Becoming Certifiable

(also entitled: When Life Goes Bang)

 

As some of you may remember, five years ago when my life was reset (for more info you can start reading in July 2010 with the culmination of the major losses in February 2011 in my blog), I made a list of things to learn as a way to rebuild who I am and my life. One of those things was firearms.

 In May 2011, I bought my pistol. A month later I tested for my concealed carry. No clue how many rounds I went through preparing for that shooting test, but I passed with no problem.

 In the meantime, I became an NRA Refuse to Be a Victim instructor, worked with survivors of domestic abuse and divorce, and helped them put their lives back together both practically and psychologically. One of the classes I teach is Personal Protection Without a Firearm, but the fact is, some of these women need to be able to defend themselves against dangerous men who would kill them, and I taught basic shooting to a couple of people, but I also toyed with the idea of becoming a trained instructor.

Then, I put my firearm in the safe and left it. For over 14 months. No shooting. No cleaning. No looking at stores and drooling on their counters. Nothing.

Last summer some things happened, and I again realized being a trained and certified instructor would be a good idea, so I hired a private coach. On our first trip to the range after not touching my firearm for 14 months, I shot a 9” plate at 15 yards with better than 70% accuracy. The man looked at me and said, “You’re going to be fine.” I was told to practice once a week for 4-5 weeks, 50 rounds each time, and I’d be ready by August. Sweet!

Except three weeks later, I couldn’t hit the 24x36 inch silhouette with even 50% accuracy at 15 yards. Something was seriously wrong.

So I headed to my eye doctor. I didn’t tell her what the actual motivation was for the mid-year visit. I just told her I was having problems with focusing. She ran the regular tests, ran some tests twice, and tossed in some new tests. When all the testing was done, she sat on her stool in front of me, looked me in the eyes, and said, “You are going to have to learn to shoot left-handed. The muscles in your right eye are too deteriorated to hold a focus for you to shoot with your right side anymore. You have to learn to shoot left. But this is you we are talking about, so it is no big deal. You’ll be fine.” What about corrective lenses? They don’t fix muscles. What about surgery? Not for this.

I left her office shocked. This was not what I had expected. I expected different glasses. I expected exercises. I expected some kind of infection with eyedrops, but simply, you can’t do this anymore like you are doing it? What?

In the midst of some other far more serious things happening, I wondered if the firearms had been a nice life raft during a really hard time. If so, I was okay with that. If not, how long would it really take to learn to shoot with my left side? It would be like starting all over, only weirder and more uncomfortable.

Finally, in November I took a deep breath and went back to the range. Just to see.

First I tried the right side to see if maybe we had been wrong. It became obvious very quickly that we were not wrong. So I loaded my pistol and tried shooting with my left eye and my left hand. I was surprised. At 10 yards, I was hitting a 9-inch target with 50% accuracy. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Except it was. It was mentally exhausting first and foremost, and I left the range with a monster headache from the eye strain. Was it worth it?

On January 13^th at 11:00 pm, I was sitting on my bed with my computer open in my lap praying about a lot of things including firearms and asking for direction concerning becoming a firearms instructor. I wasn’t sure I could pass the class, and I couldn’t remember the name of the person I was supposed to take the class from. As I sat there, email came in. The email was from Bill Russel, the very man I couldn’t remember, telling about an NRA Basic Pistol Instructor class being held February 20-21. I wrote back thanking him for the information, explaining that I was having to relearn how to shoot and didn’t think I would be ready until April or later, but please keep me in mind for another class. He wrote back, “If you are close, come on.”

Close? I hadn’t actually started working on relearning yet. I was still trying to talk myself beyond that horrific headache, but now, I had no excuse…and I was on the clock.

On one hand, YES GOD!!! He was giving me this amazing gift that was obviously of Him, and if He puts you in front of a giant, He plans to take the giant down before you…if you do your part. Always exciting to see a giant fall!

On the other hand…reality. Learning  to shoot using my non-dominant eye and learning to control a firearm with my weaker hand (can we say recoil?) while teaching my left hand to be comfortable holding a firearm while also learning trigger control. To accomplish this, my favorite pistol wasn’t going to work. I needed a smaller caliber, which meant using the pistol I had never liked the feel of to begin with.  Yeah. This was going to be fun.

Oh, yeah, did I mention pre-qualification? There is a pre-qualifying shooting test before you even take the class. 15 yards. 6 inch group in an 8 inch area.

I hadn’t even tried 15 yards. I wasn’t sure I could hit a barn at 15 yards. On one hand, I was thinking, “What have I done?” On the other hand, really? An email from the exact person I was trying to remember about the exact class I was considering at the exact moment I was praying about it? If that is not God, I don’t think a burning bush would be any more convincing, so I was going to do this thing.

For the next five weeks, I was at the range every Tuesday and Thursday going through 100 or more rounds a trip. This was not going to be a cheap certification.

The first week was…ugly. 15 yards was a joke. I was trying to get all 20 rounds in at 10 yards.

Second week, 10 yards was working. 15 yards…seriously?

Third week, I actually had a target that would pass the pre-qual.

Fourth week, everything evaporated. I couldn’t hit anything again. I had been helping my brother clean my folks’ house, and all the dust and stuff had gotten to me. The sinus problems behind my eyes put so much pressure on my eyes that I could barely see the target at 15 yards, and accuracy was a joke.

Week five I was at the range every day. On a positive note, each day I had multiple targets that could have passed pre-qualifications. On a negative note, each day I had multiple targets that would have failed pre-qualifications. The question was: which one would show up under pressure at the class?

Saturday we stood outside in the beautiful Texas sunshine loaded 5 rounds into our magazines. Range went hot, and the shooting started. With shaking hands, I hit 40%. Seriously. I had not done that badly since week 3. We loaded five more rounds. Range went hot, and the shooting started. I was never going to pass. This was so bad. SO bad.

I cleared my firearm, set it on the table, walked to the post holding up our covering, squatted down, looked at the gravel at my feet, and said simply, “Okay, I have tried to do this on my ability. I obviously have none, which I knew anyway. I’m only here because of You. I really need you to show up for the next 10 rounds.”

I walked back to the table, loaded five rounds, listened for the hot call, stared at my giant, whispered, “I was made for this, and you are just a dead body for me to step over on my road to where I am going,” and unloaded five beautiful shots.

Last set. I loaded 5 rounds, waited for the hot call, and unloaded five more beautiful rounds. My instructor simply said, “Got over the jitters, did you?”

Interesting how stepping into the courage of who God says you are will do that. J

Last night after I got home, I sat and stared at my patches. Yesterday at our presentation ceremony in class, we shared our goals for the class and whether we met them. Everyone else had professional goals, but mine were primarily personal, and I felt pretty silly when I got choked up on the last one, but for me, it was the most important one.

“I want to set a rocking awesome example for my kids. I want them to live with fierceness of spirit and faith and realize hard things in life are to be embraced because that is where we grow stronger, and instead of telling them that, I want to live that in front of them.”

I passed. :-)

"Do You Trust Me?"

I lay in the dark pondering the day, too aware of the implications to go to sleep. I had posted quite a bit on Facebook challenging parents and pastors to step and talk about holiness, accountability, commitment, and changed lives with their youth...and themselves.

One of my posts said:

Dear pastors and parents,

If all we have to offer our children and young people are fun activities and a moral lesson, we are failing.

If all we teach our children and young people is what not to do--don't smoke, don't cuss, don't have sex--then we've failed.
If all we teach our children and young people is to memorize scripture, we've failed.
Unless we teach our children to love like Jesus, we have failed.

Today, I am sincerely asking how I am failing as a mom and praying for God to show me how *I* need to love like Jesus and how I need to teach my children and the young people in my realm of influence how to love like Jesus. And I'm not asking this because I have it all together. I'm asking because I realize I don't have it all together, and I trust God to be faithful to answer me and equip and empower me fully for this calling He has given me.

God be with you as you live--and love--intentionally today.

Another said:

Dear Pastors,

There is a difference between building youth groups and equipping and growing godly youth. I've spent most of the day listening to my two teenagers brain storm on ways they can take responsibility for their spiritual growth and the spiritual growth of other youth because they are tired of the mentality that a great youth group is dependent on numbers. They are hungry for God, not a gimmick. They are also at a point when they are deciding if church is relevant or just a requirement for religious purposes. They are choosing to make JESUS relevant.

 I tell you this because my kids are not the only ones asking the good questions, and they are not the only ones who are tired of being told learning Bible stories is enough. They want to learn what life in Christ and for Christ looks like.

I also tell you this as a challenge. My kids are not afraid of being leaders. They are not afraid of hard things, and they are not afraid to call a religious tradition empty. In the last five years, we've left multiple churches because my kids have seen through the smoke and mirrors and marketing tactics to the bottom of the empty well. If my kids who desperately what Christ are willing to leave, so will others. What are YOU doing to stop them? And if you don't know how to stop them, talk to my kids. They will help you because they know every young person is a gift. Every young person has a purpose. Every young person is too valuable to lose.

Jerri Kelley Phillips-friends​

Mom of two teenagers who are choosing to live the counter culture, who are choosing to live Christ

There had been no major fallout, but I knew it was coming, and I lay in the dark and talked honestly with God about it.

"I don't know if I want to do this."

And I didn't.

When Paul says in Ephesians that our battle is not against flesh and blood but against "the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms", he isn't talking in metaphor. I've seen can happen when hell feels threatened, and I had just dropped a nice A-Bomb right in the middle of its plans to take our young people. Y'all may think that is a bit overly dramatic, but I was part of the "let's storm the gates of hell and take back our generation" conference that had taken place in my living room. I knew what was happening here. I knew the strategies being laid out. More than that, I was watching two young people step right into their eternal destinies, and they weren't taking prisoners. Instead, they were going to take prisoners back. There was no way to mistake what happened here yesterday. It was a wide-open declaration of war, and no enemy in its right mind stands by while its kingdom is ravaged. There would be backlash. And I didn't know if I really wanted that.

I wish I could tell you I was all Clint Eastwood yelling, "Bring it on!" But I was more like John Wayne thinking, "So is it a really good idea to take a stick to a nest of already angry hornets?"

And in a voice as clear as any I've ever heard, a simple question filled my room:

Do you trust Me?

Did I trust Him? The question was different than it had ever been. I understood it now. He wasn't asking if I trusted Him to keep me from hard things, but did I trust Him to be present in the hard things? He has a flawless record. While I didn't love the idea of hard things, sometimes the only answer is to take down the hornets' nest. And I trust Him to handle the details.

"Yeah. I trust you."

This afternoon I was on my way to Dallas down our country road. My friend Rod Dreher was discussing and signing his new book How Dante Can Save Your Life, which I love, and I wanted to get my copy signed. Plus, the man challenges me every time we talk. He's a good piece of iron to be sharpened on.

I was on a two-lane, paved farm to market road that is being worked on, and there is loose dirt and gravel in different spots. As I approached this area headed west, I could see the sports car coming toward the corner from the opposite direction. We were both approaching a corner. I was slowed due to the conditions. He wasn't. When I saw him hit the curve, I just stopped my car. There was nowhere to go, no evasive maneuvers to take. He was going to slide. The only question was: would he slide into me?

The back end of his corvette came into my lane, and then the back quarter panel. I sat still and watched as the car went out of control. I wondered if it would go off the other side of the road before it reach my spot or if it would hit the front of my car. I estimated that at its present rate of speed and slide, it would slam into the driver's front headlight just slightly ahead of it slamming into my entire front end. When it hit, I would probably be looking directly at the driver in front of me. I really hoped he was going fast enough to set off my airbag. Otherwise, this was going to hurt.

Then, my whole body relaxed.

And I watched.

I watched this car sliding out of control on loose gravel catch on what honestly looked like one tire and swing into the other lane in time not to hit me.

I immediately thought of my "preemptive strike" post on Facebook yesterday. Between the posts on Facebook and the private messages, I knew I had leapt into a realm where I was not welcome, and I knew the backlash would be vicious, and I asked simply:

"Pray for my family. Pray for me."

As the car drove past me, in my mind or in the air in front of me (I honestly couldn't tell you which), I saw untold numbers of bowed heads, all praying for my family, for me.

I could feel the peaceful smile of God, and again I heard the question,

"Do you trust me?"

Do you trust me to have you?

When I told Rod the story today, his faced showed the holy awe we both knew was due our God, who protects and saves. Rod simply said, "He has you."

I nodded. "Yes, He does."

And I trust Him to keep having us.

For those who are praying for my family and for me, thank you. Thank you for "having" us. My deepest gratitude is yours.

Choosing to trust Him....
Jerri

On the Road to Hope with Miss Daisy

Dear Fallon,

Today I watched Driving Miss Daisy with the kids. It is one of our all time favorites.

It's the craziest kind of movie. It can terrify you so much you never want to marry or settle you down to your soul and pour courage you thought long gone and makes you sure marriage is a beautiful thing and you can really do this.

Of course, Miss Daisy and Hoke never marry, and yet, they kind of do, and in their never made official marriage, I find my fears and my hopes of ever trying such a thing again.

My fear are the differences, and my lands, don't they have enough to work with. Differences can create chasms and build walls and create their own miserable environment. Sort of like the flu bug that invades our bodies and makes us hate being alive at moments. But despite the differences, they found common ground, and I know, one could argue that they didn't exactly have a choice because Boolie wasn't going to let the situation go. Except they did have a choice. They could have chosen to be arrogant toward one another. They could have chosen to judge each other and see each other through preconceptions, like Miss Daisy did when Hoke ate the salmon, but instead, they learned to grow and understand. They accepted and acclimated.

Last week I wrote an essay about the fruit of the Spirit. Forbearance is the one fruit no one wants to pray for. I think it's because it demands so much change from ourselves. It demands that we understand where someone is and who they are and maybe why. It demands that we consider the possibility we are the ones who are wrong and are in fact, the grating part and we may be in the process of changing and the better version of ourselves. Forbearance isn't just tolerance. It's an active effort to demonstrate love despite any affliction we feel.

The truth is neither Miss Daisy nor Hoke changed a lot, not in general expression. Miss Daisy was still the blunt-speaking woman at the end she had been throughout the movie. She still had her opinions on how things should be, and she didn't mind telling folks. Except, she had changed. She had become appreciative and deeply grateful. Instead of keeping walls up, she ventured into his world, and she let him into hers. They made the vegetable garden like he had suggested, and when he offered to pick up the spoon to feed her pie, she didn't refuse or fuss. She moved her hand and let him feed her.

And he did.

He was no longer just a man trying to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay. He wasn't just a driver tolerating the woman he had been hired to tend. He was the man who tried to find the door into her pain by sharing about his friend's dad being lynched as she grappled with Temple being bombed. He was the man who could have stayed home in the ice storm but instead brought her coffee because he knew her routine, and when she said, "There's nothing to do but keep me company," he smiled and said he would start a fire. Obviously her company was what he wanted anyway.

This is the man who had no fear about getting in her face when she had a break in faculties and couldn't find the papers for her students, the man who, instead of trying to coddle her, put a finger in her face and told her to pull herself together because he knew she had it in her to pull it together. Yeah, he had a job to lose if she didn't, but I think he was far more concerned about his friend than his job.

Interestingly, that is when she looked at him and said, "Hoke, you're my best friend."

And there you go. My hope.

After the things my husband said when he told me he wanted a divorce, I went through a period when I hoped for someone who thought I was perfect, but I don't hope for that anymore. Perfection is a prison because it doesn't allow for change or growth for either person. It's a lie of security that really just suffocates.

Now I hope for more. I hope for the differences and the forbearance to weather them. I hope for the determination to understand, accept, and acclimate. I hope for someone to find his way into my pain when I can't find my way out, and I hope he thinks the silly things are the endearing things. My hope of someone patient knowing I'm changing too and rough places are being smoothed, someone who knows when to tell me to step up and knows when I can't. Someone who thinks my company is enough.

Like I said, I know they were not married, and the cynics will say a marriage couldn't have survived such an environment, but a marriage has to survive that kind of environment or it will develop into that environment or worse. If two people don't respect, accept, and acclimate, they will grow intolerant. If they don't choose to find a way in, they will ultimately look for a way out. If the silly things aren't endearing, they will become irritating. If someone's company isn't enough, they will never be able to do enough to be the company you want.

People make the mistake of thinking love is something you feel. It's not. It's choosing to live a certain way.

Choosing to love more abundantly,

Me

Preparing to Receive the Gift--Day 7: Rest

Be still.

And know.

I am God.

Psalm 46:10

I do not recall if I have stated it here, but the simple fact is I am exhausted on all levels--spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and thus, physically. The last four years have taken a large toll, and I have reached the bottom of my reserves.

For a variety of reasons, I have tried to battle on anyway.

I was afraid if I stopped writing, no one would be here to read it when I returned.

I was afraid if I admitted my utter exhaustion, I would get what I got last week and people would tell me to stop being weak and to man up and fulfill my destiny and who did I think I was to sit around when the world is going to hell in a handbasket?

I was afraid people would think I am weak because I didn't just dig deeper or find that other gear or hit that extra switch. Except there is nothing else to dig into. I have no other gear, and all my switches are running on high.

I was afraid of failing God by not taking responsibility for my gifts and using them to build the kingdom and bless others.

I was afraid if I didn't lay a certain foundation or take certain steps then I wouldn't have made the right preparations to receive my personal promises He has made.

"Have I not commanded you?
Be strong and courageous.
Do not be afraid.
Do not be discouraged,
For the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."
--Joshua 1:9--

Last night I spent about two hours talking with a friend. We both know God always answers prayers, so where was the answer? We talked through the "stuff" until it became loud and clear.

"Take some personal time."

In case I missed it, I hopped on Facebook earlier today, and my friend Lisa had posted a picture with Psalm 46:10 on it. :-)

I won't bore you with the details of the whole conversation with my friend or with the Lord after the phone conversation. I might write about it someday, but for now, the pertinent information is...

For the next three months, I am taking "personal time". I will not be blogging, writing for a deadline or clear purpose, ministering in a formal way, or any other activities requiring energy beyond raising my kids and making a home. Whenever my Healer and Great Physician say I am allowed to return, I will, and I hope y'all are all here to catch up with then.

Until then, y'all take care. Be blessed. Know you are loved wildly, and always take time to...

Be still
And know.
He is God.

Blessings, y'all!

Soul Whisperings--It's a Warzone, and You Need to Run

Soul,

It's a warzone out there, and the enemy wants to destroy all you are and all you hold dear.

Run!

Run straight at that giant with your faith holding firm and know that giant does not come against you but against your God and all He says you are and all He says He will do in you and through you.

And that very same God will strengthen you and fully equip you to take that giant down.

Do not fear the giant but know that giant should fear your God.

Soul Whisperings--No Need to Fear

Dear soul,

No need to fear that you can't do this. You can't. There is no need to fear what you cannot do. Only stand firm knowing what He can do. Speak it with me...and then, speak it again.

Have I not commanded you?
Be strong and courageous.
Do not be afraid.
Do not be discouraged.
For the Lord your God will be with you wherever you may go.
Joshua 1:9

Soul Whisperings--Oh, Heart, Don't Give Way to Fear

Oh, Heart, do not give way. Not now. You have put this in His hands. You have put yourself in His hands. Do you think your frailty is bigger than His faithfulness? Heart, hold steady. This has never been about your perfection. It has always been about His power. It isn't about your ability to always get the steps right. It's about His ability to redeem even the steps you get wrong. Do not falter here, Heart. Do not give way to fear that you got it irrevocably wrong. Hide yourself in the Truth that even when you are horribly human, He is still irrepressibly God.

My Journal Uncensored--Emotionally Unavailable

"I am emotionally damaged and emotionally unavailable."

His words roll around in my head like that annoying drippy faucet that can't be turned off. It's annoying and grates on my nerves...and is oddly comforting.

It is comforting to have a term, some kind of defined explanation. It is also wildly comforting in a mental/emotional "raft up" kind of way. Ironic how another emotionally unavailable person can release emotions of joyous contentment in my not being alone in this.

It also bothers me in deep ways I don't want to explain, in vulnerable ways that pull back the "all is fine" mask and reveals the all too raw places underneath.

Frankly, the whole thing makes me mad.

It makes me mad that I gave him power to do this. It makes me made that I still give him that power.

But how do I take it back?

Heather said she knows several women who think the way to get over one man is to get under another.

Just how much nameless sex does it take to stop feeling like your name is painfully easy to forget?

Or in some cases, before you stop feeling at all?

Since I seem to already be there, I think I can skip the whole sex debacle and be fairly confident I haven't missed anything.

I may not have all the answers, but one thing I do know, a man getting in my pants and a man getting behind my walls is not the same thing.

And ultimately, I want him behind my walls.

Ultimately, I want to trust again.

Ultimately, I want the wild ride of passion...about all of life...again.

Ultimately, I want to feel deeply, where right now I feel mostly numb.

Ultimately, I want to love fearlessly, knowing I can invest huge and watch it all walk away if someone decides I am not enough...or they aren't...

Ultimately, it isn't about a man finding his way behind my walls.
It's about my not wanting to be a prisoner inside them.

From My Journal--Faith, Fear, and Faithfulness

Fear is my feeling that whatever comes will disrupt my "happy spot" or comfort zone. Probably will, but faith says I'll like it on the other side.

Sometimes I will not get the resolution I want to a situation, and it doesn't matter. My job is not to fix the situation or even make it better. My job is to respond is such a way that I am at peace with myself standing before the Lord and saying, "This is what I did. It was the best I knew at that moment. Show me if I was wrong and how to fix it for next time."

Get in the Saddle Anyway

I have friends making courageous, in-the-face-of-crazy-big-fear decisions right now. On Facebook, I made The Duke my profile picture to let them know I know how courageous they are.

For all of you here who are

making courageous decisions

when careful ones would be easier...

I know you are courageous.
I see it.
It is more than what you are doing.
It is who you are.
And I am in speechless awe of you and your choice to live in faith, not fear.

Feel free to make it your profile picture, put it on your Facebook wall, your bedroom wall, or your fridge, wherever you need it to remind you that YOU ARE COURAGEOUS. And remember:

OBEDIENCE

WHILE SHAKING IN YOUR BOOTS
OR

WITH TEARS RUNNING DOWN YOUR FACE
IS STILL OBEDIENCE!

In a Single Bound

I feel like I took a flying leap off the side of a mountain, and if it were not for trusting God so much, I think I would throw up.


Actually, jumping off mountains solo isn't such a big deal anymore. I've become pretty accustomed to that. It's jumping tandem that leaves me reeling, especially when the one tethered to me is my daughter...especially when she is standing on the precipice ready to go over the edge and God says, "I made her to fly. Let her go."


She looks at me questioning. I nod.


Off she goes.


I am right with her, as though a mother's heart could be anywhere else.


And now we are flying in what feels like a free fall, out of control.


Out of my control.


My last illusion of control went flying over the edge with us, and right now, I'm not enjoying the flight. Right now, I hate this. Right now, one thought goes through my mind: "God, what have I done?"


I know the answer. What I have done is release my daughter from my safety zone to God's infinite possibilities. What I have done is declare that I believe His thoughts are higher than my thoughts and His ways are above my ways...and He can do amazing things...through my adolescent daughter...HIS daughter.


I keep tripping over that.


HIS daughter. His creation. His solution to a world in need. His answer to girls caught in a life of slavery and hopelessness. His chosen one.


Right now, though, my mother's heart is struggling. Right now it is concerned about my life, my comfort zone, my life status quo, my family...my own personal Rockwellian view of family life.


But Norman Rockwell was an illusionist. He had a gift for making life's tough spots look poetic, but life isn't poetry, not the kind with perfect metre and comforting rhymes. Life is messy. Healing is done with tears, not smiles. Families in perfect clothes at the perfect table for the perfect holiday spill things...drinks, soups, and souls.


It's in the mess and the spills that the connections occur. A touch of the hand when wiping up the tea. Arms wrapped round to dry the tears. Hearts laid bare as souls are tended.


It is into this mess that my daughter chooses to walk, into the world of young girls captured into a hellish nightmare of human slavery, children sold to grown men to fulfill a wife's place. She, too, is captured...by the hope of freedom for every child who feels hopeless. She is determined to be their hope. She is determined to be the light in their darkness and to find them in their prisons and set them free.


She can do it. Maybe not alone, but people have good hearts. They just need someone to tell them about these children and give them the chance to help. And she will.


What exactly that means for my personalized Rockwell picture, I don't know, but while my mother's heart is screaming, "What have I done?", my faith answers, "I've given her the freedom she wants to give these children...the freedom to be an answer, to be a blessing, to live big, to serve God in whatever way He leads. I've given her the freedom to fly."




To find out more about how you can help set children free from the nightmare of human trafficking and sex slave trade, please visit AMPED Red Light Rescue, Sowers of the Seed Inernational, or contact me personally. Thank you.

Something New

I have twelve minutes before our lunch break for school is over. I have chosen to use it to share some of what the LORD is doing and speaking--and the revelation of both.

There are a few key phrases that continue to be spoken into my heart and spirit:

1. It is time to take the land.
2. Do not be afraid or discouraged because I AM with you.
3. I'm doing a new thing. Don't expect it to look like anything else you've seen, and don't expect others to understand.

I have thoughts on those three things:
1. The first is thrilling.
2. The second a bit unnerving.
3. The third is like being pregnant when you are thrilled at the prospect of a new baby but remember all too well the labor pains from the last time around. It's worth it, but getting that baby here is painful and hard, and while others may be along for the ride, it's all about you and God.

There are two significant chapters the Lord has given me (besides Joshua 1 that I referenced earlier this year). I want to share them with you for your to ponder. I printed them out and have put them in my journal to pray over, meditate on, and seek the Lord for. If you have thoughts, insight, or revelation, feel free to share. Your new thing may be different than mine, but I'm smart enough to know labor hurts for everyone, and having someone to tell you to breathe sure can help.

Isaiah 43
Israel's Only Savior
1 But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
3 For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
I give Egypt for your ransom,
Cush and Seba in your stead.
4 Since you are precious and honored in my sight,
and because I love you,
I will give men in exchange for you,
and people in exchange for your life.
5 Do not be afraid, for I am with you;
I will bring your children from the east
and gather you from the west.
6 I will say to the north, 'Give them up!'
and to the south, 'Do not hold them back.'
Bring my sons from afar
and my daughters from the ends of the earth-
7 everyone who is called by my name,
whom I created for my glory,
whom I formed and made."
8 Lead out those who have eyes but are blind,
who have ears but are deaf.
9 All the nations gather together
and the peoples assemble.
Which of them foretold this
and proclaimed to us the former things?
Let them bring in their witnesses to prove they were right,
so that others may hear and say, "It is true."
10 "You are my witnesses," declares the LORD,
"and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
nor will there be one after me.
11 I, even I, am the LORD,
and apart from me there is no savior.
12 I have revealed and saved and proclaimed—
I, and not some foreign god among you.
You are my witnesses," declares the LORD, "that I am God.
13 Yes, and from ancient days I am he.
No one can deliver out of my hand.
When I act, who can reverse it?"
God's Mercy and Israel's Unfaithfulness
14 This is what the LORD says—
your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel:
"For your sake I will send to Babylon
and bring down as fugitives all the Babylonians,
in the ships in which they took pride.
15 I am the LORD, your Holy One,
Israel's Creator, your King."
16 This is what the LORD says—
he who made a way through the sea,
a path through the mighty waters,
17 who drew out the chariots and horses,
the army and reinforcements together,
and they lay there, never to rise again,
extinguished, snuffed out like a wick:
18 "Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
19 See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.
20 The wild animals honor me,
the jackals and the owls,
because I provide water in the desert
and streams in the wasteland,
to give drink to my people, my chosen,
21 the people I formed for myself
that they may proclaim my praise.

Isaiah 42
The Servant of the Lord
1 "Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him
and he will bring justice to the nations.
2 He will not shout or cry out,
or raise his voice in the streets.
3 A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
4 he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.
In his law the islands will put their hope."
5 This is what God the LORD says—
he who created the heavens and stretched them out,
who spread out the earth and all that comes out of it,
who gives breath to its people,
and life to those who walk on it:
6 "I, the LORD, have called you in righteousness;
I will take hold of your hand.
I will keep you and will make you
to be a covenant for the people
and a light for the Gentiles,
7 to open eyes that are blind,
to free captives from prison
and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness.
8 "I am the LORD; that is my name!
I will not give my glory to another
or my praise to idols.
9 See, the former things have taken place,
and new things I declare;
before they spring into being
I announce them to you."
Song of Praise to the Lord
10Sing to the LORD a new song,
his praise from the ends of the earth,
you who go down to the sea, and all that is in it,
you islands, and all who live in them.
11 Let the desert and its towns raise their voices;
let the settlements where Kedar lives rejoice.
Let the people of Sela sing for joy;
let them shout from the mountaintops.
12 Let them give glory to the LORD
and proclaim his praise in the islands.
13 The LORD will march out like a mighty man,
like a warrior he will stir up his zeal;
with a shout he will raise the battle cry
and will triumph over his enemies.
14 "For a long time I have kept silent,
I have been quiet and held myself back.
But now, like a woman in childbirth,
I cry out, I gasp and pant.
15 I will lay waste the mountains and hills
and dry up all their vegetation;
I will turn rivers into islands
and dry up the pools.
16 I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,
along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them.
17 But those who trust in idols,
who say to images, 'You are our gods,'
will be turned back in utter shame.

What's Missing

So I've decided I'm going to live. I'm still having insane coughing fits, but I did have enough energy to do the laundry--all eight loads. Yes, EIGHT loads. You may be in awe if you would like, but before you go there, the sink again is full of dishes, and Fred Puppies--we don't have dust bunnies. We have large wads of Fred hair. If you wait more than three days to sweep, you get enough hair to make a small puppy. When we still had carpet, we used to refer to dumping the puppy out of the vacuum. Sometimes, there was a whole litter. I digress. There are still lots of free Fred Puppies to be had, and the dishes are becoming hammer and chisel projects as I type. I guess I could find the energy to go do them, but why blow all the family gratitude in one day?

In my absence things have stacked up. I have received an award from Wendy and another from Jan, and I will post those soon. They always leave me tender hearted and a bit philosophical, and my mind simply is not capable of that right now.

I decided I would take a moment to answer a few questions. Okay, it is the same question repeated multiple times that sort of culminated with a call this afternoon that started like this, "Okay, I know you've been sick, but enough already. What did you erase from you blog?"

Only tried and true friends have the guts to call you, talk to you like that, and actually expect you not to hang up. And honestly, I love those friends. They are the ones who don't just notice you're missing from the "big event" because this morning you woke up with a zit on your nose. They come hunting for you, knowing to look in the back of the closet behind the stuffed animals you aren't ready to give up despite being waaayyyy past toy age, drag you out, carefully putting the pile of animals back with your favorites on top because they know which ones your favorites are, and sit you in front of the mirror so they can apply the concealer to hide the offensive zit.

I am blessed with a few of those friends, and I love that they love me enough to talk to me like that. Course, they know if I pull a blog entry, I'm hiding, and they come hunting.

So what was this mysterious blog entry?

It was cryptic stuff about my struggle as a writer, which really when we get down to brass tacks is about my struggle with me. A lot of writers I know have them. I admire the ones who are up front, toss it all out for everyone to see, and can attack it with humor and honesty. It's like Show and Tell with a strobe light, disco music, and a dance floor. Anybody who understands the groove, jump in, and dance like you own it.

Me? I'm more like the person up on the stage with something on a table covered in a black sheet, and I give lots of generalized information. Sort of like a bad Christmas present tease. "It's sort of like this, but not exactly, and it is similar to that, but it's different." And when I'm done, the lights go down and folks are left thinking it's either shards of glass or Einstein's brain (cause both are really sharp...see the sort of but not exactly, similar but different? Anyway...)

And while everyone's partying with Show and Tell Disco Style, in my place, folks suddenly have the urge to sing "Oh, Danny Boy" and wear black, but!, it could be ZZ Top, so no one is sure how to react. (ZZ Top...sang "Sharp Dressed Man"...it's an 80s thing...sticking with the unsure sharp thing... Anyway...)

The post I removed on May 30th, left me feeling glum. It didn't start that way, but somewhere along the way, it found a bobsled on a rail, and it was all downhill from there. So, I pulled it.

Now, my beloved friends who came and hunted me down in my closet are glaring at me and pointing to the black sheet on the table because they still don't know if I've dropped a wine bottle, invested too much in a quick education, or like bearded men with guitars.

She reaches for the sheet...picks up a corner....looks around deviously...and pulls! TADAH!!!! (Oooo!!!! She even spelled 'tadah' right!!!! I checked.)

Yes, what you see is a table laiden with pens, pencils, crayons, markers, notebook paper, bound journals, and super brights. What is all that about?

A book.

I have started writing a book.

I know. Some of you are dumbfounded. Some are thinking, "It's about stinking time." If you are in the first group, I'm with you. If you are in the second group, I'm with you.

Ever since I can remember, I have loved two things: the outdoors and writing. As far back as I can recall, I wanted to do one thing: tell people about God. You can read more about that on my post Things I Learned From My First Bible.

It seems logical that I would use my love for writing (which I believe is of reasonable talent) to share God. I'm not quite sure where the nature part falls into it, but we will get back to that later. Then again, I think it is probably all intertwined, so let's throw an oak tree and picture of a lake on the table, too, and grab a glass of whatever we find right for these sorts of Show and Tells, kick back, and sort through the table scene.

I quit writing about 16 1/2 years ago. Just...quit. No, I won't explain. About 11 years ago I started writing Jerri's Munchies. Robert came along, and I didn't have time to write. Then he got older, and I had time to write again.

During this spans of time, both writing and not writing, I received several prophecies about the books I'd write. I always wanted to write a book. At one point I considered taking various Jerri's Munchies and putting them into a collection. A few friends said they would love to have them bound and on their tables or so they could give them as gifts. One friend said I was greedy for wanting to make money off what God gave me for free. No collection came about. I don't know that it was because of that one comment. It only gave me an excuse to hide and avoid the word "insecurity".

When my dad died five years ago, life got ugly. I'm not really proud of who I was in that first year. However, I know it was necessary. I needed to see facades crumble so the Lord could build solid Truth. During that time, the Lord had me write long letters to friends and journal "everything". I would sit and write thinking, "God, please promise me no one will ever read this journal when I'm dead." One night He replied, "No, they'll read it from your book when you are alive." Cough! Cough! Gag! Choke!! WHAT???!!!!

I assumed this book would be much like any other Christian living book that told what I had learned, what scripture it was based on, and so forth. Instead, God said, "Let's write a fiction book."

A FICTION BOOK???!!!! I have not written fiction in 16 1/2 years. I haven't the foggiest clue how to do this.

Not a problem. Writers' groups do. So off I went to join a writers' group. As I've shared, the feedback has really been positive. The part that has truly left me humbled are the reactions to the main character. I thought folks might find her "needy". Instead, they found her familiar. One person commented, "I wish I had read this book when I was younger. In three chapters, it has already affected me in positive ways." Another person said, "I wish you had the book done today. There are so many who will read this and say, 'That's me,' and they will be healed by what God puts in this book."

The Lord spoke the same words to me: many will be healed through your honesty in this book.

So, I sit here with all you staring at the table before us, looking for the truth, wondering how colorful to make it, what details to wrap it in, praying desperately that I have the courage to be that honest.

With the sheet pulled off the table, there is nowhere to hide. My insecurities, doubts, and nearly overwhelming desire to hide in the closet isn't about others. It has nothign to do with others' negative comments.

I know that I know I am a writer. I know I am to write this book. I know it will have an impact. I know those things because God has said those things.

Right now, I find myself bogged down in me. The stuff lying on the table, my thoughts about it. My fear of embracing it and anger at myself for being fearful.

To be more candid, the book has two possible paths. One is safe, not much to find offensive or too close to home. The other is more honest, sometimes more honest than I want to be, maybe more honest than others want to be. And even as I try to use that as an excuse, I know the bigger truth. Hiding in the back of my closet, I want to be found. I wonder about those others hiding in the back of their closets, terrified to come out, praying to be found. I have been given the gift of talking them out of their hiding places. When I'm not busy hiding myself, I realize what an honor that is.

See, those women aren't just hiding a zit. They are afraid for people to see their hearts, and God has not armed me with a mere concealer to hide the imperfections. He has given me the Truth of healing so they can see their perfection in Him.

So there you go. See how simple it looks. And I won't lie. The idea of having a published book is thrilling. Knowing how much of me will be on those pages, and how much of it won't be the flattering part of me, is also pretty scary. Maybe some of y'all understand. Maybe some you don't. If you are in the first group, I'm with you. If you are in the second group, I'm with you, too.

And now that I've ditched my sheet and you've all looked at my table, I'm sort of responsible for it all, and I really only have one choice now.

I only ask two things:

When it's done and you read it, try to think good of me for having the courage to tell it, and pray that those who get found hiding in their closets have the courage to come out.

And when others give me that look, you know the one that says I'm not at all what they thought I was and they are SO disappointed, I might need you close. We can sit around the table, color with the crayons, and wonder what to do with that tree.

OOOOHHHH!!!! We could build a treehouse, put up a strobe light, put some ZZ Top in a boom box, and dance like we own it.

But then, God might have been tell about that in the next book...