A Gown and Two Grooms

We opened the front door, our eyes widening at the dazzling array of ornate French slippers, sparkling hair combs and soft veils, like sheets of spun gossamer, rippling gently from the drafts that plague this ancient house. I’ve been in many and I can tell you, this was no ordinary bridal shop.

I was there to try on- and hopefully purchase- my bridal gown. Experience had taught me not to peruse for this kind of dress alone, so this time I brought my whole entourage: my mother, mother-in-law, her daughter and my aunt. We were shown upstairs to a private boudoir, complete with three-sided mirrors and pedestal for me to model from. Our hostess, an ancient woman herself, seated my mother and I closest to her, and everyone else along the opposite wall. “Let me tell you what kind of bride I see you as…” she began.

My mind started to wander, and panic a little. She should be asking what kind of bride I think I am, I thought. Am I traditional? Modern? Romantic? Earthy? Bossy? She doesn’t know a thing about me!

But what I am most of all is patient, so I hear what she has to say. She gets through her absolutely dead-on synopsis of the “type of bride I am” and skirted away to choose some gowns for me. As I waited, I pondered, “What kind of groom is my fiancé?”

I thought back to when we first started dating. He was kind, he was patient, he lavished me with attention and he loved to talk (still does)! Above all this he is a believer, which reveals so many more wonderful qualities of his character. He’s a brilliant man and I couldn’t have chosen better if he was made-to-order. But that’s only one of the grooms I have.

My other groom is my Savior, Jesus Christ. In a lot of ways, the things I like about my fiancé are mere reflections of Jesus’ character. I think back to when I first met Him. He was kind, he was patient, he lavished me with attention and he loved to talk (admittedly I do most of the talking). I love Him more than I could ever explain. My fiancé knows it, too, and he isn’t threatened. He loves me because I love Jesus.

My hostess brings out an armada of gowns, wrenching me out of my romantic daydream. I try on two gowns amidst the oohs and aahs of my female companions. They all love the first one, hate the second. I’m having a hard time telling them that I really don’t like either one. I’ve been building this dress in my mind for weeks, compiling sleeve styles, necklines, embellishments and bustling type. Now, standing in this fairytale shop surrounded by visions of perfection in lace and tulle, I call on the only thing I know I couldn’t have chosen by myself, and wouldn’t change for all the beauty of the world- my Savior.

I thought about how He brought me out of the life I had before, in which I picked and chose whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. If I didn’t like someone’s comment, they were gone from my life. I didn’t want to do this or that, I walked away from it. The talents I had were wasted, friendships I cherished, destroyed. I thought about how He went over every little detail of my life and compiled His own idea of who I should be. He simplified me, and I can’t thank Him enough.

You need to simplify this whole wedding thing, I told myself. The dress you get married in doesn’t matter; it’s the commitment you’ll be making in that dress that’s important. I recommitted myself to Christ right there in that shop, telling Him I would never let the details of this wedding cloud my vision of Him.

And when I opened my eyes I saw my hostess holding the very dress I’ll be wearing on that day, standing at the front of the church with my two grooms.

How do we love thee?

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."
1 Corinthians 13:13

I think this verse is frequently misinterpreted. I saw it used in a church bulletin this week as a scriptural justification for loving a certain group of new members (with a highly questionable lifestyle) in a congregation. It heavily implied that we should allow our faith in the Lord and our hope that He can bring them away from their sin come distant cousins to our simply loving them. Love every part of them, the bulletin said, even their sin.
But God does not love sin. In fact, He hates it. This is the old question: how do we love people without also allowing their sin to be loved?

Of course we should love other people. Jesus calls us to do this. But should our love for other s ever be greater than the love for our Lord? Never. So, when it comes time to love others, let me always remember Christ first. His desire for me to follow Him is key; my obedience (or lack of) to Christ is a guide for how I should - and do- treat others. It does not mean love others less, but love Jesus first. This is how we align with the Lord against sin, but continue to love our neighbors as ourselves. We, too, have sin in our hearts.

If my aim is to show Jesus my love for Him by serving other people, I have it backwards. I must love Him first, and use His love as my example of how to love others. Jesus loved everyone- even the Pharisees- but He did not condone all they did. Neither did He judge them. Rather, He told them who He was (He is our Savior).

The answer to, "Who is Jesus?" will be our answer to, "How should I love others?"

Women of the counter culture, unite! (pt. I)

I never cease to be amazed at how many women in the body of Christ feel the way I do about the perceived necessity of using the degrees we've earned. Why, oh why, do we not give ourselves a well-deserved nod of approval at that remarkable accomplishment (face it, in our minute-to-minute culture whenever someone puts four years' focused time into any one thing, it's an accomplishment) and then go on to pursue our Godly, womanly talents and gifts? The following is an excerpt from a Revive our Hearts listener, commenting on the importance of not only becoming a Proverbs 31 woman, but not cow-towing to the “feminism” (which is anti-feminine) of our day and age.

"Having been in the generation that came to adulthood in the 50's-early 60's, I didnt ever think or believe there was a more important job than caring for my family , being a provider in my home. Many of my peers went on to college and after finishing believed they "needed to use" their degree.

I's like the mother who goes back to work when her baby is 6 weeks old. Years later, she will know she cannot go back and recoup that time lost. A division of labor is spoken of in the Bible. I believe the Bible teaches the man shall provide, while the woman cares and tends the family. We have moved far away from this Biblical standard for families and we wonder what has happened to the family. We are buying bigger houses, charging on credit cards- restaurant bills, latest clothing fashion, vacations, fancy birthday parties for our children, and then believe "we have to work."

There are so many lasting gifts you can give your family. A haven in their home.
When they are grown, they will not remember the clothes, entertainment, etc, your salary may provide. They will remember the times they spent as a family and what their home life was like. The comment that Barbara Bush made to the Wellesley graduates, "At the end of your life you will not wish you had made more business deals, you will wish you had spent more time with your family."

When I meet Jesus

Nic asked me once, "When you're face-to-face with Jesus, what will you say?" I replied, "I'll probably sing." When I don't know how to pray, I sing. I wrote this today.

Oh, Lord, I've a long way to go.
The mountain is high and the valley is low.
Yet I continue to climb, through the dirt and the snow.
Oh, Lord, I've a long way to go.

Father God, I am trying to keep faith.
Forgive my impatience, but it's so hard to wait.
The devil tempts me with ways out and I take the bait.
Father God, I am trying to keep faith.

Loving Christ, You've given all I need:
A home, a family, your word and your deed.
So why do I still hang my head and weep?
Loving Christ, You're all that I need.

Spirit strong, you're wherever I be.
Your presence encourages me.
Do you hear my prayer? I long for thee.
Spirit strong, you're wherever I be.

Blessed Lord, I've a long way to go.
I'll follow you anywhere, though the end I do not know.
I will ask, knock and seek you so

When I'm called home, with me You'll go.

Oh Lord, I've a long way to go.

Taking the initiative against drudgery

"Arise, shine..." (Isaiah 60:1)

When it comes to taking the initiative against drudgery, we have to take the first step as though there were no God. There is no point in waiting for God to help us- He will not. But once we arise, immediately we find He is there. Whenever God gives us His inspiration, suddenly taking the initiative becomes a moral issue- a matter of obedience. Then we must act to be obedient and not continue to lie down doing nothing. If we will arise and shine, drudgery will be divinely transformed.

Drudgery is one of the finest tests to determine the genuineness of our character. Drudgery is work that is far removed from anything we think of as ideal work. It is the utterly hard, menial, tiresome and dirty work. And when we experience it, our spirituality is instantly tested and we will know whether or not we are spiritually genuine. Read John 13. In this chapter, we see the Incarnate God performing the greatest example of drudgery- washing fishermen's feet. He then said to them, "If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet" (John 13:14).

The inspiration of God is required if drudgery is to shine with the light of God upon it. In some cases the way a person does a task makes that work sanctified and holy forever. It may be a very common, everyday task, but after we have seen it done, it becomes different. When the Lord does something through us, He always transforms it. Our Lord takes our human flesh and transforms it, and now every believer's body has become "the temple of the Holy Spirit" (1 Corinthians 6:19).

Taken from, "My Utmost for His Highest" by Oswald Chambers.

Bathing with the Enemy

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain;
Then bursting forth in glorious day,
Up from the grave He rose again!
And as He stands in victory,
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me;
For I am His and He is mine—
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

Do you believe you were bought with His blood? Believe it or not, you were. And as something is bought, it then belongs to the buyer. You belong to Christ. Yet so many of us spend our days speaking out on His behalf, then going home and washing off His blood. Do you wash it off? Consider the following:

* Can you speak out of both sides of your mouth? I can. I love to give advice, especially scripturally-based, and then walk in the opposite direction I just pointed to. I wash off the blood when I second-guess His advice (the Word).

* Do you plan for the future? Do you know it is certain? I do! I've been whispered to what my future holds. Who whispered it? I don't know, but it sounded good! Forget about the details of today; what am I really building up for? To be used for? I wash off the blood when I don't receive my daily bread.

* Is there a "public you" and a "private you?" Are you vocal of the Victory in your spare time, or your home time, or to your public audience, only to find yourself growing very, very quiet when your faith is challenged publicly? Anyone who knows me knows of my chameleon-like nature; don't I love it to appeal to His side when it appeals to me? Yup. I put on the Armor with purpose before I set out for the day... then I put on a coat, hat, gloves, boots and purse over it. I wash off the blood when I back down from my faith.

* Do you secretly wish there was a way you could prove how clean you could be, if only the circumstances were right? Do you feel a little jealousy toward those for whom it seems easy to accept being seen washed in the blood every single moment? Completely humbling yourself to Him is hard. Don't tell me it isn't. Then again, it's a joy to be humble, to relenquish the control over my life! I wash off the blood when I believe I can be clean without the Blood.


I don't know how to end this. All I can say is, if you think this isn't a BATTLE you are fooling yourself. Put on your armor.

Measure by measure

Proverbs 31 and Ecclesiastes 3:

A wife of noble character:

Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.

She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.

She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.

She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised."

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak.

Lord, commit to my heart your words so that I may be the woman you want me to be. It is so hard to be that woman, but I desire nothing more. Let me me like the plants lying in wait for spring; keep me in wait for you, don't let me be hasty and lose the way, bring me up from the earth when you know it is the time I can thrive. And if I should be brought up and grow, don't then let me seek to water myself. Watch over me all the days of my life. Thank you and in the name of your Son I pray, Amen.

Daily challenge

A couple weeks ago I started hearing buzz about a video on YouTube in which people deny the existence of the Holy Spirit. It's named the "blasphemy challenge" and dreamed up by the "rational response squad," a group of atheists determined to "destroy Christianity." Here's a link:
the official website for the "challenge"

In each video the maker must put the words, "I deny the existence of the Holy Spirit," referring to a passage in Mark 3:23-29 in which Jesus says whomever sins shall be forgiven, excepting those who blaspheme against the Holy Spirit. So the "rational response squad" - so wittily named- in their desire to make themselves gods, promotes the public denouncement of the Spirit as a means to collecting people's souls. They want to encourage young people (they put ads on teen magazine websites, friendster, youtube, etc.) to "challenge" the fear that religion promotes (a fear of God) by "putting [their] souls on the line."

There are just a few things wrong with their argument. I'm not sure it's even worth the time to explain it all... because this is such a joke of a "challenge," but for reference purposes for the second half of this post, shall we carry on?

1. This reading of Mark 3:28-29 is wrong. Flat-out misinterpretation. Jesus was using this explanation of the nature of the Holy Spirit to demonstrate that Satan and God are not on the same side. He was chastising them for saying He (Jesus) could drive out demons because they thought He could therefore control demons because He was on their side. He wasn't.
Mark 14:17- "...the Spirit of Truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neithers sees him nor knows him."

2. There isn't any sin Jesus doesn't have the power to forgive. Jesus forgives by way of the Father, God. As it was God's will to send Jesus to die for us, it became Jesus' will to do so. Jesus never did anything without asking first what God wished Him to carry out.
John 17:4- "I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do."
God had but one command for us, "...love the Lord your God..." (Deuteronomy 30:16). Again, by Jesus' own words, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength" (Mark 12:30).

3. The "rational squad" doesn't believe in hell, but want peoples' souls. WHY? How do they rationalize the existence of souls? Or your free will, which allows you to do whatever you like with your soul? If they don't expect us to prove ourselves before God (because, they say, He doesn't exist), why should we like to prove ourselves before the rational response squad? Clearly this is a case of believers gone sour by way of a weak faith (more explanation to follow), conned into thinking they don't need a God. Why, then, do they want to be our god? After all they are collecting souls here; what do they plan to do with them?

There are many more points to be drawn up, but what am I driving at here? This so-called "challenge" isn't much of one. It presupposes that you already don't believe in God, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit; if you already believe that your soul isn't in danger it's no skin off your nose to "put it on the line." For many making these blasphemy videos, the challenge has already begun taking place in a soul they once believed they had. Lost and bewildered, they seek out a god to follow (as human nature commands us to) and have here found the "squad." We love to worship, don't we? We crave devotion to and validation from something. Targeting teenagers in our country is about as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. Most of them, due to our nation's emphasis on the importance of this life, are already half dead.

So here's my challenge to the "squad:"
1. Target a stronger set of people. Try believers. Adults. Those who have been walking with the Lord for years. I'm sure they've struggled more than you and you might relate to that. Heck, you might even get a mentor out of it!
2. Establish consistency before you debate. For starters, come up with a better argument than, "there's no reason to believe in God." Move on to address the inherent contradiction in your promotion of your right way (to not believe) versus our wrong way (to believe); please explain a moral system on terms of an irrational world (without God). Finish with explain ing clearly where your reason comes from, and how you can prove it- rationally.
3. Take the challenge of the Bible: love God, love your neighbor. Have you tried this? It can be really difficult! Sure, it's easy to love your family, your spouse, your kids, your friends and anyone you see struggling... or is it? Families can be cruel. People can adamently and violently refuse your help. God can seem absent when you need Him most. But this is the true challenge, to love them regardless, especially God. And especially when He seems the most distant. You have to allow yourself to be drawn close to Him. That, my friend, is a challange. To do God's will and delight in it? This is not easy, but truly the only thing I find a blessing in my life. It's a long, sometimes dark, road I'm on, but I'm never alone on it.

I've got to feel empathy for the main guy in the "squad," because he was a Catholic, then born-again at age 13. Later, when his faith was challenged in high school, he turned away. In fact, his targeting teenagers belies his interest in saving them from an experience like his (which I have no doubt was difficult, obviously life-changing). But however demanding the devil was of his faith is no excuse to lead others into whatever fray he sees fit. He's dealing with dangerous territory and he's not really aware of what he's doing.
Let's follow that big commandment, our challenge as believers: love the heck out of this guy. Pray for him. Write to him. Send him scripture in the mail. Personal testimonials. Then let God do his work. Praise the Lord that Our God is sovereign and can save this guy!

"..When you and your children return to the Lord your God and obey him with all your heart and with all your soul.. then the Lord will restore your fortunes and have compassion on you and gather you again from the nations where he scattered you. Even if you have been banished to the most distant land under the heavens, from there the Lord your God will gather you and bring you back."
Deuteronomy 30:2-4

Exercising demons

No, that's not a spelling error. I mean I had some demons on the run today for nearly an hour.

In my work as a caregiver I've met some very interesting characters, but none so deserving of your prayers as Chuck, a 79-year-old man who suffers from some serious demon possession. Wait, wait. That's too much too soon. You need some background information first...

Chuck was born in 1927 and raised on the southside of Chicago. He grew up with mom, dad and ten brothers and sisters. Age-wise he's somewhere in the middle of them. His mother, a devout Catholic who tried her hardest just to get everybody fed and herself to confession every week. His father was admittedly a hardworking man, but only made it home- after the bar- long enough each night to beat his children bloody. Chuck learned early on to literally fight for his life and the lives of his younger, weaker siblings. "Dad's weakness was the bottle," Chuck told me. "I never took to it like he did, no way."

In addition to family conflict Chuck saw a lot of it on the streets of his neighborhood. For those of you who haven't talked at length with a Chicagoan 75 years or older lately, let me fill you in: Chicago was no picnic in the "old days," in fact the southside saw just as much violence between Irish, Polish, Germans and African-Americans as they do on the westside now with Hispanic and Black groups. Probably more since gangsters really did run the city back then, leaving law enforcement absent from most neighborhood brawls. "When someone had a problem with you, you'd tell 'em you'd beat the ---- out of them." This is how the majority of Chuck's teenage recollections begin.

His early twenties saw Chuck in the factory and during the war, since he was fortunate to stay out of it ("I didn't want to fight [foreigners]"), Chuck used the time to hone his cabinet and woodworking skills. This was only in his spare time, the hours not already devoted to the job or his newfound love of a hobby, boxing. Eventually Chuck met "a nice girl, too nice for [him]" (Dorothy), married her, moved her out of the old neighborhood and had two children.
They even went to church back then, so he told me. "Oh sure, we went every week."

After a long life together, Dorothy passed away (about 12 years ago) and Chuck came to live with his daughter and son-in-law. The daughter is a Catholic (but non-practicing) and her husband was raised Hindu, but now participates in any "spiritual" endeavor during which he can get "caught up in the rapture."* This man (very de-masculinated) and his wife (obviously influenced by the 'feminist' movement and so is de-feminized) tell Chuck that, "it's ok to curse out God for doing this to [you]" and have encouraged me to comfort him in this fashion. They've also told him (in my presence) that when he's dead, "of course [they'll] miss [him], but [he'll] be dead in the ground in a box, and that's that."

Um... yeah. That's that?! That's the end of it? I beg to differ. Certainly the backgrounds of these two have something to do with their beliefs (or lack thereof): the son-in-law teaches science, which says everything has to be proven empirically. So if you can't see God, He must not be there. The woman was a Catholic and thinks you have a little bit of sin that builds up, but by attending mass and saying your ten 'Hail Marys' you can whittle it back down. Every now and then go to confession and the priest will absolve you.

I can't help but think about SIN when I talk to either one of these people. If it were true that we begin as basically good people, the problem of sin could be solved by the priests. When I brought this up to Chuck one time- at the very beginning of my evangelizing to him- he said, "Yeah, but that ain't it. We're not good, we're sinners." Amen. We're sinners. And with that comment, we began talking about Christ.

I've learned a lot from Chuck over the past few months. He was abused as a child. He's been talking to God for a long time, asking Him for help. Just today I found out that, as a young man, Chuck wanted to be a priest! But when he saw the hoops the Catholic church wanted him to jump through to please God, he said goodbye to that path. "That stuff don't impress Him." Yes, it's what's in your heart, how you glorify God through your servanthood to others. Above all it's how close you hold tight to Jesus that pleases God.

This is what a typical morning is for me now, a morning of spreading the Gospel. True, I only spread it to one person. But if you knew how much the Spirit puts on my heart, what Scripture I'm led to, the words that leave my mouth that are poetic when they need to be and straightforward when required, you would understand the mystery and majesty of our Lord.

Every day I am challenged to justify my presence in Chuck's home. "How'd a young girl like you get stuck with a jerk like me?" he asks. Every day. And I give the same response; "I'm not stuck, I was chosen to be here. I don't know why, because it wasn't my will. But I try to delight in it every moment because it was God's will for me. It became my will." I heard on the radio today, "God hasn't called you to a place, He has called you to Himself." I didn't choose Chuck, but I draw closer to Jesus when I'm reading Chuck the Word. And I know it's not in my hands to change his heart, but I love being the one through whom God brought Chuck the truth!

I pray for Chuck every day for his heart to soften, for his unbelief to melt away and be replaces with utter gratitude at the grace He offers. Chuck knows he needs forgiveness, and he desperately craves the peace only Jesus can bring. Will you join me in praying for Chuck whenever you can? And please come back for updates on this story...

My sincerest thank you,
Victoria


*I'm not kidding, that's actually what he told me. Funny thing is, getting "caught up in the rapture" is very much a Christian term and event, which he seems not to be aware of (see 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17). I doubt he'd use that phrase if he knew the truth behind it!

On my mind and lips all day long

On Christ, the solid rock I stand. All other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.

On Christ, the solid rock I stand. All other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.

On Christ, the solid rock I stand. All other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.

Alphabet prayer

I got this idea from "Midday Connection" on WMBI today; create a prayer of thanks by simply going through the alphabet. Forgive me for not having used some letters. God bless you today!


I praise God because He (is):

Almighty
the Beginning
Compassionate
our Deliverer
Eternal
Faithful
the Good Shepherd
Holy
Intimate
gives Joy
Kind
Loving
Mighty
Never leaves us
Omnipresent
Patient
our Questioner
Righteous
our Savior
the Truth
Understands our hearts
Victorious

His Word is real and true.

Reaching Him, reaching me

God can always reach us. Do you believe that? I do. When I am going through my days, which are sometimes filled with uncertainty and insecurity, I feel like I am alone in it. As a caregiver I work by myself and have little contact with anyone my age in my free time. And living in the city makes it difficult to "make a connection" with anyone. Sometimes everyone feels like a stranger.

But God never does. When I feel the most alone, I turn to Him. Always. I get down on my knees, sobbing usually, and ask Him to be with me. I don't ask for anything but that, His presence. And He always comforts me, because unlike any mortal He can completely envelop and indwell. He is outside of me and also within me. How much closer can a relationship get?

I've read that our relationships with people serve as preparation for the relationship we have with Him. This has to be true; every time I think I've figured a person out, or how I relate to them, I get thrown a curve, completely unexpected, that forces me to re-evaluate the whole thing. Praise God that, when He reaches out to me in an unexpected way (which is every time), I know exactly how to respond: back on my knees. I give that gift right back to Him in worship.

I sing my heart out because He gave me a voice to sing.
I write because He gave the Word and a unique way to write about It.
I am compassionate to others because He softened my heart.
I tell people about Jesus because He gave Himself to me.

As Jesus said, "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful" (John 15:1-2). No branch can bear fruit by itself, it must remain on the vine. Remain in our Lord and He will remain in you. He will help you bear fruit you couldn't have expected.

Daily devotional from C.H. Spurgeon

January 2nd
Conquest to Victory

"And the God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly."

Romans 6:20

This promise follows well upon that of yesterday. We are evidently to be conformed to our covenant Head, not only in His being bruised in His heel but in His conquest of the evil one. Even under our feet is the old dragon to be bruised. The Roman believers were grieved with strife in the church; but their God was "the God of peace" and gave them rest of soul. The archenemy tripped up the feet of the unwary and deceived the hearts of the simple; but he was to get the worst of it and to be trodden down by those whom he had troubled. This victory would not come to the people of God through their own skill or power, but God Himself would bruise Satan. Though it would be under their feet, yet the bruising would be of the LORD alone.

Let us bravely tread upon the temptor! Not only inferior spirits but the prince of darkness himself must go down before us. In unquestioning confidence in God let us look for speedy victory. "Shortly." Happy word! Shortly we shall set our foot on the old serpent! What a joy to crush evil! What dishonor to Satan to have his head bruised by human feet! Let us by faith in Jesus tread the temptor down.

Editing was required

"
... lest Satan should take advantage of us; for we are not ignorant of his devices."

2 Corinthians 2:10-11

"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will."

Romans 12:2

At last... Thanksgiving pictures!

...and now for some bonus photos! These were taken when P.R. and the Farmgirl came to try on dresses with me. P.R. liked my cat much better, especially running after and then cornering him. The last photo is from our couchwarming party. We can't thank you enough!!! We love it!

Calculating infinity

It's hard to make a "home" out of a borrowed house.
Rather, part of a house. This is where I live currently, the first-ish floor of a three flat house in Chicago. I don't own it, I just rent it. I suppose technically I only rent half of it since I have a roommate. So that's my home equity right now, one-sixth of a house.

But I'm not complaining. PlatoNic lives down the street, in a whole apartment of a 36-unit building. So when you add his 1/36th to my 1/6th you get 7/36ths of a house. That's not bad, but it could be better. Let's start from there and see what we get.

Our house is full of love. + 1
Our house is joyful at least 2/3 of the time. + 2/3
We don't have many visitors, but the ones we have really like us! +5
My roommate, fiancé and I come from three wonderful families. +3
I totally own my cat. +1
And two fish! +2
Ok, maybe the fish shouldn't count; they're not even cognizant! -2
Our house is full of handed-down furniture, which all came from loving people. +10
(Thank you especially to Par. Far. and SCFarmer!!)
__
total so far: 20.17 (approximately 20 2/15)
which is an increase of: over 1962% !

All this number crunching is giving me a 26.6 repeating headache. Here's the fact: we are all living here in borrowed houses, with borrowed clothing on our backs, all in borrowed time. We are strangers on earth (Psalm 119). The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it (Psalm 24).

He is giving it all to us. I couldn't even add His presence to the chart above because it would go off the charts. He is the chart! His love and faithfulness to us is what we judge all other kinds of love and blessing by. He is our home; eternal, endless, ever-reaching and promised by His own Word!

"The Father's house has many a dwelling,

And there will be a place for thee.
With perfect love His heart is welling
Who loved thee from eternity.
His precious blood the Lamb hath given
That thou might'st share the joys of heaven,
And now He calleth far and near:
'Ye weary souls, cease your repining,
Come while for you My light is shining;
Come, sweetest rest awaits you here!'

O come, come all, ye weak and weary,
Ye souls bowed down with many a care;
Arise and leave your dungeons dreary
And listen to His promise fair:
'Ye bore your burdens meek and lowly,
I will fulfil My pledge most holy,
I'll be your Solace and your Rest.
Ye are Mine own, I will requite you;
Tho' sin and Satan seek to smite you,
Rejoice! Your home is with the blest.' "

"A Rest Remaineth for the Weary,"
by Johann S. Kunth, 1730

O Mysterious Father

Getting through weekday mornings was always a challenge in our house. Not necessarily for us sisters (of whom there were three, and all within a few years of one another), but for Mom and Dad. First off, my sisters and I had equal aversion to anything taking place in the first few hours of the day. Secondly, bathroom time was distributed on a ‘first come, first served’ basis. But the biggest problem was simply getting us up (not merely awake, but physically out of bed) and going. My sisters and I were (and perhaps still are!) a bit prickly in the morning. The task of raising us from unconsciousness seemed to fall on Dad the most often, though I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was his undeniably effective strategies for doing so.

Sometimes Dad’s routine consisted of rapid exposure to chilly Minnesota breeze (present even indoors in winter) a la blanket stealing. Other times there was a competition introduced, which could be anything from, “Mom made something special for breakfast so you’d better get down there soon!” to “I’m going to use the bathroom and afterward, well, you might not want to go in there awhile.” Being naturally competitive with each other certainly helped spur my sisters and I on, but there were days where we just couldn’t get out of bed because we were so tired we might collapse if we did! (Or so we claimed.) What was Dad to do then? There was still one move left in the sneaky Dad bag of wake-you-up tricks; a little ditty by the name of, “O Magnum, Mysterium.”

I’m laughing as I type this, remembering Dad’s deep bass bellow through the hallway: “Oooh Mag-nuuum, Mysteri-uuum!” But trust me, I wasn’t laughing back then! This was definitely not my preferred way to start the day. I didn’t have the foggiest clue what this song was about, or who wrote it, or why Dad liked it so much. All I remember thinking back then was, “The faster I get out of bed, the sooner he will stop singing!” And Dad would oblige. That is, until he realized he could use this form of melodic blitz not just to get us out of bed, but to make us move down the hallway, the stairs and out the door that much quicker.

When I recalled this particular memory of Dad I realized I had never given much thought to why he chose this song over any other. Surely he must have had some reason? And yet, I’ve never taken the time to ask him why he liked “O Magnum” so much. Perhaps I will finally do so this year. In preparation, I did a little research and discovered this is a beautiful hymn, with mighty lyrics! The Latin lyrics are as follows:

O magnum mysterium et admirabile sacramentum
Ut animalia viderent Dominum natum
Jacentem in proesepio.

O beata virgo, cujus viscera me ruerunt portare
Dominum Jesum Christum
Alleluja!

Translated into our less-than-poetic English it looks like this:

O Great mystery and wondrous sacrament,
That animal might see the birth of the Lord
As He lay in the manger.

O, Blessed Virgin,
Who was worthy of bearing
Our Lord Jesus Christ.
Alleluia!

Reading the English translation is akin to consulting the NIV after reading something in the King James; it’s the same meaning, but just not as pretty. Read these lyrics, though, and understand both their simplicity and their weight. There is but one subject: the mystery of God’s goodness toward us. This is noted first by the lyricist in his noting that we animals were included at the birth of our Savior, as witnesses. This fact is a wondrous sacrament, that we, even as fallen people, could be there! The lyricist continues, praising the blessedness of Mary, who was worthy of bearing the Christ child. That there have been many God has chosen to carry out His works- Alleluia!

The importance of Dad’s choosing “O Magnum Mysterium” was always, well, a mystery to me. I speculate now that the message it sends us- we fallen people have a God so good that He includes us in His plans- is one we ought to sing to ourselves every day.

Thanks goes to my Dad for putting this idea in my head long ago, before I could have started to comprehend it, so that it could strengthen my faith later in life.

Praise always to my Father for giving me His blessings!

Hark!

We've been hearing the watered-down (i.e. instrumental) versions over store radio for a few weeks now, totally missing out on the beautiful lyrical content! As Platonicus Booknutticus showed in a recent post (here), song lyrics have the power to convey a feeling that cannot be expressed otherwise. Lyrics can reject, reclaim, reconcile and rejuvinate us. The following are lyrics from one of my favorite Christmas songs, "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing." Italicized words beg for your attention.

Hark! The herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn King!"
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled.
Joyful, all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With angelic hosts proclaim,
"Christ is born in Bethlehem!"
Hark! The herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn King!"

Hail the heav'n born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Son of righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings
Ris'n with healing in His wings
Mild He lays His glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth
Hark! The herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!"

Nothing lost, everything gained

I don't know if y'all knew this, but it's only been eleven months (and a few days) since I was born again. I've been thinking about this fact a lot lately, noticing how different my life is compared to this time last year. Heck, I only met Nic December 10th of 2005! Now look at us- full of the Spirit and determined to serve the Lord through our upcoming marriage to one another. I never could have guessed my blessings would count so high, my life would become so rich so fast. I also tend to lose sight of that sometimes.

Just yesterday I was crying to Nic about losing so many friends over the past few months because I believe and they adamentely do not. I even have a couple family members who are almost hopelessly misguided about the Truth. (Praise the Lord that He can change their hearts and minds! Double praise because it isn't my job to do!)

It's very difficult to explain, or even bring up, the subject of lost souls. In general I can speak on the subject; how tragic it is that so many walk around in the dark and how wonderful when the Light comes into their lives. I might even get a little arrogant and point out some tragic examples I personally know. That's the conceited side of me, the side that thanks God for saving me but feels sorry for those He hasn't yet. I should be praying for these people night and day.

But I'm not. Instead I'm whining about the blessings I have been given not being the ones I expected, so I don't appreciate them like I should. What's my problem? The Bible says we should stay alert and awake, on our guard. I know it's referring to the devil and sin, but I need to stay awake to both the ways of the world AND to the ways of God working in my life. I take Him for granted. Lord, forgive me for that.

From now on, I'm going to count what I have and not what I've lost. I've gained a whole new family, for Pete's sake! I love you all and don't want to take you for granted either.

Nic, you told me once that you wanted to be the second most important man in my life. I hope you know that you are. I couldn't be here without Him, and I couldn't keep on being without you.

-Victoria

A satirist's view of our pluralistic culture

For context of this quote, click on the following link:
Ravi Zacharias on our loss of shame, pt. II


"We believe in Marx, Freud and Darwin. We believe everything is ok as long as you don't hurt anyone, to the best of your definition of hurt and to the best of your definition of knowledge.

We believe in sex before, during and after marriage. We believe in the therapy of sin, we believe that adultery is fun, we believe that taboos are taboo.

We believe everything's getting better, despite evidence to the contrary. The evidence must be investigated, and you can prove anything with evidence.

We believe there's something in horoscopes, ufos and bent spoons. Jesus was a good man, just like Buddha, Mohammad and ourselves. He was a good moral teacher, although we think some of his good morals were really bad.

We believe that all religions are basically the same; at least the ones that we read were. They all believe in love and goodness. They only differ on matters of creation, sin, heaven, hell, God and salvation.

We believe that after death comes the nothing, because when you ask the dead what happens they say nothing. If death is not the end, if the dead have lied, then it's compulsory heaven for all excepting, perhaps, Hitler, Stalin and Genghis Khan.

We believe in Masters and Johnson: what's selected is average, what's average is normal, what's normal is good. We believe in total disarmament, because we believe there are direct links between warfare and bloodshed. Americans should beat their guns into tractors and the Russians would be sure to follow.

We believe that man is essentially good, it's only his behavior that lets him down. This is the fault of society, society is the fault of conditions, and conditions are the fault of society. We believe each man must find the truth that is right for him and reality will adapt accordingly. The universe will readjust, history will alter. We believe that there is no absolute truth, excepting the truth that there is no absolute truth.

We believe in the rejection of creeds and the flowering of individual thought.

If chance be the father of all flesh, disaster is his rainbow in the sky and when you hear, "state of emergency, sniper kills ten, troops on rampage, youths go looting, bomb blasts school," it is but the sound of man worshipping his maker."


Steve Turner

A bit of a stretch...

I know there's danger in trying to find explanation for every experience. Having said that: if we are the salt and Jesus is the water, are our tears the physical expression of the two combining?

The kind of woman I want to be, pt. I

For a long time, I didn't know what kind of woman to be. What I mean is that, around age eighteen, when "society" told me I was a woman (or at least starting to become one), I did not know what that meant, nor did I feel it could ever be true of me. In retrospect this confusion is significantly less muddled and, coupled with my spiritual maturity, it becomes crystal-clear; I didn't then, and I don't now, want to be the kind of woman society at large entices me to be.

I assume most of you know what I mean but, for the sake of anyone to whom "society" does not relentlessly pummel with suggested self- images, let me elaborate a minute on what I don't want.

I do not want to be sexy all the time. Don't get me wrong, I love to feel pretty and enjoy going out of my way to look attractive to my fiancé. But there are plenty of times when I don't want to look or behave in a sexy way. It makes me feel as awkward as the word awkward. It makes me feel fake, like I'm acting.

There is so much more to my womanhood than my sex! If our being women was a simple matter of biology, anyone could have an operation and become one of us. But it doesn't work that way. There are feelings we have, impulses that our men don't understand, intuitions we can make, aches we can soothe that any Dustin, Mel or Wayan brother in pantyhose just doesn't get.
Also, we women don't (and shouldn't) rely on our being sexy as a means to accomplishment or strength in the world. I do not wish to be a woman who "flirts her way to the top." Let's forget for a moment where or what that "top" is. When I find myself successful (and we should all determine that subjectively for ourselves) it is not due to my physical appearance. For that I am thankful and, forgive me, maybe even a little proud.

On the topic of success, allow me to disqualify myself in another way: I do not want to be a power-hungry, independent career woman. I apologize if it sounds strange, but I like the interdependence of coworkers, family, friends and roommates! I like being dependent on other people and cooperating with them; it makes me feel human. I do not want to be (as much as the five-year-old version of me protests) a robot! I love asking for help and being able to help others. There is a big part of my womanhood wrapped up with that idea. I'm perfectly happy being a little vulnerable. In that way I'm more of a "risk taker" than a corporate career woman is!

So if I'm so opposed to the office, or at least to the office type career gal, where will you find me managing? I'll be home, but I do not want to micro-manage my children. I want them to explore, to get messy (see previous post on painting), to live their lives. Here's the catch: I will set the boundaries for that exploration. They will not go into harmful situations or into harmful peoples' hands. This section is almost dangerously underdeveloped, as I have no children. Please feel free to school me. Of this much I am clear: I do not want to be my children's friend, but their mother. What does that mean? I'm not going to wear the same clothes as them, let them drink as long as it's at home, or pretend that I want their experience of the world at a certain age to be the same as mine was. I know everyone says this, but I do not want my children to go through what I did as a teenager. I fear I am coming close to offending my mother and father (if they read this), but all I wanted as a teenager was someone to really, harshly even, parent me! I had enough friends; they were feeling their way through the dark world as much as I was. I needed some light. (Later, I got the ultimate light of my life and I have not been the same since, but that's about hundred blogs on its own!)


I have writer's block on this one... more to come as it unwinds in my mind...

A few leaves turn into a pile

We had a lovely day in Chicago today. This time of year anything goes, but usually we are not blessed with May-like temperatures and sunshine like we had today. I had a half day of work with my favorite client and got to see Nic for a minute on the way home, so by the time I got there I was feeling pretty good. I decided that, in anticipation of my dinner guests on Saturday, I would clean up the backyard.

It began with sweeping up a pile of leaves, then I moved on to the deck. Long after the sun went down- which I hadn't even noticed- I stopped in the middle of sweeping the leaves on the lawn (we don't have a rake, just a broom) with the thought, "I have officially turned into my mother." I was still thinking about that when my roommate came outside and asked what the heck I was doing in the dark.

"Just tidying up the yard," I said, though I realized then the lateness of the hour and understood her surprise at my work. For her doing yardwork is less than desireable and, in fact, downright unpleasant. (All cleaning, it seems, is unpleasant to her, which explains why she never does it!) But still I couldn't understand her surprise at the work itself I was doing, only the hour at which I was doing it. To me, tasks of nature just need to be done, despite the enjoyment they bring.

That said, I have always enjoyed this kind of chore, any outside chore. I don't consider them "chores" in the traditional sense of the word, as jobs you'd rather not do at all. I routinely volunteered for leaf-raking, weed-pulling and, if I was in a particularly good mood, lawn mowing. I could do without snow shoveling, but that's because I don't enjoy the cold. I have nothing against the toil of shoveling and I love the feeling of sore muscles; it means you've been using them.

Over time I've developed a sort of patented work ethic; there is work to be done and, by George, it will be accomplished today, sunlight or not. There are some tasks that cannot wait while I type a blog or start on a painting. I have developed a tendancy toward doing outside work first. (I also seem to have acquired a subconscious need to wash dishes, even at someone else's house. So if I do this, please don't be offended; I simply need to wash dishes!) I guess you could say I've been programmed to work like I was raised to, and that means home (and family) maintenance comes before any personal endeavor.

I'm sure that, provided the weather was accomidating, my mother was outside pulling the last of weeds not killed by early frost, or raking, or cleaning gutters. Bless her for that, for always taking care of our home and our family, and especially for instilling in me an able and willing desire to take care of my own. I know when most people say, "I've turned into my mother," it is a reflection of their neuroses, some kind of self-doubt. But for me to see any of her in me gives me hope that I can't explain.

There is a needlework piece hanging in the hall of my parents' house that reads: A mother is a woman who can take the place of all others, but whose place no one else can take. How true that is.

A thousand words, and none.

The man I love:

Hates the polaroid
obsession, but obliges
out of love for me.

Can't understand why
I can't stop gazing at him.
Has to be that way!

Keeps my heart in mind,
Knows it better than I do.
Loves me forever.

Time for prayer

I have been on the verge of tears today. Many days I experience this, but today it is because of the Ted Haggard news. I am aching for his wife and the struggle she has been thrust into. I realize that it is always the time for prayer and I'm a strong believer in its power and so I implore you: please pray for former Pastor Haggard, his wife and children, and his congregation.

Ravi Zacharias said it best today, that the secular world preaches relativism and sensitivity to us day-in and day-out. But they also stalk believers like lions, waiting to pounce on us when we suffer from moral depravity. The secular world says not to judge, but when one of us suffers from his/her own sin and brings it to light, they are the first to judge us, before we even have time to judge ourselves.

Friends in Christ, this is not the time to judge Pr. Haggard. His sin is before God, who will judge him as He sees fit. For us to condemn him is to give ourselves power that only He has. This is how we each fall, by thinking we can walk without Him! Now more than ever I am recommitting myself to knowing the Gospel and bringing it to others. Let Pr. Haggard serve as an example to each of us, so that our walks with the Lord may be strengthened despite our weaknesses.

I ask you again, please pray for this man, his family and his congregation. Many have lost their spiritual leader.

"Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches. Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn? If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness."
1 Corinthians 11:28-30

"Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin."
Hebrews 4:14-15

"...we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us."
Romans 5:3-5

Progressive paint

Date: November 6th, 2006
Item: Crayola invisible paint picture spinner contraption.
Intention: allows kids to "paint" pictures using ink that won't stain clothes

Assessment:

Growing up my sisters and I had several toys. In fact we had an entire toy bench (built by Dad) which held all of our stuffed animals, Legos and dolls, play dishes, etc. But few of these toys came to us brand new. Despite my Dad being a college professor we didn't have a lot of money, so when we did get new toys they always had to be shared between the three of us. Consequently we cherished each and every toy that came from an "actual store," meaning any store other than "thrift."

One of our favorite toys was something called a "Twirl-a-Paint," a battery-operated wheel you attached a piece of paper onto which you squirted paint on as it spun around. The end product, depending on color mixture and individual taste, looked like either a splatter of vomit or a glittery splatter of vomit (we only had three paints and some of us liked to experiment with alternative materials- Kleenex, oatmeal, pudding, etc.). I strongly believe the value of the Twirl-a-Paint lay not in its ability to create beautiful, or even fridge-worthy, works of art, but in the freedom it allowed. I know that sounds hokey, but consider the following:

I saw an item advertised today that looked a lot like the Twirl-a-Paint. Same spinning wheel, same bottles of liquid to squirt onto a spinning piece of paper. It even comes with its own glitter (we always had to sneak some from Mom's craft supplies). But here's the catch: this new toy comes with invisible paint. I know what you're thinking and no, it's not paint that cloaks itself with mystery when the wrong eyes see it. It's nothing that clever. Just "paint" that only shows up on the special paper that comes with the toy. The idea is that, unlike normal paint, if the invisible stuff spills, it doesn't make a mess. So this is an improvement on old-fashioned paint you might say. It's progressive paint.

But is it progress for children to be robbed of all that is entailed by using regular paint? I remember the fun of mixing colors, making new colors, making ugly colors, making a mess. Painting with my fingers! Don't you recall fondly the first time you smooshed paint around on a paper? What joy! And what happened when it detoured out onto the floor? Someone came and cleaned it up. Big deal. Life didn't stop, it just got messy for a few minutes. And wasn't your day that much brighter, knowing you really dug into that painting project, dismissed the constraints of reality and just smooshed away?

I want to have kids that, when they grow up, remember what it was like to be kids and be messy. I want kids that know how to play. I will not buy them toys that do the playing for them.


notes from b-tube, v1, p1. veektka.

Fotografias de la Nuevo York

This is the street we lived on in uptown New York.
NY has some strict policies. We adapted.
Their rules couldn't stop us from being cute. (My fiancé is so handsome!!)
Or from drinking their free wine and being philosophical.
We contemplated staying forever and living in the foyer,
or moving to Brooklyn,
or maybe just living closer to these trees.
Wherever we end up, we'll be doing a lot of this (I hope).

Holding the place for NYC pictures

Sushi night in Chicago vs. sushi night in the Village: who will be victorious?!

There's something about New York...

I've received many requests to promulgate about our recent trip to NYC and, though I thought about the city all the while I was there, all the trip home and more than ever now that I'm back to my old routine, I just can't seem to get it right. So here's the best I could do. It's a start. It's the beginning.

There is something about New York. It’s in the air, it’s on the street, it’s not in the alleys, but it’s up high on a tenement fire escape. And at the very same moment it’s not, because it’s reaching out to shelter the sidewalk traffic while pushing a stroller and sleeping on church steps. It is walking one of those unimaginably small dogs. It is driving a sailboat on a shallow pond in the park. It is sitting next to you, pushing by you, stepping on your foot in the subway, showing you the way. It is ignoring you. It is hurried.

It’s dancing in the subway. It’s selling tamales. It takes your dollar with a genuine smile. It’s just trying to get by. It’s lining half of central park west with patriotic lights spinning. It’s frontin’. It’s real. It’s cursing, spitting, slurring, working the angles. It’s seen it all. It doesn’t see a thing.

It is immense in a way that consumes you the second you enter it. It is red, brown, yellow, grey and smoke. It laughs. It plays. It is running, running, running. It is in uniform. It talks too much.

It is unsure how it's going to make it through the night. It is cold. It is just asking for a moment of your time, just a moment, and maybe a quarter. It is passing God's blessing on to you.
It’s a battleground for lost souls. You can look for it, but it will find you first.

It is all this, and much, much more. It is something I can only see a little of as an outsider, and can understand only by letting my imagination run with the idea that someday I may be able to see it from the inside. It'll get me yet, moreso than it already has.


More to come... and love to all.. Victoria.

The Future is Now

I don't trust the future. I never have. As a child I treated every day like it was the end-all be-all of my existence, which meant I took as much as my greedy hands could hold, even if I was never going to use what I snatched. I talked back, like I already knew the answers. To everyone. To all matters of life, the universe and everything else. I had no wonder about the world as most children do; my knowledge was steeped in certainty, meaning that I certainly knew I didn't care what the future held for me. I didn't know what it was going to be like so I didn't want anything to do with it. Somehow, people found this charming.

Entering into my teens I started to question this "live each day like there's no tomorrow" theory, due mostly to the undeniable fact that the future had, indeed, caught up to me (or I had to it) and now was known: I was older, taller, more of a smart aleck. I couldn't help it, I was swept up into being a part of the future without my consent! This infuriated me. Was I not master of my own destiny? So instead I sought to predict the future, for if I was accurate I could believe I had caused it to happen. And if anyone was in my life it was because I let them be, because I could see how they would benefit me in the future. This process, this endless and empty process has gone on for years.

Well, I'm done with it. Not with the future, but with trying to predict it. It's not my future. It might never be, that is, I might not have one. And if I do it is a gift from God that I not only did not charm Him into giving me, but I didn't deserve.

I want to believe I know what the future will be like, or who will be in it. I want to believe I have one. But instead I'll believe in Him.

He understands.

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world alone.
There is no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go.

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is rough and steep,
But beautious fields lie just before me
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep.

I'm going there to meet my Savior
Dwell with Him and never roam.
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home.



He will come out to meet me. He will come out to meet you, too. Please come with me. I love you.

I think of you always, and write letters to you in my thoughts daily. I hope someday you will read them. I love you.

You have distanced yourself from me this time. But we are forever sisters because we have the same Father. I love you more than I have ever told you.

I have always wanted to protect you; now I find myself being protected by you. You have a light in you that is undeniable. Please keep shining it on me. I love you.

We are all longing for the same thing. We can only seek it when we know what it is, else, all is in vain.


"It's hard to believe He still loves me knowing how wrong I have been, when all I can say is, 'I'm sorry,' when all I can feel is my sin. He understands when all I can do is cry. He feels the hurt that no one can see down inside. And when the words get in the way I know He still hears.

You may not believe that I'm broken, for all you can see is my smile. But He hears the heart that's unspoken and He gives me strength through each trial.

He understands when all I can do is cry. He feels the hurt that no one can see down inside. And when the words get in the way I know He still hears."


I will trust these words get to you even if you don't or can't read this. He understands me. I hope you
can, too.


The cowering prisoners will soon be set free;
they will not die in their dungeon, nor will they lack bread.
Isaiah 51:14