restart. In the case of our heart, it can mean pruning things back, much like a plant, so that fruit can flourish or crushing besetting sins so that we can run the race unfettered by weights that pull us down (see Hebrews 12:1).

We can take a practical look at our daily surroundings to live more simply and more fully, whether it is taking out garbage or donating things that are no longer of help to us – as long as it would not be a vice for the next person. We can ask of our hearts: What do I cherish and cling to that has not been healthy for me spiritually? Is this thing drawing me closer to God and His will for me or closer to my inward self – the person I want to cultivate of my own will? In one case, we will freely rid ourselves of the vice, though it will likely be painful initially. In the other case, we will justify and reason our keeping of the clutter, which may move us towards where we think we want to go but ultimately keep us from where God wants us to be.

Are you up for the challenge? 

Ashlie Miller is busy decluttering cabinets and those “it’s never gonna happen” projects this summer. You can email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

Summer Memories

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By Doug Creamer

            Have you looked at the calendar? We are almost halfway through June, which means we are almost halfway through another year. Where does the time go? Most students are now enjoying summer vacation. I always loved school letting out for the summer as a child and as a teacher. I enjoyed the freedom and being able to sleep in. In my current job, we get a nice break around the 4th of July, but not the summer off.

            As a little kid, summer meant swimming and golf lessons. I remember having fun camping out in the backyard. I also remember trips to see my aunts and uncle, and spending time with my grandparents. As I got a little older I went off to Boy Scout camp. I have lots of great memories of summer vacation.

            As I got a little older, I started a lawn business. I never made what the guys make today, but I enjoyed what I did make. When I turned 16, I started working at gas stations. I worked weekends while I was in school, but basically worked full-time in the summer. Summer jobs included gas station attendant, waiter, hotel front desk clerk, and auto detailing at an auto action.

            Summer always makes me think of the beach. I did most of my growing up living in Virginia Beach, but we rarely went down to the tourist area of the beach. We mostly went down to Nags Head, where my parents occasionally rented a house for a week. I have some great memories of family times down at the beach. My older sister life-guarded with the National Park Service and I had fun visiting her, too. 

            Summer also makes me think about gardening. It seems like my mother always had a garden with fresh veggies. BLTs were a summer staple at my house. There is nothing like picking a tomato and making a juicy sandwich. I’ve always loved fresh sweet corn. You can’t beat picking corn and eating it less than 30 minutes later. The garden also yielded beans, cucumbers, and peppers, among other yummy treats. We didn’t grow watermelons, but we ate plenty of them in the summertime.

            My mother would go strawberry picking in the early summer and she would make preserves. I am not sure which I liked better, the fresh strawberries or her preserves. We often saved one jar to enjoy at Christmas. One fun summer memory related to fruit came after a great day at the beach. Dad was driving home and we saw a fruit stand. He pulled over and we bought a basket of freshly picked peaches. I had eaten plenty of canned peaches but never a fuzzy fresh one. “What is this fuzz?” I remember asking. “Just eat it.” Mom said. We all did and we had juice running down our chins all the way home.

            There are so many great summer memories. Dad would shoot basketball with my brother and me late in the evening after supper. Summer nights with the windows open and fans blowing. Summers always seemed to feel carefree, although I am sure they weren’t. Reflecting and remembering the good times is part of the treasure of getting older.

            It is good and important to remember our past, especially in a spiritual sense. We need to remember when we were baptized. We need to remind ourselves of the many times we prayed for specific things and God answered our prayers. We need to remember how the Lord stood with us through troubled times. We need to remind ourselves how the family of God was there for us when times were tough.

            We need to remember our pastors who pray for us and with us. We should thank God for the messages they taught us and the way they led us. We need to reflect on church socials and the laughter and joy we shared. There are so many special holiday gatherings as a church family throughout the year. It is also good to remember how we have grown, changed, and matured in our Christian faith.

            I want to encourage you to reflect on your walk with Christ and be thankful. He has been there for you, never giving up on you. It is good to remind yourself of the many victories you have experienced, especially when you are going through tough times. It is good to remember the power of prayer to change circumstances. It is good to be thankful for the family of God who surrounded you in tough times. Summer memories are great, but spiritual memories can be life-sustaining.   

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

Marathoning

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By Roger Barbee

The long present COVID-19 pandemic and the racial turmoil we must heal have caused me to recall my days of racing marathons, those grueling 26.2-mile races. Like the marathon, the pandemic has been long, and the racial injustices we face have been with us for four hundred years. Both a marathon for sure, and we need to remind ourselves that the way to finish strong and correct is to maintain our form gained from our training. Let me explain.

My view of the marathon is that it is a 10 km race with a twenty-mile warm-up. I raced each marathon by pacing myself and when my energy began sweeping away,  I concentrated even more on my form:  Maintaining a relaxed arm rhythm with my head erect as I aligned my shoulders  above my hips which I kept in line above my knees which I kept in line above my feet. I also maintained a good foot strike by gently landing on the outside of each heel and then rolling to the big toe before pushing off. I worked at maintaining as much of a relaxed, upright posture as I could and not allowing fatigue to dominate. Concentrating on form, not food or some other such subject, worked best for me, and I recommend it still for any road racer or athlete. Too many times I would pass runners whose form had melted into the roadway as they lost position in both the  race and their form. They had fallen apart. In any race, even the 100-meter dash, form is important, and a racer’s form is a result of his or her training.

We are given the opportunity to perfect a form to follow in times of such horrific racial injustices that we, sadly once again, face, and the long-weary COCID-19 pandemic.  The form that I write of is our individual and collective knowledge of our history, literature, religion, and more. For instance: Knowing the name Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and some of his accomplishments is a good beginning. However, we should go a step more and read and study his essay Letter from the Birmingham Jail, but do not stop there. Read the April 12, 1963 appeal to “local blacks of Birmingham” that was signed by eight religious leaders and printed in many area newspapers. Read their condemnation of Dr. King as “an outside agitator” and then read his essay in answer to their words. Learn more about the long struggle for racial justice and have a deeper appreciation for some people’s impatience over 50 years after he penned those magnificent words.

The COVID-19 plague continues to wear on us. Some of us ignore safety protocol in a belief that “rights” are being infringed upon by any governmental restriction aiming for public safety. We are tense. We are tired. We are troubled. Yet, if we had read John Barry’s fine study of a horrific flu epidemic, The Great Influenza, we might be better equipped to place our struggle in an important historical context and act from that perspective; not one of selfish disregard for others.

Any modern sufferer will gain solace from knowledge. Out of that solace will come patience which is necessary for productive action. And we need action today, but action based on facts, not emotions. The patience that grows out of knowledge will help us see the complexities we face and to understand how we came to where we are and to find solutions. But both above examples are historical and literary. While they and more are valuable for training or preparation for having a productive and quality filled life, I also recommend another base to help when weariness sets in; and just as in a marathon, every-day life will cause fatigue for every person. 

We all will benefit from a higher power. As a Christ follower, I read and study my Bible, but the Sermon on the Mount is what I draw from most—especially when I am weary as I am now. During the 1960’s I marched and protested against the war in Vietnam and for equality in America. I know the sting of gas agents and the destruction from angry mobs, which Mark Twain described as armies without a leader. I see that same anger now, but offer that if we, Christ followers or not, follow the words in Matthew 5-7, we would be better for it. Speaking to a large crowd on a mountain, Jesus gives instruction for living. For self-respect and respect for others. For decency. For living a productive life and a life of quality.

 Dr. Clarence Jordan demonstrated at Koinonia Farm in Southwest Georgia during the 1950’s and 60’s, that if we follow the teaching of The Sermon on the Mount, we will have the training that is necessary when the fatigue of running our marathon sets in. And that training will enable us to maintain form, to finish not only the race, but to finish it well.

Catching Up!

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By David Freeze

   My column last week updated everyone on the latest from my farm accident. The Gotta’ Run column from last week got lost online somehow, but it can be found now in the Lifestyles section. What you may have missed is my fall from a front-end loader on May 15th that resulted in a broken back. This past week has been a tough one, with not a step of running likely to happen in the foreseeable future.

    Today’s news is the first follow-up appointment after the accident at Carolina Neurosurgery and Spine in Concord. After two weeks of varying levels of discomfort, I was happy to get to see scans and x-rays of my spine and the areas of concern. I am also glad to move forward and work toward a more comfortable existence that improves most days.

    Discomfort has been improving this week, but I still have a serious ache in my left hip and leg. The doctor, a fellow cyclist, told me to keep doing what I am, and they would see me in a month. I have his email and will ask a few questions during the month. Recovery is still a long way off, but we took a giant step forward today as the scans looked good except for one place where the spinal column is slightly pinched. Healing is occurring and I’m praying that the discomfort that keeps me from standing for more than a few minutes will soon subside. Thanks again for the tremendous outpouring of support in texts, emails, calls, cards and prayers. I’ve probably not eaten so well in my life, but calories burned are insignificant, so moderation is the key.

     A few weeks back, I wrote about the importance of an accurately measured course for any road race distance. More than 20 years ago, Salisbury had an issue with too many courses that were measured short, especially with any that started at Catawba College and not named Winter Flight. It has been my personal crusade to measure accurately all the courses we use in Salisbury and Rowan County. I mentioned the only accurate way to measure a course is with a solid measuring wheel, and that certainly none of the online measurers like mapmyrun are good enough.

     I happened to run into Marcel Renn at Father and Son Produce the following Monday morning after the column ran. Mr. Renn reminded me that a 5K course, the key word being kilometer instead of 3.1 miles, is actually 32 feet longer than a 3.1 mile course. Since most of our courses are called 5 kilometers in distance, remember to add that 32 feet to make it accurate. 3.1 miles is 16,368 feet and 5 kilometers is 16,400, but 16,404 by another source when using five decimal places. It all starts to make my head hurt.

     And finally, one of the county’s best races is set for Friday night, June 7 in China Grove. The 5K race, a half mile fun run and 200-yard tot-trot are all set for Main Street, hence the name Main Street Challenge 5K. The South Rowan YMCA benefits its scholarship programs with this 9pm race, the only night race remaining in the county.

     All the races are straight out and back to the finish near the fire department. Streets will be well lit and expect a party atmosphere through town with residents lining the streets and likely a fire department water truck splashing any runners who need to cool off just before the finish.

     The Main Street Challenge is officially the fastest 5K in the state of NC after Donnie Cowart set the super sizzling course record there two years ago of 14 minutes and 6 seconds. Pizza, doughnuts, watermelon and a commemorative t-shirt are included while an abundance of finisher awards go to the overall and age group top participants. China Grove runner Robert Miller broke the long-standing state 5K record for age 50-54 males last year.

    Look for more information on this and other upcoming events at www.salisburyrowanrunners.org

Encouragement

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1 Thessalonians 5:10-11 He died for us so that, whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with him. Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.

  • We are only passing through this life and it was designed for us to know Him as Lord for eternity.
  • Once we are born again we have this wonderful assurance of always living with Him, whether we are alive in this body or not.
  • It is to His joy and pleasure that we strengthen each other continually with this understanding that we are extremely blessed being saved and have a great future.

Prayer:  Lord I ask You to help me to encourage my brethren continually and to strengthen in their resolve to serve You and to follow after You and to not be discouraged by things of this world and obstacles that come our way.  We are indeed a privileged and blessed people.  Hallelujah. Amen.

Ed Traut
Prophetic Life

Seems Like Yesterday

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By Lynna Clark

Fifty years ago this month, I walked down the aisle of the Landis Methodist Church on my daddy’s arm. It didn’t matter that he had on a tux that didn’t match the rest of the men in the wedding party. Besides, it wasn’t his fault. One of our groomsmen showed up in a suit with tails. Outside the bride’s dressing room, I heard the friend exclaim, “Hey! Y’all have on the wrong tux!” Not him of course. That would be too obvious since all the other guys looked alike. Thinking I would panic, Daddy and Chris quietly switched jackets. Thankfully they wore the same size. Hence daddy walked me down the aisle in a tux with tails since he would be sitting next to mama instead of standing down front. I really didn’t care. All I knew was that my sweetheart waited for me to become his wife. We were ready. After all, I was nineteen and David would be too the following month. Okay. So he was eighteen. I’m a cougar and I totally robbed the cradle. But we were plenty old enough to know everything. Or so we thought.

On that beautiful day, our life together officially began. Through the years, God blessed us with three daughters, lots of fun places to raise them, and plenty of joy in the journey. At times we were richer than poor. Other times… not so much. Always we lived on the grace of God and His provision. We called it adventure living. There was also the whole ‘in sickness and in health’ thing. Nobody wants me to rehearse all that. At times, it’s been a very rough ride. David just gently cared for me every step of the way, never once wavering in his kindness and love. When he promised his faithfulness at the ripe old age of eighteen, he meant it. Fifty years later, here we are, upheld by the Lord’s mighty omnipotent hand. How Firm a Foundation could have been our theme song. Either that or Living on a Prayer, by Bon Jovi. Both are pretty accurate. Any way you look at it, God has been very good to us. That is why I’ve hung onto Psalm 90:1. “Through all the generations Lord, You have been our home.” David holds Jeremiah 29:11 close. “For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you; to give you a future and a hope.” Fifty years together with the Lord. He has been so faithful, so gracious, so wonderfully good. Yet David and I are still learning at His feet. Day by day He teaches us that He really is not mad at us for not always getting it right. He just loves.

If I could give one bit of advice to anyone who seeks wisdom it would be this. Put a tray or a bowl, some kind of vessel, by your door. As you enter, drop your keys there so you can always find them. This will save your marriage and also your mind. God bless you beloved ones. Thank you for your part in making our lives so good.

Secret Place

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By Rhonda Sassano

Secret Place

I died nearly 8 years ago.  I was at home when I had a major cardiac event, and I literally dropped dead. My family was home, and did their best to revive me, but with no success, they called the EMTs who shocked me back no less than five times. When I was finally stable enough to be transported to the hospital, of course, I went straight to the ICU. After many tests and procedures, no one seem to know what had happened exactly, or even why if it happened. And in the weeks and months that followed, I underwent more tests to determine what had gone wrong and how it could be prevented in the future. But at the six month mark, the doctors determined that I was completely healthy, completely normal, and took me off all eight medications I had been placed on.  Now, nearly 8 years later, I never even think about it; I just expect to be healthy, normal, and functioning properly.

Thursday, this past week, I had an appointment for a pre-op consultation. I need to undergo a simple procedure that many women my age endure. The doctor performing the consultation asked me about the cardiac event from eight years ago. I related to him the basics, and that I hadn’t had any trouble since and that I was on no medication. He did a brief EKG, drew some blood, and expressed concern with the upcoming surgery.  He insisted I visit the  original cardiologist for clearance before proceeding with surgery. When I seem nonplussed and unconvinced, he pulled up some documents on his computer and highlighted a few sentences there. He invited me over to the screen and read them out loud to me. The sentences stated that a couple key issues were present and were the cause of the heart attack. Also, the bloodwork revealed that another issue is currently present and could also present challenges for the surgery and beyond. 

As you can imagine, I was shocked, and devastated is not too strong a word, and very annoyed that the original cardiologist had not relayed this information to my husband and myself. And on my way home, I found myself an emotional mess. I found myself struggling to continue to believe that I had been 100% healed. I heard myself say out loud: “I do not believe the report of the doctor. I believe the word of the Lord. I have been healthy, normal with a perfectly functioning heart for the last eight years… Why should now be any different?” And then I realized that water retention is another symptom of a heart that isn’t pumping correctly…. Oooh.  “Okay Father, you have my attention.”  But for the rest of the day and the next, I felt… vulnerable.  Let down.  Doubt and belief literally warred in my thoughts and spirit.  And yes.  Depression was there, too, to put in his two cents. That neglected blob (who was well-contained a couple articles ago) was back with a vengeance.  Like a demented wizard, he swirled his fingers through my emotions, churning them up and daring me to let the dam break.  

At some point, I said aloud, “I’m not giving in.  I’m not going back there.  I will honor the Lord even with my response to this news, and even while I am completely alone.  He is worthy of my trust, regardless of the report, regardless of the prognosis. The least I can do is give Him glory for His past healing and claim it again for my future.”  You’d think the waves would’ve calmed down then, right?  Sorry, no.  My words do have power, but not like His!  So I began to quote Ps 91 “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”  I stopped to muse about it. How do I dwell in the secret place?  Where IS the secret place? How do I find it and how do I stay there?  And is it a secret place or a secret place? As the emotions swelled with longing, tears coursed down my cheeks.  “Father,” I whispered, “that is all I want. I want your secret place to be mine, too.  You invite me to it, right here, but I don’t know how to get there.”  And I thought about the disciples questioning Jesus with where He was going and why they couldn’t follow Him there… Jesus’ gentle reply soothed my heart, “You know the way.”  I took a deep breath.  The challenge had been presented… “Father, you want me to ask you what you want to say to me. But I don’t want to, because I’m afraid of the answer.  And that makes no sense because you are always good, You’ve never made a mistake with me, so why I am so hesitant? But I want to know your heart. So I ask you, Father, what do you want to say to me?” 

“My precious Rhonda, my darling daughter!  I love you SO crazy much!  You are worth the life of my very own only Son.. what else would I not give you for the asking?  I know this is tough.  Really tough! But you can DO it, you can handle it or I wouldn’t have put it on you.  But don’t take on the burden of provision. That is MY job.  You just do the next thing and be faithful to ask and obey.  That’s all!  I won’t let you fall. I won’t forsake you.  I won’t torture you by hiding.  I’m HERE.  Always present, closer than close.  Your  very breath! And your sacrifice of worship thrills me and blesses me and I literally dance with joy over you when you come in your sorrow and doubts and misgivings…. I don’t judge you for them.  I see them; I know them.  I’m so very proud of you for acknowledging them and believing me anyway.”  Sobbing with relief, I cried, “I believe, Father, help my unbelief.”

An alarm on my phone sounded loudly and with a rush, reality took over:  time to clock in to work! I dried my face and breezed by the parents and clients in the lobby, hoping for zero interactions.  “Thank you, Lord,” I breathed as the hallway door closed behind me. 10 minutes later, child in hand, another alarm went off, this time a reminder to be grateful, to be content with now.  I focused my heart and tried to repeat the words with depth and meaning.  Feeling nothing, I silenced the alarm.  All day, every hour, similar alarms reminded me to “be grateful, be content with now.” I wondered if my diligence would result in any fruit at all.  I slept fitfully that night. 

Saturday morning dawned. I awoke praying in the Spirit.  Gratefulness swept through my soul.  “I guess I’m going to be ok!” I looked around for Blob (the depression.  See my article “A long time coming”)  Still in his plexiglass box, he was now small and wimpy, very un-threatening! “Thank you that Your Word is true, even if it takes some patience…” 

So life goes on.  According to the doctor, my heart isn’t working at 100%.  I acknowledge the facts.  But the truth is different than the facts. According to the Word, my heart beats at the command of my Father!  And every day that I’m alive and have energy to do the things in front of me is a day that I’ve experienced healing!  I had a measure of faith eight years ago, for an instant, miraculous healing.  Now I need a bigger faith to believe for healing every day, to hear the doctor’s report and let it impact my actions toward a healthier lifestyle without allowing  it to decrease my faith in His ability and willingness to provide health and even healing.  And yes, I still sense the tension between belief and unbelief.  It’s a tightrope walk, for sure! But the tightrope is in the secret place.  And that’s all I want. 

“God is not looking for those who can but those who will.”

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