Consider the Source...

You know the old saying Consider the source?

It's usually preceded by a slew of gossip from a not-so-credible person.

Maybe a cheated-on wife talking about her husband's business ethics or a junior high girl discussing her ex-boyfriend's new flame.

These judgments aren't going to be very reliable because of the negative emotions involved.

So when you listen to the opinions and/or outright lies, you know to think about how this person's perception is flawed.

You consider the source.

Yet, we hardly ever consider the source that seeks to destroy us.

This was all-too apparent this week-end.

It had been a fun, but exhausting week with two of my grandkids and their overexuberant puppy play, including the traumatic search and rescue of our new 1-lb. teacup chihuahua. (Who, by the way, turned up in a hole of the recliner liner after 5 hours. Thank you, Anabelle, for your insistent barking as you led me through the dense thicket of briars on a wild goose chase. But, it was an informative adventure as well as I discovered something my husband says everyone else on the planet already knows. If you drive your car behind the pumphouse, ESPECIALLY after a rain, you will stay in said spot until the tow truck arrives.)

By Saturday night, I was drained.

Then the phone calls started.

The first was from a guy who does some work with the homeless as well. He doesn't have a home church but just visits around on occasion. He had called four of my regulars and asked them to go with him to a different church the next day.

I was a little aggravated. Not so much about one of the couples, who basically use churches as their panhandling grounds, but the other couple has really made strides to give their lives to the Lord. They've been in a one-room efficiency apartment for three weeks, have remained sober, and have worked to pay their bills. We'd bought a Bible for the guy and had been praying over it all week. By coming to church each week, they had some accountability for the first time in their lives and we were excited to see growth. It was frustrating that a well-meaning Christian would hinder that and I was aggravated at him.

Five minutes later I got a call from my friend that normally helps me pick up people for church. There was a conflict and she needed my guidance. How could I objectively advise when I had such a vested interest in the outcome? I prayed for godly wisdom. Family first? Honor your commitment? I was still so aggravated about the previous phone call that I couldn't remove myself from the equation long enough to hear what God had to say. I told her I would do pick up alone (a decision I later regretted) and prayed that the Lord will either give her peace or conviction, thereby taking it out of my hands.

Then a text that one of my ladies I'd put in housing had been invited to another church and wouldn't be coming.

Five minutes after THAT, my husband got a call from his friend that had been coming to church faithfully after a near-death experience turned him around. HE wasn't going to come either. There was no reason; he just didn't have a ride and didn't want anyone to have to come get him.

At this point, all aggravation immediately dissipated as incredulation set in.

"Wow," I exclaimed to my husband, "the devil is trying very hard to keep people out of our church tomorrow."

It would be more than twenty-four hours later for me to realize the enormity of that truth.

Deciding not to judge who deserved to get a ride to church, I ended up making two trips.

That wouldn't be a big deal except, as referenced in the fact that we have a pumphouse (Fellow city girls, this means water doesn't just magically appear in your faucets..), I live twelve miles from the nearest store and twenty from the nearest homeless camp. So each route is one hour, when you factor in the stops and the people who think start times mean when you get there.

I was five minutes late with my second group and didn't get a chance to greet everyone but we had a packed house.

Two special singers, a baptism, two baby dedications, and a powerful sermon (complete with sign language for one of our deaf homeless girls) by my husband's son.

I had twelve homeless people who were, all but one, completely sober. Even Jesus had Judas so I'm okay with that.

The incredibleness of that is the other eleven, six of whom are rarely sober, including one who has been drunk for over a year. It took him almost dying last week to realize he wanted to live.

We had visitors; we had regulars. I was sad for those who weren't there, but rejoicing for those who were.

The service was amazing.

The ride home was different. Not just because there was another two trips but the atmosphere was different.

Hopeful.

There was no talk of beer, or fights, or even complaining.

The van was filled with light, and love, and a chance for a new tomorrow.

Even my "Judas" was restrained, not feeling the light but hindering it either.

We returned to the evening service with a smaller, yet still larger than usual, crowd.

It was as if the Spirit had been waiting for us. You could feel His presence in the entire building.

The message was again powerful and the fellowship was free-flowing.

We prayed for one of our older ladies whose tremors had come back so strong she was facing an experimental brain surgery.

We all left feeling renewed and revived.

I was sad for those who'd missed the services because I knew they'd missed something special.

This morning, though, I found out just HOW special.

One of my homeless groups, touched mightily by the Lord, are all still sober and ready to change their entire lives. Two were saved and ready for baptism. Two others finally had that seed take root.

And the tremors? GONE. 100% vanished overnight.

The Lord did a mighty work yesterday through the church and those that missed it thought it was just about a cold, or pain, or transportation issues. They didn't consider the source.

When the Lord tells you to do something, or you are going somewhere church- or ministry-related, and it feels like the bottom just fell out of your life, CONSIDER THE SOURCE...

That cough? The upset stomach? The headache? The big fight with your friend or family member?

Have you ever noticed the pattern? Right before a big event...on Sunday mornings...before a trip...

Those are all tools in the devil's arsenal to keep you from what God has for you.

Consider the source....and do what you would with anyone else who was trying to manipulate you.

Ignore it. Don't play the game.

Spoiler alert: We've already won!

When It Hits So Close to Home

All week I've been reassuring people that the battle is a spiritual one as it was foretold, and the only way we will win it is to fight in the Spirit.

No, we shouldn't lay down as Christians and accept what's going on without a fight.

But arming ourselves with knives and guns and going out to defend Christianity isn't the way to go.

We put on the SPIRITUAL armor of God and we go out and lead people to the Lord.

Look at Paul. He was one of the leading persecutors of Christianity. Then he became one of the greatest apostles.

We need to win souls over to our side. That's where the real victory is.

But it is harder when the attack hits close to home.

I've counseled couples this week, homeless men and women, new Christians, and mature Christians who are struggling. The advice was the same: Do NOT lose your peace over this. It is a spiritual battle.

I have people that use me, manipulate, lie...it is frustrating but as long as I remain in the Spirit and not take it personally, it doesn't rob me of peace.

I guard my peace more fiercely than any other possession I have.

I didn't even lose my peace when I penned the letter to my daughter. (See An Open Letter to My Daughter.)

But tonight I let it slip away.

I should've seen it coming.

Anytime a big battle is headed my way, the devil throws a sickness on me.

I've done my best to keep it somewhat at bay but there's still an icky summer cold feeling of a headache and sore throat.

I still cleaned and went out on the streets and did hospital visits.

But I took my armor off a little too soon.

I was almost home when my daughter called. Yes, THAT daughter. We did eventually talk and all is well.

This time the concern was over her brother.

He is a Louisiana police officer and his safety is a big concern right now.

I chastised her a little because they are currently not getting along too well.

"But, Mom..he just blows up and destroys his relationships."

I know this. I love my son, but he's got some deep-seated anger he has yet to deal with.

"I know, but think about this. Almost the entire country is anti-police officers. He's on the front lines, in more danger than he ever was in the Marines. And he's fighting with most of his family. He needs us in his corner, no matter what."

She understood but she's been hurt. I thought she was wrong for not letting it go given the circumstances.

A few minutes later he called.

I told him I'd been praying for him.

He downplayed his fears but I knew they were there.

I'm constantly having to rebuke my own fears when it comes to his job.

The conversation turned to other events and he started hem-hawing around.

"Don't lie to me, boy. I'm your Momma!" I was half-kidding and really just playing around.

He then made a comment that cut me to the core.

My feelings were hurt and I did what every other person I'd counseled this week did: I reacted in the flesh.

My peace was gone and I made sure he knew he'd upset me in a typical passive-aggressive, motherly yet ungodly way.

"Well, I'm just sorry that you feel that way about me."

There was no time for apologies, no way to right the ship.

We both hung up, upset, and I've been on the verge of tears ever since.

My son, on duty tonight, needed more from me than I gave him.

What if something happens?

Even as I was hanging up the thought entered my head, What if this is the last conversation we ever have? Could I live with that?

Absolutely not.

So why didn't I just call back?

I don't know.

I'm ashamed. And embarrassed.

Then that little voice (the one that isn't God) pops up and says, Because you ARE that person he accused you of being.

And I listen.

So I sit back and let that hurt take root.

It's a lot harder when the attack hits so close to home.

Postscript: 

I actually ended the post like that. With the devil having the victory. Pretty dumb, huh? But I've told you before...I'm real. And I make mistakes.

That was a big one.

I'm not sure why I took his comment as such a personal attack. I think it's just so hard for me to be such a non-entity in my kids' lives. They are young adults  and spreading their wings. I have to focus my mothering on my dogs but I still miss my babies. I'm not used to the secrets and the walls and infrequent calls.

But that's still no excuse. 

I'm sorry.

Post-post script:

A little perspective. This post, the one in which I felt like I destroyed everything, was written a little over three months ago. It was obviously a big deal. Yet re-reading old posts today and I have no clue what this was about! I vaguely remember any of this. Yes, it could be that the older I got, the more forgetful I become. But, maybe, and most likely, this was never as big a deal as I thought to begin with. It's funny how we make mountains out of molehills then blame God for these great big struggles. He's probably thinking, I know what mountains really are. Look at Calvary.  

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY DAUGHTER

Dear Beautiful Daughter,

My heart breaks to realize that you are in a place where you don't even feel like you can talk to me. I wonder, is it me or is it God you are running from?

My calls have gone unreturned, my messages unanswered.

Ironic, in a way, that I get fifty calls a week from people needing help, needing encouragement, or just wanting to know someone cares.

Yet when you faced one of the darkest hours of your life, I heard about it from someone else.

I get calls from homes, from hospitals, from the streets, even from jail.

I never condemn.

We are all human, and besides, we all know that I've made my own calls from those same places.

Did you think I'd treat you any differently than I do them?

Don't you know my love for YOU is even greater?

You used to think forgiveness for your transgressions came in the form of free foot rubs.

I never told you (cause I loved the mini massage) but forgiveness was there the moment you messed up.

Why?

Because you are my daughter.

And I love you.

It's as simple as that.

When I look at you, I see a little princess in dress-up clothes, an athlete in uniform, a Monday night junk food-eating tv buddy.

I see your heart. The one who'd rather be hurt than see someone hurt.

I see YOU.

I know you better than anyone.

I also know the road you are traveling down right now.

That's why I had to let you go.

You're an adult. You have to make your own decisions. You're going to have some great times and make some great memories. You're also going to make some big mistakes. But that's okay. Because those mistakes are what will make you a great person.

Of this, I have complete confidence.

I probably wouldn't have even called. After all, it's not letting go if you are still holding on.

But I heard you had some trouble and I wanted to offer support.

For some reason, you've been afraid to receive it.

That's okay, though, because it's still here. It will ALWAYS be here.

Because moms never stop loving. Or caring. Or reaching out.

I love you,
Mom

How was your Independence Day?

How was YOUR Independence Day?

Did you celebrate with friends? Family?

Did you barbecue? Travel? Shoot fireworks?

Did you celebrate?

Did you remember WHY we celebrated the Fourth of July?

The date represents our freedom as a country, as individuals, from those who previously held power over us.

While England's control over America is long gone, many of us remain in slavery.

The chains are invisible and some have been there since childhood so we don't always realize what bondage we are in.

I spent some time with Bobby yesterday, an older gentlemen with some mental and substance abuse issues.

He gets a monthly check so he is a prime target out in the woods.

Women play him like a fiddle and men ply him with alcohol when his check comes in. Within 24 hours, his entire check is gone.

"This girl is different," he tells me each month.

"No, Bobby," I reply, "she isn't. She's just like the one from last month."

He doesn't want to see it because he is so lonely. He desperately needs SOMEONE to care.

As a child, he endured violence and sexual abuse.

As an adult he lost two wives. One to another woman, one to his best friend.

With each loss he retreated further and further into his mind.

Alcohol and drugs became a coping mechanism.

He hasn't been free in years.

He admitted yesterday that he's on a path to drink himself to death. It isn't the alcoholism driving him, it's the depression.

Unfortunately, that is the case with many of the guys out here.

They've given up. They drink until they pass out, hoping they'll never wake up.

But Bobby was worried.

As much as he wants to go to Heaven, he's not sure that is where he'll end up.

Despite traveling 70 mph down I-10, I knew it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his hand, I led him through a prayer of salvation.

I knew a cleansing was taking place as he cried through years of abuse and neglect.

He was being set free.

Sometimes we don't even know the bondage we are in. We think we are free, yet our independence is only a mirage.

But there is hope.

Freedom is attainable in Christ. He who the Son sets free is free indeed.

What about YOU?

Are you free?

Roll the stone away...it's Independence Day!

When God Closes One Door, He...

WANTS IT TO STAY SHUT!

You thought I was going to say OPENS A WINDOW, don't you?

That's one of the problems we have.

God will close a door that we never should've entered to begin with, and we are so busy running around trying to pry it open or find a window that we get trapped in a burning house.

Sometimes the Lord shuts a door for our own good.

And sometimes it's hard to see.

When we first moved to the coast and became involved with The Jeremiah House (see "Beware of Wolves in Sheep's Clothing), something would come up every time I was scheduled to go over there.

"That devil!" I'd exclaim. "He's not shutting me down."

I was determined to make it over there even when it seemed impossible.

A couple of months later a strange thought entered my head.

What if it wasn't the devil trying to keep me away? What if God was the one shutting the door?

I tested it out.

That's okay, by the way. Try out the spirits.

Unbeknownst to me, my gift of discernment was greatly hampered at that point.

You can't submit to the authority of someone operating under the power of Satan without hindering the Holy Spirit in your life.

And when you place yourself in a church or mission, you ARE submitting to the authority of the person in charge, whether you want to or not. (So be very careful, little feet, where you go. You may want to be the only "light" in a sea of darkness, but you are still under the authority of that pastor or director.)

A couple of weeks later, the thought that the Lord was closing the door was getting stronger.

I began praying in earnest.

"Show me, Lord," I implored, "if this is You." I didn't want to be fooled by the devil but I also didn't want to be a fool.

He showed me.

I never should've been involved with Jeremiah House to begin with.

I could see where he kept shutting the door over and over.

And I kept opening it back up. And climbing through windows.

There was a lot of senseless destruction. A couple of friendships, my peace, marital discord...

All because I couldn't see that the Lord was shutting a door.

I'm a lot more careful now.

I always consider that the Lord may be behind a closing door.

And if He is, I sure don't go looking for a window!

A Different Kind of Carpool...

I drove my "kids" to a new "daycare" this week.

A mission run by a good friend in Biloxi (about an hour from here), this day shelter serves three hot meals on the days they are open, and allows the homeless men and women to wash clothes and take showers on a first-come, first-serve basis.

It was a new experience for all of us.

I called my crew the night before. I'd already put the word out and had seven people wanting to go so they got reminders. And the pre-event lecture. "Be sober. Be ready. Have your stuff together."

The trip there was uneventful. It was a little after 7 A.M. and we were all still half-asleep.

When we arrived, my friend greeted them with open arms as she lovingly went over the rules.

I had to leave but assured them I'd be back. She assured ME that they were in good hands.

At some point I felt like a mom leaving her babies at daycare and said so.

"MOOOOMMMMY, please come back..." Scooter wailed.

"Don't goooooooo!" Landon cried.

We laughed and I hugged everyone goodbye, feeling more maternal than ever.

A few hours later, a call came up on my cell from the director.

I have to tell you, I was SCARED to answer the phone.

It brought back MANY MANY memories of calls from school principals.

Back then it was almost always Cody, but now there were seven to choose from. Who did what? Will I be banned from coming back? Will she blame me?

I had seven scenarios with seven culprits running through my head when I weakly answered the phone.

"Hello?"

It was just Mickey, calling from the shelter to tell me they were ready to be picked up.

See, I knew my babies hadn't done anything wrong.

When I got back to Biloxi they were exhausted and ready to go.

I had a few stops to make though so I did what any good mom would do.

I popped The Croods in the dvd player and handed them a box of donuts and some sodas. Instant silence!

I love these guys (and girls!). Many are older than me but still call me Mama. Some have families, even if they are estranged, but most of the moms are no longer alive. A surprising number lost their mothers at a very early age. I'm sure there is a correlation in those statistics.

I don't mind being MOM one little bit.

In fact, we have just started planning my birthday party even though it is two months away.

Because this year, all I want for my birthday is a big fish fry in the park with dinner, cake and ice cream, and all my babies, biological AND homeless.

It'll be held on Sept. 17th and I want to be surrounded with the ones I love.

And maybe wear a tiara!