Mountains, Chasms and Curtains

Have you ever heard yourself say something and immediately want the earth to open up and swallow you? 

I was sixteen, a state officer in an organization. A microphone was suddenly thrust in my face at a district meeting. No warning. No courtesy of a heads up. And I said something ridiculous. It just slipped out. I had been asked to encourage other high school girls to run for district and state office in this particular organization. 

I don't have a clue what else I said. Only the words "it will make you more mature". 

What?! Oh please, God! I didn't just say that, did I?Like I had a clue what maturity was at that age! (Or even at this age sometimes.) Like I was some great example!

I had always felt old in high school. I wasn't interested in foolishness or parties. I found most boys to be just that, boys. As for the girls, I found most of them to be stuck up, rude, with their head in the clouds or focused on messed up priorities. Sorry if this offends anyone, just telling you how it was.

When I stepped on the bus to head back home that night, I faced something that will, on occasion, haunt me to this day. I no more than got my foot on the bottom step than the jeering and taunting began. Clearly they had been waiting for me. I found my way to a seat and tried to become as small as possible. I recognized the voice of the ring leader but she wasn't alone. I cringed as my words were flung at me with peals of laughter. Oh the laughter.... 

There wasn't a teacher on the bus. I think the bus driver finally brought the verbal assault to a close but the whole incident stung. Tears streamed down my face but I wouldn't turn around. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how wounded I was.

But the truth is, I didn't blame the girls. I blamed myself. The words were mine. I had given them the ammunition. So I internalized it, adding it to the mountains of shame that already resided there.

I share this blistering personal example to illustrate the power of words and the destructive nature of shame. If I'd had just two minutes to think, perhaps I would have said something more appropriate or was that how I really felt about teenage girls at the time? Had I allowed my internal voice an outlet? Scary thought.

And how many times have I wounded or maimed someone with my words? Whatever the situation or circumstance, I am so sorry. I think of the phrase "wounded people wound". How true.

As an extrovert, I don't necessarily weigh everything that comes out of my mouth. (I can hear some of my friends laughing as they read this.) With age, I've gotten infinitely better about thinking before speaking. But have I left a wake behind me? 

Words can build or they can destroy. Words brought shame into my life, one of the most destructive forces Satan uses against us. 

Shame acts as a shield. It deflects praise and compliments. Shame clouds, distorts and alters truth. For far too many, their shame is their truth. It is their reality. 

Shame creates a chasm that gives the enemy of our souls an entry point into our lives. Only the blood of Jesus can fill that canyon and bring hope and healing.

I cannot express enough the importance of speaking to our children in love. Always. No matter what. Never use the words "shame on you" because those three words may indeed introduce shame into their lives. 

The last thing any of us wants to do is cause a child to feel deeply flawed or of little value. Guide? Of course. Discipline? Absolutely! But always loving and helping to foster a healthy, positive image of who they are. And Who's they are. 

Jesus rescued me from the bottom of that chasm that had imprisoned me. He cut through the thick curtain of shame that has been my identity. But I fight the familiarity of what I knew to be true for so long. I have to work to see things differently, to bring God's Truth in to occupy those dark places. I remind the enemy that his lies must stop. Now! 

I've come a long, long way due to the love of Jesus Christ and the love of my wonderful husband. Larry's eyes reflect the real me, the me God created. And I like what I see. Honestly, I do.

My heart's desire is to help people break free of shame to know who they are in God's Kingdom. To cast off the constraints that have held them hostage. To be set free from all the junk of the past. To see themselves as God sees them. 

Only then can each of us truly walk in the purpose God created us to fulfill.

Jesus' words bring hope. "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." John 10:10

Abundant life? Oh yeah! That's what I choose over mountains, chasms and curtains.

(c)lclamb 2014

Spare Me The Mall

It's funny how our interests, priorities and desires change.

I used to love going to the mall. Not any more. I can honestly say I haven't been in a mall in years. Personally, I would rather have a tooth pulled!

I much prefer shopping online and paying for shipping.

Spare me the window displays designed to shame you into realizing your wardrobe is sorely lacking or cause any parent or grandparent to cover the eyes of the young ones in tow.

Spare me the food court that smells so tempting you resemble the old commercial of the dog being carried along on a wave of aroma until he reaches his culinary delight. Have I ever found healthy, organic choices in a food court? Never.

Spare me the young people just milling around with nothing better to do than hang out, gossip, bully and make inappropriate comments to members of the opposite sex. Get a job! Find a life! Go to church! I know a few farmers who would be happy to put you to work shoveling you know what. (I'm in a sassy mood today, can't you tell?)

Spare me fighting for my space. A mall during Christmas shopping season has the appeal of a ripe banana that has been run over by a manure spreader.

Spare me claustrophobic changing rooms that are meant for a pre-teen, not a plus-sized middle-ager.

Spare me scantily clad women who put their breasts on display for all to see. My breasts belong to my husband. If they are in the least bit visible, it is a clothing malfunction. (If you see the girls are a peekin', for goodness sake, tell me!) Keep your breasts to yourselves, ladies, for all of our sakes.

Spare me trying to find my car in the super-sized, vehicle-filled mall parking lots. My first car was a bright yellow VW Beetle. Back in the late 70's and early 80's I could always find my cheery little car in a mall parking lot. Those days are long gone!

Spare me the little kids who have received so much sensory overload they have morphed into screaming, pleading, tormenting little creatures who make you want to use duct tape in some very creative ways.

Spare me the frazzled moms and dads who thought a trip to the mall would be a fun outing with the kids but they have reached a point of saturation where they can no longer function. You can see it in their eyes. They've become pod people.

Spare me the traffic around the mall, any mall. And the drivers! Does something come over people so they suddenly forget any driving skills they had once had? And all courtesy goes right out the window! 

Enjoy the mall, if that's your thing. But please, spare me. I'll be at home. Cozy and happy.

His Plans

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

This beautiful verse has long been a favorite of mine. I can immerse myself in it for hours, days even. 

I know too well what it is to rely on my plans. Flawed. Short-sighted. Incomplete. Selfish. And often empty.

But His plans? His plans give me such joy! I rejoice at His plans. Complete. Perfect. Drenched in love. Focused on Christ and all those He dearly loves. 

I don't have to face His plans with apprehension or fear. He will supply all I need. With my eyes on Him, I can face anything. He has proven Himself faithful through it all. And oh so trustworthy.

There have been plenty of times I have felt set-aside due to physical limitations. I've wallowed and felt sorry for myself. But God taps me on the shoulder and whispers gentle reminders of all I can do. 

I can still write. 
I can still reach out. 
I can still encourage. 
I can still bring laughter. 
I can still uplift. 
I can still love. 
I can still intercede.

The list goes on.

What a privilege to fulfill even a small part of the plans He has for me right from my home. 

Okay, now I'm crying tears of gratitude at the awesome God I love and serve. 

Thank you, Lord, for all I can do. Your plans...yes, Your plans, Lord.

Choose Joy

You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11 ESV  

I have a laugh. Perhaps a laugh-and-a-half.

I’ve been blessed with a contagious laugh that seizes attention, turns heads and transforms faces.

My laugh is a gift, to others and to me. I don’t apologize for it. It is just so…well…me.

Have I been shushed? Countless times since my laugh does not have a volume control and the mute button is permanently broken. 

While in college, I worked at a grocery store. As a coworker and I stocked shelves, we overheard a customer say, “It sounds like someone is laying eggs in the next aisle.” Of course they were referring to me and my laughter. And that comment took it to a new level. I suspect they could then hear me throughout the store. (Really? I sounded like a chicken laying an egg? Hmm.)

Have people been embarrassed by my laugh? Yes. Sad but true.

When I asked my husband if my laugh embarrasses him, he smiled and said “No, I am proud of you and your laugh.” Love my man!

I will never forget a banquet I attended at a lovely, famous restaurant in Kansas City, Missouri. (Do you think I can remember the name of it now? Of course not!). When our speaker came to the microphone, the first words out of his mouth were, “I don’t know about the rest of you but I wish I was at that table.” All heads turned to the table where I sat with seven others. Had we laughed? Oh my, yes! Loudly. With Abandon. (The events at that table were hilarious. Perhaps I will share them with all of you one day.)

I was touched when a pastor told me he needed a recording of my laugh. Apparently my laugh floated down the hall causing his assistant to laugh which in turn made him laugh. Yep. I was responsible for creating laugh chains - even with the office door shut. He wanted the laughter to continue even as I was moving on to something new. Sweet!

We laugh a lot at our house. Chuckles. Belly laughs. Guffaws. Snorts. You name the laugh, our lives are generously sprinkled with each and every one.

Joy ministers to others. During my five day hospital stay this past June, nurses told us they loved coming to my room. They told us it was peaceful and joyful. Prayer and joy had changed the atmosphere. Oddly and quite wonderfully, my sense of humor remains intact even when I am in pain or terribly sick. Larry could tell you stories.

One of the prayers of my heart is for the return of laughter to my parents’ home. My father’s health limits him from doing most of the things that gave his life purpose and joy. It breaks my heart. Phone conversations with my mother include plenty of laughter. She needs it but oh how I wish I lived closer.

Perhaps I need to pursue making a laughing tool. A laugh would be produced by turning it over. I had something like it that sounded like a calf…which always made me laugh!

If laughter is lacking in your life or your home, I encourage you to choose joy. Surround yourself with music that brings joy and people who make you laugh. Seek out and display joyful scriptures. Spend time in the presence of the Lord.

Joy is not dependent on circumstances. It is a state of being, a confidence and peace that accompany knowing the One who loves you with an everlasting love. It comes with resting in His presence and trusting Him fully.

As you rise each morning, I encourage you to choose joy (Psalm 30:5).

For You, O LORD, have made me glad by Your work; at the works of Your hands I sing for joy. Psalm 92:4 ESV

Firmly Planted in Love

People don't want to hear it. They don't want to know that a woman who aborted her only natural child feels fragile and vulnerable on Mother's Day. 

Women struggling with infertility, miscarriage or loss of a child would rather she just keep her mouth shut. I can't blame them. Not one bit.

But I need to be honest, real with you.

For me, Mother's Day has been the most difficult day of the year. For more years than I care to count, I have preferred to stay home from church on Mother's Day. It was just too painful to hear "Happy Mother's Day!", words that plunged a knife into the very depths of my being.

There are times in our lives when grief thrusts to the surface, nearly strangling us with its force. In my case, the grief was accompanied by deep, suffocating shame. That's been Mother's Day for me. 

But the story is not over. 

I have been on a faith journey for years. Is Jesus a gentleman? Oh yes! His patience is astounding. His love has beckoned me to give Him more, to allow Him to gently peel back layer upon layer of my pain, my shame, my self-hatred. Trusting Jesus has been life-saving and life-altering.

I've gone through seasons of emotional healing. This past year has been the most significant of those seasons. Jesus has liberally applied His blood to my heart, my mind and my spirit. 

I've been transformed by a merciful, gracious and loving God. 

"To grant to those who mourn in Zion-- to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified." Isaiah 61:3 ESV

So this year, I welcome Mother's Day. I will graciously receive the Happy Mother's Day greetings with a smile and a happy heart. 

And I will stand, an oak of righteousness firmly planted in love. 

Now What?

The events of this week in Boston, Cambridge and Watertown, Massachusetts and in West, Texas have shaken our nation. 

Lives lost, others transformed forever. People still missing. 

To what or whom do we cling at these times? 

Do we allow these events to pull us down into darkness, drinking of the cup of hopelessness, entertaining the emptiness of fear?

Do we cry out to God or stay glued to the endless hours of television coverage?

Do we feel touched, changed even? Now what?

In our home, we cling to Jesus and each other. "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful." Hebrews 10:23

We've watched in horror from our safe place here in rural Ohio. We aren't aware of knowing anyone touched by these events. We met and were married in Massachusetts. Larry lived in Texas for several years. That is as close as it comes. But it still feels close, too close. Too real.

Our loved ones are alive and safe. We aren't living the heart-wrenching anguish of waiting for word - any word - on a loved one who is still missing.We aren't in the midst of grieving and planning a funeral for someone we never dreamed we would have to live without.

Our bodies' are intact. We don't have to mourn the loss of a limb or limbs. We don't have to learn how to walk all over again on legs that have to be strapped on each morning. Or learn to make our way in a wheelchair, taking the world on from a seated position.

Our home has not been lost to fire or blown to bits from an explosion. It is intact, whole, unchanged. We don't have to worry about our address being remembered or for owning a boat that provided refuge to a terrorist.

Larry still has a job to go to on Monday. It wasn't blown off the face of the earth by a force that was felt fifty miles away.

We don't have to live in disbelief that someone we thought we knew allowed hate to shape them, morphing them into people capable of committing horrendous acts. 

We could go on with our lives unchanged by the events of this week. We could just chalk it up to "life" and act like nothing happened. 

We could but that would be a waste. Of lives. Of hopes. Of dreams. 

Let us choose to pray. 

Pray more fervently for our nation. 

Pray for the love of Christ to permeate even the hardest of hearts. 

Pray for hope to be tangible in the lives of those who have lost so much. 

Pray for peace to reign even through hardship.

Pray that God will birth something truly amazing out of the ashes of this week.

Pray, my friends, pray.

I Am Not A Cow

I grew up on a dairy farm in America's Dairyland, Wisconsin. I am proud of my agricultural roots and I have profound respect for farmers. 

Here's a little lesson for those of you who do not know. Cows are judged by their outward appearance, their conformation (muscular and skeletal structure). In the case of dairy cows, they are also judged by the amount of milk they produce. 

Appearance and production...hmm. Sounds a lot like we humans. The world only seems to care about how we look, what we do and how much money we make. What about the conformation of our hearts, our souls, and our minds? Do we strive to conform, to be "normal" or are we satisfied being uniquely different? 

(Hint: a cookie cutter Christian I am not. If that's what you're looking for, save yourself some time and stop reading.)

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:2 ESV

My Reality
I tried to be normal, I really did. I always felt different, misunderstood. I was the square peg. And that round hole? Didn't fit! Childhood was rough. My teen years were miserable. Adulthood - until recent years - was confusing and very painful. I went through depression several times. At one point the enemy had convinced me that I was seriously mentally ill. It was a lie!

For much of my life, I was hungry. Hungry for love. Hungry to be understood. Hungry to be accepted, weirdness and all. Once I knew the love of God, my hunger was refocused. I became hungry for more of God. Hungry to know Jesus more intimately. Hungry for greater understanding and revelation. Hungry to go deeper, and then deeper still. 

How cool is it that God brought Larry into my life? We each bring our own set of weirdness to our marriage! And we are thrilled with that. We complement each other well in our personalities, our giftings and our weirdness. God knew what He was doing!

As we have pursued God, He has revealed who we are in Him and what purpose He has for each of our lives. It has been amazing! I am so proud of my godly, righteous husband. He is a gifted teacher of the Word. I've been thrilled to encourage Larry in his giftings and calling. But when God began to give me glimpses about myself, I couldn’t take it in. It scared me to death. I tried to run from it, stuff it and ignore it. 

The reaction of people to the revelation of the real me has been...well...interesting. Some people recognized it long before I did. Some have been challenged by it. Others have tried to discourage me. And still others have outright denied it to be true. You see, I didn't fit the mold. I was way outside the box. 

Doubt and confusion crept in. And the fear of getting it wrong. But God kept confirming who I am over and over again. 

Hats off to my encouragers! More patient people do not exist on earth! They have hinted, reminded, pushed, pulled, even dragged me through the last ten years. Until I was out of excuses. It was time to move the gear shift from park to drive. Time to take the road God laid out for me instead of the relatively "normal" trail I had chosen.

So what is this road God has me on? He has given me a voice and a platform. Through writing and speaking, I am declaring His truth and the freedom available through Jesus Christ. He is calling me to help people see themselves as God sees them (I got a taste of this while working at a pregnancy center - mm hmm). 

The Lord is calling me to fully develop the giftings He placed within me so I can run the race. I am no longer satisfied to sit on the sidelines. Or merely walk on the traditional track, dressed in the established warm-up suit and shoes, striding in that perfect, acceptable way. I am loving the freedom!

Freedom Not Perfection
What gave me the courage to step out? What gave me the freedom to begin to live the life the Father had planned for me? My desire to honor and glorify God is stronger than my apprehension and fears. And the realization that "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me". Philippians 4:13 ESV 

The LORD is my strength and my shield; in Him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to Him. Psalm 28:7 ESV

Do I feel those old insecurities at times? Of course, but I then remember to take every thought captive (2 Corinthians 10:5). Have I encountered opposition? Absolutely, on every front imaginable but I persevere. Some days are better than others. Some days I can stand victoriously and some days I struggle. It is a battle. But I know who wins the war!

Do I get it right every time? No. I have missed the mark plenty of times but I keep moving forward. Grace is a wonderful thing! 

What Conforming Does
In making the compromise of conforming to this world, we concede who God created us to be. We deny the uniqueness He intends for us to bring to the Kingdom. 

Conforming to this world is confusing, mind numbing, spirit silencing, and heart wrenching. It leads us places we were never intended to go, doing things we were never intended to do. We shut down parts of ourselves that God has purpose in while embracing things that were never intended to be part of us. 

It drains us. It discourages us. It cripples us, disabling us spiritually. We battle within ourselves daily until we no longer know our own voice let alone recognize the voice of the Spirit.

When we conform to this world, we miss out. We’re robbed of the blessings of living the life God planned for us. And we deprive those around us of our uniqueness.

The Lord's Plans
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11

Yes, the Lord has plans for us. He has a calling on each and every one of our lives. He has placed giftings within each of us. No two of us are exactly alike, we are each a special blend. Priceless. Precious.

I am a lover of teas. All kinds. My favorite is English breakfast, a combination of various black teas. To me, it is the best blend with a depth of flavor that my palate craves. Whenever I drink basic black tea, I miss the blend and all that the other teas bring to the cup. 

We've each been created as a special blend, a blessed combination of qualities and giftings. Conforming to the world changes the blend, the uniqueness, the specialness that God has placed in us. It limits us and what we have to offer. Why should I settle for a black tea when I have a cupboard stocked with the rich English Breakfast blend? 

Life often distorts our view of ourselves but God delights in restoring truth. He is in the beauty from ashes business. No matter what path we have taken or how far from God we may have run, He can bring resurrection to our gifts and calling. For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable. Romans 11:29 They are a permanent part of our being. Nothing can strip them from us, nothing. Hallelujah!

So, do we deny the gifts He has placed in us to pursue conformity? Do we reject the calling He has on our lives? Do we miss out on the blessing of being His ambassador, His hands and feet? 

Heads up! If we don’t fulfill our plans and purposes, someone else will be given the honor and privilege of carrying them out. The Kingdom of God will move forward with or without us. I know I don't want to be left behind. 

I am not a cow. I refuse to conform to the world's standards. I embrace the purposes of the Lord, the uniqueness He has placed within me. And I honor the uniqueness He has placed within each of you.

Let's get to work!

For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen. Romans 11:36 ESV