Tag: jesus

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Groaning Pains

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“But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.” Romans 8:26

“I love the Lord, he heard my cry and pitied every groan.” Whitney Houston (The Preacher’s Wife soundtrack)

She sat by the window of her bedroom, sunlight streaming across her aged features. The sunbeams revealed a face full of wisdom. Casting her gaze around the room, she focused with her one good eye. I watched as she pulled her paralyzed, atrophied arm closer to her torso using her fully functioning hand. A huge sigh escaped her, full of hidden meaning as she exclaimed:

“Oh God!”

“What’s wrong, Mama?” Seeing her outwards signs of distress, the way in which she stroked her arm as if to comfort herself, I was concerned. She looked up at me from her wheelchair and replied:

“Nothing. I just felt like saying, ‘Oh, God!'”

I never did find out the cause of my late mother-in-law’s angst. Clearly, something was bothering her, although she would not share it with me. Instead she infused all that she was thinking into that simple phrase, Oh, God. I’ve come to find out since, that it is a prayer. Sometimes, just saying His name is a source of comfort, for HE alone knows what we’re going through. When we are in so much pain that we cannot form the words or give voice to them, an “Oh, God!” will do.

When I was a little girl, my family would travel “down south” frequently. Thirteen hours in a car filled to capacity with only stops to use the restroom. My mother would pack our meal so that we could eat along the way. She stored the fried chicken, fresh and hot, in a shoe box lined with foil. (She always kept shoe boxes because they could come in handy later. Don’t know where she kept them, though, for they would materialize at just the right time, as needed.) She supplied a homemade cake, as well – my mother made THE best yellow cake with a chocolate, ganache-type icing. I can’t remember the other accoutrements but I knew the chicken was always accompanied by a soft loaf of Holsum bread. Usually, our host would provide similar vittles for the return journey. Now that was some good eating!

On one occasion, my Uncle Edmund was driving and it was winter. We were on the road to “Miss’ippi” (as folks from Mississippi pronounced it) on a dark road. As he drove across a bridge, the tires struck a patch of ice, sending the car into a tail spin. As we, the occupants, held on for dear life, I remember my grandmother, Mama Bessie, crying out from the back seat: “JESUS!” The car stopped on a dime, just before we would have crashed through the rail. So sometimes, you don’t even have time to say a prayer. That night I learned that “JESUS!” would do in a pinch.

Still, there are other times when words fail us altogether. We cannot even find it in us to speak His name, so great is our misery. We can rest assured that he hears us, nonetheless. Our spirit cries out on our behalf, talking to Him, telling our Father what words alone cannot convey. Situations in life can drive us to our knees. Mentally, if not in actuality, we’re crawling in our disposition. Grief often has us on our faces, in the dirt, on the floor. But repeatedly, the Bible says, God heard the cries of the oppressed and he delivered them; famously so, in the case of the Israelites. Notably, so, in my own life. I am convinced that Our Father still hears every moan of distress. He sees every sign of dismay. During our most painful moments, we can take comfort. He hears our inner scream and will deliver us from our affliction.

Be blessed,

Loria

I love the LORD because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy.
Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath! Psalm 116:1-2

 

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It Starts With Us

philando-castile“The Lorax came out of me being angry. In The Lorax I was out to attack what I think are evil things and let the chips fall where they might.” Dr. Seuss

I saw the press conference where the fifteen year old son of Alton Sterling broke down. He tried to be there for his mother, as the oldest of five children, while she talked about how Alton was killed by police. Her son hid his face in a corner of his shirt as she spoke on the tragedy but grief soon overwhelmed him. I’m sure he had heard of the deaths of Mike Brown, Sandra Bland, Tamir Rice and others at the hands of law enforcement. He was old enough to know, as the entire black community in every city now realizes, it could happen to any of us, at any given time. But how can you prepare for this tragedy? It makes no sense. Our life expectancy shouldn’t be shortened because we are black. But none of us, man nor woman, young or old, are exempt no matter how compliant we are. I’m just as certain Sterling’s son thought, as anyone would under similar circumstances: NOT MY FATHER. How did things turn for the worse so quickly? Unbelievable. And inexplicable. It’s a sad day in America when this has become the norm, the killing of black citizens for routine infractions. It was an unjustifiable violent act against an unarmed man. A sad day, not just for blacks, but for every American.

Lately, I’ve been recalling to mind a novel by Stephenie Meyer, The Host. I enjoyed it although it didn’t reach the same level of fame as its predecessor, Twilight. The premise was one we’ve heard before – aliens come to earth and inhabit our bodies. It was regarded as a hostile takeover by humans but as one much needed by an alien race with superior technology. Because they were peaceful, they viewed our society as barbaric. They watched us for a while in secrecy and viewed our news reports. They saw all the evil that men do. These glowing, caterpillar-like creatures were inserted into the minds of humans and changed their behavior. The alien race did away with crime, poverty and sickness. As Wanda, the host, explained, “We make life better.” They were saving us and our planet from us. We were the villains.

I can’t help but agree with the assessment of Wanda’s alien race on our society. Looking at our news reports is enough to make us see the need for change. We need a takeover. And though I can be a Pollyanna and choose to live optimistically, my hopes do not lie in us ever getting it together. The Bible tells us a Utopian existence can only be ushered in upon Jesus’ return. I wait and hope for that day but live in the here and now. What about THIS day? People say: We need to do more than pray! And that is true. Actions are in order. But let us not forget that prayer is our most effective weapon against evil. When the folks who are in authority misuse their power, it is the epitome of the spiritual wickedness that sits in high places. It is for this reason that our weapons of warfare cannot only be those we can see (Ephesians 6:12).

This morning I cried as I learned of the death of yet another, Philando Castile, at the hands of police. I’m angry, frustrated, fed up and tired of all three. Lots of folks on social media are silent. Speechless, I think, because we cannot comprehend the horror. We don’t watch the video because we don’t wanna know. We don’t want to cry or have sympathy for the victim because that destroys our illusion of safety via compliance. The idea that someone could deserve such a fate is ludicrous. The truth is, it can happen to anyone – black or white – and it has. There are those who like to interject: What about black on black crime? As if that could be an excuse for reprehensible behavior on the part of police. What about white on white crime? Asian on Asian? Latino? LGBT? So what? One has nothing to do with the other. Shame on those who jump to defend the perpetrators with such an argument without sparing one moment of sympathy for a life taken senselessly and so soon. But even had you cried, it would have changed nothing. But you might have been stirred to action. So let us be done with our tears and victim blaming and find a solution to this problem.

Years ago, I stood in a grocery line that was only slightly backed up and watched as the cashier gave the elderly lady in front of her hell for going over the limit and for using food stamps. Because it was a cash only line, the cashier claimed that food stamps were not cash. She was about as disrespectful to the old lady as you could be without cursing. I looked at the motherly woman and saw my own Madear and thought: She better not try that with me! And all the things I would do and say to her. When it was my turn, she proved just as belligerent to me. Of course, I told her off and called her manager to report her. He merely agreed with me, said she had been reprimanded in the past but he would talk to her again. Too late, I saw that instead of waiting for my chance to stand against her alone, I should have stood up for the old lady and then it would have been BOTH of us against her. That would have been quite a ruckus. Too many times we wait until it is time to defend our own. We walk away because we don’t want to get involved. But there is strength in numbers.

Repeatedly, the Bible urges us to “watch and pray.” The time has passed for praying only. When you see that there is a problem, instead of saying: “Someone should do something about that,” know that God has called you. Esther could have stayed comfortable in the palace and watched as her people were killed, but her Uncle Mordecai urged her to identify with the Jewish population and speak up. She fasted and prayed, then she acted. And we should watch for those opportunities to say something, putting ourselves in the shoes of those of us who are being persecuted instead of distancing ourselves. We think if we are not like them, we are safe. But this last gentleman who was killed was just a regular guy. The time has come for us to not continue to turn blind eyes and deaf ears to the problem just because it makes us uncomfortable. People are dying. In America.

Oh Lord, that you would come in and inhabit us with your spirit so that we can no longer commit vile acts against each other, being neither the recipient, nor the perpetrator. Let those who are guilty receive their just recompense. Reward them according to their deeds for only you know their hearts. Teach us to pray, give us the words to say to move you on our behalf. But you already have: Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. This is your model for prayer. And if it weren’t possible to have your will be done in this life, I don’t think you would have included that line in your example. So we will pray until YOUR will is accomplished. I don’t believe what we’re living is it. I also pray and remember that when the Israelites were oppressed and cried out for deliverance, you answered them time and again. We are your people, too. And you will answer us, for you love justice. A perfect society may be too much to hope for, but you make things better. We all can do better.

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not,” The Lorax.

Be blessed,

Loria

 

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Digging Holes

Dig it upA farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up… Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. (Matthew 13:3-4, 8)

Some amazing things are happening in my life right now. Immaculate is creating wonderful opportunities and I’m just in awe of God and what He is doing. Coupled with the great things have been some crushing disappointments. Every time I think I have it all sewed up, things seem to come unraveled. It’s enough to make me wanna give up. Until I recalled the story of Joseph and it put things in perspective.

You may know the story but I’ll briefly recap. Joseph could interpret dreams. His brothers hated him so that he was sold into slavery. But God favored Joseph, who proved so trustworthy that his new master, Potiphar, gave him control over the entire household. Potiphar’s wife saw Joseph and lusted after him. She failed in her attempt to seduce him and cried rape. Potiphar (the captain of the guard) sent Joseph to prison – you know, the fancy one where they send politicians. But the favor of God followed him there, too. The jailer put Joseph in charge. One day, seeing the downcast faces of his fellow prisoners, Joseph offered to put his gift to use and help them.

Preparation met opportunity in that both of these fellows worked for Pharaoh. Joseph said to the cup bearer, who would benefit greatest (unlike the baker, who was damned): Remember me! But of course, the cup bearer forgot and Joseph continued to languish in prison for TWO MORE YEARS! I suppose Joseph, being human, wanted to give up when his wrong wasn’t righted immediately. He may have become discouraged when the cup bearer didn’t immediately spring him free. As the days went by, his hopes likely dwindled and he may have wondered if he would ever be released from prison. Cushy jail or not, it was still jail.

He knew the God of his fathers was faithful. Joseph had been blessed in every circumstance, no matter what tragedy befell him. But this new development had given him hope that his trials would be over soon. And hope is wonderful for lifting your spirits out of despair but also so disheartening when they are not realized. I imagine Joseph, shoulders slumped, drained of all confidence regarding his state. Was he destined to live this life of not quite making it before being snatched back into the pit he dared crawl out of? Was this his life and all there was to it? He may have wondered, why me? Almost, almost, almost but never THERE. His dreams told him a bigger life was in store for him, but his life had yet to catch up with his dreams. He had played his card and lost. He may have been resigned to his fate when suddenly his name was called:

“There he is,” the voice of the jailer said, fondness evident in his voice. Joseph was a model prisoner and his personal favorite. A more faithful person, in the jailer’s estimation, you couldn’t find. How Joseph came to be in this place, the jailer couldn’t fathom because the favor of God was clearly upon this young man. Joseph made life easier for him and the jailer trusted him implicitly. Had there been such a thing as early release due to good behavior or based on rehabilitation, the jailer may have done it, so highly did he esteem Joseph. Joseph looked up as his name was called, his expression dispirited, too hangdog to be expectant. Then he saw the Pharaoh’s men standing in the entrance lit by torches they carried. The lateness of the hour proclaimed the important nature of their visit. Wordlessly, Joseph jumped to his feet as the men opened the door to his cell. They did not grab him roughly but, instead treated him as a dignitary of some stature.

“Pharaoh desires your presence,” the lead soldier announced. Too overwhelmed to be overjoyed, Joseph acquiesced and soon found himself ushered before the leader of all of Egypt. The Pharaoh had been having trouble sleeping due to a recurring nightmare, Joseph had already been informed by the cupbearer, who met with him upon arrival. The cupbearer apologized for the delay but explained he only then remembered (or perhaps, he hadn’t wanted to remind Pharaoh of his offense).

“God will give you a favorable answer,” Joseph said to the Pharaoh and gave the meaning of the dream. It was a warning to the leader that famine was coming soon but during the years preceding there would be plenty. Joseph suggested, being a man used to overseeing the needs of a household and prison, that Pharaoh store up the plenty against the time of famine. Pharaoh thought it such a wonderful idea that he put Joseph in charge of implementing the plan. Now, the boy who was ousted from his father’s house, betrayed by his own brethren and sold into slavery was the vice-president, so to speak, of Egypt!

Today I feel like Joseph and so should you. One day all that we’ve gone through will make sense. It’s preparing us for a bigger day. The vision is for an appointed time – though it tarries, it will not lie (Habakkuk 2:3). Joseph dreamed he’d be bigger than anyone in his family but it didn’t happen for many years. During that time many bad things may have happened that told him his vision was a lie, but Joseph continued to sow seed towards the person he would become. Every honorable act, from taking care of Potiphar’s household to spurning his wife, being a trusted and valued prisoner for the Jailer, and even interpreting troubling dreams for his friends was seed. And one day it would bear fruit. Believing God in the face of what his situation looked like or despite how he felt must have been challenging. But one day he looked back and realized it was God preparing him so that he could be equal to the opportunity. He was able to say to his brothers, then reconciled, “You meant it for evil but God meant it for good.”

Lately, it seems that life events have swung back and forth, like a pendulum, from one extreme to another. But I know the vision God gave me; even though it is delayed, I will wait for it. And I’ll keep preparing for the person God wants me to be, for it is surely coming! Until then I’ll be digging holes and scattering seed, waiting for my harvest. Lord, help me to be equal to the opportunity when it arrives.

Be blessed,

Loria

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It’s Gone Rain on Yo’ Head!

color purple-rain on your head
The Color Purple: It’s gon’ rain on yo’ head!

But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you. (Philippians 2:17)

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)

Bone tired. Weary. These past few weeks have been mentally draining, but rewarding, full of ups and downs. I’ve ridden a roller coaster of emotions from utmost despair to life-giving hope. I’m exhausted. My faith in the concept of an Open Heaven was put to the test, recently, with the hospitalization of my mother. I thought of the story of Hezekiah when I asked God for more time with MaDear. Surely this is a small thing for you, Lord! God granted my request and I am so thankful! But after a week of watching over her, culminating in an overnight stay, my own life suffered from neglect. Even as issues came up while I was tending to my mom, I regarded them with Scarlett O’Hara disdain: I won’t think about that now. I’ll think about that tomorrow!

So a week’s worth of I’ll-do-it-tomorrows, fires that needed putting out YESTERDAY and things that required my immediate attention were delayed until that crisis was over. And I’d do it again. No THING was as important as what I was doing at that moment, no place so dire that it required my presence. My mom needed me and I needed to be with her. These other things were important, just not as high in priority. Then came the day of reckoning, when it all caught up to me. Wave after wave of actions I could no longer put off overwhelmed me. To be fair, some of it was my fault due to my own habit of procrastination.

Moments of joy also snuck into the dilemmas – I attended a business expo where I debuted a copy of Immaculate and had a meeting with a woman of some standing regarding the original book, Touched. Picture me tagging along in the footsteps of said woman (the wife of a prominent dignitary) looking the picture of the ingénue. Kinda like Emma Stone’s character in The Help or Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada – you know, the all too green girl who’s brand new to the scene. I took it all in with a sense of wonder. I was among greatness! But I wasn’t too surprised, after all, the Bible does promise that is where my gifts will take me. Still, I just hope my eyes weren’t too big, LOL!

This created an odd mixture of highs and lows as both aforementioned events occurred on the same day and I had to squeeze in a visit to my mom in between. My sister fell sick after she’d stayed up all night providing confections for my presentation at the expo. She made cake pops that looked like tiny books with my cover on them! Super talented, that one is. I had to return to the hospital and finish out her shift. Whew! But I didn’t give in. I kept going until the important things were taken care of.

It was only afterwards that I succumbed. After my mom was released from the hospital and doing well, after I’d taken care of all the necessary things that claimed my attention. I woke yesterday morning feeling out of sorts, blah, troubled in my spirit. Didn’t even know why. Couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I’ve learned, though, that feelings are fickle. Can’t trust ‘em because they may vary from minute to minute. I ate breakfast as my stomach did flips. Drank my coffee and still was not eased. Then I decided to ride it out and just wait ‘til the feeling passed. I took a nap. Woke up feeling better and had more of a handle on what I was experiencing. My throat felt like it had a small lump on the inside when I swallowed, an indication of the onset of something allergy or virus related. And there I had it, I realized. I was worn down, nearly sick physically but too busy to take note. My body was slowly shutting down, forcing me to get what I needed, the rest I would not take but for physical limitations.

Have you ever felt like you’ve given your all, your absolute all – done the very best you can do and worn yourself down to a nub? A question I’ve often asked myself is, where do you go when you’ve emptied your cup? Who or what fills you back up to capacity so that you can get back at it again? Father, I’m so glad that when troubles come my way, when they pile up on my head, when the enemy comes against me like a flood, YOU will lift up a standard against him (Isaiah 59:19). David, that great psalmist, was able to declare after he had been run to the ground by Saul and his enemies: YOU restore my soul so that my cup runneth over! Elijah, after outrunning King Ahab’s chariot, soon found himself on the run from Queen Jezebel. But an angel caught up with Elijah and provided sustenance to strengthen him for the journey ahead. So when I pour myself out and sacrifice myself in service, I can be assured there will be a refill and restoration.

Thank you, Lord, that you know my limits. You know when I have poured myself out and given all I can to my family and my ministry. You know when I am at the end of my rope. I can trust You to make sure I get the rest I need and the peace for my soul. You fill my cup again and again, until it overflows.

Be forever blessed,

Loria

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An Open Heaven

clouds-385290_1280So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me.” John 11:41

I sat in church on Sunday and listened as the pastor expounded on his topic. See, this is the Year of Jubilee in Jerusalem, according to the pastor. Every seven years God granted the Israelites a get out of jail free card, so to speak. It was a time when every man was forgiven his debt and regained his freedom if he were enslaved. He could start over fresh. (Our bankruptcy laws seem to follow this pattern.) After seven cycles of these periods of forgiveness, the Year of Jubilee was proclaimed and the Israelites were assured of additional blessings, i.e., given back property that he’d mortgaged, for example. So the pastor had a list of seven blessings that he determined were also a result of Jubilee: Presence of God, double portion, family blessings, miracles, financial abundance, restored relationships and an open heaven.

My mind fixated on that last one, considering the possibilities. I got excited the more I thought about it. I mean, I really bought into it. I believed it meant I could pray and have God’s ear always and therefore, was more likely to have my request granted. Every blessing listed could be mine, similar to how Solomon asked for wisdom and received wealth and peace, as well. The concept seemed to me a wonderful catchall. It covered everything. It was like getting a surprise bonus, a twofer, a bogo. (You should have seen me the other night when my brother got my frozen yogurt free with his purchase at my favorite shop, LOL!) I latched on to the idea eagerly. The pastor said, “Point to your blessing and call it out!” (The words were displayed prominently around the walls of the sanctuary.) Obediently, I pointed to An Open Heaven, figuring it would get me the most bang for my buck! I receive it, I cried aloud with the rest of the congregation.

But my mind said, “Hey! Wait a minute!” The entire premise is predicated on our covenant being the same as the Israelites. But it’s actually not. The covenant of Israel can seem appealing (blessed coming and going, in the city and the field, lender not a borrower and all that) but the new covenant is better. The old testament or covenant is contingent on being able to keep the law. If you break one, you are guilty of all. The new covenant, the Bible says, is a better covenant. The blood of Jesus does what the sacrifices of goats and bulls could not do. It saves and cleanses and forgives and restores continually. While we are descendants of Abraham (“And if you be Christ’s, then are you Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” Galatians 3:29) because of our faith, we are entitled and can lay claim to the promises made to him.  It’s just not limited to a certain time during a specific year.

I realized that Jesus died so that I can have access to heaven every second of every minute of every hour of every day. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. So in reality, I already have the ear of God, always. He hears me and answers my prayers. I don’t need to proclaim a special year to receive that. My former pastor once said of the coming new year, “Every year can’t be your year!” Au contraire mon frère! Oh, but it can! Because the veil has been taken away, I have unlimited access to God. I can come boldly, confidently to his throne and make my request as His daughter.

I was elated. If news of one Jubilee year got me excited, a lifetime of being able to claim these blessings made an even bigger impact. Membership has privileges, I thought to myself as I quoted an old commercial. I became bolder in my prayer life and began to believe God for more. And I saw more results. What if, all this time, I was only hindered by my belief or lack thereof? So I began to pray like Jesus and know I have the very ear of God. I no longer wonder now. I know this of a certainty. Thank you Father, that you always hear me. Oh, the blessings in store for us now that we know we have them! I feel I have found a treasure that is secret no longer. And that is good news, indeed!

Be blessed,

Loria

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Madonna

black madonna
Photo credit, Pinterest

“M is for the million things she gave me …” MOTHER, T Morse & H Johnson

And the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee; and the mother of Jesus was there: And both Jesus was called, and his disciples, to the marriage. And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus saith unto him, They have no wine. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come. His mother saith unto the servants, Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. (John 2:1-5 KJV)

Thus began Jesus’ ministry of miracles, the very first being issued (prematurely) because of his mom. The things we do at our mothers’ insistence are innumerable. What lengths would we go to, what would we not do for them? Even Jesus bowed under the weight of that obligation, we see. He is the son of God, but also of man. Therefore, he was obedient to Mary in the same way we are commanded to honor our mothers and fathers. Okay, Mom. I made more wine, see? LOL!

Jesus, I believe, had a special bond with mothers. Show him a mom in distress and he was moved to action. Consider the story where Jesus came upon a funeral bier, that of a woman about to lay her son to rest. She must have been bereft, inconsolable. Her husband had died previously and now her only son, her only means of support, was gone also. What would she do? How could she provide for herself? Not to mention, she had lost her son, her light, her future and the very thing that made her a mother. She had lost her identity. So Jesus, seeing her in mourning, was moved to compassion. He raised her son from the dead and restored both of their lives. Her fortune and future were now more secure. She had her son back.

Nothing could move Jesus like a mother, I think. No other feeling on earth is so closely patterned after his love for us. He lamented the state of Jerusalem and said he often wanted to gather them under his wings as a hen gathers her chicks (Matthew 23:37). This is the very picture of motherly love and protection. His relationship with his mother was that of any man, I feel. He was so concerned with her well being after his time here on earth was over, that he gave her his beloved disciple, John, in his stead. Woman, behold thy son! (John 19:26) In other words, try not to miss me so much, Mom. John will be here to comfort you. But more importantly, just as in the case of the woman in the funeral procession, he gave her a live son. He left a comforter in his place. It is no wonder to me that Jesus so easily acquiesced to Mary’s request. It speaks to their relationship and how he felt about her.

With this upcoming Mother’s Day, I’m ruminating on some of the things that make me who I am, mother and daughter. I remember the things my MaDear has done for me. Her love has no limits. And because I am a mother, too, I now know how that feels. As her daughter, I know what it is to be moved to do something, even though objecting, but still doing it because she asked. Did I ever create a miracle for her? I suppose I must have because my own children have done so for me many times, unknowingly. I recall the first Mother’s Day my children honored me. They were so small but old enough to talk. My son and daughter were led to the front of the church, the microphone put before them and coaxed to say: Happy Mother’s Day! Tears streamed down my face in surprise. For some reason, it wasn’t real until that moment. I was overcome for some time after that. A man remarked to me later, “That was the first time you realized it was about you!” Exactly. I was a mother. I was the revered one. Wow. That still floors me.

I also remember the day my brother taught us to love and honor our mother. He took us to a store that was filled with glass things. My eyes were wide as he showed us the gift he’d picked out for MaDear. It was a glass punch bowl with little cups that hung over the sides. You know the one, LOL! But we’d never seen something so beautiful. It was worthy of our mother. We were excited as she opened it because it was from US. My brother had been gracious enough to include his siblings and I also think he felt it would be worth even more to our mom to think it was from her small ones, too. For me, giving our mother that gift was the very best feeling. In giving to her, we gave to ourselves that moment of knowing we had pleased her. She got many years out of that gift set. Each time she brought it out to entertain, I remembered where she’d gotten it from. And so it continues to this present day. We’re so glad to still have her here with us and we continue to honor her. This upcoming Mother’s Day she is blessed to have it fall on her 90th birthday. We are beyond thrilled to celebrate this momentous occasion, this great coming of age with her. So Happy Birthday MaDear and Happy Mother’s Day to all. May heaven celebrate with us.

Be blessed,

Loria

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No Ordinary Love

Sade
Sade, No Ordinary Love

“The beginning of the word of the LORD by Hosea. And the LORD said to Hosea, Go, take unto thee a wife of whoredoms and children of whoredoms: for the land hath committed great whoredom, departing from the LORD.” Hosea 1:2 KJV

One area in which God has been dealing with me lately is love. More specifically, as it has to do with forgiveness. Like many people, I struggle in this because I have been hurt, abused and taken advantage of by others. I am damaged. So I admit that in the past, I have loved warily, instead of freely. And I have held grudges so long, I thought I would take them with me to the grave. I could repeat the story of the offense because I had rehearsed it and nursed it. And, it was only causing further damage, not healing me.

See, I had fallen for the lie, the GREAT lie, that love is not supposed to hurt. That it should be as natural as breathing. That if it was from God it would be effortless. That if he was the one for you, your union would be blessed. That love would be easy. The greeting card industry would have us believe that love looks like hearts, bows and flowers. It smells like perfume and potpourri. It tastes like chocolate, wine and maybe even a nice dinner. They would also have us believe that love is random and involuntary – Cupid’s bow determines who you love. Therefore, you cannot choose who you love. We’ve been conditioned to believe that love is a feeling as illustrated by a few recent Facebook posts: “People no longer date – they have sex, then catch feelings.” (Sad, but true!) And, “I HATE MEN … never mind – he called.” (Funny, also true.) A friend confessed that he felt he loved a girl because they fought like cats and dogs. Those were intense feelings. But as one of my favorite characters said, “Don’t confuse quantity of emotion with quality of emotion.”

So we have many examples of what love is. But none of these are real, true love. Maybe I don’t have all the answers. Maybe I haven’t even experienced it … yet. But I know what it is not. Love is not emotion. Feelings are deceitful and fleeting, changing from one moment to the next. Love is not the result of something someone does or doesn’t do for us. It is not the result of an action. It is not pristine and sterile, sweet smelling or beautiful. In fact, I submit that true love is sometimes unsavory and ugly. It is not accidental or aimless, but directed and purposeful. Real love is imperfect because we are. It is delivered by damaged people to damaged people.

The prophet Hosea was commanded to take a wife with a shady past. He could not be sure that she would not return to her life of promiscuity. God had not even “saved” her or delivered her from that previous lifestyle. She wasn’t a cleaned up version of herself. Gomer was a woman known to sell her body for money. She married the man of God, but she did not change her ways. Then again, it appears that she was not expected to do so. That was never the point.

“Then the LORD said to me, “Go and love your wife again, even though she commits adultery with another lover. This will illustrate that the LORD still loves Israel, even though the people have turned to other gods and love to worship them.” Hosea 3:1 NIV

The prophet was ordered to redeem his wife and treat her as if he loved her, not as if she had betrayed him. God wouldn’t let his servant give up on her. Gomer was to be an example of God’s unfailing love. Real love is active. It doesn’t just lay there waiting for a feeling. True love forgives and gives us another chance. Love never fails. Never. We fail in doing all that love requires because we are human. We let our emotions and the situation get the best of us. Our “shouldn’ts” get in the way. I shouldn’t forgive them after all they did to me; they hurt me. And we remind ourselves constantly of that pain, holding it as a shield before us so that said person cannot get close enough to do us harm again. But love doesn’t remember hurts, nor rehearse them. We fall short in doing all that love requires because we are human. And it ain’t easy. I tell you, if we knew everything that real love entails, we wouldn’t say to people so carelessly, “I love you,” in the same way we declare our love for black walnut ice cream (my personal favorite) or Garrett’s cheesy/caramel mixed popcorn.

We even go so far as to not pray for the person who offended us. But that is not the example Jesus provided at the cross. Father forgive them, for they know not what they do. At that moment, Jesus was a victim of the ugliest side of humanity: mob action. Mocked and jeered, flayed and tortured, he interceded for his abusers. And by the way, it is a sin to not pray for others. Yep, per the Apostle Paul. Real love prays for those that spitefully use us, as Jesus instructed. Even as his accusers were putting him to death, he displayed love for his abusers. Crazy, right? (Talk about Stockholm Syndrome!) But real love is crazy. That’s agape or godly love. It is determined and persistent and prevailing despite the circumstances. It witnesses the ugly, unsavory, the seedy elements in us all and responds with hope. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not keep a record of wrongs. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures ALL things (1 Corinthians 13:4-7). Whew – that’s a tall order!

I heard an evangelist testify that during the early part of her marriage, her husband repeatedly beat her for “breakfast, lunch and dinner.” She stayed. Loving flawed, damaged people is not easy. And I’m not advocating that anyone stay under such circumstances. Neither did she. The evangelist often said during her testimony: “I’m not telling YOU what to do, I’m just telling you what I did.” I couldn’t have sat through that for my children’s sake, I know. But she did, along with her children. They also witnessed the transformation of that man from an abuser to one who loved his wife wholeheartedly. Had she left, she and her kids would have missed the miracle.

I admit, I do not have a handle on that kind of love. It’s scary to contemplate. In it, you have to surrender your right to feel wronged. Wow. The only people I know for sure that I love with that kind of devotion are my children. Oh yeah! Now I get it. We are His children. He loves us unconditionally. And we are to display that kind of love to others, no matter whether it is deserved or how hard it may be. May God help us all.

Be blessed,

Loria

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Love On Top!

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Beyoncé aka Mrs. Carter
This is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. 1 John 4:10 

Baby it's you! You're the one I love. 
You're the one I need. You're the only one I see. 
Come on baby it's you! 
You're the one that gives your all. 
You're the one I can always call. 
When I need you make everything stop. 
Finally, you put my love on top.

They say troubles come in multiples. For me, three is the magic number. That’s when I call it. See, the first incident could be merely coincidence. The second occurrence may be just plain bad luck, By the third event, I know that I am the recipient of a full-fledged, out and out attack that is supernatural. It’s usually at that point the devil is identified and he runs screaming like the little punk he is. (Yes, he is – we don’t owe him any reverence.) Picture him as the wicked witch of the Wizard of Oz after having a bucket of water thrown on her by Dorothy. “You’ve destroyed all of my beautiful wickedness,” the witch cries as she melts into nothing. It’s a comical scene when you think about it, but in reality, it’s not amusing. He doesn’t like to be called out. He wants us to think it is people who hate us, events are conspiring against us, or even that God doesn’t want us to be happy. That they are the enemy when all the time it is he, the evil one, who is at work. He is the spiritual wickedness that influences those who sit in high places.

The Bible promises us that the troubles we encounter are only those common to man. In other words, they happen to everyone at some time or another. We shouldn’t think it strange or unusual that it would eventually come for us in some shape, form or fashion. We may feel our troubles are unique. However, heartbreak is not. It is our common denominator, no matter our station in life. But with every trial, there is a way of escape given to us; the means to not necessarily undo what has happened but to transcend your circumstances, to rise above that situation. It is then that we can see that there may be a higher purpose for our trouble, a lesson to be learned. His ultimate goal is even sometimes revealed during our tribulation. So the way out is to change our focus, to see the One who is in control and to trust His plan.

So I’ve had my three recently – troubles that is – and I recognized the devil behind the curtain, manipulating events to discourage me. Then one day as I was driving Love on Top played on my car radio. That song had me grinning, singing along and bouncing in my seat. (It’s so much fun to sing along – not to mention the dance moves in the video were borrowed from New Edition’s If It Isn’t Love, another fave.) It has become my personal anthem, a love song from me to God. I riffed along with Beyoncé: “Baby it’s YOU!” I realized that in the midst of whatever is troubling me, my constant is God. My love for Him, supersedes everything because it helps me to endure and overcome anything. One of the most wretched feelings in the world is to feel like the object of your desire doesn’t return the sentiment. But I am sure of His steadfast love for me. Nothing can separate us. No-thing. I hear myself saying to Him as Bella said of Edward (of Twilight fame) – It’s Edward! It’s always been Edward! Poor Jacob never had a chance (LOL) because she had met THE love of her life. And so it is with me, no other god – be it money, worry (or worries about money), jealousies, envy, pride, job (or the loss thereof) – no other god can stand before my God. As was said of The Highlander: There can be only one! (I know that’s two movie references but I couldn’t resist! BTW – did you catch the shout out to Schoolhouse Rock?)

Which brings me to Good Friday, the day leading up to Resurrection Sunday – the holy day formerly known as Easter (nod to Prince). We honor the sacrifice of the one who loved us enough to die in our place so that we could have a chance at restoration. The One who put our love on top and made our salvation a priority. He is the only one who could have done it. I’ve heard folks mention other deities that have similar lore of a virgin birth and a god who died. But Jesus is the One who, as my sister loves to say, “loved us so much, he put his life on it!” He didn’t just die, he did it with purpose, executing a plan to save us which was set in motion from the foundation of the world. He put us first. God’s thoughts are always towards us, his creation. I know this. I see it in nature and how he carefully cultivated our living environment, anticipating our every need before he even created man, his crowning achievement, to oversee the world. We remain, to this day the apple (or center) of His eye.

I’m sure of some things in life. Troubles come and go. Everybody gets a turn. “But I know! (in ma Beyoncé voice)!” Jesus is the One I love. He’s the only One I know I need for certain. I see Him in everything, even a secular song, and gladly receive the confirmation of our love. I know He is working it out for my good. He gives me more than I asked for, more than I could ever imagine or conceive. I call on Him during times of distress, habitually. And He has answered my prayers repeatedly. It’s no wonder I can say with such joy, “Jesus it’s YOU!”

Be blessed,

Loria

 

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Running with the Wolves

I’ll be honest. Brutally. I’ve avoided blogging for a while. Been turned off to it for quite some time now. All because of those who perpetrate and pretend to be Christians. They give those of us who are His disciples a really bad name. I’m not ashamed of this gospel but I don’t want to be counted amongst that number. We’re supposed to be good guys, people! But folks have got it twisted, thinking they are THE (ONLY) GOOD GUYS aneyes-712125_1280d, as such, above reproach. Oh, it breaks my heart, really it does, to see the foolish and vile things we visit upon our fellow man in the name of Christianity. Jesus said the world would know us by the love we have for one another. That would be the evidence, proof that we belonged to Him and that we are His disciples. So let’s ask ourselves, in light of that scripture: What are we really showing the world about us, as those who espouse His teachings and citizens of the oft proclaimed “God’s country?” It’s sad, truly and if you think God is down with it, you’re wrong. If Jesus came back today, looking for his church (without spot or wrinkle) would he even recognize you? Or would he count you as one of the goats – you know, one of those non-believers that we have been conditioned to look down upon. Would He see you, claim you as one of His own or call you out as a Pharisee so busy straining out the gnat that you swallow the camel? Worse yet, would He identify you as one of the wolves come to deceive the flock. Let us examine ourselves more closely. What would the evidence reveal about you? As one of my late pastors used to sing, “you oughta show some sign” of being a Christian. If only there were such a thing to indicate where our loyalties lie, a way to know for sure. Aha! But there is! It is LOVE.

Be Blessed,

Loria

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Elementary, My Dear!

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Schoolhouse Rock – Elementary!

But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple area, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant. “Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him. “Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read, ‘From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise’?” Matthew 21:15-16

Last week, many churches celebrated Palm Sunday and Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. The events leading up to his crucifixion led me to this scripture and caused me to ruminate. My mind flashed back to the Schoolhouse Rock segment, “Elementary, my dear!” which recounted the story of Noah and the Ark and used the collection of the animals to illustrate the principle of multiplying by two. It also brought to mind Robert Fulghum’s book, All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten, that featured a list of lessons learned on how to treat others and take care of yourself in this wide world. Both brought home to me something I had to have known since my childhood, but only became aware of at that moment. And I knew a peace from my present day catastrophe which seemingly loomed on my horizon. AGAIN. There’s always one there, you know. In her Saturday Night Live skit, Gilda Radner (ala Rosanna Rosannadana) used to say, “It just goes to show ya – if it ain’t one thing, it’s another!” So there’s ALWAYS another something, just waiting in the shadows, looking for the opportune moment to pounce. It tends to catch you when your guard is down; an unlooked for event and a scheme of the enemy to take your eyes off God and cast them toward your concerns regarding your future. It is true, the lion never sleeps.

But looking back, I realized everything I ever needed to know about God and how to survive these trying times came from my earliest remembrances of Him – in songs learned in Sunday school and verses memorized for church at Easter. “I don’t know why Jesus loves me,” taught me that He does love me and I don’t have to be worthy. (Thank God, because I could never earn His love. I’ve given up on perfection and have decided to be merely human.) And in “Jesus loves the little children,” I learned that He treasures “All the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, we are precious in His sight!” That song showed me that I had a special place in His eyes, regardless to how society viewed me. But the one that brought true deliverance was found in the simple lyrics of “Yes, Jesus loves me!’

This song blessed me so much the other day. Coming off of my latest meltdown (see article, The Greatest) I realized that I had fallen for the greatest trick of the enemy – to believe in one’s own strength and power to deliver. You may ask how I could forget such a lesson, for control is only an illusion. All power belongs to God. He alone is in control of my life. I do some of my best work, lol, and He is able to accomplish much through me, when I am a yielded vessel. I become His arms and legs and mouth to do whatever and to go wherever and to bless others. But at times, sigh, I fall prey to this mentality, this thinking that I have to save my world yet again – likely because I’ve watched TOO MANY Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes (she saved the world, A LOT)! I began to feel that it was all up to me, that the burden of my own personal universe was on my shoulders. I’d somehow allowed the thought to bleed into my conscious that I’m doing this alone.

Meltdowns, in my experience, happen because you look at your own resources and realize you have fallen short of what is needed to accomplish your goals. You feel overwhelmed, like whatever you’re trying to do or get is not gonna happen EVER. You get discouraged and want to give up because, instead of looking at what God is able to accomplish (with/without you or your resources and whether or not you deserve it), you look at yourself and your puny mortal limitations. I was reminded recently that God is ABLE to do what He said he would do and to do the unthinkable. He can bless in ways that we cannot fathom.

So I want to leave you today with the words that encouraged me, brought me out of my funk and gave me hope:

Jesus loves me, this I know

For the Bible tells me so

Little ones (that’s US, y’all!) to Him belong

THEY ARE WEAK BUT HE IS STRONG!

Yes, it is because He is strong that I can afford the luxury of being “weak.” Sometimes, I feel like I always have to appear hard and strong, like I can handle whatever obstacle comes my way because I come from a long line of women who were made of stern stuff! Whew! And that pull yourself up by your bootstraps mentality seemed to serve me well in the past. But I am learning, or rather re-learning, as this lesson has been with me since my childhood, to lean on Him and to let God bear these heavy loads that weigh me down. With every burden I cast off I am returning to my former self and becoming more carefree, for I have given my cares to Him. I am feeling more like me. So much so, that today I visualized myself yelling at my latest obstacle (in my Gerard Butler/Leonidas of 300 voice), “I. AM. LORIAAAAA!” ROAR! That thought makes me smile because I am back. And I am becoming a better me, but not due to being indomitable or indestructible. It is because He has shown me, once again, the beauty of giving it all over to Him. I can rest easier knowing that He is, as my brother once put it, the One who holds all of my tomorrows.

Be blessed,

Loria