for all those who cheat at candyland...

I have always possessed a paralyzing fear of hell. In fact, one of the main things that first drove me to the arms of my Savior was a fear of hell.

At the age of four I thought I was more or less perfect, but my mom explained to me that hitting my brother and lying to my dad about finishing my dinner were not exactly angelic traits. Without Jesus' sacrifice I was on the fast track to eternal damnation.

I joyfully accepted Jesus' offer of salvation. Unfortunately, while I would like to say it was all smooth sailing from there, it wasn't.

I still messed up. At 6 I cheated in Candyland with my brother, slyly slipping Queen Frostine underneath the first card in the deck, then magnanimously I allowed Isaac to go first. I was grounded at 7. I continued to be an occasional liar, just enough to keep up an appearance of innocence. I generally didn't get into trouble, so don't worry, I will not turn this post into a confessional booth.

Even though I appeared good, and generally made the right choices... I knew that even with Jesus, parts of my heart were still tainted. Because I knew my darkness, I doubted that I was saved.

I cannot count how many times I sat and listened to a preacher give an invitation, and sadly wondered if I really had received the "gift." I said the prayer again... and again.... and again.

"Lord Jesus, thank you for dying on the cross... I accept your free gift of salvation... please forgive me for the sins I have committed..."

I began to think strange and horrible things. Maybe I was damned, maybe I had unwittingly committed the unpardonable sin. Maybe I was not chosen... maybe I was not predestined.

I started to fear the demonic... I imagined they were exercising some sort of power over me that was keeping me from God. I figured I was probably not worthy of Christ, and He would rather not have me.

I'd lie awake in my bed at night, gripped by fear, almost physically pained... assuming that hell was my future, and Jesus was my past.

I struggled with this for years, all the while attending youth group and church, even serving others in ministry. But I was cracking, and my mom knew it.

One day, exasperated, she showed me Psalm 139. She read it out loud to me, and one verse in particular jumped out at me, it burned in my mind. "You hem me in, behind and before, and lay Your hand upon me." (Psalm 139:5) This verse seems simplistic, but the thought of God having His hand upon, that extremely personal picture, brought me to tears. I wept before the presence of God, the Father who loves me, and realized that He desired me... and He was not going to allow anything to separate me from Himself.

From that point on, I began to rehabilitate. I started believing the promises of Scripture again.

"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father's hand. I and the Father are one." John 10:27-30

I was in Jesus' hands, and the Father had His hand upon me. I stopped kidding myself into believing that somehow I had to be good enough, or that I was going to hold on long enough.

The Father desires that none should perish, but that all should come to repentance. He was calling me to Himself, but I allowed the fears of this world and the next to crowd Him out, I put my emphasis in the wrong place, and almost lost the faith I wanted so badly.

Some of you may also struggle with whether or not you are "saved" or question the legitimacy of your born again experience. My pastor said once that the fact that you care and worry about such questions is a sign, a sign of the hand of God on your life. God's hand on your head.

He wants you... do you trust Him?

"Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it." Psalm 139:6

falling into the infinite

He gazes down the aisle, the doors open... He sees His Bride, His heart beats rapidly... He has waited for her... she isn't looking for Him.

The bride's eyes are on a group of men waiting outside the church doors... they are filthy, their eyes are hungry... they make lewd gestures at her, calling her names she doesn't know.

She drops her bouquet, tosses off her veil... and walks into their arms.

.....................................

What does it mean to fall in love with God?  As a child we sing of the love of Jesus for us, and how much we love Him.  As an adult we talk of "falling in love with Him."  Sometimes this feels like an impossibility.  How does one fall in love with an invisible groom?

I started wondering if our relationship to Christ is similar to the "arranged" marriage of olden days.  A groom was hand-picked by the parents of the bride.  A lucky bride would have parents who knew her well, and loved her enough to pick someone who love their daughter and take care of her.....

What if the bride left the groom at the altar and took off with some unbathed men riding a pack of Harleys (no offense to the motorcycle enthusiasts)?

Sometimes I feel like the Harley bride... I leave my Jesus at the altar and seek out stone idols, figuring He will be waiting when I come back.  It is hard to maintain loyalty to the unseen Groom, until one stops and starts to remember...

We all cry (ok, many girls cry and a select few, very strong men cry) at scenes in movies where the man sacrifices for his love.  Sometimes he dies.... sometimes he will even sacrifice being with his lover because his sacrifice will save her or something important to her.

Christ died for me because He loved me.  Do I truly understand that?  No one else on earth has died for me... but Jesus knew me before the foundations of the world, and He left heaven to come and face death, that I might live eternally with Him in perfect peace and love.  This is so monstrous, so beautiful... I can't comprehend it.

Back to the invisible factor... we are sensual beings.  We taste, smell, see, hear, and touch.  We hug the ones we love and feel loved when we receive physical affection.  I always wished that I could hug Jesus.   What I have forgotten is that even though touch and sight is important, it is not imperative.  

Ultimately, you don't fall in love for physical attributes.  

When someone asks you why you love someone, you don't say, "He (she) is cute and gives hearty hugs."  If that is all you love about someone, your love will be shallow and it will struggle when troubles come.  But, if your love is firmly based in the other's character and spiritual attributes, your love will endure.

This is wonderful, because with Scripture, we know the attributes of God, and we can fall in love with His character... a character that is infinite, and we can fall ever deeper in with every passing hour.

This sounds simple, but true love requires work... and God is no exception.  He has sacrificed everything for me, and I will forever fall into His love.

math geek, you are loved

I'm surprised I don't have a dent in my head where the math part of my brain resides... or at least an air pocket.  Math and I are on, well... less than speaking terms.

I took my required math class this last semester and it almost killed me.  The whole semester I was trying to understand why:

a. This was a required class.

b. Anyone likes math.

c. When I will ever again use matrices to figure out a problem.

I sat on the couch every Wednesday afternoon/evening and tried to figure out the problems.  My suitemate called it the couch of confusion, appropriate... I like to call it the couch of pain.

Wise people kept telling me that I should appreciate the math geeks, they make life easier for artsy people like me.  They make the money, wear the suits... and I get to wear a linen skirt and graduate with an English degree... a certified starving artist.

I don't understand why poetry does not speak to the souls of the mathematically gifted, nor do they know why I don't get a rush when I finish a 21 step problem.

I love abstraction... the twists and turns that might lead to an answer.  My math buddies prefer concrete answers, especially if they can graph it.

You know what?  That's okay.  I have been thinking a lot about the body of Christ... 

I wonder what kind of God it is that has created us all so uniquely... the poetic, mathematic, musical, athletic, comedic.  We are all created in God's image... and the world revolves according to His scientific laws and the heart is moved by poetry inspired by His creation.

And all of these people that are reflections of Himself, are invited to be one with Him, through the sacrifice of His Son... math geeks and poetry nerds alike.

How beautiful... how divine.

please hang up and dial again

The city seems so far now,

What was once a train ride away

Is now separated from me

By an angry conversation and words

Spoken that should have been

Silenced before leaving my lips.

I called your flat, you didn't answer.

I listened to the machine, just to

Hear your voice... please pick up.

I sat with the receiver in my hand,

Staring out the window, looking 

For an answer on the leafless trees.

I wrote that poem last December, and didn't know where it came from.  I hadn't experienced a situation like that before, and I assumed I was channeling someone else's life experiences... you know, creating a more dramatic Abby Seeland.  I hadn't thought about this poem for awhile, until this morning at church.

If the poem applies to me, it's not a guy giving me a cold shoulder, it's God.

My pastor Jay Thomas preached this morning about Habakkuk... not the usual go-to book of the Bible.  In the first chapter Habakkuk is crying out to the Lord to save the righteous from violence.  He appeals to God's purity and asks how He can stand idly by when evil reigns.

The Lord does answer Habakkuk, and tells him that faith waits, and the key verse of this little book is in chapter 2, verse 4: "The righteous shall live by faith."

When Jay read this verse I immediately thought of Abraham, who was justified by his faith in God's promise, a promise that he would have a son... a promise that God took 12 years to fulfill.

12 years?  Why?  That is more than half my lifetime.  I am used to quick, easy answers.  I am Generation Wikipedia, information at my fingertips.  And I have found that God has not changed with the technology, He still works in His perfect timing... even though I have found a faster internet connection.

I often write the word "patience" on my thumb or the back of my hand.  I seem to be perpetually waiting for God to answer me, and more often forgetting that He has.

Jay said it's okay to ask the Lord questions, but it's not okay to question the Lord's character or power... He is good, and He cannot transgress His nature.  

Sometimes, most times, God answers my questions and prayers in ways I don't expect and often don't immediately appreciate.  And now I pose a question to myself... "What do you expect?"  If  the Lord of the Universe deems it necessary to step into my world and change something, I am not going to understand it by looking at it through sin-colored glasses.  I am evil, and I need His help to understand His ways, His timing.

I want to be patient.  I want to ask the Lord for answers, and immediately see the beauty of His goodness.  I know that He has helped me before, and I trust He will do it again.  As I look back over the years, and consider the works of His fingers, I know that they have all been wonderful and good.

Sometimes life hands you a silent receiver... but that doesn't mean that God won't pick up soon.

Patience.

healed, ungrateful wretch

Have you ever asked God for healing?

I have many times.  I have asked for healing for myself and for others.  I asked God to heal my cousin who needed a heart transplant.  I asked Him to heal a family friend who had cancer.  And I asked Him to heal me of my infirmities.

I forgot that I asked Him.

I was reading the Gospel According to Matthew the other day and I saw the passage where Jesus heals a woman who has a flow of blood on His way to raise a girl from the dead.  I remembered reading this passage in high school and identifying with the woman... I hadn't been sick for twelve years, only three or four.  I also was afflicted by an secret illness that had many symptoms, but no conventional or unconventional way of getting better was presenting itself.  I was tired, it was sapping my body... and like the woman, it wasn't a disease that I felt comfortable talking about.  I was unclean.

I wished that Jesus would walk across my path... I was willing to get on my hands and knees, crawl through the dirty streets just to get close to Him.

I asked Him to heal me, in spite of the fact that my illness was only three or four years old.  I asked in faith...  I prayed that I had faith.

My mother was seeking out different doctors to help me at this time, and soon we found one that started addressing my specific problems one at a time, and I started to get better.  I thought this doctor was a miracle worker, and I was thankful for her help.

Even though my body still struggles with some issues, I am so thankful that I am much healthier than I was 7 years ago.

But wait... I'm thankful? Who healed me?  My doctor?  The lab who tested my six vials of blood?

Another passage comes to mind, another passage of healing.  The ten lepers.  Jesus heals all of them, and only one comes back to thank Him. 9 healed men never thanked the Savior of the universe for transforming their lives.  I used to feel a bit ashamed of those men, why didn't they say thank you?  Then I realized that I am one of the nine.  I was healed.  God used the doctors that have helped me, God touched my body and healed it.

I often examine the prayers I write in my journal... and unfortunately I usually have a paragraph of thank You's followed by a page of please's.  Sometimes the ratio is even worse.  Why are my manners so bad when I talk to my Heavenly Father?  You'd think I would learn and stop taking Him for granted.  

I want to be more grateful.  If I woke up every morning and truly believed the things that I pray... "Lord, thank for giving me one more day to live in Your presence...," how would that change my life? 

Every minute, every breath.... every cool breeze, every sunbeam... every work day, every day of rest... every hug, every person... every blessing.   Thank You Abba Father.