Saturday, March 26, 2016

Why Did Jesus Fold The Napkin?


The Gospel of John (20:7) tells us that the napkin, which was placed over the face of Jesus, was not just thrown aside like the grave clothes. The Bible takes an entire verse to tell us that the napkin was neatly folded, and was placed at the head of that stony coffin.

Early Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. She ran and found Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved.

She said, “They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and I don’t know where they have put him!”

Peter and the other disciple ran to the tomb to see. The other disciple outran Peter and got there first. They stooped, looked in and saw the linen cloth lying there, but did not go in.Then Simon Peter arrived and went inside. He also noticed the linen wrappings laying there, while the cloth that had covered Jesus’ head was folded up and lying to the side.

Was that important? Absolutely! Is it really significant? Yes!

In order to understand the significance of the folded napkin, you have to understand a little about Hebrew tradition of that day. The folded napkin had to do with the Master and the Servant, and every Jewish boy knew this tradition.

When the servant set the dinner table for the master, he made sure that it was exactly the way the master wanted it. The table was furnished perfectly and then the servant would wait, just out of sight, until the master had finished eating. The servant would not dare touch that table until the master was finished.

Now if the master were done eating, he would rise from the table, wipe his fingers, his mouth, clean his beard, and then he would wad that napkin and toss it onto the table. The servant would then know to clear the table. For in those days, the wadded napkin meant, “I’m done.”

But if the master got up from the table, folded the napkin, and laid it beside his plate, the servant would not dare touch the table, because . . . the folded napkin meant, “I’m coming back!”

**** I loved this so much I wanted to share it with you. The tomb is empty, but Jesus is coming back! 

Praise God!
Happy Easter! 




(Why did Jesus fold the napkin? author unknown)

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

A Spiritual Immune System

We all know what it’s like to have a strong immune system. You rarely get a cold or the flu. If you do, its life is cut short because your natural defense, the immune system, takes care of it. It’s the rapid responder for your body.

Most of our life, if we’re healthy, we really don’t think too much of the giant immune machine that keeps us healthy. From our skin to organs that produce enzymes and blood vessels, we are protected.
But when we do get sick from a virus or bacterial infection and our immune or defense system is weak, we know immediately that we need help. Most of the time we have to go to the doctor and then on to the pharmacy to get medication. If your immune system is very weak, your whole body comes under attack which weakens you even further in all areas of life – emotional, physical, and cognitive.

During the holy season of Lent, I try to do something to take my faith deeper. This year, I decided to evaluate and work on my spiritual immune system. I had been running in overtime for several months. Never getting ahead. Always staying behind. And two days into Lent a situation occurred that tried me further. I was caught in the middle of two groups that were at odds. As both groups hit me up with their complaint of the other one, I almost let my emotions get out of hand. The operative word is almost.

Before any damage could be done, I remembered my Lent promise to work on my spiritual immune system. I could tell my normal easy going nature had frayed. Now it was threatening to break. So before approaching either group with a solution or a termination, I went to the Lord in prayer. I truly felt God had me in this position for a purpose.

God brought me straight to Galations 6:9.


Let us not grow weary in doing good. Do not lose heart.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. I felt an immediate release- a type of peace solvent that spread throughout my body. I continued to meditate over this verse and truly felt it was telling me to approach the situation quietly, faithfully, and optimistically. I needed to listen to each complaint with love and not fall victim to the temptation to get frustrated and say something I might regret in the future.

Dr. David Jeremiah once said, “Nothing tests the integrity of our faith like our response to temptation.”

I regret that I was tempted to react in a less than fruitful way. Had my immune system been healthier, I hope I would have done the right thing immediately. But my immune system had been tortured for weeks. When that happened, I was also taxing my time with God. Communing with Him is what slows the heartbeat down and re-centers my life. At the point of a break, I realized I had not been putting on my armor daily and honing up on my defenses against temptation.

It’s amazing how God can allow you to turn back to your old ways just to show you there is no way without Him. My journey through Lent has proven invaluable. I have set new priorities to build up my body and spiritual immune system.

Those priorities have been to start each day with deliberate and determined time with God. To worship Him. To fellowship with Him. I’ve taken my ministries to God to see if this is where He needs me to be in this season of my life. I’ve walked outside daily, sometimes several times a day and listened to creation singing. I have captured words from scripture and feasted on them all day long. I have resisted stress. I’ve slept more. I’m taking vitamins rather than buying them to fill my cabinets. I’m drinking more water. I’m laughing more. I’m doing more of the things I should be doing and less of the things that I should not be doing.

God gave us a marvelous gift in our well designed body. To keep it in top running condition, we need to keep it fueled with food and healthy life choices. As followers of Christ, we’ve been gifted with a spiritual immune system. In order for us to keep it at peak performance, we often need to pull away from life’s stressors and re-center our lives in God’s teachings, His Word.

Has this season of your life been stressful? Have you turned to God to get help in reevaluating your priorities in life?

Trust me. It might be the most important thing you do for yourself.

Blessings,


Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Footprints In The Sand: Her Story

This is a totally different post for me, but it’s one God placed on my heart. Over several weeks, I kept feeling the need to revisit the poem “Footprints in the Sand.” My schedule has been so hectic that I continued to push it off. Well, my schedule got completely wiped out after a surgery, and one morning I woke up and this poured out. I hope God knows who needs to read this. I pray I honored Him by writing it. ~ God’s blessings to you, Angela


Daunting dreams plagued my sleep. I was at my wits end. The last night it happened, I got up, slipped on my robe, and went out to sit on the porch. I could hear the waves lapping at the shoreline. The stars were in abundance, shining so brightly I felt I could see forever. I heard a dog barking in the distance. The treble behind the bark sounded irritated and lonely. I understood.

Over the last few years my foundational roots had been shaken. My husband announced he needed some space. Needed to think about where his life was going. What he was really trying to say was he didn’t want me. I got it, but it still hurt. That was three years ago. After a year of watching him disappear from my life, I was given a hefty settlement, bought a small bungalow on the beach, and sulked.

The first six months I walked the beach daily, sometimes two or three times a day. I tried not to think about where life was going or what I was going to do with the rest of mine. When I wasn’t walking, I was lying on the couch doing nothing but staring at the ceiling. There are five cracks up there. I’ve named them all. Anger. Insult. Fear. Loss. Brokenness. It doesn’t help that they don’t talk back to me. It makes me feel inconsequential like the sixth crack that’s just surfaced near the kitchen.

When I got the call that mother was dying, I told my brother I’d come home. On day three I packed a small bag and left. The drive was excruciating. Our last visit had been wonderful, too wonderful. She kept telling all the things I wish I felt; wish my husband had told me. I knew she meant it, but it didn’t heal what had grown inside me, killing me like cancer was killing her.

At the funeral, I sat with my brother and his family. My son called the morning of the funeral with bold excuses of his corporate life on steroids. Not one word about his grandmother. Not even a second to ask about his mother. His last comment was “stay strong”. Ass.

All of this and more . . . one disappointment after another kept ravaging me. I lost focus of the gorgeous sky, the soothing rhythm of the waves, and the wind gently ruffling my hair. I was steeped in a cesspool and didn’t want out.

When the sun crested over the horizon spreading orange stripes across a purple-gray mass, I got up and began my morning walk. In the wee hours of the morning I had searched to find a reason to exist, to move forward. I found none. Looking out across the expanse of sand, I watched life scurrying around with purpose. I dropped my head and noticed one set of footprints.

I stopped to examine them, seeing them stretch out as far as the eye could see. When I looked backed down I slipped my foot into the nearest impression. It slid in as if it were the perfect glass slipper. So I kept walking, burying my feet into each footprint. The stride was perfect, almost as if I had walked this earlier.

As I progressed forward the steps grew deeper, more mired down. I felt tension rising, realizing this was my life spread out before me. Alone. Abandoned. Forsaken. My heart throbbed, and I began to cry. Tears flowed freely. By now I could barely lift my feet out of the sand. Each depression came halfway up my calf.

Exhausted I sank to my knees, drawing my torso down, head to knee, and closed my eyes. A natural rocking motion began. An image of Mama surfaced. She was pulling me into her lap, wrapping her arms around my fifteen year old body, and humming. Mama always hummed when she felt words would fall flat. So I began to hum and rock and hum and rock, keeping Mama’s face held tightly behind closed lids.

The wind began to pick up, disrupting my rocking as it tossed me side-to-side, and blurring Mama’s image as my eyes flew open. The waves were pounding the surf. The skies had deepened into angry black thunder clouds. Out of fear, I ran, trying to keep my feet within the footprints, but they were filling in and disappearing. Lightning coursed the sky. Thunder shook the earth. Rain pelted, stinging as it hit exposed skin.

Throwing my hand to my forehead to shield my eyes, I tried to look ahead for some type of protection. That’s when I noticed that all the footprints were gone. Nothing was in sight. I turned toward the expanse of anger rupturing the sky and screamed, “Where are You?” I pounded my feet until they became encased in sand-mire. I was pinned, looking out at creation mimicking my storm, my brokenness.

I raised my fist toward the crackling, fiery sky, “Where are You? You said you’d never leave me. You’re no better than anyone else in my life. You’ve abandoned me, too.”

The wind whirled around me but I dug in, shaking my fist over and over again in open defiance. I beat at the wind, and the wind beat back. I felt I was in the fight for my life. Every pent up despair, disappointment, and discouragement flew out of my mouth, even things I had long forgotten. I battled the storm harder, struggling to keep my balance until my arms finally dropped, numb from exertion. That’s when I noticed the large wave in front of me rising higher and higher, aimed for a direct hit.

Right before impact, I lowered my head, squeezed my eyes shut, and whispered, “Save me, Lord. I need You.”

A soothing mist lit on my skin, fingertips of cooling moisture. The wind ceased its turbulence, and the sun’s rays warmed my back. The earth had silenced and stilled.

Keeping my eyes closed, I lifted my head to embrace the warmth, letting it seep deep into my soul. I inhaled, expanding my chest, letting the heady fragrance of salt spray and sea life linger before opening my eyes. And there they were . . . footprints. Not one set, but two.

God had never left me. Never abandoned me. He was there through all the broken mess of life. As I gazed upward, I saw a rainbow stretching across the horizon. God’s promise. I felt the stirrings of renewal and rebirth. I’d left so much behind thinking I wasn’t worthy and couldn’t cope. I remembered all the cards, letters, phone calls, texts, and emails. I had answered none of them; and yet, they still came.

Hope. I felt it streaming inside me like a living being filling me up. “Thank you, Lord for never leaving me when I walked away. Strengthen me as I walk back into life. Speak courage and love over me until I believe it again. In You I will finally find wholeness.”

I ran home. I couldn’t wait to open the door to a new life, knowing who I am is not who I was, but who I will be in Christ.



Thursday, March 3, 2016

Disruptive Moments?!?!


Disruptive moments

I think we all have them. Most of us find them annoying. Nothing good can come from the disorder or turmoil of having a planned schedule foiled. Right? 

That was my thinking on day two after surgery; staring at my calendar, knowing all my good intentions and planning were for naught. I had not planned well. My calendar was packed – appointments, teaching schedules, meeting with friends, writing assignments, social media updates, keeping in touch with family, and doing all those mundane, everyday chores. 

Well, halfway through day two, and out of total desperation, I picked up my Bible. It fell open to Jeremiah 29, and my eyes automatically went to the highlighted verse 11.

 “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.”

I read and reread this many times, soaking in the words, marinating in the promises. Yes, I was going to be down for several days. My schedule would have to be erased and events penciled in for a later time. But what I realized was I had an opportunity to get re-centered. So while my body was healing from the surgery, I had the opportunity to create some precious moments with Jesus to refuel my soul. It was like an “aha” moment. That’s when I remembered Margaret Feinberg’s method of fighting back unsettling times with God’s light of joy.



Margaret is a wonderful teacher on recapturing God’s blessings when everything seems dark and out of control. You have to purpose yourself to poke holes in the dark and let in the light to fight back Satan’s darts of discontent, worry, and angst. It’s recovery time, not worry time. 

I’m on day nine. I’m still healing, physically and spiritually. It’s been a tremendous recovery on the spiritual realm. So here I am, praising God for disruptive moments, days, and more. I’ve enjoyed letting go and saturating in God’s love. What a wonderful, restorative choice to let God fill in all the desperate corners with Himself.  



Praying that you’ll sense God’s overflowing goodness toward you as you rest in His care.

Blessings,