The Shadow of Your Wings

I have not, in these months of writing here, ever declared myself denominationally or doctrinally. It has been my thought that by staying somewhat anonymous I could maintain a neutrality in both the writing and my responses to others. But … there are things being said and done within the Church body, and on this blogsite that are challenging me to speak up, and out.

Denominationally I jokingly refer to myself as ChariBapticostal, or Pentistmatic, if you prefer. After many years in Charismatic, (pre)emergent, and AG churches I found myself in desperate need of a quiet place to “rest.” In His mercy and wisdom the Lord lead us beside still waters and we settled into a lovely, foundationally sound Baptist congregation, where we’ve been for the past 3 years.

My faith has survived the “gold tooth” phenomenon, "feathers," "gold dust," and oily palms. Been prayed “over” in unknown tongues and pray in a tongue known only to God. I’ve been “slain in the spirit” by the Lord, knocked down by men (and women) “in the name of Jesus,” and pinned to the ground by a demonic spirit disguising itself as “the power of God.”

I’ve prayed as the Spirit urged and seen people healed immediately of lesser maladies, giving God all the glory as they walked away without pain. I’ve prayed with all my being to see others healed of disease or injury only to attend their funerals months or weeks later.

I’ve been given words of knowledge - surprised to “know” such intimate details about some mere acquaintance, have been told that I have “the gift of wisdom,” and have, on occasion, spoken prophetically, as the Spirit led.

So, why divulge this information now? To say, in part, “been there,” “done that,” and to assure you that there is “nothing new under the sun.” But more because we, the Church, the beloved Bride of Christ, are encountering an influx of satanic influence and infiltration such as I have not ever witnessed in 30 plus years of being a part of this beautiful Body of Christ. It is as subtle as it is outrageous. From emergent philosophy to new age revivals, false teachings, and teachers, abound.

There is a desperate cry being heard throughout Christendom of watchmen on the wall trying to give warning. But they are dismissed as “critical” or “faithless” or seen as “Jezebels” trying to undermine a “mighty work of God.” Admittedly, some are simply possessed of a critical nature, if not spirit. Many are so bound by denominational traditions that they are unable, or unwilling, to trust God beyond the doctrine they have been taught all their lives. Others are struggling to find their own way to the still waters, weary of drinking from a “river” that has been polluted with play and muddied by unscriptural, unheavenly outpourings. And a few, caught up in the current, are honestly, humbly seeking and trusting the Lord. God bless and save them.

For three years I’ve lulled in the calm, quiet of First Baptist Church, MyTown, USA. I’ve regained perspective and balance and, frankly, tried to ignore what was going on in the rest of the church world. I confess that the spiritual gifts that the Lord has entrusted to me have become a bit “flabby” with disuse. I have become that “unprofitable servant,” having buried my Master’s talents in the ground. But recently I’ve become aware of a stirring in the Spirit, in my spirit. A call to rise up, to enter in. It is, I believe, a call to sound - once again - the trumpet of warning.

We, as a Body, and a society, have become so fearful of being “judgmental” that we’ve forsaken good, wise counsel. Those who perceive and speak a need for caution (“test the spirits”) are bullied into believing that they are being judgmental, or worse - denying the power and work of God.

Beloved Church, it is time to WAKE UP! To stir up the gifts of discernment and exhortation. To KNOW THE WORD of God - which is our Truth and the plumb line by which we measure - and yes, judge what is true and what is false. There is some seriously disturbing stuff going on in the church world, and we can no longer hide from it, pretending it doesn’t exist.

Please remember - our duty to God, the Church, and one another is not to condemn, but to correct, teach, exhort, edify, love and lead others to the One who IS the Truth and the Way. Judge righteously, but do not be judgmental. This is a call to prayer as well as action, to speak the truth in Christ, to “test all things, [and] hold fast what is good.” (1 Thes 5:21) The preceding verse tells us to “not despise prophecies.” “Prophecy” being the prime motivator in this strange time. The study Bible on the desk before me includes a definition of this word -

propheteia: From pro, “forth,” and phemi, “to speak.” The primary use of the word is not predictive, in the sense of foretelling, but interpretive, declaring, or forth-telling, the will and counsel of God.”

Indeed - let us hold fast what is good.

Yours in Christ Jesus,

paula

God is on His throne!

The word “abdicate” struck me - hard. Not a term I would ordinarily use, and why in this praying? I considered the meaning of the word - thoughts of Edward “abdicating” his throne for love of Wallis; to abdicate: to renounce or relinquish a throne, right, power, claim, or the like.

While I pondered in prayer I saw another throne - my own, centered squarely within the tiny realm of my heart, and I realized that what I needed to do MOST was abdicate - relinquish the throne of my rights, will, power, and desires to God. I needed to step off the throne of self and welcome Him to sit and reign. It was with a sweet sense of submission, willingly yielding, giving over the throne and kingdom that is my life that I “watched” the LORD quietly take His rightful place in my heart. As He did so I had such an incredible sense of freedom, for the burdens of governing were no longer on my shoulders, but His. Moreover, as I stepped aside it seemed that the domain of what I had presided over began to increase, to open up - as if I had been lord over or within the four walls of the throne room only and now I could see beyond - to the fields, the vineyards, the forests … My mind (or the Spirit) painted a Provençal landscape before me and my soul rejoiced with the knowledge of the liberty I had to wander these gardens, to gather there.

When I shared these thoughts with a friend she said, “Well, of course God is on the throne. I have always seen Him there and fall to my face before Him.” Well, of course. So have I. But the throne I’ve seen Him on is in Heaven - not my own heart! When I “enter His gates” it is always in view of Heavenly courts. I’d never given it any other thought. But now …

Now I see Him on tHis throne, high and lifted up, Sovereign over ALL. It’s been as if I’ve tried to make “my little world” fit into His glorious dominion, still holding to the boundaries and territories that are “mine.” Today I think in abdicating “my” throne I am seeing His kingdom envelop and absorb what I have called my own. No longer “mine” - it is all His. And He, in His generosity and grace, allows me to romp and roam the entire realm. Unlike earthly kings, who would no doubt behead me, or bind me with chains in the dungeon, or at the very least enslave me, this Great King lets me stay beside Him - as a friend. He is so much more merciful than I have ever been upon that throne.

In some ways this is so obvious! So exactly what I’ve heard preached - preached myself! Why have I never understood it? Because, most simply, I have been unwilling to abdicate “my” throne, “my” rule over the land of self.

Oh, there are still responsibilities. I am to continue to work the gardens, to gather the fruit and blossom, to give baskets and bouquets away - but from HIS gardens rather than my own. I can give in His name and to His glory - not mine. I’m going to LOVE doing the work for this Master King!!!

You never know what will wander into the farmyard.

This season has brought out the worst and the best of the wildlife ’round here. I’ve watched the swallowtail butterflies flutter by, pausing to sip at mimosa blossoms, then float along on the breeze. Two beautiful male painted buntings come each afternoon to the bird feeder, along with the blue jays, cardinals, doves, and the squirrel. I know folks who live in town consider squirrels a nuisance, but we rarely see them out here in nowhere land and I am tickled when one finds its way to my home. I’ve surprised a doe sneaking up to the flower beds as I stepped out onto the front porch one evening , scared the dickens out of a raccoon who discovered a tasty bowl of cat food on that same porch late one night, and almost knocked Miss Piggy plum off the steps as I rushed out the door the other day. This little piggy started showing up at our house about a year ago. Just wandered onto our place from goodness knows where, plump little pinklet only a few months old. I made the mistake of greeting her and now she thinks I am her friend. But now she is a not so cute 150 lb. pork roast on the hoof. I’m not particularly fond of pork, and am finding myself even less so of pigs. Our county has been troubled for the last few years with feral hogs and it seems they may be moving into our neck of the woods. I saw one pork belly up on the roadside a few days ago. Good a way as any to serve ham, in my opinion.

Then there are the foxes. We thought the raccoon was getting into the chicken coop - lost 5 of my feathered beauties in a few weeks. Turned out to be a pair of foxes. Husband spied them slouching away from the henhouse at the break of day. Fortunately the extra wire he’d put around the coop kept them out. The neighbors have a passel of obnoxious guinea fowl just running loose - maybe they’ll find them and leave my “pets” alone.

We’ve also seen a copperhead and a rattlesnake … but that’s another story.

And my grandchildren think it's “booorrrrring” out here. Ha!

As I read and hear about some of the things that are happening in the church these days it seems to me that it is a lot like this place. There are a few foxes loose in the henhouse, a couple of squirrelly characters, and some that are just plain nasty to be around, but there are also the beautiful, the gentle, the peaceful pollinators who share the sweet nectar of their faith, lighting on open buds to bring fruitfulness.

You just never know what will wander into the churchyard.

In a recent conversation my dear uncle, who wishes to be known only as "O Wise One," told me that he felt letter writing, specifically when personal feelings or confrontational issues were being addressed, was not the best way to handle things. His reasoning was simply that one is not able to convey “inflection” in the black and white of the written word. (Meaning, I suppose, the emotional inflection of a voice choking with sorrow or a barely concealed chuckle beneath a sarcastic remark.)

His point was made a few days later when we continued a discussion via e-mail that became rather heated - though, at least I thought, all in jest. I finally had to shoot a quick note his way asking if this e-banter was an example of what he’d said earlier. His response? “LMAO!” I shan’t translate, but he was having as much fun with the ongoing “conversation” as I was.

I notice his point made yet again this morning in some of the posts here. One blogger writes a thing that another takes umbrage with and suddenly the send button is smokin’. It’s all good though - just a misunderstanding in inflection.

Thing is - I “know” the blog-writer. Well, not really, but through months of reading his posts and exchanging a few behind the scenes comments I have a sense of his heart. So, when I read the most recent blog I “heard” the sarcasm behind the written words. The respondent didn’t. Hence all the action in the send section.

I find myself wondering about the spiritual perspective on this … How often do we read the Word - black (or red) on white - and not consider the inflection of the heart that wrote it? (Ah yes, “letter of the law vs. spirit” again.) If we don’t “know” the writer how easily we misunderstand, misinterpret, or misapply His words. But, the more we read of Him and spend time “behind the scenes” with Him the more we are able to “hear” His heart, and understand His intentions.

Let’s take every opportunity to become better acquainted with the Writer who is the Author and Finisher of our faith! Maybe then we won’t mis- as much!

… looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith … the author of eternal salvation to all who obey Him … (Heb 12:2, Heb 5:9)

Several weeks ago we took another trip to the Ozarks. It was hot, humid, and frankly miserable, but one early morning I took advantage of the relative cool and hiked up the mountain. I’d been sitting at the base of that hill for a day or two, staring at it, considering what the Lord has said to me about stepping out and up with Him when I thought that I would “just do it.” Sort of a climb of faith, acting out what I believe to be a prophetic word.

I prayed my way over the rocks, through the woods, until I reached the peak, where I sat for a time in the stillness. There the Lord met with me, showing me some things that I needed to let go of, “release.” I did. At least one of those things. It was a sweet though sad moment. Sad because the letting go involved a person I love. Sweet because I found the sense of peace and a liberty that I longed for.

Once I found my way back to camp I discovered that the dreaded “seed ticks” had infested my being. This happened last year, too, when I dared to wander the piney woods of Louisiana in shorts and sandals. I knew nothing of these nasty little buggers, barely the size of the point of a straight pin. Unlike regular ticks, which you can feel and see easily, there is no way of knowing these little critters have gotten on you until the damage has been done. Now, whether the Arkansas seed tick is less potent than their cousins in Louisiana, or I (blessedly) developed a bit less sensitivity to them after last year’s bout, or just that there were considerably fewer bites, I managed to get through this go-round with relatively little discomfort.

After a serious scrub down in a HOT shower and a liberal dousing in vinegar I returned to my lawn chair in the valley and resumed my pondering of the mountainside. Why, I wondered, did the Lord allow me to be attacked by those vicious little bloodsuckers when I was just doing what He had lead me to do? Dear Husband took a hike up that hill later in the day and returned with nary a scratch (or an itch!) Why, Lord? (Not to wish a tick on him, just wondering why I get chewed on and he doesn’t.) But seriously. of greater import, why was I attacked?

I know there is much said and written by men (and women) of the church about being prepared for an enemy attack when one steps out for God. Can’t say I’m too keen on those observations - my thought being that if God calls God covers. I most truly believe that He’s got my back (which, incidentally, was the area that received the most bites.) In fact, it would be fair to say that I abhor those “warnings” when given - because I think they actually discourage people from doing a thing for the Lord or His Kingdom by creating fear.

Yet, here I sit, safe in the valley, a little afraid of taking another step onto the mountain lest I be eaten up again.

HEY - anyone know a good brand of organic bug spray?