Evangelicals: Look Deeper. Do Not Be Afraid.

I've been thinking a lot about the blessed virgin, our mother. Both because of Christmas and the readings of the season, and because of a heartbreaking women's Bible study about I attended earlier in December.

I did my best to represent her at the study. I knew I was walking into fire, so DiDi and I prepared in advance. I dug out my Mary binder, reminded myself of writings of the early church fathers and the reformers, and prayed. I identified the key points I wanted to make, and coached myself on keeping my mouth shut as much as possible, other than to stick to these minimal points.

It was more painful than I expected. I think it was even harder for DiDi though; I've been through it before, but this was her first time hearing so much disrespect after coming to understand who Mary is.

The study takes place in a non-denominational evangelical church with baptist roots. The doctrine of sola scriptura is flown like a banner when needed to direct discussion away from dangerous areas. But only then. If issues of Marian doctrine are raised, like the historic ancient understanding of her perpetual virginity, then the Bible-alone flag is tossed into the arena, shutting down further discussion or thought. But history and tradition are readily turned to by the authors of the study materials and by the group leader when the information agrees with their point.

It is, in effect, selective scriptura.

There is no way I could view Mary as this group does, and as hundreds of thousands of evangelicals do; the insignificant girl who just happened to bear Jesus. But I figured the best way to take on the discussion would be to approach it the way they did, by looking at the Gospel accounts alone. I'd disregard her interconnection to the old testament ark and covenant, and references to her in the book of Revelation.

And so we approach this girl, from the perspective of sola Evangealion.

Immediately we run into problems in evangelical doctrine. For example, how can scripture alone believers think that she had other children? Nowhere in the Bible does it say that she did. Scripture lists brothers and sisters of Jesus a number of times in many different contexts. But it never, ever uses the phrase "son of Mary" other than when referring to Christ himself.

So if we are sticking with scripture alone, why is there such mass acceptance of something that is extra-scriptural?

Evangelical tradition.

But here's a more interesting question. The question of whether Mary and Joseph ever actually completed the multiple steps of the ancient Jewish marriage process. In that day, the marriage contract was created at the time of betrothal, followed by a year-long waiting period (or more), followed by the actual marriage and celebratory feast.

Clearly Mary and Joseph were contracted to marry. But Luke 2 tells us that they were still only betrothed when they went to Bethlehem to be registered. According to Luke, they were not married at the time of Jesus' birth.

There is no scriptural reference to Mary and Joseph's actual wedding. There is no record of her ritual preparations, of the ceremonial waiting, of his stealing her away in the night. No record of his spending seven days with her in the chamber prepared in her father's house, whereupon the marriage would be consummated. There is no description of a wedding feast.

If I subscribe to the doctrine of sola scriptura, I would be wrong to assume that the marriage was completed. There is no record of it. It would be an assumption to think that it had been.

And weddings were a big deal; just look at the recounting of Cana.

Weddings are such a big deal that Holy Writ repeatedly describes our relationship with God as marital. The church is the bride. The Lamb's supper is a wedding banquet. Jesus first miracle took place within the context of a wedding celebration.

Weddings were a very big deal. Marriage was a big deal. Ceremony and ritual were a big deal.

They still are. Our God is a God of covenantal relationship. But the wedding of Mary and Joseph? Never mentioned. Never described.

How does the evangelical mindset deal with this? What implications does it have for the extra-scriptural belief that Mary and Joseph had children?

And why should it be wrong to contemplate these questions?

Extra-Biblical dogma is alive and thriving in the evangelical world. Every denomination has tradition, just as the Roman Catholic church does, except few people point it out to them. Most of the faithful don't even know it, they simply accept what they are taught, assuming these beliefs must be scriptural because the church they attend says they rely on the Bible alone. They accept it as they are fed it because they love Jesus and want to be His faithful followers. When questioned about the foundations for various traditions, many react with fear or defensiveness, unwilling to even enter into discussion.

But it is not wrong to question. It is not wrong to dig. It is not wrong to look to history and the church fathers and doctors when asking the Holy Spirit to grant us revelation about His holy word.

And it is not wrong to venerate the holy mother of God himself. 

As for me and my house, we will follow the lead of the archangels. We will not be afraid. And we will call her Full of Grace.

Contemplatio in action: the Trinity's fulcrum?

I love how praying the rosary opens the mind to to insights about our God.

Contemplatio in action.

Monday night's meditations on the joyful mysteries got me thinking about the Holy Trinity, and about the relationships the three persons have with us.

I often assign roles to them in my thoughts and prayers. For example, when anointing DiDi's forehead with oil, I make the sign of the cross, saying:

In the name of the Father who created you

the Son who redeems and saves you

and the Holy Spirit who comforts and guides you.

There they are in their neat little packages.

I continue the prayer by reminding DiDi that she is the daughter of the King, sister of Christ, and spouse of the Holy Spirit.

So in this "model" we have three distinct roles of Father, Brother, Spouse. Still pretty neat and tidy.

But keep going and the divisions get murky, confusing.

Given that the Father is both Christ's father and ours, Jesus becomes our sibling. But because baptism is a marital celebration, and reception of the Eucharist is consummation of the wedding feast, Jesus is also our husband.

So Jesus is not only sibling, but also spouse.

And it doesn't end there.

While contemplating the Nativity in the rosary, I thought about the opening verses in John's gospel:

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. What came to be 4 through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; 5 the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Jesus was firstborn, and we were made through him. Without Him nothing came to be. He gave us life.

That's what fathers do. They give us life. We come into being through them.

So this means that Jesus, as the giver of life, is the father.

And that makes the Father really the grandfather.

Let's tally the roles we've got for the three persons so far:

The Father=father/grandfather

The Son=brother, husband/spouse, father

The Holy Spirit=husband/spouse

It is interesting that the roles of the Father and of the Spirit are essentially unchanged throughout the thought stream. They are who they are.

But in the Son, the roles vary. He takes on the roles held by both the Father and of the Spirit, while simultaneously maintaining His own.

I wonder if this is somehow the fulcrum around which the mystery of the Trinity spins?

Inexplicable demonstration of His love

Yesterday I returned home from a trip back to Rochester, the Land of Pain. I was able to spend most of one day with my son, and am grateful for it but wished for more. DiDi's daughter stayed with us the three days we were there, which was a blessing. Time with friends and loved ones was also good.

But the place itself is a complex mix of love and pain.

Perhaps over the years that will change, but for this first trip back, we could feel it driving in, a cloud hovering over the region.

Dark. Threatening. Intimidating.

The cloud followed us as we drove back out of town a few days later, the darkness infiltrating the car and our hearts. It clung for hours into the trip. Almost the whole way home in fact.

But as it began to withdraw, somewhere around the middle of Massachusetts, our amazing God blew the rest of it away.

Real storm clouds loomed, the gray sky full of rain to come. And into this gray promise bloomed a rainbow. At first the colors were tepid, weak, uncertain. As they came into focus, a second rainbow began to appear in an outer arc, this one bleary as the first had begun.

They remained in view for at least 10 minutes. The first bow grew more saturated until we could see the separation between colors distinctly. The ordinarily blurred flow from indigo to blue became tangible. When we came to a part in the trees, we could see the bow in its entirety, the two ends touching the horizon.

It was breathtaking.

We took picture after picture with our phones, wishing for a real camera, amazed that the rainbows lasted so long and changed so much. Eventually we stopped trying to capture it, and just watched the main bow fade as we continued driving east, the secondary bow remaining insubstantial but still present.

The show seemed to be almost over. And that's when the miraculous happened.

It looked like we were getting closer and closer to the weak rainbow, which I didn't think was possible. After a minute or two, we saw the left end of the rainbow touching down on the road up ahead. We watched it grow larger as we approached, until it was just a few car lengths away. The van in front of us drove through it as if it were a curtain of light; you could see the spectrum travel over the metal. Then we also drove through it, and the light washed over the hood and disapeared behind us.

It was amazing.

Incongruous. Beautiful. Inexplicable.

Maybe even impossible, depending on which website you read. Wikipedia says that someone standing at the end of a rainbow could not see it.

But that doesn't change anything, because it happened.

As you can imagine, the rest of the trip was different. Astonishment jolted us out of our spiritual and emotional miasma. Our laughter and joy returned. We arrived home a bit later, light of heart.

We left Rochester, driving away from what had become a center of heartache and pain, bringing some of the darkness that clings there with us. And for some inexplicable reason, He washed us with His light and love.

Because that's just who He is.

Amazing.

The Kiss of God

Last night I spent a short period of time in imaginatio divina. The Christian fitness program that DiDi and I are attending concluded with 10 minutes of stillness, so I used the time to go back to the waterfall.

My time there showed me just how much healing has taken place in this last, grueling year, despite the pain and loss that continues. Or more likely, through it.

Normally when I step under the deluge, the water is so cold it snatches my breath. It pounds and rips my clothes away, along with the crust of accumulated sin. Once through, the air is warm and I catch my breath and go to Him, primarily as a child, to crawl on His lap.

Last night was different.

I approached the waterfall across the same stone bridge (strange to see a bridge leading into a river rather than crossing it...) and began bracing myself for the impact. But as my foot first touched the downrushing water I felt the difference. I stepped in fully, and instead of the icy shock that I expected, the water flowed soft and warm over my body. It was more viscous than normal water, and scented. I stood beneath and breathed, watching as it poured all around me. Flower buds coursed down as if growing within it like water lilies.

Knowing I didn't have a lot of time, I walked out of the beautiful water into the cavern behind. The air was warm and scented with its usual mix of perfume and incense. And He waited there, as always.

He waits on an elevated stone seat. This time I approached Him standing tall, perfumed from the stream. I walked, not rushing, luxuriant as he watched, waiting. I climbed the steps. His arms reached out for me and I stepped in to His embrace.

Skin to skin.

Thank you, Lord, for teaching me what the kiss of God is like.

.

.

.

What a difference this was from the cold, huddling child who first climbed on His lap. What a difference a long, hard year can make. What a difference to go through such a year with a friend and encourager who speaks God's love into your heart.

Thank you Lord. Thank you DiDi.

Hope becomes reality

Falling in love is when hope becomes reality.

--DiDi

Soul Kiss

The Gospel reading for today is as follows:

Jesus left the district of Tyre and went by way of Sidon to the Sea of Galilee, into the district of the Decapolis. And people brought to him a deaf man who had a speech impediment and begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him off by himself away from the crowd. He put his finger into the man’s ears and, spitting, touched his tongue; then he looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, “Ephphatha!” (that is, “Be opened!”) And immediately the man’s ears were opened, his speech impediment was removed, and he spoke plainly. He ordered them not to tell anyone. But the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it. They were exceedingly astonished and they said, “He has done all things well. He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.” (Mk 7:31-37)

Two of my beloved sisters in Christ mulled through this passage with me this morning. It is an honor and pleasure to discuss His word with them; their insights are always varied, perceptive, and interesting.

I've always loved the sacramental juiciness of this story. It reminds me of Jesus healing the blind man using mud made from spittle and dust in John 9. I wonder why He sometimes heals with a thought or a word or a simple touch, and sometimes through the use of other matter? In this case, He passes along His spit.

How strange.

My first thought was that it is like a kiss. A passionate kiss.

Spittle is transmitted one of three ways: through a sneeze, through the occasional droplet flung when speaking, or through open mouthed kissing. The first two require a perfect storm of invariably accidental events; the recipient waits with an open mouth, the provider unintentionally launches. The third however is a dance between willing participants.

The deaf mute watched what Jesus did. He felt Jesus' fingers in his ears. He saw Him spit on His hand and then reach for his mouth. He could have clamped his jaws shut, refusing the gift. He could have gone back to the multitude able to hear but still not speak. But he didn't turn his head in repugnance. He received God's kiss.

In return for his trust, what did he get?

The deaf mute's ears were opened to sound, and his mind was opened to meaning through words.

Instantly.

His tongue was freed from it's impediment, and taught to form words.

Immediately.

He did not have to learn all these things over years as we do as babies. He began to speak plainly, clearly. Our Lord implanted in him all he needed to know.

And as DiDi pointed out, the first words he heard were those of his Lord and his God, undoubtedly speaking of His love for His child and brother, the man for whom His Spirit groaned.

What gifts He gives us in response to our obedience and trust.

May I always act with similar faith.

Scandalous immanence

For nearly a year, my friend DiDi has heard God directing her to tell me that I am "more". This message helped pave the way for releasing me into His dream, and has helped keep me on the path when gale force winds have tried to push me from it.

The message comes less often as I increasingly step out, and I hadn't heard it in a while. But yesterday morning He told her to say it again, and so, obediently, she did. She feels a little foolish repeating it, knowing that I've heard it before. We don't understand why she needs to say it over and over. But DiDi's faith is huge and she submits. And I listen, and am grateful for the affirmation.

Yesterday morning He told her to tell me again, and so she did. I listened, thought "Isn't that nice." and went about my business.

We'd attended Saturday evening mass the night before, and so decided to check out The Father's House church that day, based on some comments I'd heard earlier in the week. I've been interested in experiencing various forms of worship to better understand the breadth and variation of the Body, and to contemplate what our Lord would have me do to continue working toward unification.

It was a fascinating experience, potentially the topic of it's own post. For now I'll just say that it's a mega church which targets young people and very effectively makes use of societal trends and technology to preach the good news. But all that is not really the point of this post.

The point is that at the back of the long stage that stretched nearly the entire width of the auditorium (for lack of a better word) was a giant, 3-dimensional white word. Spelled out in 6 foot blocky white letters was the word:

MORE

At each end of the stage hung additional banners on which were projected the words "Made for More".

In His love, and in His typical style of potentially dismissible co-incidence, He lined things up to both underscore His message to me, and to reassure DiDi of her role.

At first she didn't get it. Even when I pointed out the sign to her it didn't click. There was so much sensory input that she was caught up in experiencing all that was going on around and in front of us. But then the lightbulb went on and I think she was even more floored than I.

We floated through the drive back home, marveling at how once again He lined up events to show us His favor. He sends bishops to bless our Catholic journey, and literal larger than life signs to encourage our obedience and build our trust.

It blows my mind how intimately He cares for us, and how closely He walks with us.

Such scandalous immanence.

Omnificence unfolding in purple striation and sparkling water

Omnificence.

Good word, eh?

DiDi invented it last night, after asking me to use one word to describe the undescribable beauty of the sunset over Lake Michigan.

It was perfect. Magnificence combined with vast, ubiquitous knowledge.

He is all knowing, all present, all powerful.

And all beautiful.

Omnificent.

I love it.



(Found the term in a few dictionaries BTW, defined as "unlimited in creative power". I like DiDi's usage better.)

Cover your ears young man

I am blessed during this season to be in a home in which dinner table discussion often centers around the readings of the day, or a mystery of the faith. Part of tonight's conversation was about the wedding at Cana. DiDi wondered what Mary's conversation with God must have been like.

How strange it would be to be Mary.

How strange her relationship with the Trinity. If it weren't for the reality of the three persons, it would seem nearly incestuous.

Three persons, one God.

The concept of three persons helps explain the mystery, but barely. To one person, the Father, she is daughter. To one person, the Spirit, she is spouse. To one person, Jesus Christ, she is mother.

How then would a conversation take place during her prayers?

Did she speak to one and ask Him to fill the others in?

How did the Father or the Spirit guide her as she considered urging Jesus to turn the water into wine?

Was the Son listening?

Did she do what we mothers do when something comes on TV that we don't want our kids to see; ask them to cover their eyes? Could she have asked Him to cover His divine ears to her prayers?

The sound of joy

My church's mid week discipleship program started up again last night. The session this time focuses on joy. I'll be teaching in a few weeks, on joy in and through suffering; my favorite topic!

The first class talked a bit about what joy -is-, and what it is not.

During this discussion, someone asked about holy laughter, perhaps in response to the stories that DiDi and I have been telling from our trip.

I thought about this laughter, the sudden unleashing of inexplicable joy that bubbles up uncontrollably, pure gift from the Holy Spirit. A quick taste of the joy of heaven.

And I wondered if Joseph and Mary's household was given this gift. Did Jesus' home ring with the sound of this infectious joy?

That's MY God

Another Holy Spirit moment from my recent trip. Both DiDi and I have family in the area that we visited, and so our week was broken up between relaxation together and time with mothers and sisters and neices and nephews of every size. I had not been to an ocean in years, and so one of our goals was to spend some time on the beach. Our flight home was not scheduled till late afternoon, and so on that day we packed up all our gear and decided to go for one last hour or two at a beach before heading to the airport. 

It was beautiful, and turning away was hard. So hard in fact, that we ended up staying later than we should, and our frantic drive to the airport included a bit of hysterics on my part along with much rushing and hustling and scrambling. I've struggled lately with time, and have repeatedly underestimated times I've expected to get back from the grocery store, or from church, or from this or that event. Returning home an entire day late really would have been the icing on my cake of lateness. I was wracked with guilt. DiDi would undoubtedly say I was overboard with it. (Might have had something to do with the farewell wine I'd consumed. But that's another tale for another day.) 

 We eventually arrived and rushed up to the desk to check our bags and check in. I looked a sight; all mascara-smeared cheeks, wind-tangled hair, and reined-in hysteria. The two airline reps looked at eachother and muttered "These must be the ones." They knew we were rushing, knew the flight we must be looking for, and also knew the connection we needed to make. They were bracing for the conversation that was about to take place. "You DO know that your flight has been delayed, don't you?", the closest one said. My jaw literally dropped to my chest. I was saved. Somehow, I had been saved. But looking at them, I could tell there was more they had to say. The rep braced herself again, then informed us that the next flight out would be too late to make our connection back home. We could not leave until the following day. 

Not only was I saved from being my usual, lame, late self, I was also given an extra day with no familial obligations and nothing to do but relax with my closest, dearest, and most beloved friend. I gaped a slack-jawed gape at DiDi, and saw that she was wearing the smug look she reserves for occasions when our Lord does something fantastic and stunning that knocks me sideways. The look that says "Yeah, that's MY God. You know it. Mmm Hmm." All casual while simultaneously bursting with pride. 

 The airline reps, beleaguered from having to give bad news to customer after customer all afternoon, looked bewildered and one of them asked: "You're happy about this???" DiDi, being the cool chick that she is, God's comrade, Daughter of Thunder, calmly tossed back "Answered prayer." 

So that's the story of how I got to stay another day, to drive a convertible back toward the beach, to eat a lovely, relaxed meal in a nice restaurant, and to huddle wrapped in a blanket with the friend of my heart watching the sun come up over the ocean. 

Imagine: the maker of that sun and that ocean and that incredible miraculous sand, desired to give -me- these gifts. Yep. That's MY God.

Joy to you and me

I spent a blissful five days in Florida this past week, basking in 70 degree weather and the presence of awesome love. It would be impossible to catalog all of the ways in which God moved during this trip, but I'm going to try in a series of posts.

First, about the church service we attended.

It is always interesting to compare other services within the same communion (ICCEC) as ours. Some are higher church, some are more charismatic, some are close to us in the style of worship. In this case, the style was pretty similar. Several prayer teams were available after the Eucharist, and DiDi urged me to ask for prayer about a physical condition. The Holy Spirit was heavily present, and I stood behind her for the prayer -she- was receiving, because she was swaying with the weight of it.

When it was my turn, the woman prayed for the physical stuff, and after pausing, prayed that God would remove the little scrap of sorrow from me and replace it with joy. I had my eyes closed, but DiDi reported that when she spoke the words, her hand flung out toward me first as if to pluck something from my chest, and then whipped back as if slamming something in.

Joy immediately bubbled up within my chest, and a giggle snuck out of my mouth. At the same time, both DiDi and the prayer warrior also began to chuckle, and gradually, the laughter grew and grew between the three of us until we could not control it. We laughed until tears ran down our cheeks and our stomachs ached. We laughed as the recessional music played and the dismissal was announced. And through our laughter I heard the laughs of people behind us. DiDi later told me that when she looked around, she saw the whole congregation laughing.

The church was filled with His joy.

It was an awesome gift, delivered before what was to be a hard afternoon and evening. A profound gift of joy and laughter, not only for us, visitors to this far-away church, but also for His family who regularly gathered there. And for the woman who stood in obedience to pray for those who come before Him, seeking.

Big Bang Redux

I was praying the Joyful Mysteries of the rosary last night on behalf of a friend, and was gifted with several interesting tidbits. I'll write about them in separate posts.

The first of the mysteries (and my favorite of all the mysteries) is the annunciation, the moment of Christ's conception. In previous meditations about the annunciation I focused on what must have been an ecstatic experience for Mary. It is beautiful to imagine what it must have been like to have the Holy Spirit fall on you in such a profound way.

But last night God asked me to wonder about what it had been like for Him.

And so I wonder; what must it have been like for our great and glorious God to become begotten? What was it like for Him to say a second time "Let there be light" and have the light of the world come in to existence?

Was this the second big bang?

Did He and the entire universe shudder in a great paroxysm of exultation and pleasure and wonder?

How much does our procreative process mimic His, and vice versa?

What must the ecstasy of God be like?

Milk indeed

My beloved DiDi had some thoughts on milk and meat, one of which was particularly lovely.

She pointed out that Jesus instructed us to feed both sheep and lambs, and that spiritually young questioners are like baby lambs who need to be fed tenderly.

As babies, we are cradled and given milk at the soft breast. There is nothing more gentle than the suckling of a baby. She called what we do in feeding God's lambs "the caring and gentle guiding to the breast".

Lovely, no?

Quote du jour

"Perhaps strange is needed."

Christmas came early...

It has been a rollercoaster of an advent... my mind is pretty thoroughly blown.

First was a prayer encounter with my daughter, followed by a definitive negative test for the disease we have been praying about. Second was a miraculous healing which has left me stunned and breathless. I'll write about the former in another post.

On Tuesday afternoon, my DiDi fell and broke bones in multiple places on either side of the left foot near the ankle. I helped schlep her around to urgent care, a local hospital for x-raying, and finally to an orthopedic specialist for casting etc. Given all the driving and waiting which took place from about 2:30 till about 9:30 that night, we had not been able to keep it iced or elevated at all, and the pain was excruciating. She was given some heavy duty pain killers, but I stayed the night so that she would not be alone and the pain remained terrible.

I went to check up on her Wednesday late afternoon and she was so overcome by pain that she could barely speak and was close to vomiting. The pain medication was not working.

I have never seen one I love struggle with this degree of pain before, and watching it was indescribable. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming. I did the little that I could, clucking around propping pillows and refreshing ice bags, bringing cups of water and trying to make DiDi laugh through the pain.

Yesterday was day three. I went to check on her to make sure she had ice for her ankle because the pain was so bad that she couldn't even answer the phone when I called. When I got there she was able to talk, but was ashen faced and grimaced by merely lifting her foot so that I could adjust the pillows beneath it. Replacing the ice packs was like torture.

As we talked, DiDi asked me how much faith I have, and told me that I needed to anoint her foot and pray because He had not yet removed or lessened the pain. I had been praying on and off since her fall for healing and for release from the tremendous pain, but of course agreed to pray for her then as well.

I heard a word about how I was to proceed with the prayer, and followed it. Diane flinched from even the very light touch of the anointing oil.

My primary focus was on reduction of the swelling so that the pain would be reduced, and so part of my prayer centered around asking that He disburse accumulated fluids and return blood to farther up in the leg. I prayed that the bones be healed, but my heart was hurting for her pain and that's where the bulk of my prayer centered.

I also asked that He build up my faith and heal my unbelief, that none of my failings would stand in the way of her healing.

After I closed in prayer, Diane asked that I get her a pair of socks. I assumed that her feet were merely cold, not thinking much more about it. When I handed them to her, she swung her legs off the bed to the floor, and began putting them on, on both feet. Then it hit me; she had not worn a sock on the broken foot since the accident occurred.

Remember: even lifting the foot off the pillow had been excruciating just a very short time before.

Once the sock was on, she asked for her boot/cast, and slipped that on as if it were nothing more than a slipper. (The last time she'd put it on was more like a torture device.) All of this was amazing enough, because a few minutes before the lightest of touches had caused her to grind her teeth in pain. But what was more amazing was that she then stood up, looked at me, and said let's go downstairs!

I can't put in words the shock and confusion I felt while watching this.

DiDi has been miraculously healed before, and so she had been waiting for -when- He would do it again for this injury.

I, on the other hand, have never witnessed a dramatic healing like that before, and stood there dumbfounded, stupidly trying to talk her out of it and telling her to lie back down and get the foot elevated! The joy in her face and the expression in her eyes stopped me though, and she realized that I didn't really get it. She patiently led me downstairs to the kitchen, periodically looking at my slack-jawed, dumbfounded expression and laughing.

I was stunned into speechlessness, (which is miraculous in itself.)

I couldn't believe it. This was the same women who lurched from the pain of using crutches to get next door to the bathroom an hour earlier.

It was stunning. I'm still stunned. I've never seen anything like it.

I know that our Lord works all things to the good for those of us who love Him, and I'm not sure of all the things that He had up His sleeve in allowing DiDi to fall the way that she did. But I do know that one of the reasons was so that He could use her to help build my faith. He demonstrated that He WILL unleash His healing power in remarkable ways if we step in and are obedient, which I already believed. The part that shocked me was that He would use ME as a vessel for such a dramatic work.

I've never seen anything like it. I am stunned.

I write this to encourage you all. When you pray for someone to be healed, your prayers may also have the secondary purpose of allowing Yeshua to give someone else this very very special gift.

Best Christmas present ever...

Peace be with you. Be encouraged that your prayers are powerful, powerful things.

How can I keep from singing?

I continue to be amazed and awed at the wonder of love as it has unfolded over the past few weeks. My deep, soul deep friendship with DiDi, Bella Dolce, is watering and nurturing me, and I am unfolding and stretching and reaching for the sunshine...

I didn't realize that I had been like a dormant seed, waiting for a lightning strike to set a blaze and release me into fruitfulness at her care.

I didn't know that I so needed the love of a woman. I always thought the healing would come through a man.

It is beautiful, and our joy is infectious. We are watching other women in our congregation begin to unfold as well, touching and hugging eachother more, laughing and seeking eachother out.

Yeshua is doing a mighty mighty work through this gift of friendship.

His mercy and caring and generosity are beyond comprehension, beyond all imagining.

How can I keep from singing?

To give and to receive

My BP has spoken of people who have a charism of love. In the past I have thought that this meant a capacity for giving love. And it does. But my beloved DiDi has shown me that it is much more. She has tremendous ability to give love, but also to receive it. She is all open arms and heart. I pray that I may also be both.

Both sides now

My beloved DiDi is teaching me many things. I am in awe.

Today I realized that she somehow stands on both sides of the veil.

It is as if it runs through the center of her, so that one eye sees the things of this world, and the other eye simultaneously sees the things of the Other.

I am in awe.

On depths and heights

From prayer time this morning; some thoughts for my friend who fights to be where He wills her.

When we give to Him all the achings of our heart, when we cling to obedience despite every inclination to do otherwise, when we pour out our sorrows and yearnings while laboriously struggling for the good, He brings out of it a soaring joy.

Your heart may burn from the pain, but your spirit will soar with His Spirit and witness sights that can only be seen from those great heights.

Lord, keep me there.

Keep me in the depths so that I may experience your heights.