Like Her ...

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She knew the danger. The risk.

But she also knew there was nothing to lose, but her life.

There was nowhere to turn on the street that day. No way to move unseen, untouched, although wholly uninvited. We don't know her name. Rather, we're told of her condition. The identity (label) is painted on her by the author of the story--The woman with the issue of blood--as if it's the only name we need to know.

She was unclean and should have been outside the city, or far off, yelling, "Unclean" to any who might approach. She'd lost everything--her dignity, livelihood, savings ... she had nothing to lose.

That day, news spread that the Teacher was passing by. The crowd grew beyond the street's capacity. People pressing into the fray to try and get close. The Teacher was surrounded by His disciples, closed in on all sides. Jairus, a synagogue ruler, managed to navigate the chaos to get nearer to the Teacher. But he had his crew helping push past those "less important" than a leader of the faith. The Teacher focused on the man's request and chose to follow the man to his home.

The woman couldn't have heard the urgent plea of a desperate father. She was on a quest of her own. To get to the Teacher, against all odds, breaking through the obstacles. "If only I could touch the hem of His garment, I'll be healed," she thought (Mark 5: 25 - 34; Luke 8:43 - 48).

If ONLY ...

Have you ever thought that?

• If only I could like what I see in the mirror ...
• If only I didn't feel so lonely ...
• If only I knew God loved me ...
• If only I were healthy ...
• If only I weren't broke ...
• If only I were dealt a better hand ...

The list is endless, and I am sure there are "if only" wishes I won't think of but are prominent in your heart.

The beauty of this story found in the Gospels, is the promise that follows. The woman, against all odds, makes her way through the bustling crowd and touches the hem of His garment. What follows is where our identity becomes what it is destined to be.

"... she came behind Him in the crowd and touched His garment ... immediately the fountain of her blood was dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of the affliction. And Jesus, immediately knowing in Himself that power had gone out of Him, turned around in the crowd and said, "Who touched My clothes?" But His disciples said to Him, "You see the multitude thronging You, and You say, "Who touched Me?" 

And He looked around to see her who had done this thing. But the woman, fearing and trembling, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell down before Him and told Him the whole truth.

And He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your affliction."

Isn't that beautiful? Jesus did not address her as afflicted, but daughter. He did not condemn her because she came, uninvited and unlawfully, into the town square amidst a throng of people. He blessed and healed her. He did not tell her to go wash, become acceptable first before coming to Him. Instead, He touched her heart and called her faith-filled.

Some afflictions are more psychological than physical. Some are borne of abusive pasts, insecurity, poor parenting, bullying, or struggles related to learning disabilities. Some can be considered reflex reactions to traumatic experiences like job losses, failure, economic collapse, fear, or injury. The possibilities ... BUT Jesus is not limited by labels, PTSD, or public/private shame.

I recently heard a woman ask for prayer as she fights to forgive herself, and fights to overcome the effects of past decisions, and is determined to overcome the voices in her head that tell her she'll never be free of guilt. It sounded so much like this woman who reached for the hem of Jesus' garment, that I know she will hear--and embrace--the words, "Daughter, your faith has set you free of this affliction."

One could remove the label "daughter" and replace it with "son". Jesus is not one to discount one's affliction over another's, regardless of gender, race, or age. If it makes a difference, simply add your name to this identity. "Daughter, ______ ...", "Son, ______ ..."

Like this woman, we can rejoice with the following:

If I say, "Surely the darkness shall fall on me," even the night shall be light about me; Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You, but the night shines as day; the darkness and the light are both alike to You. 

For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother's womb. 

I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well. 

My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them. 

How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand; when I awake, I am still with You. 

~Psalm 139: 11 - 18 NKJV

Whatever the affliction, the lie, or obstacles in our path; Jesus is more than able to free us. Reach for Him. Don't let go. And never apologize for our unending need for His strength, healing, and touch. It doesn't matter how crowded life is or how many things are on our plate. What matters is our humble cry for help, even in the crowded room of our mind.

What have we got to lose?

We have everything to gain, in Jesus!

Dressed in White

I was talking with my son, and during our conversation was reminded of a dream I had during my early days as a follower of Christ. 

I'd awakened in darkness. My skin felt heavy with filth, and the clothing on my back might as well have been prickers. There was no escaping the sense of a growing presence intent on suffocation and death.

My cloudy mind cleared enough to remember a respected relative telling me of Jesus' love and mercy. All I needed to do was call on His name and He would save me.

As soon as I asked for Him to come, a calming presence replaced the heaviness that hovered. Courage increased and I was able to step forward. Although unable to see where I was headed, I could hear a gentle whisper encouraging me to take another step. And another. It wasn’t long and I could see a light in the distance, and somehow knew that was my destination.

I couldn’t tell you how long I walked, following the light or hearing the voice. I have no idea whether a shift in time occurred, or if there was a break in the dream; but at some point in time, I realized I was no longer wearing filthy clothes. It was a gown of sorts. It was soft, flowing, and fit better than any piece of clothing I'd ever worn. As I drew closer to the light, I could make out every detail.

It was a wedding gown, like something out of a Cinderella story. I don’t know where the gown came from, and I also knew that there was no way I would ever be able to afford this most elaborate piece of artwork.

As I drew closer to the light, I would look down to admire this gown. I could begin to pick out details such as the sequins and the lace that would cover the torso the pure white satin. I noticed the unthinkable. There was a tiny spot on the skirt of this dress. I had to stop to scrub it out, but no amount of scrubbing would get it. Jesus called to me, compelling me to come closer to the light. As I did, this spot grew, and darkness growled, grabbing for me. My heart began to break. I couldn’t imagine, completing my journey to the bright light ahead of me with such a soiled gown, but Jesus once again compelled me forward.

There came a point in time when I stopped my progression. The stains were so bad and my heartache was so great. I just couldn’t bear the thought of seeing this beautiful white gown smeared in black like that darkness that I had been coming out of.

But the Voice of Jesus called out to me and compelled me yet again to come forward. I couldn’t and I told Him so. It was breaking my heart. I really wanted to come to Him, but I couldn’t. I had tried bleach wipes. I had tried soap and water. I had tried all of the tricks that people had told me over the years past and nothing worked. He called me and held out His hand.

I had a decision to make.

I could go to him with all of my hurt and filth and risk His rejection when He sees my tragic condition. Or I could sit and allow the darkness to once again cover me.

I chose to go forward.

The risk of rejection was great. But my desperation for His love and healing touch was greater.

I took another step. And then another.

And I continued to move forward until I took his hand. He drew me into his embrace, and as He did, I could see all of the filth, all of the stains of my poor decisions, every hurtful word spoken over me, every scheme of darkness to keep me bound ... dissolve and fade away. The gown was once again dazzling white.

It’s been many years since that dream. Yet, I remember it as though it was just last night. I also remember being so loved, forgiven, and cared for.

In Scripture, Jesus says come to Him with our burdens and find rest. (Matthew 11: 28; 1 Peter 5:7)

The Lord also says that He is coming for a bride without spot or wrinkle (Ephesians 5: 25 - 27). 

As I considered the dream, I thought about the spots, and how they mattered. It was comforting to think about the compassion of our Lord, who will finish the work He has begun in us (Philippians 1:6).

As we surrender our hearts and our lives to Christ, placing our hand in His and allowing Him to embrace us, all of the spots, and wrinkles will fade, and all the Father sees is a radiant white that Jesus wears.

And so my friends take hold of His hand, His garment ... allow Him to take hold of you and never let go.

Our lives depend on it.

Courtesy Google Images

Instruct the Heart

I must hear words to music in order to connect. It's just how I am wired. So, in 2016, when I watched my husband lying in the ICU with a questionable--albeit, poor--prognosis, I leaned heavily on music to get me through.

And not just any music. It had to be the kind that would take me into the throne room of God. I cried out to Him for this man who seemed to have given up on himself, people, and life itself. I heard physicians, standing at the foot of his bed, "Mr. Jacobsen, don't give up. Give us a chance to help you," as if they knew what I knew. He was done fighting. Done trying. He was just ready to see Jesus.

But in my heart, I didn't believe Jesus was ready for him to come home. He had work to do. People's lives to reach with his testimony. So I made my way to the only One who loved him better than me. And as I did, I heard the song, Keep Moving, filled the airspace of my car. It became my battle cry. Our marching orders. God wasn't done writing Jeff's story. He's still not done.

Jeff did recover. And continues to make strides along the path of health. But sometime along the way, the music became muffled, muted at times.

I find myself struggling to keep a tune humming. Instead, voices of discouragement, disappointment, and exhaustion crept in. Life has a way with turning down the volume of victory. As though the altitude of the mountain-top high caused the spiritual ears to plug, I couldn't shake myself out of the deafening effects of the descent into the valley.

Courtesy of Google Images

It's in the valley crops are grown and harvested, where the rains settle and nourish the earth, where shade from the sun protects our skin from drying out and burning. It is in this place we can hope to find cool water and warm hearths. But it is also a place where we must spend time cultivating the ground for harvest later in the season. We can become comfortable in this place of lush existence where our bellies are filled with "milk and honey."

I know I did. I had a job that paid better than I ever had imagined possible. Our living situation was exponentially improved on in comparison to where we lived in 2016. I had settled into a coast that could carry me through, without effort or pressing the gas. 

It wasn't until I noticed others with youth and energy chasing the presence and power of God ... just like I once did. Memories of far-gone days on my face, tears soaking the floor were a testament to the trench I'd found myself in. It wasn't good.

I had allowed the absence of struggle to lull me to sleep. I was sluggish. The only remedy, to wake up my soul and command praise to be lifted as David did when he said, "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God," (Psalm 43: 5 ESV).

It is not always easy to lift our voice and praise our LORD. And it is tempting to follow our heart but Scripture tells us our heart is deceitful, such as the discouragement and despair we can feel when hope is deferred. Instead, we are to instruct our hearts, our souls, how to act, how to respond, and how to conduct itself in the face of turmoil. Bless the LORD!

So we are to follow David's example when He says,

"Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me,

Bless His holy name!

Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits,

Who forgives all your iniquity,

Who heals all your diseases,

Who redeems your life from the pit,

Who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

Who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's

 (Psalm 103: 1-2 NKJV).

When I reflect on the Goodness of God, I am stirred in my soul to cry out to Him for mercy, to ask for an awakening--a revival of my heart--so that I am not caught just going through the Motions.

Please allow me to encourage you with the following song. It is my prayer for all of us. Individually. As children of God. As a nation. 

Be blessed, my friend. 

... Coming soon: Guerrilla Warfare, and how we can defeat it.

Faith Like Epsom Salt

But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.

~Hebrews 11: 6 NKJV 

In case you were wondering, my favorite flower is the Lilac. One year, for my birthday, my mother-in-law bought a Lilac bush I could plant to hide the neighbor's energy meter. I was thrilled. Anticipation of the bush's beauty flooded in.

I dug the hole, placed the baby bush in the ground, and covered and watered it. Then I waited.

And waited.

 ... and waited. 

It became apparent to me that this bush would not be a successful venture for me. Some had teased, saying wooden tulips couldn't survive under my care. So, it would stand to reason ... if the words were true.

I hated to see this bush fail to thrive under my care. And I talked to someone about it, saying it was sad because I knew there was clay under the dirt and an impossible situation for a baby bush.

This person had some knowledge of plants and soil, as she spent hours in her own garden, learning from her friend who also loved to learn horticultural facts and remedies. So when she suggested Epsom Salt, I initially drew an invisible question mark on my forehead, then decided it wouldn't hurt. The bush wasn't doing well, and would likely not make it.

I went to the store, bought the Epsom salt, and spread it around the base of the bush as instructed. And I waited. And watered. And the fledgling bush didn't die that summer. 

The next spring, the bush didn't bloom when the other bush in my neighborhood did, so I wondered if it had been too late. Then, a week after the other bush was done blooming, my bush began opening the most beautiful and fragrant flowers. What I learned was that the Epsom salt broke down the clay so the root system could bypass the bedrock to fertile soil below.

And so it was, for 20 years. Every spring, the other bush would finish its fragrant offerings, and mine would step in. Sitting in my yard was one of my favorite things to do when I went to read or pray.

It's been 6 years since I've been able to sit and enjoy the fragrance of that bush. God has blessed our family more than I realize most of the time.

The other day, my son was talking about our faith, and how, like the bush, we need to break through the hard clay beneath the surface. At times, we might think our faith is floundering, when in reality, it may be pushing roots past bedrock to more fertile soil beneath. 

Discipline, steadfastness, a will to hold on when everything in you feels like letting go, determination, and a decision that the Bible is true cover to cover will help to sustain you as the process continues.

Faith that goes deep, understanding that no matter what, God is good, is what will hold us together when life wants to rip us apart or fully uproot from the ground where we're planted.

It is from this place where our souls will say, "It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way perfect." ~Psalms 18:32 NKJV

Those who are planted in the house of the LORD shall flourish in the courts of our God.

~Psalms 92:13 NKJV

Not for Nothing

Who in their right mind celebrates the words that promise, "You're going to suffer, but ..." Certainly not I. In fact, I would prefer an easier path. One filled with butterflies instead of hornets, Lilacs instead of Poison Ivy, pain-free, debt-free ... abundance. The path I imagine is one out of some fantasy where weeds are unable to grow, little children can sit and play with ferocious lions fearlessly, and no one has ever heard of conflict. 

Sounds so beautiful.

Wouldn't it be better if the God, who has chosen, fashioned, called, and created us, simply made our lives easier to follow Him?

Couldn't He stop the war in our mind that wants to both have faith like a child and understand everything at the same time?

He could. And He does. We will see and understand when we complete our journey on this earth, where suffering will remain.

Suffering is not permitted past the threshold of eternity.