I am the Thief on the Cross: Every Day is Sunday

I am one of the fortunate ones. I grew up with no doubt that a higher, greater being existed. My first experiences with God came through people who loved Him.

The experiences were not paragraphs or even sentences in my life; they were more like dashes or commas.  

My dad and mom, who taught me He is Holy and to be respected.

Bible school teachers who taught me He is kind and good.

Sunday school teachers who did not know when I would be there, yet they were prepared for me when I walked through the door.

A man and his wife who opened their home and taught me He is the miracle worker.

And a preacher who was unafraid to speak in such a way as to show me my sins…in living color.

I remember listening.

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God…became personal.  

My heart broke open and my sin poured out.

Oh, the shame of it…seeing my own sin.

Hanging my guilt-heavy head, not wishing to look up…

If we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us of our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness…  

“I’m sorry!” I cried.

His redeeming love began to find its way into my heart and for an instant the shame was too great.

It was then that this Love mingled with my wrongdoing. Piece by piece, my broken heart’s endless supply of sin dissipated. What was hopeless just a moment earlier became whole.

That would be me.

Brand new.

Changed.

Transformed.

Forgiven.

Nearly 40 years later, experiencing God is still thrilling!

Having reflected on what He gave that Friday…

Having celebrated resurrection Sunday along with millions of people all over the world…

Having embraced what I cannot fully understand…

Yes, I am as the thief on the cross.

Repentant.

Forgiven.

Every day is Sunday.

When There are no Words...KNOWING

There is a kind of parental love that comes along with being a pastor’s wife. It’s difficult to explain the relationship between my church family and me. I love each one in a motherly way, regardless of age.

Most of the time, ministering to and with my family is a joy. I have such a wonderful “seat” at the table.

But then there are seasons like the present. When there is heartache and heartbreak. “Why’s” echo through tear-filled eyes.  Hollow eyes betray the strong exterior as fear creeps in. And in my motherly sort of way, I want to fix it. I want to have the perfect words that make it all better no different from the moment this morning when my sweet grandbaby bumped her head and began to cry.

 “Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”

She walked over and leaned in. I kissed her head and hugged her. “I’m so sorry you got hurt, baby.”

She quit crying and went back to playing.

The kiss made it all better.

The trials of this day are far greater.

As my heart breaks for the people I dearly love, I resist to slip into

 “If you really loved us Lord, this would not be happening”

“We serve you Lord, where is the protection that should come our way?”

“You are the Divine Healer…what happened? Did you look the other way?”

And in my search to fix it I am reminded, pain or trial in life is never experienced without purpose for those who love God. 

Among His many promises to His kids, God gives us the only answer to “why?”

Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. But endurance must do its complete work, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing. James 1

Don’t get tripped up over the first few words of this verse, those words that tell us to consider it great joy when we experience these hardships. Don’t overlook the next word…KNOWING…

What a gift God gave us in this word. It doesn’t say guessing or hoping.

KNOWING.

KNOWING what is happening in life produces endurance because as faith is pushed to its limits we see God keeps His promises.  Even better we can KNOW that it is not endurance just for the sake of enduring. God is right there, active as the endurance becomes complete so we may…look at it… look at the last two words be LACKING NOTHING.

I’m no stranger to the personal pain that has caused me to weep, face to the floor, and beg for God’s intervention.  I have looked toward heaven and wanted Him to step in and stop the pain now. I confessed that I did not ask for endurance nor did I choose this path toward being complete, lacking nothing.

God, in His great wisdom, loved me deeply as my pain seemed to envelope me. His presence has never been more real than in the alone that is found in the dark of night. When tears flow freely and there is no need for the face of “I’m okay.”

God has allowed my honesty in weakness.  And He is near and is listening as my family members ache and ask “why?”

Psalm 56…You Yourself have recorded my wanderings. Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your records?  Then my enemies will retreat on the day when I call. This I KNOW: God is for me. In God, whose word I praise, in the Lord, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not fear. What can man do to me?

The enemies of death, cancer, fear, loneliness, addiction, betrayal…add the enemy you are facing to this list.

I wish I could gather you...Marcie, Chad, Sherry… in my arms and, with motherly love, kiss your forehead and make it all better.

You can trust that I, and many others in the family, are praying and believing and KNOWING…

God is for you.

You are in the middle of “complete.”

I need thee every hour…Most gracious Lord…No tender voice like thine…Can peace afford…I need thee…oh I need thee…Every hour I need thee…Oh bless me now my savior…I come to thee

Jehovah Rapha...All to the glory of GOD

Jake sat quietly in the ICU family waiting room. He was surrounded by people he loved and they were all crying. His brother sat in a chair staring at the floor. His older sister wept. His little sister didn't stop moving. I don't think she understands what is happening here.

His grandmother sat quietly holding hands with her parents, Jakes great grandmother and great grandfather. Grandmother's lips were moving but she wasn't making any sound. He watched as a tear silently rolled down her cheek.  

Jake's grandfather was in the ICU and the doctors said he could die.

Jake wasn't ready to say good-bye. He wanted to pray but he wasn't sure what he should say.

"God knows what is best and we have to trust him," said his grandmother.

"All to the glory of God," said Jakes great grandfather.

All to the glory of God? How can any of this be to God's glory?

The doctor walked in and said, "He is stable for the moment. We are arranging to move him to a hospital that is better equipped to help him. You must understand he is very sick and might not survive the transport, but we have done all we can for him here."

The family prayed for a miracle.

Jake looked around the small room. Wall to wall family. Great grandparents who still loved each other. Aunts and uncles who stopped what they were doing and hurried to the hospital to be near their dad. Cousins ranging in age from teenagers down to toddling babies. And everyone was here because of granddad.

The chaplain came by, "The EMT's are here and everything is ready to transport Mr. Lewis."

Jake stared out the window as grandma drove to the hospital. It was late and the night sky was made darker by the fog and light rain that fell.

God, please don't let my granddad die. Please give us more time with him.

The next few days were a blur to Jake. Granddad was always on his mind. It was hard to concentrate at school. He went to the hospital after school each day. Each night he laid awake staring at the ceiling.

Sometimes he prayed.

Sometimes he cried.

His stomach hurt and his head ached.

He was afraid all the time. 

One morning Jake went into the kitchen for breakfast and found his great grandparents sitting at the table.

"Is everything ok? Where's grandma?"

"She's at the hospital. The doctors are running a few tests." said Great Granddad.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Great Granddad put down his coffee cup. "You know you can."

"The other day, at the hospital, you said 'All to the glory of God.' I just don't get it. How can this be for God's glory? If granddad never comes home , if he dies, that can't bring God glory."

"God's ways are not our ways. Often times it's hard to understand God. But you know Jake, God never said we are to understand Him. He said to trust Him. When you trust Him to take care of you no matter what, He will get the glory. God knows best."

"Right now I'm just confused. The family has prayed that God would make granddad better. He's not better. It doesn't look to me like God is listening."

"I know it's hard Jake. The Bible tells us that God is Jehovah Rapha, the Lord Who Heals. God heals all kinds of illness and hurt in different ways. Psalm 147:3 says He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. You just keep praying. You'll see. God is listening and He will get the glory."

"What do you mean 'in different ways'?"

"Sometimes very sick people get well and come home. Sometimes they die and their healing takes place in heaven. In heaven, there is no sickness or pain."

"Don't say that. I don't want to think about granddad dying."

"Jake, trust God no matter what. Whether granddad lives or dies, trust God to take care of him and you."

That afternoon Jake went to the hospital to check on granddad.  

"Hey, Jake! Have you had a good day?"

"Yeah, it's been ok. How's granddad? Any news?"

"Actually yes Jake! The doctors were able to take him  off the machine that was helping him breathe. He can whisper now. He told me he knew everyone was praying for him. He said he knew that God worked a miracle!"

Jake wanted to cry again; this time happy tears.

"Did God make granddad better?"

"Yes He did. It's important to thank God and give Him all the glory."

"All to the glory of God?"

"Exactly. All to the glory of God."

After two long weeks Jakes granddad came home from the hospital. It was great to have him home, telling corny jokes and winking at grandma.

Jake hugged granddad tightly, "I was so scared. I didn't want you to die."

"Jake, God took care of me.  I knew I might not live, but God gave me peace. I wasn't afraid. I knew God would heal me either by making be well enough to come home or by welcoming me into heaven."

"Don't say that. I don't want to hear that."

"Death is a part of life. You need to know that I'm not afraid to die because Jesus is my Savior. I asked Him into my heart many years ago. There's no need to fear death."

"I think I'm beginning to understand. God gets the glory whether you live or die because of Jesus."

"That's exactly right. Jehovah Rapha, the Lord Who Heals, gets the glory!"

This Little Light of Mine

I recently returned from a trip to Israel. Words can’t describe all the sights and sounds, emotions and impressions.

It is nearly impossible to choose a favorite site or experience. If I had to choose I would choose a region…the region of Galilee.

Jesus spent the majority of His ministry around the shores and mountains of Galilee.

Our group made the hike up Mount Arbel and took in the sights of Galilee. We were mostly speechless as we looked out across the valley. We had the luxury of allowing the mind’s eye to see Jesus as He gathered the 12 men that would make history with Him.

We gazed across the vast valley at a modern day city that sits on a hill.

Jesus had just finished teaching the disciples The Beatitudes. Blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are those who mourn, blessed are the gentle…

And then He spoke these words that have resonated in my heart all day today:

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.

 “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”


I stood on Arbel and saw the city on the hill. I imagined  2,000 years ago as the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness crept over the valley, the people of the city lit their oil lamps…house by house…one by one…a small flickering flame glowing in the night…met by another and yet another…

I imagined the sight from the valley below and I could see all those lights blinking and winking and guiding the way through the night.


Jesus said “Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”


In other words it matters.


How I treat my family…matters.


How I speak to the checkout lady at Ingles… matters.


How I respond to the insurance clerk who is reciting HIPPAA to me…matters.


The sites I visit on the computer…matters.


What I allow to take root in my heart…matters.


The sun is dipping below the horizon. Darkness is creeping in over the valley and we are to let our lights shine before family, friends, acquaintances and strangers that they may see our good works and glorify our Father in heaven.


It matters.


If the salt isn’t salty, what is its worth?



This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.



Hide it under a bush? Oh no! I’m gonna let it shine!

Hide it under a bush? Oh, no! I’m gonna let it shine,

Let it shine, let it shine, let is shine!



Let it shine til Jesus comes…

BB Hall, Mrs. Speights, Mr. Houston

I am just like you and can fondly recall the names of teachers that impacted my life tremendously.

It was evident teaching was their passion. They believed in me and taught me to reach for the stars. I saw integrity, compassion, high standards and drive. They raised the bar on me and I rose to meet it.

Mrs. Onstead

Mrs. Runavic

B.B. Hall

Mr. Houston

Mrs. Speights

I’m sorry to admit that there are some whose names escape me, but I can recall what they looked like and how they poured into me.

I have dear friends and family members who are currently in the teaching profession. They go to work each day and teach with integrity, compassion, high standards and drive. They are exemplary at turning resources that are lacking into a learning wonderland. They spend their own money to be sure the kids have food over the weekend, a warm coat for winter and daily necessities we take for granted. They teach under pressure from the government, pressure from parents, and pressure from the public.

They are amazing.

There’s nothing like listening to a child tell a story. I stopped in on a principle friend today. As I stepped into the outer office I was a spectator to such a story as a young boy told her all about things that were most important to him. She listened attentively. She nodded. She encouraged. She answered. She stopped what she was doing long enough to hear him out.

She is a world changer.

TV Land has launched another program that fills me with anger. It’s called “Teachers.”  Just as “Impastor” creators find it humorous to drag a respected profession through the trash, they have grabbed a hold of the teaching profession and tossed them into a cesspool. It is described as a program following 6 elementary teachers as they try to mold the minds of America’s youth even though they do not have their own lives together at all.

One review states the only thing that is missing is diversity as “This otherwise funny show, which debuts Wednesday night, follows six female teachers who comically corrupt their impressionable elementary-aged students with ill-conceived choices and actions.”

And I have waited for the outrage.

This program is a Viacom production. Pay attention parents- Viacom’s media networks, including MTV, VH1, CMT, Logo, BET, CENTRIC, Nickelodeon, Nick Jr., TeenNick, Nicktoons, Nick at Nite, Comedy Central, TV Land, SPIKE, T?3s, Paramount Channel and VIVA, reach approximately 700 million television subscribers worldwide.

When you plant your kids in front of TV Land or Nick Jr. or Nickelodeon for entertainment, you should remind yourself of Viacom’s agenda.

Let’s talk about TV Land. Isn’t that the home of our beloved Andy Griffith, Gilligan’s Island, Leave It to Beaver and Father Knows Best reruns? Wasn’t there a time we considered TV Land a “safe” alternative?

It’s the home of Impastor.

It’s the home of Teachers.

TVSeriesfinale.com states “TV Land is the programming destination featuring the best in entertainment on all platforms for consumers in their 40s. Consisting of original programming, acquisitions and a digital portfolio, TV Land is now seen in over 98 million U.S. Homes.”

98 million American homes tune in to TV Land. I just wonder… I really wonder…what would happen if we refused to consume the sewage they place before us? What would happen if we wrote letters and boycotted their money source? What would happen if we were finally outraged over things that matter most? What would happen if we quit laughing at disgraceful dialogue?

Better yet, what would happen if we picked up the remote and turned off the one-eyed monster? What would happen if we would put our smart phones down long enough to see what they are destroying? What would happen if we read to the kids, played with the kids, and actually had conversation with the kids?

What would happen if we returned respect to our pastors and teachers?

The biggest question of all—what would happen if we returned honor and respect to The One who created and loves us?

And you know what? Let’s get outraged.

There is a Savior

Twelve people.

Four states.

A few are friends.

Two are cousins.

Most have never met.

They all meet for the first time as the twelve in an airport.

Twelve people.

Four states.

And now they are pilgrims.

Who can take strangers and in a very short time cause them to be friends?

Who can gather twelve people…from four states... and create a family?

Who can know that laughter and tears between the twelve will lead to trust? 

Jesus can.

I’ve had the extreme honor the past week of walking where Jesus walked. I, as a part of the twelve, have had the privilege of looking out over the Sea of Galilee, hearing scripture read as I took in the sight of the pools of Bethesda, walking through the Kidron Valley, and of standing on the very pavement where Jesus carried the cross. I gazed at Golgotha and stepped into a tomb and found it empty.

Who can tell a blind man to rinse in the pools of Siloam and gain sight?

Who can heal a woman as she simply touches the hem of His garment?

Who can tell a raging sea to be still?

Who can love the world so deeply as to be The One to announce “It is finished”?

Jesus can.

More than 2,000 years ago Jesus chose twelve men.

Jesus and His 12 men shared everything together for three years.

Jesus walked with them after His death and resurrection and gave them the power to tell the world there is a Savior.

My new family, along with our new friend from this land, experienced a lot while we were together.

And we’ve got news that we must tell the world.

There is a Savior.

Who can look at all people individually and collectively at the same time?

Who can take our sins and remove them, tossing them as far as the East is from the West?

Who can heal and give hope?

Jesus can.

Twelve pilgrims.

All going our separate ways too soon.

But we are not the same. We have experienced Jesus together. 

And He has given us everything we need to tell the world---THERE IS A SAVIOR!

Tranquility and Peace

The people are everywhere. We pass each other and I nod my head in a "hello" sorta way. The nod is returned, along with a smile. My eyes are round and blue. Some have eyes that are mere slits. Others look back at me with oval, brown eyes. But the smiles.

The smiles are the same.

Our skin is not the same color. Some are onyx black, deep and beautiful. Others are hues of olive tones, earthy and rich. I scan the crowds and see white skin too. Milky white like me. Our skin is not all the same color.

But the smiles are the same.

 I hear music. The tune is familiar but I do not understand the words as the olive skinned people sing. My lips hardly move and slight whispers escape; I sing along.

The trees are full of birds of every feather yet it seems they all sing the same song. I am free to walk the grounds and nod at strangers. I am free to take pictures of the thousands of flowers lining the walkway and filling the gardens. The flowers, every color in the palette, rest in beds of green. The sun turns its face towards them and the dew glimmers like diamonds on velvet. Their beauty is surpassed only by their fragrance.   

I have traveled half way around the world for this walk. For this day. I found my place on a large rock on a hillside. The breeze blows past my face. I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun kiss my forehead.

There is a lake nestled at the bottom of the mountain. Looking out, I watch the water as waves gently lap the shore. Tranquility.  Beauty.

I have been here before. This is my fourth visit in 30 years. I am comfortable on "my" rock. The crystal blue sky meets the sparkling sapphire water; there is perfect peace.

I am free to cry. Free to exhale and weep with no fear of judgment.

I am free to rest. Free to put pain aside, forget stress, and simply rest.

I am free to dream. Free to envision all that is possible.

I am free to trust. Free to cast doubt over the side of the mountain, tumbling into the sea below.

In my heart, I hear blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, they shall be called children of God.

This place is the Mount of the Beatitudes. The water nearby is the Sea of Galilee. Pilgrims from all over the world travel by the hundreds of thousands each year to walk where Jesus walked. They come here to sing hymns. They are here to meditate. Their Bibles are opened to study the words Jesus spoke, words we know as The Sermon on the Mount.

There's something amazing about feeling an incredibly safe aloneness while surrounded by many.  In that safe aloneness I am content. What a glorious feeling! Contentment.

I have to wonder as I walk toward my car. The brown eyes, blue and green. The black skin, olive and white. The smiles that are all the same. Do all the people behind the smiles feel the same freedom here that is mine?