An Invitation

I had a dream recently, where I was a bride gloriously adorned for her Groom. We rode in a carriage to the downtown plaza where the caterer was busily and joyfully preparing a sumptuous array of treats, meats, and delicacies. The homeless and unwashed shrank back. However, as the bride and the Groom got out of the carriage, they called "Come!" to all in the area. The attendants and servers went out and called "Come!". Those that would not mingle with the poor, the marginalized, and unwashed, were unceremoniously sent away. Still the the call went out to "Come!". The poor were fed. The neglected were driven in the carriage. All dined well. There was lots of dancing in bare feet for the ground was now clean and level.

Then I woke up. The gloom and darkness of our time blared.

I take heart because I've read in the book of Revelation that the Spirit and the bride still say, "Come!"

The Groom is on the way.

Revelation 22:6-7, 17

 

Takin' Back my Stuff

Thirty (It's been that long?) years ago, I was in a play called "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enough". That has to be one of the most powerful things I have ever participated in. The script was a set of choreopoems, with each part performed by a different woman noted by a different color. I was the Lady in Green. Now the script was full of profanity and my sweet Baptist Momma would not allow me to practice at home. Her respectful and financially-dependent daughter complied in keeping that heathen tongue out of the house. It is said that profanity is the language of anger. This Lady in Green was one angry sister judging from the amount of said heathen tongue coming out of her. You see, somebody took all of her stuff.
Some of you know what I mean, the stuff that made her her. Fashion editors screamed for her to be skinny and eliminate the curves that are common and somewhat definitive of chocolate-covered sweeties. Various parts of society say straight hair is better than the tightly-curled strands God gave me. Too many men have been taught by too many women that abuse is okay. I am so over all of the that, and more.
Jesus loves me this I know for the Bible tells me so. I'm taking my stuff back. I am learning more and more to like my curves, let my curls fly, and say no to any form of abuse or put-down whether directed at me or women in general. I no longer give permission for anyone to make me feel less than I am. I take back the right to enjoy my own company and leave the door open for God to move on in and take up permanent residence. I further choose to raise my son by the move of the Holy Spirit, and not the opinionated souls that do not have privy to the challenges that we face. No apologies for it.
Yeah, I'm taking my stuff back and going to relax with a glass of Southern sweet tea. 

This Lady's Not Singing the Blues

Years ago, there was a young, African-American singer named Billie Holiday. She was pretty and talented. Her voice sang low and slow, with a touch of sadness. The way I imagine Melancholy might sound. I know what it looks like. It's a slow-moving monster that slithers in without notice. Melancholy can sneak up on you and take up residence. For some of us Melancholy morphs into a more sinister Depression. Ms. Holiday even sang a song, "Good morning, Heartache". It has been written that she was actually a very kind and funny person. Without Jesus, Melancholy could be house-guest to any of us. Billie Holiday's life was cut short, way too short due to heroin. A nasty joke, and insidious trap for one created in God's image.
Who are you saying good morning to? What song are you singing? Sometimes my life feel like it was written for the blues. Sometimes life hurts really bad. But don't go singing the blues. Scripture tells us that we have a High Priest that can be touched by our infirmities. Psalms tells us that God catches all of our tears in a bottle. Unlike unfaithful human lovers, God promises to never leave us nor forsake us. We are encouraged to cast all of our cares on Him, for He cares for us. Again in Psalms (#150), we are told to let everything that has breath praise the Lord. He is worthy. The old hymn 'Count Your Blessing' gets it right. See what God has done already. While waiting for the healing, deliverance, provision, or whatever, dig down deep and find that old hymn you heard somewhere.
Joy does come in the morning. Leave ole heartache at the curb.

I can hear you now.

Recently I learned that I have a moderate hearing loss. It is just enough to make background noise a real nuisance. If I am listening to a speaker, competing conversations and other noises are more than annoying. If I am trying talk to someone, those same competing sounds make me shout because I can't discern what I should pay attention to. I will soon be evaluated and fitted for proper hearing aids. I've been made to understand that there are all kinds tools available to improve hearing.
It seems to be the same with parents and children. Teens slam their doors to get heard. Preschoolers fall on the floor in complete indignation. Then parents go off the ledge, totaling forgetting the original point. Maybe I'm the only one. As we seek or pursue satisfaction in life, often we allow distracting and competing noises that keep us from hearing God. The Lord allows pointed situations  to get our attention by removing distracting and competing noises. Sometimes we slam the different doors to areas of our lives to make our point heard. Some turn to chemicals, or other self-destructive behaviors to be heard. Unlike earthly parents, God never loses sight of the original need or message. He knows which tools are needed to help us. The Lord is passionate and long-suffering with us until He hears us say, 
I can hear you now.
Don't know what took me so long.