The Heartbreak of My Miscarriage

The first and only time I saw the baby was in the emergency room. The ultrasound technician was using a scope and the monitor was turned enough my way that I could see everything.
I saw the most precious silhouette...a perfectly formed head, little nose, little chin, tiny torso...and no heartbeat.
This wasn't my first rodeo; being baby number three I had seen my share of ultrasounds, and I was well aware that there should have been a quickly beating glowing thing shouting "I'm alive". There was nothing there.
I knew. I knew right away. I looked at the technician and said, "there's no heartbeat". She sadly shook her head and told me she was going to get the doctor.
My tears began to flow and I whispered, "the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away...blessed be the name of the Lord."
The thing is, the Lord had given this baby at a time when I wasn't too excited to receive it. We had two little girls already and they were proving to be quite the challenge. I had finally lost my baby weight and was feeling svelte and we were getting beyond the terrible toddler years...and, well, this baby seemed a tad inconvenient.
I had never, ever, never, never thought of abortion; but I did think of how sucky it was to start the ride all over again. By ride I mean morning sickness that never stops, naps that don't feel restful, round ligament pain, weight gain, sore backs, sleepless nights...there didn't seem anything thrilling to look forward to and I was mad.
Have I offended anyone yet?
6 weeks in I had the initial "yep, you're preggers" appointment and I heard the heartbeat. 8 weeks in I was barfing more than a bulimic showgirl (I actually don't know how much they barf, it just seemed an interesting comparison), but the sickness was easier than with my other two and I was a bit concerned. I went to my OB/GYN and he heard the heartbeat and told me all seemed well. By around 11 or 12 weeks I was sitting outside in the early spring air, watching my little daughters chasing each other around a tree, when I had a vision of a third child in the mix. I could hear three giggles, I could see three sets of dancing eyes.
It was then that I not only came to terms with having a third child, but truly embraced the idea. A week later I began to bleed.
After the horrendous ER visit (re: catheterized by Mo and Curly) I went to see my OB. He was very empathetic and truly sorry; and then he told me something that truly horrified me.
Based on the size of the baby, having been examined during the procedure I underwent, it was very likely the baby died at nine weeks gestation - a week after my concern over lack of sickness...the last time I would hear the heart. So, for 4 weeks I had carried around the body of my dead child. While sick, while planning, while embracing the life coming...the child was already dead.
I was truly heartbroken. Truly just...broken.
Was it something I had done? Was it because I wasn't happy about having another? I'd had an MRI a few weeks before conceiving, was there latent MRI-iness in me?
A few days afterward I drove myself to the mall and parked way back in the parking garage and poured my brokenness out before God. I asked all the questions most people ask when staring down grief, but I had no big heavenly-voiced reply.
I did have consolation though. From my husband, my church family, and from my oldest daughter. Then four years old, we were cuddling as I put her to bed; she reached up and stroked my face and said, "I'm sorry your baby died."
Me too.
Comfort can not be appreciated more by those who are grieving. For the most part we aren't really looking for answers or cheap one-liners about God's will and Better places; we just want the hugs and the "I'm really sorry"...that's all.
Interestingly enough, days later, God Almighty comforted me in a way I would never have expected. As a believer in Jesus I am comforted to know that my death will usher me into Heaven...but what about my baby?
One afternoon I had my regularly scheduled bible study time while the girls were napping. As I was making my lunch to munch while studying a bunch, I heard this little voice whisper to my heart: "I have a word for you from Psalm 8".
Psalm 8, huh? Mmm...okay.
Sitting down to my bible, I opened to Psalm 8:

O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth

You have set your glory in the heavens.

Through the praise of children and infants you have established a strong hold

against your enemies, to silence the foe and avenger.

As I read that line about children and infants, the Father whispered again "Your baby is with me, praising me."

My bible still has tear stains.

While I won't know until heaven why this baby went there first, I will know the comfort our Compassionate God had for his heartbroken daughter, and I will know I can rely on that comfort again should brokenness revisit in the future.

Christina

Just Desserts...or...They Had it Coming

I couldn't decide on a title for this blog because there are so many quips I could have used to describe the content of this post. I was afraid that "Just Desserts" might be thought of as, like, we are serving "just desserts" at our Super Bowl party, rather than it's intended "he'll get his just desserts". Also, only saying "they had it coming" could have been mistaken for an amazon package on it's way.
Either way, today's topic came to mind because I have been studying the life and times of Jesus, from the culture and geography to the traditions and history. In my studies I discovered some very interesting tidbits regarding Herod the Great; more specifically, tidbits regarding his death.
If anyone had it coming it was Herod.
Herod the murderer. Herod the blasphemer. Herod the dictator, tyrant, sycophant...the list of his criminal titles could go on and on! This is the Herod who had three of his sons executed because he felt threatened by them, who had his wife, Meriamne, killed because he thought she might be planning an affair. This is the Herod who, on his deathbed, corralled hundreds of Israel's favorite men to be executed at the moment of his death so Israel would grieve instead of rejoice the day. This is also the Herod that had Bethlehem's baby boys, aged two and under, murdered so he could extinguish the hope of Jesus' kingship.
Really, there are no words to describe how wicked and evil this man was. Only few men in history have elevated their deeds to Herodian levels, and these are the men that no one names their kids after: Antiochus Epiphanes, Nero, Stalin, Hitler...all brutal, savage, murderous. evil.
You may be interested to know that Herod's death mirrored how he lived his life: grotesque and demoralizing.
As history records it, "disease consumed him, painful symptoms wracked his entire body in pain. He only a slight fever, but his skin itched terribly all over. His intestines hurt all the time, his feet and abdomen were swollen, and his genitals were rotting with gangrene, which had become infested with maggots. Beside all this he had trouble breathing and couldn't breath at all when he sat up." (War of the Jews, Josephus)
I'm sorry, maybe it is unkind and unmerciful, but I just can't bring myself to feel sorry for the dude; even if his boy parts were covered with maggots (some attribute that a result of gonorrhea).
Another who had a rather ungentlemanly death is Joseph Stalin. According to wikipedia he was found on the floor in his room, soaked in stale urine and mumbling unintelligibly. They diagnosed him with a cerebral hemorrhage (stroke) caused by hypertension (high blood pressure), with stomach hemorrhage facilitating.^[307] He was treated in his dacha with leeches, as was customary at the time.^[308] On March 3 his double Felix Dadaev was called back from vacation to Moscow "to be ready to stand in for Stalin if needed", but he never needed to. On March 4 Stalin's illness was broadcast in the media with surprising detail such as pulse, blood pressure and urinalysis; for convenience the time of his stroke was said to be March 2 and his location as Moscow. The bedridden Stalin died on 5 March 1953, at the age of 74.^[1]

Obviously Herod had it worse, yeah, but he didn't get off quite as easy as some other villains. Hitler and Nero both committed suicide. That just don't seem right...where's the justice in a quick offing with a sword or a gun?
So what's with all the history lessons here? Well, as I was considering Herod and his wickedness I found within me this...gladness...to see that he suffered horribly at his death. Does that make me bad? I'm sure it's not all christiany to say it, but there is a big part of me that wants to see people paid back for the wrong that they do.
I have a tremendous need for JUSTICE! Perhaps that comes from that little-girl place in me that wants to be defended and protected; the little girl that wants to know the bad guys will get punished. I have a need to know that good will win and bad will lose.
Years ago Ted Bundy was wreaking havoc. Perhaps you'll remember him...the serial rapist and murderer who brutalized and terrorized the country in the 1970's by killing nearly 30 young women. This man was so evil that he would return to the bodies left in the wilderness to rot, and perform acts with their corpses. I shudder to even think of this man's evil deeds. Yet, in a recorded conversation with James Dobson, before his execution in January of 1989, Ted Bundy said he was a born-again Christian.
So, Ted Bundy is in heaven right now.
Where is the justice in that?
How does it seem like we can trust the God who promises to protect and defend us, when the bad guy goes to heaven? Is God less good because he let the bad in? Is His justice system flawed when the evil in the world are succeeding and the good, Jesus-following Christians are being murdered in their churches and homes?

There was a time not long ago that I was having a bit of a fit in my car. I mean, I was having myself a bawl-baby fit! I was crying out to the Lord and asking Him why things had to be so hard, and why can't life be a bit easier (let me be clear...I am WELL aware that my life is super awesome and blessed, especially in contrast to those in the middle east). It wasn't pretty, and it was really quite petty; nonetheless I was having a fit. It was in the middle of my pity party that the Lord spoke to my heart saying, "why do you expect life to be heaven when you aren't there yet?"
That's it. God made us "with eternity in our hearts" (Ecclesiastes 3:11) and we are heavenly minded; we are longing for the perfection of heaven in a corrupt and wicked world. It's not going to be perfect here. Jesus told us that: "in this world you will have trouble, but take heart, for I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)
So is God's justice system flawed because evil succeeds?
 No.
 His justice has been put on hold - at least in the way that he will manage trouble makers in the future...with an iron rod!
In the meantime we get glimpses of his perfect justice, like when child abusers are found out and punished and when serial rapists are unveiled and their reputation is ruined; when terrorists and dictators are discovered and their punishment is mete out.
I trust God's justice and I trust his timing...and I know that I may not see the fullness of either until heaven, but until then I cling to the promise that he makes regarding his character:
"The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to a thousand generations, forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin; yet does not leave the guilty unpunished..." (Exodus 34:6-7)
Herod, with the way he died, got to sample a bit of God-sized justice...can you imagine how he is now suffering?
So now, thinking back to Ted Bundy, the only thing I can think to say is we either believe in Amazing Grace or Cheap Grace. Cheap Grace is what we might believe in if we have to be on our best behavior and earn our place in heaven through good deeds - with the final push through the door from the cross. It's the grace that limits the forgiveness of God to human standards and human understanding. It's the grace that tells young women not to have abortions and then shuns and shames the single mother. You-gotta-earn-it grace is cheap.
Then there is Amazing Grace...the grace the forgives and saves the murderers, the liars, the rapists, the tribal natives that spear the missionaries, the devil-worshiping rocker, the Nazi guard who terrorized their Jewish captives. Amazing Grace is the grace that makes a known sinner fall at the feet of Jesus and wash his feet with her tears; it's the grace that makes the worst of humanity a lover of the Savior of humanity.
Who am I to be mad that Ted Bundy got saved? Aren't I a sinner saved by grace too?
We all had it coming...but because of Jesus we who believe will not receive our just desserts; instead we will receive a enormous heaping a GRACE!

The Transforming Power of Cussing

It used to be less common; using foul language. 
It used to be...or perhaps I thought it was. That is, until I watched one of my favorite childhood movies "The Goonies". I was excited to watch it after so long a time, and watch it with my children too. I remember fondly the "Hey you guys!" pirate scene, the siren call to adventure even if you're a dork, the happy ending. So, I turned on the movie and within minutes I turned it right back off. I couldn't believe all the horrible words coming out of the mouths of those little boys. I was stunned! How did I not notice all that cussing when I was a kid?
Maybe cussing had been more common than I previously thought.
I used to cuss a lot. The year I had the gangsta-wanna-be boyfriend who listened to rap with explicit lyrics (what was I thinking??!)... I swore a lot that year. That was my senior year in high school; the zenith of my teenage trying-to-be-cool mindset. The next year I went to college at a Christian University (Corban University) and had to rewrite the script I had been speaking by for years. Nobody there cussed...at least not out loud, and not around me. The kids going to this school were here to prepare for a life of Christian ministry and Christians don't swear.
Well, that's what I thought anyway.
So, I stopped cussing. After a while I began to like the non-cussing Christina, so I continued to not cuss because, well, I didn't want to.
Now, as a recovered cusser, I have to be honest and admit that when I hear someone cuss it unnerves me. No, that's too soft a word. It puckers my soul. Think of taking a big, long suck on a lemon dipped in vinegar then rolled in salt. That's how it feels to my soul when I hear cussing.
Just today I was walking into a store behind a pair of ladies. They were stylishly dressed, hair done nicely...just pretty, really. I wasn't evesdropping, I promise, but I was overhearing these women talking about social issues and the environment, when all of a sudden one of the women dropped the "F" bomb. It's called a bomb for a reason you know; it destroys! This woman's foul language totally destroyed my first impression of her as a classy girl and transformed my view of her into something different.
Its like going from this:

to this:

Now, don't get your unders snarled. I am NOT saying that girls who swear ARE trashy; I am saying that when we swear (and don't forget that I am a card holding member of Cussers Anonymous) it transforms the way we are seen in the eyes of others.
My junior high aged daughter has dropped a couple of bombs recently, in part because that's what she hears the kids say all day, and also because she wants to fit in. When she swears the other kids see her as one of their own.
She doesn't belong to them though, not really, she has pledged her life to Jesus Christ and she belongs to Him; but when she cusses she looks like she's traded teams.
This is the transforming power of our words.
If you watch British TV, Downton Abbey for instance, there is a big difference in the way the separate classes spoke. The serving class and the upper class were distinguished by, not only their dress and bearing, but also by their use of language. In the same way, the manner in which we choose to speak distinguishes us from the world who does not follow, love and obey God - or not.
We who call ourselves "Christians" are representing the person connected to that name. I don't think you would have heard Jesus Christ propping up a parable with a few well placed cuss words. Yeah...no.
Philippians 1:27 tells us to "live you life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ" and I strongly believe that includes our language. It's more than cussing, it's also the content of our conversations. Is Jesus' character and personality coming out in what you say? Paul told the Ephesians, "coarse and foolish talking or crude joking are not suitable, but rather giving thanks." Apparently potty talk was an issue in the first century too.
Speaking of Downton Abbey, there is a line that Mr. Carson says in season one, episode two that has always struck a chord with me: "You must remember that a good servant at all times retains a sense of pride and dignity that reflects the pride and dignity of the family he servies. And never make me remind you of it again.

A Godly Response to Jerks

First of all, I realize "jerk" is probably a 90's word, because I don't hear it much anymore; usually I hear more choice words of an inflammatory nature, especially when referring to women. All that aside, this blog post is dedicated to the people in our lives that make life a little more difficult, uncomfortable and downright poopy.

My Jerk is a woman I have worked with for many years now. We are both instructors with well attended classes and good followings; all important for a successful fitness career. She came to the job a few years after me and I welcomed her with open arms...I tend to view new people as potential new best friends. I like people.
It didn't take long before I realized that I was not going to be BFFs with this instructor. Her body language, eye contact, and words said as much. Once I invited her to coffee to see if there was anything I had done to her to warrant her cold indifference and she alluded to feeling that I treated her like competition. It's probably true. I do struggle with pride and I don't like it if I feel less-than someone else. Perhaps I put off an air of comparison/competitive arrogance...(shrug). Either way, I tried to be super nice to her. Man, I really went out of my way to ask her about her family, her classes, her life; short, terse, one-word replies.
Cozy.
Fast forward a year. This woman had been given the task of helping with a program at our gym and I found out about it from our supervisor. Intrigued by new possibilities, I asked the woman about her vision for the program and she chewed me out. Like, seriously, bit off my head, chewed for a few minutes, then stuck it back on.
I had no business asking such questions, apparently.
Well, I can't say I responded well. I wasn't mean, you know, but I did stick up for myself. The problem is that I know what my body language looks like when I'm angry (I've watched my angry self in the mirror before, haven't you?) so I am certain that my attempts at not being wretched were thwarted by my pinched face and flashing eyes.
Later, I called to apologize and to find out why she continued to not like me, in spite of my niceness. Her answer? I didn't say her name when I say hi.
Wha???
Yep, that's right. Me saying, "Hey there!" or "Hey you!" or "Hi, how's it going?" showed irreconcilable disrespect.
Wha???
For a while I tried to remember to always pronounce her name in my welcomes, but after a while I realized that it wasn't fixing anything. Really, I think she only got worse. She officially became that person you think of when you hear the word: JERK.
So what do you do when there is a jerk in your life, and you really don't like them, but you want to be godly? It's tricky!
I really want to know what Jesus would do in this predicament. He had lots of jerks messing with him, you know. Seriously, everywhere Jesus went a Jerk was sure to go.
First, let's establish who Jesus' jerks were: the Pharisees and Saducees. They were the religious leaders, raised to study and keep the laws of God. They were the ones who would follow Jesus, conspiring together to try to trip him up so he'd look a fool to the people and lose his following. They worked very hard to take him down a notch (i.e. get him killed), but every time Jesus responded to these jerk-faces in such a way that they were left speechless. So what did Jesus do...did he "kill them with kindness" as we are often told to do? Probably, we are told to turn the other cheek, forgive as we have been forgiven, answer harshness with a soft reply...but, I noticed Jesus did something a little different while doing all that.
Jesus told it like it was.
Just a cursory glance through the gospels shows us a number of times Jesus had face-offs with the religious leaders, in each instance the Lord was not like, "Oh, I shouldn't say this because they might respond badly", or " I'm just going to sit here quietly and take their abuse and hope they go away". No, Jesus wasn't a pantie-waist mamby pamby. He spoke forcefully and truthfully, but it was all with the purpose of bringing about repentance.
Examples:
He called out hypocrisy (Mark 12:13-17)
He pointed out the false teachings they'd believed in (Mark 12:18-27)
He showed them the evil intent in their hearts (Mark 12:1-12)
He taught them the truth of God's word and called attention to their hard heartedness and pride (Mark 10:1-12)
He refused to argue with them (Mark 8:11-13)

   I don't think this gives us permission to use our tongue like a filet knife whenever we feel someone is being mean, no way. What it does do is gives us permission to "speak the truth in love".
What?
Okay, say there is a jerk lurking about in your life...you can't get away from said-jerk because of one reason or another: family member, co-worker, neighbor, school mate. What if you were to do like Jesus and say it like it is?
You are wrong to treat my children that way.
It hurts me when you talk to me like that.
Your decision to do that was wrong and I will not be held responsible.
I am going to walk away, because I will not be a part of this conversation.

Here is the caveat though....if you just can't wait to see that person again so you can lay into them some good ol' "truth in love"? Don't do it. Telling someone the truth about their jerkiness is not so you can one-up them; it's so they can see their sin and repent.
If that is not your primary motivation in saying it like it is, then keep your mouth shut. In that case do something else that Jesus did: leave.

I Don't Think God Likes Me

Last night I was having one of those conversations with my 7th grade daughter. You know...the kind I have been warned would be coming; the kind with all the deep questions that most people don't want to answer. Maybe I am weird, but I LOVE those conversations! Go ahead, ask me about sex and boys and popularity and God and hell and stuff...BRING IT!
I like to go deep...talk about deep things that really matter, so this was my kind of convo.
At one point we were talking about the way God puts boundaries around our lives in order to spare us from hurt, pain and regret. It was at this point that my daughter said, "yeah, he looks at me and can't wait to (pushes a finger into the top of the bed) go Squish!"
I wanted to say, "Nu-uh! God is so not like that!" but then it occurred to me that I used to think that way too. So I told her as much.
"You know, I used to think that God was just waiting for me to mess up too, but then I learned that he's much nicer than that."
And it's true, He is much nicer than that. In Psalm 50:21 God says, "You thought I was altogether like you", because we often think that He is just like the people who can be mean, vindictive, punishing and abusive - only He's bigger and older. But God shows us through His word that He's so much different than us - so unlike us.
I know there have been times I've waited for my kids to screw up; sometimes it was because I couldn't wait to try out a new discipline technique. But I admit, I've done it. I've grown so weary of chronic bad behavior from them I do come down hard and unforgiving. Have my kids seen my past harshness and relate it the way they think God is? Maybe. Upon further deep thinking on the matter; knowing that this is an area many people struggle with, I don't think the perceived harshness and fear of reprisal is the main issue. I think we wonder, deep down inside, "Does God like me?"
I know, I know, the Bible says "God is love" - you bet. Does He like me? The Bible says "He is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness" (Exodus 34:6-7), but does he like me?
I have experienced first hand the love-you-don't-like-you phenomenon. You know, those family members who "love" you because you are family, but they don't have any desire to hang out? You know, those friends and church family people who "love you in the Lord", but have never bothered to have a conversation with you or invite you to dinner, or treat you with out-of-sight-out-of-mind indifference? (Is it just me?)
Man, I want to be liked. I want people to think I am funny, to want to spend time with me and to be interested in me as a person.
So, with that in mind, does God like me...and how would I even know since it's not like I can reach out and throw my arm around his shoulder.
It all centers around "delight".
Years ago I asked the Lord to do something that would delight me...I mean, really knock my socks off and let me know He's thinking about me and delights in me. After I finished praying I felt in my inner self (my spirit) the Lord saying, "Go sweep the back porch". Wha???
So, I went out and swept the back porch and as I was sweeping the broom struck something big and clunky...a rock. I reached down and picked up the rock, turned it in my hand, and saw a heart. A rock shaped into a heart which had somehow made it's way onto my back porch. I began to weep. It seems so small - and could be cast off as coincidental (if you believe in that sort of thing); for me it was a gift...a token of how much God likes me.
Since that time the Lord has presented me with heart rocks everywhere I go: mission trips, speaking events, conferences, vacations etc. I have a big jar full of them.

Some, like the one in this picture from India, couldn't come home with me, but were just as thrilling to find.

I am convinced that the Lord wants to show each one of us that he not only loves us, but he really does like us too. Why don't you ask Him to show you, in your own special way, that He likes you; then be ready for it!

Please Compliment Me!

I have often been struck by the subtlety of those face book posts that ask you to tell something nice about the person who posted: "Tell me something nice about myself that begins with the letter of your first name" or "tell me where we first me...that is if you really are my friend". What we are really saying is, "Somebody - anybody - please compliment me."
In a culture where you can communicate at the press of a button we are all desperate to get past the silence. It is a silence that is louder than a freight train...it is the silence of a generation that has no idea how to be kind.
I see this lack of kindness in my children. When one child gets a compliment, the other child has to throw in a little insult - just to even things out...make sure she don't get no big head or nothing.
The irony is that our kids are being raised in the culture of self-esteem. Don't you dare tell the kids the truth about their behavior or they might grow up to be axe-murderers or something! Bobby isn't a disrespectful and rude boy...he's...politeness-challenged. Susie isn't a manipulative, angry girl...she's "having a hard time making friends".
So we sit back in our chair, laptop on lap, hoping someone might say something nice to us...might just encourage us a little.
It's just the next-gen equivalent of when we used to sit by the phone, hoping someone cared enough to call and chat.
Man, we are just desperate for approval!
I began thinking about this as I sat at my desk preparing for a conference I am teaching in a few weeks. In Isaiah 57, God calls upon Israel to remove roadblocks, to prepare the road for the work He wants to do. I began wondering what my roadblocks are; sometimes we are truly blind to our own roadblocks.
The Lord's response to my heart-question was this: "You have an addiction to approval."
This was truly born out today when I was teaching one of my exercise classes. I was taking it really easy on my class since it had been a while since our last class. I told them as much and at the end of the class a woman came up to tell me this was the best class she'd ever been to...which is why it frustrated her that I said it was a lot easier than normal. Thanks?
It really sent me for a spin, this side-ways compliment. She liked the class that I don't normally teach and would prefer that I not teach how I normally teach. So...does she like me? Does she like the not-normally-me? Does it matter?
Why do I care?
I have an addiction to approval.
Approval is like a drug. If I am complimented on something, whether it's singing, speaking, writing, or teaching...it makes me want more. "Oh, really? You liked my song? What did you like about my song?"
So, maybe I should not be complimented.
On the flip-side, though, if I don't get complimented (i.e. a nod of approval) it is like getting withdrawals; not quite to getting the shakes, but almost. I need to know you like me. I need to know I am good enough.
So, what can be done about this need - this addiction - for approval.
As with any other need I have to take it to my Counselor. You know, the One Jesus said he was sending? The Wonderful Counselor...the Spirit of Truth who will guide us into all truth (John 16).
The scriptures are flush with the truths of how God feels about us and those truths become the anchor of my needy, little soul.
On my next blog I am going to share a list of those "How-God-Feels-About-Me-Truths", so hang in there, fellow addicts. I like you.

Full Throttle Worship

The following is a repost from last year's mission trip:

A few days ago I returned to the states from the Dominican Republic. I've been on a mission trip sharing the gospel, teaching the bible and helping with a Festival sponsored the by Reid Saunders Association. This is my fourth trip in the last four years with RSA and, to be perfectly honest, I was not terribly excited to go.
Don't get me wrong...I love mission trips, I love serving the Lord by serving others and I was pumped up about doing both. But, I'd been in a really dry place lately with my relationship with the Lord...my worship had been subdued, my prayers had been lame and I was sort of, well, kind of like a wrinkled raisin...just, meh.
As I arrived in the DR I spent a morning in quiet study and prayer, just begging the Lord to revive my heart and ignite my passion about him. I really resonated with the verse in Psalms that takes about "the leanness of the soul"...I wanted my soul to put on some weight; get all fat and juicy!
Well, baby, I was about 5 minutes into the worship and praise part of the Women's Conference that I was to teach, being led in worship by a Dominican "Mandisa" when my soul stirred. Oh, how it stirred, then danced, then leaped about!
These women, these beautiful, big-voiced, passionate Dominican women raised their hands, swayed their hips and sang like angels at the top of their lungs. It was incredible. It was amazing. It was soul-satisfying. You see, I am a big-voiced, hip-swaying, passionate American living in the quiet; living in the sit-still. I didn't realize how quenched I had been in worship until, suddenly, my soul was fat and juicy with it.
Then came the piece-de-resistance! I got up and sang with my Dominican Madisa-like friend Mikal. We sang Revelation Song; she in Spanish, me in English. It was amazing, sacred really. It was full throttle worship and the Lord smiled, and I was satisfied.