And then a Promise

I’ve window shopped online, being staring at the screen uninterested. To be honest, I’d love to be doing something else right now but between my headache and the nervousness that’s giving me a goldfish brain, I’m pretty much stuck with this. I’m stuck with the nervous subconscious stuff, and I guess it’s relevant.

We leading a week-long retreat camp in two days’ time, travelling and not knowing what to expect. Excited about it, but nervous. I don’t think I would feel this nervous if I was not also nurturing the reality of being away when my dad goes in for his heart operation this week. I remember the first time he went in for a heart op, I wrote English 206, Jane Austen essays, second year university. I did pretty well in that exam, but I remember looking up at the clock every half an hour thinking, he’s in now, I wonder how it’s going. The older I get the more these moments have held indescribable meaning, the value I attach to my family has become deeper, more settled. I’m led to believe that is the case from my friends who are much older than me. I guess that is why the older you get the harder it is to let go of things, physical things, so you end up hording. Most of the time, when you unpack one of my grandparents houses you will end up finding loads of old things and there’s a story for every single thing they own. Those stories were boring when you a teenager, but as you grow you realise your grandparents tell you those stories because through them retelling it, it holds profound and lasting meaning to them. Stories are a beautiful way of making things live, through our oral memories, we put flesh and bone on something that is merely a misty photo in our memory. Speaking of photographs, I’ve heard my mom and my aunts arguing about who gets the photos when my gran isn’t around anymore. She has a box of old photos, she lets us look at them every now and then, but no one gets to touch them. Those are sacred memories on paper.

Every day is a memory, perhaps I’ll look back on this one day in the same way as I do on my Jane Austen exam paper and remember this very moment. In fact, of all the exams I wrote, that is the one I remember the most, because it was coupled with a bigger story. God has given us as a family, profound peace about my father’s operation and I’m reminded of the promise God gave me when I was newly saved, that one day He would save my family. That promise still hasn’t happened yet and as I sat on the couch this evening, I heard Him tell me to read Joshua chapter 23. I was like – I don’t think there is a Joshua chapter 23 and maybe this isn’t God, but there is a twenty third chapter and it was God. My thoughts were empty save for one cry from my heart, what are you saying to me through this?

As I clung to the promise of salvation for my family and the promise of peace in the midst of this storm, Yeshua pulled me to verse 14 and whispered; “You know with all your heart and being that not even one of all the faithful promises the LORD your God made to you is left unfulfilled; everyone was realized--not one promise is unfulfilled!” Yahweh promised Israel so many things, so many beautiful things and every one was fulfilled in its time, not one remained unfulfilled, even the small ones. I am comforted by His unfailing Love and promise, my family will make it in the right time, in His perfect way. What amazing hope and comfort to know the King of Kings and to hear His voice. He is the One who knows the future and this year through some very hard, internal stuff I’ve really learned just how Sufficient my Messiah is, in absolutely everything. So here I am, more comforted than before, tucking this promise in to the folds of my spirit and praying for a good nights rest. Abba You have this, and I trust you, I trust You….

Letters to a Young Dreamer

(I recently was introduced to some young people, and in the midst of the conversation I met one child who wanted to know about writing, her question quite struck me. I saw the fleeting momentary reality of losing a dream in the wake of something else, I had to write a response, as what I saw went far beyond one childs experience. I kept my feelings along with these personal words, sealed up in my journal but kept feeling the Holy Spirit impressing it on my heart this evening, to share it...so here it is...) 

I reflect with fondness on the amusing circumstances that brought us in to each others worlds. How you boldly leaned over and asked me that question about being a writer, but first you started by telling me your age, the tender sap of 12 years old and your dream of writing, one day. The question startled me however and it was tipped with a sadness that stayed with me. The only question you had about writing and it was summed up in, "what is your income like?" It was the very first thing that fell from your lips as though it were the most natural requirement to be thought of. 

At the time I could not find an answer to match neither my conscience or the situation, so you will allow me the indulgence of sharing my heart so openly with you here. 

Young dreamer, your butterfly dreams I sensed, are bound. And the answer to your question lies in a deeper question still. If it were for finances or material comforts alone, would I have abandoned the armchair of this world, in pursuit of the Cross that has taken me in to a different world? Would I have counted it all loss, to know the simple yet eternal heartbeat of the cross? As I whispered across the already finished meal, obedience is echoed in the ink of a pen, Jesus lovingly called me to write and how grateful I am that He has chosen this for me, by His great grace and mercy.

Young dreamer, I see your hesitation yet your dreams are colourful do not let them fade in to black and white. The world has just begun for you! I fear that we are all as adults, giving birth to a dead generation. Teaching comfort over compassion, teaching the armchair of a self satisfied life, over passionate advocacy for the less fortunate, the desperate and the weak. We are teaching safety over sanctity and compromise over holiness in the One True God. I want you to know dear one just how loved you are and I want you to know that you can be whatever you were created to be. Can you feel how such Perfect Love can cast out all these fears? For your fears are merely secondary voices, shadows of family members and societies spectres that haunt corners, afraid of people on purpose. 

Are you afraid? Don't be! Deep comfort and sancitifed rest come on the other side of abandoning self to the arms of our Messiah.

Young dreamer, the purest passion and the holiest purpose lies in the breasts of children. Before the age of responsibility and complexity gnaw at our most innocent, Heaven scented dreams. That purest purpose has begun to fade but commit it to memory. Conceal it in the chambers of prayer, entrust it in the open palms of our Beloved Saviour whom you have come to know and have learned about. Then find the courage to live your call, as our Father in Heaven calls to each of us but it is up to us to peer up and surrender to the bright red telephone ringing in our hearts. Answer it dear one, do not be afraid for you are so greatly loved....

Sharing with Glimpses

The hunter...

“As the hunter is hunted down, she slays her enemies on sacred ground.”
― Boadicea

Sabbath Prayer by Marty Goetz

Lucy and Aslan

Misty Edwards, Strings (Lyrics)

Nadine's Advice

I read the following snippet from Nadine Gordimer. Let me be frank and tell you that I have NEVER read Nadine's books. Largely because I don't read much fiction and largely because university smothered the love of anything South African - out of me. Sad but true.
On a lighter note however, I read this and thought I would share it. I agree with it wholeheartedly. No one can teach you how to write, no one can teach you how to feel - it's just natural. Writing for writers is as natural and as easy as breathing, there's nothing learnt in it; it's second nature.... and it's a continual experiment and dont let anyone else tell you otherwise! Flow with the pen and be free!

Read and write. Don’t go to creative writing class. You can’t be taught to write. You can be taught to be a good journalist, but you cannot be taught to be a poet or a novelist. You read, read, read so that you become aware of the power and the range of the word — and then you want to do your own little experiment.”

I Am His Daughter - Nicole Sheahan

A change of tongue

Each country has its own 'thing.' In more ways then one. This includes the manner of speech we use for our daily conversations and interactions.

South Africans have a particular word which we use for everything!
It is the word "Shame."
Your car broke down? Shame man!
Your dog died? Ah shame!
You got caught in a rain storm and now your hair is wet before your big interview? Ah no, shame!
Mandela is in the hospital! "Gasp! Shame!"
Your broke your toe? "Shame pumpkin!"

I am sure you get my drift.... the shame list is endless. 
A friend of mine who is in ministry recently pointed out this 'shame' reality to me. She began by asking what does the word shame actually mean?

Shame is defined by the dictionary as; a painful emotion caused by awareness of having done something dishonorable  or foolish. Disgrace. To be shame faced. Dishonoured. Humiliated or defiled.

Wow! When I began to realise the depth of the meaning of this word. I began to question myself and the use of the word shame. Why do we use it so often and so flippantly. Why do we tell others that they need to feel shame in simple things? Why do we express ourselves through the use of the word shame?
Well, I dont have the answers but I sure know that I am stepping back and stepping out of the boat. There will be no more use for the word shame in my life because I will not use it anymore. My journey to rid myself of this 'shame' talk is hard. This small but loaded word is in built in to the tongues of South Africans, but let us denounce it! Undo it and discard it. 
We are a nation whose past has been marred by shame, let us make our everyday speech joyful and uplifted.. let us steer ourselves away from shame and all it means.....
 

Truth....

True Beauty

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

“Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”
― George Bernard Shaw

“I speak to everyone in the same way, whether he is the garbage man or the president of the university.”
― Albert Einstein 

“We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.”
― May Sarton 

“Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.”
― Oscar Wilde

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”
― Marilyn Monroe 

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”
― Oscar Wilde

 “We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.”
― Anaïs Nin

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson 

“The trouble with being in the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat.”
― Lily Tomlin

“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path.”
― Paulo Coelho

 “Let me be, was all I wanted. Be what I am, no matter how I am.”
― Henry Miller