Time to Ponder

I woke this morning with a prayer on my lips, "Lord, help me!". In the business of life the load of what must be done and what my heart desires to do can feel like a storm. The days are good and yet, like a fine catch after a night of fishing, the blessings threaten to tear the net. As I padded through the house sleepy-eyed, I chanted my cry to God, "Help me, help me, help me." Simultaneously, my mind was prioritizing the tasks and responsibilities on my list. All the while a disturbing thought kept whipping at my chance for a peaceful morning; when will I find time today to sit and ponder? How will I write this blog? Before I was through my first cup of coffee I had received a response.

"Transformed by Beholding," today's title of Oswald's devotional, was a truth that calmed the building storm within me. He writes; "The most important rule for us is to concentrate on keeping our lives open to God." The necessity of being transparent as well dependent on God was a timely reminder. Though our days will certainly be full of could's, the seeking child will have one primary must: time to behold the Lord. Oswald continues; "Never let a hurried lifestyle disturb the relationship of abiding in Him." There it is. The confirmation that my desire to sit at the Lord's feet was the highest priority of the day. The rest will be blessed for my investment. The power of the tithe principle extends beyond our purse into any gift we offer in praise and thankfulness. The joyful giver has the promise of God's blessing: give to God off the top and watch Him return your gift ten-fold.

"But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own," (Matthew 6:33-34).

The lesson is simple and perhaps not earth shaking...unless you're prone to respond to the roaring wind of life and take your eyes off the Lord. Charles Stanley's life principle; "Obey God and leave all the consequences to Him," replaces my fret-filled chant and my spirit once again relaxes. Ahhh, now I can ponder.

The fascinating reality God hears us when we cry out to him for help and responds is priceless. The lessons of the past week came to mind and I remembered the quick hand of Jesus in Matthew 14. Peter's cry for help was met with an immediate response from Jesus, His hand rescuing him from sinking in the sea. Likewise, the WORD's mighty hand was quick to keep this child from drowning in her sea of STUFF! Thank you Jesus!

Like Peter I stepped out of the boat onto the water in faith, but once my feet touched down the whirlwind of responsibility became a ferocious wind. The habit of hearing and focusing on the wind, dies hard. Nonetheless, our minds can be transformed. Determined to trust in the Word of the Lord, I put off the things of the world and fill my cup again. The world can wait a little longer...my Savior is calling.

So here is the fruit of putting God first. My blog is done and it's not even 8a.m. God is sooo good!

Surfing the Sea of Faith

Our eldest son, Todd, is an avid surfer. He is drawn to the beach like I am drawn to the keyboard. Year long, he works his will to cross sandy beaches to wade in the salty surf, a piece of fiberglass tucked under his arm. Todd is through and through an Otter: playful, cute and adored by many. His amphibian ways amaze me as I watch him lead his young into the foamy sea, no sign of worry on his brow. Travis--his only son--takes to the water like his dad. Running as fast as his two-year-old legs will move him, he races past his sisters to ride on the tip of his father's board. Keeping to shallow water, the two surf on a single board with smiles as wide as the horizon. It is a wonderful sight to behold, their freedom upon the water. For I stand--my feet buried in the sand--with fear anchoring me to the shore. However, this wasn't always the case.

I have wonderful childhood memories of visits to my dad's house on the Long Beach peninsula. In those days,my sisters and I could be found at the beach from dawn until long past sunset. Hunger would finally turn our feet towards home. Sunburned, sandy and with ocean combed hair we padded into the house bursting with a day's length of stories to tell. Like the time we sent Julie, the youngest into the wild surf nestled in a blow-up canoe. I'll never forget the look of terror in her eyes as a giant swell loomed over her head and the dear little thing clutched the sides for dear life. Helpless we watch the wave crash down upon her, pitching the canoe high in the air. Never fearing she could have been swept out to sea, we searched the foam for sight of her. Once it was discovered she was safe and secure, we fought over who would go next!

I loved the ocean. I loved digging in the sand, soaring on the crest of a wave about to curl and gliding on foam till I beached like a whale. I travelled the length of the beach, journeyed out to the misty end of its jetty. I mocked the tide under stilted houses in search of crabs.(Note to fellow explorers, an octopus can quadruple in size when hoisted out of the water!) I sailed upon the sea, fished her depths and hunted her many creatures with a rod in my hand. I was my father's daughter if for no other reason that I enjoyed the sea.

Then...one day Julie and I discovered a five foot shark in the harbor. Fisherman had caught it the night before and cruelly cut out it's teeth. However, upon sighting it in two feet of water I declared it the deed of the day to rescue the poor creature. The plan was to move it into deeper water. Where in the world were my parents!

To make a long but adventurous story short, we took hold of the weakened creature, I at the head and Julie at the tail. We climbed upon the barrier wall separating the harbor and the bay and began to shimmy along the twelve inch wide surface fearless the two foot high start became nearly twenty at its end. We were determined. Yet, in the middle of our rescue mission, hysterical women took note of our work and began hollering for someone to save us. Now the spectacle of the bay, we questioned our heroic attempts while the lethargic shark began to stir. I think the shrill of the women agitated it: his mouth began slowly snapping in my hands. Now too far to abandon ship, we swayed with indecision. It was the sight of our Dad--racing like a road-runner down the beach--which caused us to ditch the plan. Charging down the bay, kicking up clouds of sand with his tongue tucked in the side of his mouth we knew we were in deep water. We quickly scurried back from which we came and dropped the shark onto a deathbed of sand. I still marvel that I held the head of a shark in my nine year old hands, balancing high above deep water and only feared my father's wrath.

As I write this I am amazed no trace of that courageous girl remains. Like a boat without a sail or rudder, she was somehow lost at sea.

For shortly after this shark adventure I had two others. One was on the big screen: our Dad remarkably thought his little beach bums would like JAWS! The other took place in the waves. Frozen with new found terror, I and a protective lifeguard watched as a baby blue shark--too close for comfort--slowly passed us by. My days of swimming in the ocean were over. I was now beached with fear.

Tragically, the efforts of a single man...we'll call him Steven Spielberg introduced me to fear. Before that stupid movie, I saw only the beauty and wonder of the ocean. Had I not seen man chomped on by great white jaws I'm certain I would have been thrilled by my close encounter. Nonetheless, my vision was changed and today I only see teeth and blood when my feet are in the water.

Which brings me finally to today's devotion. Oswald asks us the question, "Are you looking at God?" The picture of Peter climbing out of the boat and walking on water came to mind as I pondered what happens when we keep our eyes on Jesus. The idea that we can follow Jesus anywhere--even upon the surface of the sea when we keep our eyes focused on Him--drew me in. What a thrill it must have been to defy the laws of nature and tread where no man had gone before. What puzzles me about this story is Peter's response in the midst of the miracle. Peter was a man of the sea. He was a fisherman by trade. He spent his days and nights drifting upon the water all the while casting his nets. I find it fascinating this bold, brash seaman was suddenly afraid of the wind. Certainly, he had weathered storms in the open waters. What then could have shaken his confidence on the water or weighted him with fear until he began to sink?

I believe Peter sank because he trusted more in the boat than the Savior. Out with Jesus upon the water Peter would have to trust the unknown. Stripped of any earthly security or knowledge he had only his faith to keep him afloat. Tragically, he knew more of the ferocious winds on the Sea of Galilee than the God who created them.

Peter's knowledge of the winds power upstaged the goodness of God. Had Peter paused to consider his situation perhaps this story would have been different. Taking time to realize that Jesus was for him and not against him might have defeated his fear. For as he sank into the waves he cried out, "Lord, save me!" (Matthew 14:30). Peter's plea for Jesus to save him tells me he knew Jesus could. That means Peter must have feared not the wind, but Jesus faithfulness not to leave him or forsake him.

If I am correct in my assumption (and this is an assumption), I absolutely understand Peter's plight. I know Jesus, I have experienced his saving hand many times. I know he loves me and seeks to bless me. So why have I allowed fear to steal a childhood joy? I confess there is only one answer.

"Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. 'You of little faith,' he said, 'why did you doubt?" (Matthew 14:31).

I am doubting God's faithfulness when I refuse to go in the water! God is the same today as he was when I was nine. The same love and kindness which protected me years ago covers me still. My hyper attempts to prevent my becoming shark bait have become a wall between my Savior and I: a wall built over thirty-three years. I can see the Lord racing towards me...kicking up a cloud of sand. This father stretches his hands out to save me and I in response do not fear his wrath.

Jesus, forgive me! You have opened my eyes to my "little faith." How quick you were to rescue Peter. "Immediately," you reached out your hand,(Matthew 14:31). I pray you will give me courage to trust your hand on land and water! Until I do so, you are not truly Lord of my life. Bring back my childhood courage...the Tracy who loved the sea.

I think again of Todd and Travis in the water: a picture of peace as they surf the waves. A visual of a father teaching his son to fully trust his Savior. What a beautiful thing. What amazing faith!

I tremble as I type these words...
Todd...I think it's time I went surfing!

Remember Who You Are

I remember sitting with my son and husband waiting for the newly released movie to begin. The theater buzzed from parents issuing directions to their young cubs and the gleeful disregard of their offspring. Then suddenly as if a spell were cast, the crowd is hushed as the giant screen comes to life. A small stir in the seats as the usual credits scroll before us and then nothing. For a few seconds the screen goes black and the slate of my mind is wiped clear of subliminal messages. The darkness is powerful, unsettling and holds every one's attention. We are forced to behold the darkness.

Then like a bolt of lighting and crack of thunder, there is light. A tangerine sun bursts onto the screen to the wail of an African song and I am commanded to remember a beginning. The great ball of light continues its ascent over a dark shadowy plane, casting its rays of life on every living creature. I sit reeling in my seat, my skin dancing, as a tale I know well plays out before me. A king is born and all of creation draws near, to get a glimpse at their future Savior. Time is reset and a new story begins. Then as quickly as it came upon us the vision is gone...but my memory was absolutely stirred.

Disney's The Lion King will always hold a special affection for me. Partly because it was my sons first of many Disney obsessions and, priceless memories of wildlife adventures, video games, costumes and well loved furry companions are attached to the amazing film. Nonetheless, I am also very fond of this inspiring tale because it speaks to me of my own obsession with a King.

While I thought we were at the theater that day for our sweet son, I've come to realize it was also for me. God would use this story again and again in my ministry to draw me back to THE beginning, MY beginning and the truth: He has a plan for my life. Though blood lines rise against me, and insecurities may prompt me to flee my post, my Father seeks me in the dark of night and gently calls to me, "remember who you are."

Who am I? I ponder the question.

Oswald invites us today to "recall what God remembers," of our journey together. While my mind is drawn to recall my failures and stumbling faults, the Spirit of Love remembers my pure devotion. This unyielding truth encourages my retreat to the land of my first days upon the GREAT ROCK. Newly inspired, my mind rolls back the scroll of years to the time of my rebirth: when I was held up by God for the heavenly kingdom to behold...a newborn child of the King. I can hear the Angels erupt in praise. I can see saints kneel in adoration before the throne. I know their eyes are not on me, they look to the One who holds me. Their worship-filled chorus fills my ears and speaks to my virgin heart of the Love I will come to know.
The purest envy conveyed in their song.

In my spiritual youth my Father captivated me. He held my heart, inspired my steps and stole my breath with His glory. I was in awe of Him. Days of watching him at work and marveling in His manner were plentiful. Few distractions stole me from His side. My Father was my favorite companion and ever conquering hero. How like the playful cub, I sought His affections in the early morning and His time of instruction in the afternoon. I felt invincible in the shadow of His glorious mane.

In those days my Father showed me His kingdom and told me of my future inheritance: a view unlike any to be seen. Still, my sinful nature was drawn to the shadows and though instructed never to venture beyond the light, I had lessons to learn.

Like Simba, my young mind was not yet conditioned to fully comprehend my Father's rules and boundaries. There was darkness to conquer and my paws were itching to prove myself. I disobeyed the King, and I dare say exasperated a few servants in the process. Yet, my Father knew I was eager to take my rightful place in the kingdom and kept his watchful eye upon me, as I foolishly thought myself stronger than I was. Before I could wear the crown of righteousness, I would have to sever the ties of my past which kept pulling me back into the shadows.

My journey lead me to a graveyard as well--of my past, my parents and my pride--yet unlike Simba, I walked the valley of death in the presence of my Father. Though the devil's servants licked their chomps eager to devour me in the process, the mighty hand of God kept them at bay. While they were not allowed to touch me, their presence was awfully intimidating, for I could hear their teeth chatter. Oh, yes, the time in the shadows was challenging: for the enemy roamed around looking to destroy me.

But, He who is in me is greater than He who is in the world,(1 John 4:4)

By the Grace of God I persevered. I fought the good fight and after a gnarly battle with the devil himself, I too--in the power of Christ--defeated the enemy. My own journey through the tomb matured me. The Lord sent down from heaven rain to wash away my sins and fire to purify my soul. Afterwards, I stepped back into the light, looking more like my Father than before. The past behind me, my homeland was restored and I was free to stand unashamed upon the Great Rock. The joy of a great love welling up fond memories, beckoning me to remember.

In the days to come I would find the scene played out again. Only this time all creation roared as my offspring, wide eyes blinking, is held up for heaven to behold. Together we would play in the grass and no doubt wrestle...his temperament so like mine. Yet, I would remember the words of my Father and I would lead him to the Great Rock: upon its foundation show him the Kingdom. Recalling my own journey I would warn of the shadow land and make known the boundaries. Though I know his own nature will tempt him to cross them. While my heart desires to chain him to the Rock of Jesus, I know I have not the power to do so. He will be called to battle his spirit's foe just as I was. When I ponder what his graveyard will behold, I force myself to remember...he will not travel the valley of death alone, for he will do so in the presence of his Father.

The story is indeed about a "circle of life," (The Lion King). The circle of love that begins and ends with the Alpha and Omega. The cycle of birth, death and resurrection which the King of Kings begat is our eternal inheritance. A destiny our Father cares too much to allow us to forget. So he seeks us in the dark of night and wrestles with us in the light of day. God lovingly tends to us like a Father should. And though along our journey we may stumble or cross boundaries, or Father will be faithful to remind us...Remember who you are.

My time of reflection helps me answer the question, "Who am I?" With a spirit of thankfulness, I remember my true love and humbly proclaim by His hand...

I am Tracy Lynn Lane Frazier the creation of the great I AM. I am a repetitive sinner, FORGIVEN and saved through the loving sacrifice of Jesus Christ: the one and only Son of the Most High God. I am a recipient of divine grace. I am a child who lives by faith, indwelled by the Holy Spirit, who seeks to do the will of her heavenly Father. I am a saint in the process of sanctification. I am a warrior in a spiritual battle,(my very name means warrior)! I am a victor with Christ over the grave. I am a daughter of the King, a princess of the Kingdom of Heaven who is anxious for her crown.

Now, I echo Oswald and place before you the question; "Who are you?"

Ponder before you answer the question, for the enemy will whisper lies in your ear. DON'T believe him!! Keep close to the Father and remember WHO YOU ARE!

Day Old Bread

There is a picture of me as a very small child, sitting in our front yard with only a well worn pair of tidy whities on. Though I am sitting and looking calm, my hair-going this way and that-depicts my true childhood nature. My little legs baring the marks of adventurous days roaming Cullen St., well at least our end of it.

I'm certain there were few things in those days that could cause me to pause and be still. Perhaps that is what prompted my mom to take the picture; we didn't take many photos back then. However, there I sit, in a moment of sweet pleasure as my chubby cherub hand stuffs a piece of bread in my mouth. I am in "Wonder bread" heaven; with my lips pursed and my cheeks full of dough.

The secret to taming me in those days was a soft, fresh smelling piece of bread. Plain, with butter, topped with peanut butter and jelly, it was all good. Mm mm. Sometimes, I would make a bread ball. I proudly claimed it as my own recipe. Take two pieces of FRESH bread, nibble off the crust, then mash one piece into a small ball, wrap the second piece over the first and squeeze it into a larger ball, then take a bite. The first bite was always the best! I loved the feel of my teeth cutting through the dense, doughy sphere. Who needed chocolate when there was bread!

When I was five years old my parents divorced, forcing our mom to find employment to support her four girls. Money was sparse and so was the pantry. For several years powdered milk, butter and grape jelly were the only constant staples in our home. We didn't starve, but I have many memories of trying to be creative at finding something to eat. I do not recommend Mayonnaise with peanut butter!

One day, I noticed there were a few pieces of bread left in the bag on the counter. Anticipating the satisfaction of biting into a bread ball, I tore into the package. To my dismay, the bread was a bit stiff and had a yeasty smell. I stripped off the stale crust and tossed it into the trash, and proceeded to mash the slice as usual. The stale bread only crumbled in my hand, leaving me terribly unsatisfied.

Though I no longer sit in the yard wearing just my underpants, I still enjoy a slice of bread now and then. Le Diplomat Cafe's French bread with creamy butter...ooh, la, la!

I must say, the idea that this picture popped in my mind as I was meditating on today's devotional is amazing. It really speaks to me of the plan of God and the threads he weaves in our lives. Considering the lesson he was kneading in my mind, I can't help but be moved when I look at this photo. The Lord who knit me together in my mother's womb, wove in me a passion for bread. Today, I still love sinking my teeth into bread, however, now there is a bread I savor more than all the rest, Jesus Christ.

"Jesus declared, 'I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry," (John 6:35).

Growing up there were times when I did go hungry: times when there was no bread in the house. Tragically, being raised in a faithless home, I nearly starved to death for lack of spiritual bread as well. Yet, God had a plan.

In the days of Moses, God tended to his children-the Israelite nation-by sending down bread from heaven: they feasted on manna the forty years in the desert. Yet, the manna in the Old Testament was to nourish and sustain their physical bodies only. However, God intended His chosen to have manna for their souls as well; a bread that could sustain them eternally. Moses spoke to the Israelites about the bread which was to come;

"He (God) humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you or your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every Word that comes from the mouth of the Lord," (Duet 8:3).

Jesus is the Word.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning," (John 1:1)

How wonderful God in His loving care provided manna for His spiritual children as well! Jesus was sent down to us from heaven as manna: to be our daily bread.

"Give us this day our daily bread," (Matthew 6:11).

Daily implies FRESH! With the Lord, day old bread won't do. A life of gathering manna each morning means we will live in the rich, savory aroma of freshly baked bread. There is only one alternative for God's children, and that is to dwell in the stench of rotting bread which smells of yeast and mold.

"However, some of them paid no attention to Moses; they kept part of it until morning, but it was full of maggots and began to smell," (Exodus 16:20).

The lesson teaches that if we try to live off today's manna tomorrow, we are not following God's direction,and we too will feast on spiritual maggots. We need to heed the warning that a life with Christ is a daily journey. Therefore the Bread of Life should be part of our daily diet.

I find it awesome that we feast on eternal manna from heaven when we chew on the Word of God.

So I ask myself a few things:
-Is my spiritual life fresh?
-Does it have a pleasant aroma?
-Is my spirit soft and pliable?
-Do others savor my company?

Pondering these questions the WORD comes to me;

"And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, 'This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me," (Luke 22:19).

I don't eat the Bread of Life just because it tastes good. I savor the Savior and remember...with each bite.

Waiting Out the Silent Storm

I couldn't help but notice the parallel between today's devotional, "Vision and Darkness" and the storm filled sky with its ominous clouds. The weather was certainly not looking like the "vision" I had for a God day. The rain has been falling for hours and still there seems no end to the downpour. Our backyard haven has become a swamp; the pool-a drab brown-looks more like a pond. The wind whips the trees around and everything feels vulnerable as lightning cracks through the thunderous roar of the rain, briefly illuminating the sky and window pane.

The weather-man warned us of the storm to come and like a prophecy...it is upon us!

Storms have an uncanny way to both awe and terrify us. I'm thrilled to see the lightning flash through the sky. Oh, for the thrill of spotting a veiny bolt etch across the horizon. Yet, ask me to go outside in the midst of an electric storm and you'd get a stern look. "No way!" Likewise, I love the rain. The friendly pitter-patter on a roof can be very soothing. Why, add a fire and warm beverage and you've got a cozy little ambiance. Still, how quickly the fire is forgotten and the beverage left to get cold, when the "Drip, drip, drop, little April shower" turns to Niagara Falls, and your neighbor's boat is suddenly knocking at your front door!

I am awed by the power of God in a storm.
I can be terrified when the storm feels like God's wrath and causes everything to appear out of control.

Moments or seasons when God becomes silent, can feel like a severe storm,
even a foreboding disaster, somehow brought on by my sinful nature.

However, Oswald declares God's silence is not always caused by falling out of step with Him. On the contrary, there are times when God hits His mute button as a disciplinary measure. His attempt to redirect my attention back on Him. This is a time I should sit still and wait for God to speak. Moving out from under God's covering in the midst of the storm is dangerous behavior. This is a time to apply trust and wait out the storm. No matter how life thunders around me.

Our faith is meant to be grounded in our trust of God alone. He goes on to warn that our faith is only on the rock when it is not placed in people, books, blessings, even our prayers. We know this...right?

I sense Oswald is saying we may think our faith is in God, when in reality it is in all the people and things associated with our spiritual life: supportive family and friends, our spiritual mentors, bible study resources or our blessed lives. These are only instruments to help us in our walk, but they are never meant to sustain us through the journey. That role is for God alone. It's like having faith in a light bulb and lamp to give you light and not the electricity which they depend on.

The rain is but a mist now. It appears the worst of the storm has passed for today, though more rain is in the forecast for tomorrow. As I sit and look out the window I am amazed at the transformation of our backyard. The water is now drained leaving a fresh clean look to the stone pavers: tiny puddles of gold glistening on their faces. The landscape pops with vibrant colors of: fuschia, purple, blue and every shade of green. The pool is still murky, but I have faith in the filter! The storm clouds are rolling their fury over to another town revealing a glorious canvas of blue sky in their wake. The beauty of the glistening garden drew me out into the yard where I paused to take in the sight and scents following heaven's purification. That's when it hit me.

I turned to the west to check the horizon and found myself blinded by the sun. The silent giant, bright with white light hung secure in the sky. Moved not an inch from his post by the storm. I stood still and allowed the sun's rays to wash over me as a whisper spoke to my soul.

"The sun will no more be your light by day,
nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,
for the Lord will be your everlasting light,
and your God will be your glory.
Your sun will never set again,
and your moon will wane no more;
the Lord will be your everlasting lights,
and your days of sorrow will end." (Isaiah 60:19-20NIV).

Holding onto a vision from God in the darkness of His silence can feel impossible.
Yet, just as the sun rises every morning, we can rest assured God is still on the throne behind the clouds. The Alpha and Omega, is our strength, and hope: the One we must turn to come rain or shine!

Let Them See LOVE

I confess I am a pushover for a good love story. Since a teenager I have been drawn to the works of the Bronte' sisters, Jane Austen, Margaret Mitchell and the like. Their stories were of deep devotion and transforming love. Yet, when I consider why these love stories were so impacting on my heart, I find the element of suffering to be a component of all. The journey of each heroine includes struggle, loss, hope, and deep longing; despair in the pursuit of a great love. Pain plays a part of the great quest!

Why must love hurt? A short answer would be, no pain, no gain. However, that is both trite and unsatisfying. So I look at the association between love again and again and a picture forms in my mind.

The stars hung in the sky, yet their light paled in comparison to the One kneeling in the garden. Love compelling Him to humble Himself and deny the power which He IS.
The journey had been long for the Master: a thousand years times thirty-three. Still, His eyes-though wet with grief-stay fixed upon the Father. His ancient purpose the highest goal.

Agony dripping from his crimson brow, He seeks earthly comfort. Glancing over His shoulder, He is reminded of the situation. Scattered upon the grass, fast asleep, his little lambs bay a slumber chorus. All,unaware of the wolves climbing the hill. His heart aches with love for them: the sleepy crew who is never truly awake. Oh, but how He would shake them and wake them up to eternity come three morns!

I see love when I look at the cross. The love of God in the gift of His Holy Son. The love of a Holy Son, submitting to the will of His Father. Love is also found in the weeping man, who feared pain and tore himself from the hand of God, only to experience a far greater injury. I hear love in the wails of the women upon the shadowed hill and in the dew drenched garden. Love wrenching their hearts, turning them inside out and causing them great despair as they thought their love story was at its end.

Behold the LOVE of God!

Their lantern light trail flickered in the distance announcing the start of a new Act. He could have handled them on His own. His very name spoken sent them reeling. Yet being LOVE, His care for them all subdued Him, so none would descend the hill wounded. The Almighty allowed vapors to bind His hands.

In every step taken between the worlds great pillars of darkness Jesus expressed love. When the whip of man's tongue cut His heart, He chose to show love. With every tear of His flesh, He expressed love by enduring the assault. The Lord poured out love, His very blood, through the streets of Jerusalem as he ascended Golgotha. His body a torn, messy, mass of loves expression. Love endured the horror of His mother's terror. Love tolerated the suffering of His sheep. Love, bore the wickedness of Hell, the massacre of his flesh, the tainting of His character, the torture of His Spirit as it was ripped-like the Temples curtain-away form God's presence. The creation shook, threw bolts of lighting and roared in agony on account of love! For He that created everything that was good out of love, absorbed all that was evil because of love.

"Love covers a multitude of sin," (1 Peter 4:8)

The cost of love is something we may not think about on a day to day basis when things are going well. Yet, sometimes circumstances change in the middle of the night and we are suddenly aware of the effort it takes to express true love. It is not likely we will all express love as Jesus did. Still, no doubt we must strive to-in His strength-pour love out in our stories.

Some of us will restrain our authority and power through meekness for love. Some, will suffer the pain of our loved ones suffering, as we walk through the valley of death or disease with them for love. Many of us will be challenged to chose love over the sins of others. Mothers, we like Mary, will place our children in the hands of God and trust the LOVE of our Father because of love.

Pain is no doubt part of the greatest romance stories. Deep love, will warrant great sacrifice. Jesus called us to love. It is a command. Therefore, we know we will suffer. However...

"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb...Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus' body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. They asked her, 'Woman, why are you crying?'
"They have taken my Lord(LOVE) away," she said, "and I don't know where they have put him." At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there...

"Woman," he said, "why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?" (John 20:1-15)

Like Mary's, in the painful parts of my love story, my tears can blur my vision, though Jesus stands before me. I too must answer the Lord's question in times of sorrow; "Who is it, Tracy, you are looking for?"

Dear God...I am looking for LOVE! Help me Father see Him. Give me the strength to express Jesus in my story.

The Gifts that Keep Giving

Today I have a new perspective on our spiritual gifts; the natural abilities granted to us by God. According to Romans 12:1-8 these gifts are intended to be used by Believers in the worship offering of their bodies-as living sacrifices-to the Lord.

"Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully," (Romans 12:1-8).

So we know that each of us has been given gifts by the Lord. Yet, I notice that the gifts mentioned in scripture do not pertain to anything we can obtain by our own efforts, rather they are woven in our nature. Oswald's message today states; "The call of God is an expression of His nature; the service which results in my life is suited to me and is an expression of my nature," (Jan 17). The spirit compelled to encourage should encourage, the spirit lead to teach ought to do so, and so on. This sounds simple enough...right?

The association of sacrifice with spiritual gifts has always brought a cloud of guilt with them for me. Since a believer, I have been encouraged and sometimes pressured to use my abilities in various ways. Well intended individuals sometimes use the "gifts card" like a cattle prod to fulfill their needs in ministry. This is so dangerous in kingdom work, truly just because you can doesn't mean you should. Stepping out of God's will, even in service, can bring less than God's best in consequences. I've learned to never respond upon request. I must take it to the Lord. When I have sought His desire, and feel sure of a "yes" or a "no", I accept or decline.

This is especially hard when you have a gift that can be used in the body of Christ that appears to be less common like...laying on of hands, playing the harp...even harvesting honey from a hive. Yet, for whatever reason, you are not led to use the gift at that time for that purpose. Sometimes, the void is part of God's bigger plan. I have wrestled with this at times when I have said, "No," to opportunities to serve at church or in the community. The peace that follows the proper response is our confirmation we've made the right decision.

Yet, turning these scriptures over in my head today, have given me a fresh perspective. The word "gift" was tripping me up. God gave me abilities that I should use in the church. Pressure! I have gifts to use in the home as well; wash dishes, fold clothes, organize a stocked pantry.(I truly dislike doing laundry.)

Then it dawned on me. God gave me "gifts!" That meant they were meant for ME! Looking back over the areas I have served in the body a smile broke out over my face. I have been blessed to serve God in the areas that I am PASSIONATE about: studying God's word, writing, theater, decorating, painting and more! God in His goodness, knew hearts devoted to Him would long to give back as an expression of love. Thereby, He gave me passions linked to abilities so my worshipful "offering of my body as a living sacrifice," would be joyful and wonderfully satisfying for me.

A friend comes to mind as I ponder this insight. For several years now he has been training dogs to aid in rescuing others. This has been more than a job, it has become a passion of his. Today, he is part of a rescue team actively serving in Haiti. The desire of his heart to help and save others through the use of his canine partners is being fulfilled. While some of us would step back from such a chance, our friend seeks such opportunities with joy.

How about you? Are you simply filling a need or are you expressing your nature in your area of service? God intends us to have joy in the receiving and serving.

Oswald's teaching proved to be a gift itself today.