I am a Pencil

I am a pencil. Lying on the table, dormant, I am an inanimate object. I have no value when I am motionless. It is only when I am picked up to be used by the hand of God that my potential and purpose is revealed. As He directs my motions, together we find that I can be dull, and often times I don’t get the point. That’s when the tribulations come…when God sharpens me. I am turned round and round while He cuts away the characteristics in me that have no value. In fact, until the very heart of me is revealed, I cannot leave my intended mark on the world. This process, the cutting away of the useless portion of my life, is not used to punish me, as others may think, but to bring me to my fullest potential. The innermost parts of me are lead- lead by the Holy Spirit in a desire to do more than lay around on a table. And if I struggle while I am in the hand of God, He alone reserves the right to turn my life upside down, to erase and eradicate the marks of my disobedience. As we write more and more, God and I, He keeps sharpening me, and keeps refreshing the point of my life.

Though he slay me, yet will I trust Him! – Job 13:15a
How blessed I am to be a pencil today!

What I do when I can't sleep.

I'm not really sure why I made this video/slideshow. No one asked me to. No one suggested that it would be a good idea. I just happen to like doing AV stuff. (and it's been a rough week, and I needed a distraction!) I like recording. I like creating. I enjoy finding new and interesting ways to get the message out. I like exposing others to my offbeat sense of humor. (Even if they don't always understand or appreciate it!)

I'm just made like that.

When God created me in the innermost parts of my mom, He knew that I was going to be an artsy person. I can't paint a sunset in the sky like my DAD, but I can paint a sunset on canvas. I can't make the trees and stones cry out in praise to my God, but I can sing an intimate or corporate song of praise to Him. I can't make someone give their time, money, or lives; but I can be a vessel that the Holy Spirit uses to encourage people to be generous and giving of themselves.

So no one asked me to go the extra mile. That's ok. No one asked Jesus to die on the cross. He just did it. If only I could find ways everyday to do more than what is required of me...if only when I find those ways to do more, I would blissfully put on the yoke and move my rear, instead of complaining that I don't enjoy the situation in front of me. If only I embraced the trials I'm facing so I might convey the hope of Christ in all things, instead of just the easy things.

I know, O LORD, that your laws are righteous,

and in faithfulness you have afflicted me.

May your unfailing love be my comfort,

according to your promise to your servant.

Psalm 119:75-76

Lord, help me today to go the extra mile. Give me grace to carry the cross with joy and peace, instead of giving those around me a piece of my mind. Expand the depths of my commitments to others, and find me faithful in the present situation You have obligated me to, even though I am not comfortable in this place. When I am in the midst of spiritual battle, and my heart and mind are weary, allow me to collapse into Your mercy seat and let you anoint my head with oil. Your goodness and mercy can be found in all situations, be they life, death, or anything in between. As my heart is put to the test today, give us comfort and peace. You are in control, even when we think you aren't. Find us faithful, and find us gracious. May we stand wholly upon Your word today. ~Amen

Random funnies

We have to have a sense of humor, don't we?

After church one Sunday morning, a mother commented, "The choir was awful this morning." The father commented, "The sermon was too long." Their 7-year-old daughter added, "You've got to admit it was a pretty good show for a dollar."



There was a farmer who raised watermelons. He was doing pretty well, but he was disturbed by some local kids who would sneak into his watermelon patch at night and eat his watermelons. After some careful thought he comes up with a clever idea that he thinks will scare the kids away for sure. So he makes up a sign and posts it in the field. The next day the kids show up and they see this sign, which says, "Warning, one of the watermelons in this field has been injected with cyanide." So the kids run off and make up their own sign, which they post next to the sign that the farmer made. The farmer shows up the next day to look over his field. He notices that no watermelons are missing but he notices a new sign next to his. He drives over to take a look. It says," Now there are two".


He'd been playing outside with the other kids for a while when he came into the house and asked her, 'Grandma, what's that called when two people sleep in the same room and one is on top of the other?' She was a little taken aback, but she decided to just tell him the truth, in a small dose. 'It's called sex, Tony, but you're a little young to really know all about it." Little Tony just said, 'Oh, OK,' and went back outside to play with the other kids. A few minutes later he came back in and said angrily, 'Grandma, it isn't called sex. It's called Bunk Beds, and Jimmy's mom wants to talk to you.'

Hope you have a day filled with joy!

And so the adventure begins...

Well, here it is. My first blog. I'm sure you all have been wild with anticipation (most of the people I know are wild anyway!:) and I honestly have had many folks asking when I was going to make the leap to blogging. Well, you are witnessing my feet hanging precariously above the earth in mid air- this is my leap. Let's just pray that God will find me faithful and let me be a witness of what one mixed-up, messed-up, mashed-up person can be forgiven of. And what will come out of all the mess mixed with mash that God can actually use for HIS glory! Hallelujah! (Oh, I have to promise right now that I will keep the Spiritual Tourette's to a minimum. I don't want to scare anyone.) But after all the crap I've been redeemed of, you'd want to say Hallelujah too! There is not one person out in the world who was more spiritually impoverished than yours truly. Those who have been forgiven of much have much to celebrate!
So, for my first blog I would like to give you a taste of where I am in life. I am in Basic Bible Bootcamp. I am starting Bible college again in a few weeks (yes, I am a Bible College drop-out) and so I am trying to give myself a quick cliff notes refresher course on the Good Book, so I don't look like a total geek. I ran upon some very interesting ideas (that happens when you read a little John Calvin along side your holy writ) about the story of Abraham and Isaac on Mount Moriah. Now folks, it's worth a second look. Gen 22 tells the emotionally wrenching story for any parent. But I became intrigued by the role of Isaac. If your dad (or anyone else) holds a knife over your head with the full intention of killing you, trust me: you walk away a changed person. And thus this story was born. It's not really true the way that I have portrayed it, but this is simply an interpretation. Don't send me lots of smack about this "not being Biblical" or "Genesis doesn't say that!" I am fully aware of what Genesis 22 says. This is just my brain trying to apply a story thousands of years old into my own sphere of consciousness. Hope you enjoy. And I hope that you come back again soon. I promise that I won't always be this serious and deep. :)

This is an interpretative story about Isaac and the altar.
The story is located in Genesis 22, and I found the idea so compelling that Isaac allowed himself to be bound in preparation for a sacrifice- “And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood.” Genesis 22:9. Now, understand that most scholars feel that he “willingly” gave himself as a sacrifice, but I wonder if the reason is simpler? What if he allowed himself to be tied up because he was simply foolish? That’s a personality I can relate to! All the times I have permitted myself to be tied to a sin, immobilized by my own futility, and how the only thing that could save me was…well, let’s read and see.

Isaac sat motionless on the edge of the altar. The world around him swirled in confusion- up was suddenly down, north was east, light was dark. Hadn’t he always been heralded as the promised child? Wasn’t it his responsibility to make millions of descendants for the generations to come? Why, then, was his aging father wrapping the sacrificial ropes around the wrists of this honored, spoiled, miracle child? It surely could not be that his life was to be sacrificed on the altar of Mount Moriah, could it?
The silence was deafening. Isaac could hear the sound of every living creature for miles around- it was as if creation was waiting with bated breath to see what Abraham was going to do to Isaac; poor bound Isaac. The wood was arranged with the intention of pomp and ceremony, certainly for spilling of blood unto the Most High God.
Isaac watched in disbelief as his father wound the rope around and around his hands. Why couldn’t Isaac move? He was 100 years younger than his father, and in the vigor of his youth! Unquestionably he could subdue his father and bind him instead! Yet Isaac remained frozen, allowing the final knots to be tied. Constricting, rigid, unyielding ropes that filled his pounding heart with fear and desperation. There was no escaping the fate these ropes signified.
His father gently, almost compassionately, pushed the young teen back onto the altar, and Isaac was now in a prostrate position. Abraham lifted the knife in the air. Isaac silently pleaded with his father, “Look at me! If you look into my eyes you won’t have to do this! You could just cut the ropes and we can go home, pretending this never happened!” But nothing came from the boy’s mouth. He was speechless before his father, who couldn’t bear to see the son he loved let himself be so willingly bound without understanding.
As Abraham raised the knife in the air, Isaac’s heart thundered within him and his mind raced faster than the knife plunging toward his chest.
“This is my final breath, isn’t it?”

Then, a voice resounded from the heavens, and shook even the clouds above. “Abraham, Abraham!”
Isaac knew it was the voice of the LORD, and every instinct within him to breathe his last breath halted in that moment.
Abraham dropped the sacrificial knife as he himself fell to the ground in reverence before the LORD. “Here I am,” he cried.
The sky roared with the command of God. “Don’t do anything to the boy.”
As God continued speaking to Abraham, Isaac could barely contain his joy. He had been given freedom! He had been given a second chance at life! And yet- he was still hindered by the ropes.
“Father,” Isaac cried from his powerless position on the altar, “can you cut the ropes now? I want to be free.”
“Not yet, my son. First I have to sacrifice the lamb God has provided.”
And there, trapped in the thorns and bramble, was a ram. Caught by his horns in the thicket. At just the right place and right time on Mount Moriah. As Abraham pulled the animal from the thicket, thorns, which had been holding the beast, stayed wound around its horns, almost making a crown. Surely now, Isaac reasoned, my father can free me from my binding.
“Now father? Won’t you cut the ropes now?” Isaac pleaded from the altar.
“Almost time, but not yet.”
Abraham, though old and gray, lifted his son to a sitting position, and then helped Isaac to his feet, down off of the altar. He then lifted the animal, chosen by God to take Isaac’s place, laid it down on the altar, and began to wind the ropes on the sheep’s front and back legs ceremoniously. Isaac was ready to get his own binding off his hands, just in case God changed his mind. But Abraham showed no concern for loosing Isaac’s woven shackles. He focused only on the sacrifice at hand- the lamb sent by God.
As Isaac’s arms began to cramp and seize from being tied so tightly, he felt that he couldn’t take it any longer. Just as Abraham made the first stroke of the knife, Isaac groaned as his arms quivered in anguish. In that moment, when he felt the agony of the ropes, Abraham motioned for Isaac to stand by his side at the altar. He took his son’s bound hands and placed them in the warm blood, flowing from the slain beast that took Isaac’s place.
“Now,” said Abraham, “now I will cut the ropes that bind you. You see, if I had cut your ropes first, then my knife wouldn’t have been sharp enough to sacrifice the lamb. The rope is too thick, and the fibers are so dry and tough that I would have had to cut back and forth; back and forth…my blade couldn’t withstand that. And if I couldn’t sacrifice the lamb God provided, then who would have to die in its place?”
“Me,” Isaac said solemnly.
“Yes, my son, you would have paid the price. But now the ropes, that were so tight and condemned you before, they have been soaked in the blood of the lamb, and they are soft enough that my knife will pass through them.” And with that, Abraham sliced through the ropes with one stroke; the ties covered in blood, that once bound Isaac to his own death, fell to the ground before the altar.
Isaac dropped to his knees, his wrists dripping with the blood of the sacrifice, and lifted his hands to the LORD. For the first time, the son of Abraham saw the providence of God in his own life. He heard the voice of the Most High call out on his behalf. He saw clearly the lamb that was slain to spare his own life. Isaac beheld, with own eyes, the saving power of the blood and he saw the mercy of a Living God. And as Abraham joined his son in worship, Abraham called the name of that place Jehovah Jireh: as it is said to this day, “In the mount of the LORD it shall be seen.”

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.
Isaiah 61:1-4