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What about compassion?

My heart beats rapidly beneath my flesh, tucked deeply in my body, and my face does not change. I can hear them plea, asking for love, acceptance, forgiveness...and I still hold tightly to my calm facade. But inside...inside I'm dying.

I wonder what ever happened to compassion. That we can walk past a homeless person outside the grocery store with the only thought in our mind of telling a store employee of the person outside to have them removed. Instead of thinking, "What could have possibly brought them to this place of drunkeness and homelessness?"

What about compassion? What about love? What about lighting the way in the darkness? What about thinking of others more than yourself? What about giving? What about living love out loud?

Oh, Lord Jesus, may I be stronger in the area of compassion, not just for strangers but for those I see every day. May my heart be softened and may my eyes be opened and may I never miss an opportunity to show You, the best Lover, the One that defined love in such a way that I have peace in my soul knowing, without a doubt, that I am loved, even on my worst day. May I show this to others and never, never turn away from those that need compassion. May I be sensitive to the words You want me to speak and never, never be silent. May I always realize that there is a soul in each person that You truly love so deeply that I cannot even fathom the depths of Your love for them...only realize that it is as strong as Your love for me, a love so strong, passionate, and deep that I cannot fully realize the magnitude of it. And, let me be the light that You have placed in me in the darkest places of my life and the lives of others and let me be the salt that You given me. Let me be the compassionate hands that touch the lepers and that holds the broken, as You, Beloved, have held me. Shalom ve Ahava!

Broken To Be Healed Completely

Dread.

Do you ever notice how easy it is to feel dread? I did some great things and I received two phone calls and I just knew they would be negative. They weren't. But the dread was there just the same.

Sometimes, it seems like you are running as fast as you can into a solid brick wall. You can't seem to slow down, you can't seem to change direction, and you know that soon you will collide with the solid surface and fall backwards in great pain. Yet, you run.

I guess that is how it feels for me sometimes here. I feel like it doesn't matter. If I do great, someone will say something negative and that is what the focus will be on, not the positive things that were done. I felt that way last year in the place where I was chained but now I am free from that in my Christian walk.

As a follower of Christ, I am called to more. But there is much more to it than that. Much more is expected of me, I am held to a much higher standard. I heard Lisa Bevere say that the media and the world don't look at Pastors in the media harder because they want them to fail but they want them to succeed. So, when they fail in the realm of finances or sexual morality, the world talks about it and, though there are some that are looking for Christians to fail, others are disappointed because they want to believe that we really and truly do have the answer to this hopeless, compromising world.

Of late, I have found that I really dislike being held to a higher standard. And yet, it is such an honor to know that I could be the one to draw someone to Christ after God has called them, tugged on their heart, and they're just waiting for an opportunity to see that a life with God is truly different than all this world offers.

This brings to mind the fact that a great deal of people have said that the meanest people they've ever met have been in church. That, to me, is a sad testamony to our calling to love one another. I wonder about this because I know that God is an amazing God of love and that we cannot even fathom the depths of His love for us. Why, then, are we so unloving? Why, then, are we so disconnected from the pain and hurt of others? Why are we so self-consumed and self-absorbed?

I am loving the new place where God has called me to. Why? Because it is here that I am learning to love. I am learning about compassion and empowerment. I am learning how to forgive myself and others, to stop being so judgemental and cruel, disconnected and uncompassionate. It makes me a better person with every passing moment.

I have had to walk through fire to get here. I have had to lose a lot of people that meant a great deal to me. I have had to cry a lot of tears and learn a lot about my heart, soul, life, mind, strength, and pride. I have had to be changed...and it was extremely painful. I had to be pruned, shaped, and molded and then, when the timing was right, I had to choose. Now, looking back, knowing that God was ever present, I feel less disjointed and happier...much happier.

I recall the day when God showed me that I had been broken and that the only reason I didn't fall completely apart was because He held me together. That was earlier this year, in April or May or so, and much more recently, October to be exact, Jesus showed me that I had to be broken in such a way in order for Him to set the bones correctly and heal me properly.

If a bone is set wrong and heals wrong, most times they will break the bone again and reset it properly so that the person can use it as it is meant to be used. Wondering about this, think of how painful that must be. And knowing that sometimes you have to be broken again to be healed completely changes how one views trials and tribulations.

I thank You, beloved Jesus, for all that You've done for me. I thank You for Your love, so apparent, and for Your mercy, even in breaking me. I praise Your Name and am so glad that I am Yours and You are mine, now and forever! Shalom ve Ahava!

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Me and my flesh

I'm thinking about Jesus. I want to say that I do this often but since I've been swimming in a pool of doubt, fear, rejection, abuse, and denial for the last year, I have to say that most of my thoughts have been on the selfish side.

Yesterday, we had an evangelist at our church. I was going to write about this in my previous post, but decided against it. I don't know why. Instead, I mentioned the Harvest Festival and talk about memos to feet and doorways I linger in. Well, here's the underbelly of the beast, namely me and my flesh.

Then they came to the town of Jericho. As Jesus was leaving there with His followers and a great many people, a blind beggar named Bartimaeus son of Timaeus was sitting by the road. When he heard that Jesus from Nazareth was walking by, he began to shout, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Many people warned the blind man to be quiet, but he shouted even more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"

Jesus stopped and said, "Tell the man to come here."

So they called the blind man, saying, "Cheer up! Get to your feet. Jesus is calling you." The blind man jumped up, left his coat there, and went to Jesus.

Jesus asked him, "What do you want Me to do for you?"

The blind man answered, "Teacher, I want to see."

Jesus said, "Go, you are healed because you believed." At once the man could see, and he followed Jesus on the road.

Mark 10:46-52, NCV

Amazing. Even now, typing those verses for the sake of expaining yesterday, God spoke to me again. I cannot believe His goodness and faithfulness sometimes, so far from my own.

Yesterday, as the evangelist read the portion of Scripture above, I was only half listening, I admit, and, after being grabbed by the Holy Spirit, I only half listened again! This is proved by what I saw as I copied the Scripture down. But, I digress...

It was after Bartimaeus was instructed to be silent, but continued to shout to Jesus, defiant of those around him that wanted to keep him in his place of misery, that the evangelist paused and asked us to say the word, "shout". My soul leapt within me.

It has been so long...so very long...since I've lifted my voice in worship, in pure joy, without feeling judged by those around me. I have allowed my worship to slip into the coat of mediocrity and have excused it away, slathered in pain, and existing on the remembrance of yesterdays long since faded. I have stood on the threshold, looked into the feast, and refused to move.

What beckons me forward now is Jesus. Why? Because He loves me. Wow! Can you imagine the depth of His love? I can't. I can't even begin to fathom it because I have nothing to compare it to.

**

I sit in sludge and pinch my nose, breathing through my mouth because the stench is so overwhelming I would vomit if my sense of smell was fully engaged. The sludge is compromise and sin and doubt and fear and darkness and abuse and lies and anger and it is so thick that I cannot stand and remove myself. And, as I sit there, weeping and wishing, a fragrance unlike any other overwhelms the smell of filth and I lift my eyes. There, standing in the sludge is a Man in white. The white of His garments are radiant and seem to pour light over me in the dark place I linger in. He isn't looking at the sludge that doesn't dare tarnish His purity but rather looks down at me...tenderly. Do I warrant such tenderness? This sludge was created by my own hands and He stands in it as though it doesn't exist, though I know that He is fully aware of it and my part in its creation. His hair carresses His shoulders and His blue eyes are fused with intense power, yet I am not fearful. In fact, my heart leaps at His nearness because I can feel His compassion though He has not spoken a word. He doesn't feel sorry for me sitting in my own sludge...no...He cares for me, He is concerned for me...and in a fiery way!

The fragrance of Him removes the stench almost completely and my hand falls from my nose to my thigh, covered in my tattered prostitute garments and saturated with foul-smelling sludge. In the presence of this wonderful Man, what must I look like to Him? Why does He linger here, looking at me so kindly, so tenderly? Why does He stretch forth His hand to me? Do I dare take it? Do I tare reach up my calloused and dirty hand to take hold of His perfect hand? I hesitate until I notice the scars in His wrists. Why would this Man have such scars?

I notice then that He is leaning toward me. His hand is so near to me that I don't have to move mine far at all to take hold of His. His brown hair has slipped over his shoulders and waves softly about His handsome face, where His eyes burn passionately into my own. Desperately, I reach out and take hold of His hand because in that moment I cannot imagine refusing Him. Why would I ever turn away such a perfect Man?

I am surprised that He lifts me from the sludge so easily. It is as if the sludge let me go simply because I had taken hold of His hand. I look down at my filthy, torn rags and bare feet and I am ashamed. I can feel His eyes upon me and I lift my gaze. His smile removes all fear from my soul and my heart is His without reservation.

Walking with Him down the streets is a delight! Though my clothes are not the best and my gait is unsteady, the smell of the sludge has already left me. It is a distant memory...a nightmare I never want to revisit. At the edge of the town stands a grand carriage. I don't dare think that He wants me to ride in that but He nears it and the doors open and He helps me into it. Sitting in the white carriage upon the white seats has me fearful of the dirt that lingers upon my flesh and clothes. But, as with His garments, the white in the carriage is not affected by my sin.

He tells me of wonderful things as we ride in the carriage. He tells me about Himself and the love He has for me. I listen in awe and wonder and am surprised to hear that He has been watching for me, waiting for the moment when I would hear Him calling to me in the midst of my sludge. He tells me that He has been watching me struggle to break free and it has broken His heart every time that I have cried out in despair. When I finally saw Him, He says that His heart leapt within Him in great joy to know that He could help me at last.

We have arrived at a palace and He helps me from the carriage. When we enter the grand doors, He leads me to a room full of garments and fragrant roses. He seats me in a chair beside a dressing table and I see my dirty reflection. I turn away quickly and look as He kneels at my feet and lifts my bloody, dirty feet into His hands and begins to wash them in a basin. The water is warm, His hands gentle upon my flesh, as He removes the sludge and dirt. The wounds on my feet feel better with every soft brush of His hands and soon there is no pain at all and my feet are pale ivory.

He slips golden slippers upon my feet, intricately beaded with diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and pearls. They are soft as silk! I stand and He gently begins to wash the rest of me. In my hair, He braids fragrant flowers into the tresses and the sludge smell is completely gone.

The gown He gives to me is obviously a bridal gown of the most costly fabrics. It is white and flows in modest beauty, a long train filling the room behind me. I look up at Him and He smiles and my heart melts and I know what love truly is, in that moment, though I have only sampled it.

At the wedding feast, I hear why this wonderful Man has scars on His wrist and that there are others on His feet as well. I can't help myself and I cry as He sits beside me, His eyes feasting upon me. It is then that He tells me that it was His greatest joy to save me from the sludge of my sins...no matter the cost He paid.

That night, after dancing with Him and feasting until I could barely keep my eyes open, I had the best night sleep ever, under His watchful gaze.

**

To restore passion and boldness, I must take the first steps. I must lift my hands and voice, I must worship Him out of the love and joy in my soul. Truly, does He deserve any less than my best, than my all?

This was realized yesterday and the evangelists wife prayed for me and challenged me in my boldness. She challenged me to tell those close to me so that they can keep me accountible.

As I wrote the Scriptures, the phrase, "Cheer up! Get to your feet. Jesus is calling you." spoke volumes to me. Why? Because today I have not been cheerful. Cheer up, Julie! I should have a love-sick smile on my face at all times. I am loved by the most wonderful Man to ever exist. Where others make promises and fail, being only human and imperfect, as we all are, He is amazingly perfect, keeping all His promises. How can I not be head over heels in love with Him to the point that I smile constantly knowing that my love for Him does not return to me void because He loves me too...more than I could ever comprehend.

Get to your feet. Yes. I need to be bold for Him. I need to worship Him without fear or reservation. I need to fall to His feet or stand to my feet or kneel or jump or dance or clap or sing...whatever His love moves me to do...without fear. Get to your feet, Julie, and be bold for Him, as He is bold for you.

Jesus is calling you. Echos. Do you see that? If you didn't read my blog from this morning, you won't see the echo but there it is. Jesus is calling. Jesus is calling. Ah, yes, Jesus is calling!

Shalom ve Ahava!

My feet just haven't gotten the memo from my heart yet

Last night was the Harvest Festival at church. I am sitting here thinking about my life, as it plays out today, and as it played out yesterday. Though I have found the doorway wide open, I have yet to step completely through. I hesitate at the threshold, but not for lack of desire. I am motivated to move forward. My feet just haven't gotten the memo from my heart yet.

Evaluating my location, I am glad that November has arrived. This has been a very hard year for me, one full of loss and blessing, despair and peace, sorrow and joy. It has definitely been a mountain and I feel as Miley did...it's all about the climb.

As long as I kept climbing, I could feel all the bad falling away. But, when I'd rest on the mountainside, it would catch up to me again. Or, maybe I wasn't truly resting. Rather, I was sliding. Slipping back down the mountain, losing all the distance I had gained. But, no longer.

I remember when I finally deleted their numbers from my cell phone. But I learned that I hadn't forgiven them. Not really. Now, I have. I let it all go. I will not be a slave to memories and emotions, whether good or painful. I think that I look forward to dancing in the arms of my King more than even I realize. I wonder...

I am a touch overwhelmed due to the project I took on for the weekends but I'm not going to let myself be so any longer. I will work on all that I can and accomplish what I can and I will move forward, wiser and better. That is something to hope for...wisdom.

So, feet, listen up! We're moving forward. We're stepping through the door. We're entering into all that Jesus Christ, Beloved of my heart and soul, greatest of ten thousand, has for us. So, slip into those comfortable walking shoes and step through the doorway. Jesus calls!

Ugh

I feel unwell today, like a twisted gut underneath my skin is screaming, "Stop it, you ingrate!" It is only natural that I would feel this way. I have been, um, unwise of late. I can fully understand the sins others can't put down, though I don't struggle with them as they do. Nope. Just this whole unhealthy lifestyle that makes me feel like I am dying.

I am spending an uncomfortable day at work before the computer because of all my bad choices. I just want to lay down and shut my eyes for a week, sleep off the poison and move forward with brimming new hope and renewed passion. Or, I would trade it all for one year of good choices.

Sometimes, I have a really hard time with my human frailty. I imagine how easy it is to change and then I choose not to change. And I think most times that that is what frustrates me. I lay broken at the bottom of a steep staircase and I know that it was my decision to leap but, wow, it still hurts and I still hate the dark letters hovering above me. Failure, they say, and are unrepentant in their cold accuracy.

So, I wax poetic as my stomach knots and unknots itself constantly. I guess we all see that I am a failure in this area. I just hate knowing it myself.

Henry's

When I saw this blog title, I mused, if only for a moment, the prospect of the one Henry that I knew actually having a blog. It brought to mind my thoughts on his opinion that all bloggers are evil. This caused a great rift in my soul for I am, obviously, a blogger. Am I evil?

Inherently, yes, I was born evil but I like to think that my blogs are far from that dark side I once treasured. Rather, I like to believe that my blogs, namely Hephzibah on wordpress, are rather deep and full of hope, light, and joy. Though I may have bad days, I wouldn't consider myself, as a blogger, to be evil.

And so, before that page could load, I returned here to measure my thoughts on this subject in my blog, which has been silent for far too long.