Am I Worth Anything

Ever wanted something (I don’t believe it matters what), and when it is not obtained, you measure yourself – your very worth as a person.  Out comes your judgment, “Well, I’m not ‘worth’ getting that, I guess.”  The very value begins its scale over a very small item or by the strength of another as you take second to its place.  You can’t seem to change your want, so you work harder at getting; but by golly, you still can’t find satisfaction and you’re drained with anger and worry on top of empty.  Now your worth/value statement not only lowers but the passion of what you want shrinks to question severely if you should have ever wanted it.  Unnoticed to your own soul’s destruction, your value is so low, your decision making gets clogged with ‘don’t ask’ time and time again; or even this thought - just look the other way to who you are.

Love’s entrance becomes limited with your own measure set, by yourself,  according to that scale.  By failures to control a person, place or thing, (yeah, that ol’ noun that entered my world and caused me discomfort) I told myself I can’t have it and I measured myself as non-lovable, second best, or worse – no worth.  Now, who cares if I get what I want?  I’m trying to survive under ‘not loved, not of worth, no value.  Swimming in echoes over and over that tell me I am second to everyone, everything.  I sit, I cry.

Crying to my Poppa God has worked in me the same magic it did when I was a child with my earthly dad.  I was blessed for my dad would sit and listen as I cried, and then give me options and thoughts to consider, as I shared.  Somehow I knew he had taken this time because he loved me.  This memory seems to be how my Poppa God works with me…always, somehow, I have known He loves me in spite of my search and wants; whether I get what I want or not.  And my conclusion was always that finding His Love was so much better than anything I could get from this world anyway. 

But oh the pain when my painful soul drowns as it sinks down, down, down while I continued to fall in my self-measured scale. 

I’m not talking about knowing my sinful nature, my wayward heart that scatters selfish screams.  No, I’m talking that measure of value that comes when something or one crosses you with a value statement that ‘this’ is more important than you; and you become a fallen vessel unable to hold your heart as valuable as you know your heart is worth.  I, not them, begin to trash my value.  I begin to wonder in despair with the ‘I’m not worth nothing’ attitude.  In desperate attempts, I make demands that are not met, I follow the lie rather than heal the soul that is battered and torn.

What a tragedy, to discard the heart with such a low measure of worth.  God’s extreme love demonstrated the ultimate sacrifice of His own Son to individually show my value is like an open check with a bank account larger than this world; with reserves extended to heaven’s eternal bliss. 

What a tragedy when I become distraught because a person, place or thing tried to rule my heart and I swallowed a lie of my worth.  Swimming in echoes over and over that tell me I am second to everyone, everything.  I sit, I cry.

But what a miracle when His Love rescues the heart and I dance away with knowing, I am His delight...!  Worth the gift of His Son, Jesus.  Worth the demand made, "Peace, be still" to the storm's invasion.  Worth the saving at the cost of Word leaving heaven to come in human form so "I" can find His Love never fails.  I am of worth...!

Empty Heart

The heart 

has worlds to explore 

and yet it can feel 

so empty.  

But taken to His moment, 

taken to His open gate, 

I wonder about 

like I am the tiny 

and He is the Big.  

And the fun begins...! 

As the run takes me over 

and I sing 

from depths I surrender to 

only when I think I am alone.  

And out comes 

the funky dance 

that was created 

from my beautiful careless 

choreographed childlike happiness.   

Giggles are the sounding notes 

that carry my spectacular, 

yet ridiculous, 

fun steps 

towards unheard promises 

that take a hold of me 

with power I am amazed 

have my life written about them.  

As if a stone 

was rolled away 

from the burdens of my weakness, 

music burst forth

causing me 

to be its very vessel 

to bring forth melodies 

to heights and depths 

of heaven on earth.  

I forget I felt empty.

Jokes

A conversation has purpose.  Do we really consider what we are saying or what others are trying to get across?  

Jokes – what is behind such a story, and when is it used to truly make things light? Or could it be used to get others to laugh at what you your self are angered over?

Lord, I love 'funny' but help me line each of my words up and give account to their reason to be spoken. If I can’t seem to find this possible, help me breakdown at least each conversation to hear my purpose for even making sounds into this atmosphere.  

Wickedness What Do I Do With It

What do you do with eyes to see wicked?  How are these horrible acts of violence and deception dealt with as we live and move in God's beautiful grace.

John the Baptist was a strange character who came to be a visible voice, before Jesus made His voice heard by the multitudes.  In Luke 3 I read of how John spoke to those who came to get a glimpse, and hear what all the talk about him was and I can't seem to find a single kind word to anyone, that is of course, except Jesus.  But all others (human kind)... he placed them as terrible sinners and in great need to repent.  Seeing right through them in such a degree that many apparently 'came to him' to be judged. WOW.  Luke 3:10 AMP And the multitudes asked him, Then what shall we do?

John the Baptist did not hesitate, then or prior to them asking, to tell them that they sin. Luke 3:3 AMP And he went into all the country round about the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance (of hearty amending of their ways, with abhorrence of past wrongdoing) unto the forgiveness of sin.

But here is the love beyond my understanding of who John the Baptist really was, and how he gave such deep guidance to sinners when they came to wonder if he was the Christ. Luke 3:16 AMP John answered them all by saying, I baptize you with water; but He Who is mightier than I is coming, the strap of Whose sandals I am not fit to unfasten. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.

AND THERE IT WAS... my thought on what to do with eyes to see wicked..!  Oh yes, we all want to do the pointing, but do we have the heart of John to walk in such repentance that we realize WE DO NOT EVEN HAVE RIGHTS TO LOOSEN JESUS'S SANDAL or do we basically just point out wrongs we think we have conquered so we are just a little higher than the one to whom we speak?  This thought took me into a new Room with Poppa. Through another door, so to speak. For I saw a man who saw the wicked of mankind, but with great conviction himself. Who spoke to those who would listen from his own place of humility. He knew he was a messenger - not Jesus - or anyone to be placed above those he spoke to.

Walking in the grace of what Jesus did, we can declare what is shown and the message we are given, but we can never place our self in a position to instruct like a creator. No, we are saved by grace just like the next guy.

And how do we see wicked

 - by the ability to know we struggle with wicked.

Why and How

I am loved and love creates so many questions 

Why the tears when You walk in?  Why is it that emotions take up this surround sound and all I hear is compassion as hugs rush in to hold me up?  Where was I before I knew You were there?  Is love hiding behind my fear; or is love leading me because I was created to fall forward towards this magnificence?  Without understanding of why choosing is the drink of pure joy, I wander about in the capture of Your Kingdom, as its walls seem to be the Arms of the Father.  Is this love so great a tiny piece or is it the gigantic it feels like to me?  How could I ever measure what feels like the roots of the largest tree, the fire of a sun, the freedom of the richest child?  Which tear speaks to You most... the first or the finish of my sentence?  When did my eyes really open, when I came from my mother or during Your first visit to woo me toward You?  Is the swing of my moods a tickle to You as I squirm free of bondage?  Why does the song of one word drown an ocean of worry. Is being born again something I will ever understand or is it much like being born the first time, without memory or understanding of why?  You say You picked me, why?  As the angels rejoice and I wonder what they say and how they respond, are they pondering the life of me?  When You split the ocean of worry apart so I can walk through, why is it such an amazing picture?  

Mark 12:30 (AMP)

And you shall love the Lord your God out of and with your whole heart and out of and with all your soul (your life) and out of and with all your mind (with your faculty of thought and your moral understanding) and out of and with all your strength. This is the first and principal commandment.

Memory of Nothing

There is only One that can fill the void within, all else has been said not to be eternal - it will dissolve as if it never was.

When I think about this, the 10th day of my birth comes to mind.... no wait; it doesn't, for I have no recall of that day. Absolutely nothing, even into years of the beginning of my life.  I know it happened because I am still on earth but it is as if memory was not with me during that time.  I can only rely upon another who might carry memory of me, or possibly a picture taken where I could take a look without voices to recall the details I see.

What would it be like to lose a year like this later on in life?  Time came and went but memory was left to be treasured, or not treasured, by someone else. What if a relationship is continued and/or built upon this vacancy of voices/time?  This sort of void of memory is not so uncommon but... what if this block of time took with it your intellect, your job, your health and then gave back only a small portion.  You awake slowly to reality as you learn, to your surprise, you used to respond differently than you do now.  To tackle a day feels like you were trying to tackle a year.  My husband took a fall that crushed at least a year from his hands, right out of his hands.  I lost with him for I can show him a picture or tell him a story, but it falls back to that 10th day of my life.... only knowing it happened but empty of detail.

WAIT, what about things eternal?  What about the days we cried together.  What about those who came to serve us?  What about thousands of conversations that I had with him of what happened while I held his hand.  What about those who traveled to see us?  What about things I don't know to even pull back with memory? 

The difficulty of life demands decisions to be made throughout every day.  I gather, without realizing it, my past along with the imagination of my future, and off I go to make my choice.  Sometimes singing, sometimes crying, but I cannot escape the fact that whether memory is eternal or temporarily just for now, I cross the line into a decision. It is called time.

What can we gain from facts that stack up into 'here I am' but crumble with 'how did I get here'?  What if I open my eyes and know that at this very moment a decision can be made to look for eternal where this is no longer 'time', where Word said moth cannot destroy.  I believe One calls it treasures in heaven. 

Eternal is such a mystery but it is.  A promise we can hold on to whether we remember or not; and if we are alive on earth...we can build. 

God's got a memory and He is the treasure giver.  The beauty of now is, again...

we can build.