Whatever belongs

This morning I was in my quiet time and I was singing...

"Whatever it looks like here I am.
  Whatever the days like here I am.
  I give You all that I am God.  All that I am."

As I began to sing this over and over, I was awe struck by the love of God.
That whatever condition I am in, I can go to God and say "Here I am."
I may be having the best of days or the worst of days but one thing is for sure, God will accept me whatever my condition looks like.  That whatever the day is like, I can go to God and say "Here I am Lord. Here I am."  I may be standing in trials, tribulations, rain, or shine but one thing is certain...  God will accept me whatever the day is like.  That no matter my spiritual condition I can go to Jesus.  That no matter what my day is like I can look up and say "Abba Father!"

I was in awe today that I have a God that accepts my all that I give Him, even if my all is not all good.  We just don't give God only our good parts but we surrender all of our bad too.  How much freedom do I have in Jesus?  How much freedom do I have?  I have the freedom to say at any moment, any time, that all that I am... good or bad... all that I am I will give to this Man.  What an Amazing God I have.

"Whatever it looks like here I am.
  Whatever the days like here I am.
  I give You all that I am God.  All that I am."

Pearls of Blessings

Today I was reading about a little fish.

Once upon a time there was a little fish.  He looked up and saw his older brother being reeled in by a fisherman.  He immediately wanted to go with his brother.  He began to wait for the bait to come down again.  This would be his chance, he thought.  He took a big bite at the bait and was caught up on the fisherman's line.   He was reeled into the boat but the fisherman gave him a strange look.  He picked him up and turned him around looking strangely at his front, back, and sides.  He shook his head, looked into his eyes, and told him ...

"Your too small. Your not big enough.
Your just a baby.  Your not finished growing.
Your don't have enough meat on your bones.
Your brothers are big and mighty but you are too small."

The fisherman then threw him back into the pond.

The little fish felt the sting of rejection.  He wanted to be with all the other big fish.  What the little fish didn't realize then was that the rejection was actually a blessing.

As I read this story this evening, I realized that I am this little fish.  I have also felt this little sting of rejection.  What I didn't realize was that this sting of rejection was actually a blessing that drew me more into the heart of God.  Jesus says that rejection is a trial, a vexation to the soul.  We feel the sting but need not be wounded by it.  It is said that we should feel rejection and embrace it, without being wounded by it.  In all reality we have an eternal acceptance from the Father above.  When others reject us (no matter the situation), the Father is standing there with arms wide open in acceptance.  This will never change.  Rejection pushes us into the arms of the Father, not the acceptance of man.  What brings healing to our past rejections, is knowing our eternal acceptance can never be taken.  As I look back on my past, I can say now that I am thankful for all those times of rejection that have made me comprehend and understand more of my identity in the Father.  More of my identity in the truth of who God has called me to be in His Love.

I was reading that rejection can release us into kingdom truth and freedom.  The book I was reading this evening (rejection & praise) says... "to redeem the wounds of past rejection into pearls of blessing."  To turn our past rejections into pearls of blessing in our walk of life, in our walk in finding our identity, in finding who God has really called us to be.
                                                                    

Let this be a prayer ...
that past rejections would become beautiful pearls. 

stories in the sand

Recently I took a trip out to the desert.  A couple of friends and I were riding through the sand dunes and we drove passed this man from Afghanistan.  He was an older man, wearing the traditional afghani wear (kamiz shalwar) and this man's face revealed his hard life.  He had beautiful wrinkles but his countenance revealed so much sadness.  My heart went out when we drove by him and I just prayed for him, while asking God questions about his life?

As we continued to drive I saw so many men alongside the road.  Some where siting in the sand, some where walking in the sand (off the side of the road), and some where taking care of camels in the sand.  We were not on a main road but a road far out into the desert.  For some reason all these men had been brought out in the sand, my heart pondered this thought.  Their lives are far from the life that I live in Abu Dhabi.  The living conditions they endure are far different than the one that I have been blessed with.  As we continued to drive on, I continued to look and pray...  "Where are they from?  What do they do?  Do they know You, Jesus?  Why so much sadness?"  I thought to myself... "They are the forgotten ones out here in the sand."

I immediately heard Holy Spirit say... "Look.  Look at all the stories.

                                                              Look at all the stories in the Sand."

Those words struck my spirit and I just began to repeat "Stories in the Sand.  Stories in the Sand."

As we drove off into those Sand Dunes, I placed my hand on the SUV window, looking at all the Stories in the Sand.

Our first stop was at a traditional camel farm.  By the way, there are many camel farms in the location that we were going.  We probably passed over 10 of them on the way.  After about 10 minutes of driving passed camel farms, we stopped at the specified one.  As we climbed out of the SUV, there was a man calling us to come over to him.  He looked Indian, but spoke very little english.  He was the caretaker of all the camels.  I couldn't help but wonder what his story was.  Where was he from? How long had he been here? Did he take good care of the camels? Did the owner of the camels take good care of him?  We had an amazing time petting and playing with the camels, but I do have to say that they sure do poo a lot!

Later on that night, we were eating a traditional arab dinner in the sand.  There was a show after the food.   This was my first experience seeing a middle-eastern belly dance show.  I was quite surprised at the sensuality of the show.  It actually made me quite uncomfortable but I couldn't help but wonder what this eastern european girl's story was.  She was beautiful and young, it was like her face glowed or sparkled. Where exactly was she from? What was her life like before she came here? What was her life like now? How did she come to work here and at this farm? Does she do anything else here? What are her friends like?  Does she see her family often?

After the show, my friends and I meandered our way over to the henna tent.  There was a woman who was wearing the traditional abaya dress, to make her look as if she was a national, but she was not.  Honestly I am not a fan of henna but I decided to get henna to get closer to the woman.  I wondered what her story was.  She was young (maybe 18-19 years old) and just seemed very innocent.  I looked into her eyes and I could see her shyness.  She immediately looked down once she caught my glance.  I began to talk to her as I asked her where she was from.  She was from Pakistan.  She was such a beautiful young woman and she had gorgeous hands.  It's funny but  her hands are the first thing that my friends and I noticed about her beauty (maybe because everything else was covered).  She began to tell me that she had just married a few weeks ago and had only been in the UAE for 15 days.  This is surprising because most Pakistani men are not able to afford to bring their wives to the land.  I told her she was blessed to be with her husband, not too many Pakistani men are able to bring their wives here.  Now that I think of it, she didn't say that she was married to a Pakistani man.  I pray and hope that she is really blessed and given the life that she deserves.  I was so drawn to this woman, she had such purity and kindness about her.  I felt that she was drawn to me as well, as she was also asking me questions.  As we left the tent, I turned to look at her and wave goodbye and thought to myself... "another Story in the Sand."

As we were driving back to the Island, I thought about all of our encounters from the evening.  From the ride to the desert, to the one of many camel farms, to the sand dune bashing (-:, to the traditional dinner-dance-and henna, to the most beautiful sunset that I have ever seen.   I was shown so many stories that evening, so many pieces of lives in the sand.

These are just a few stories that I am sharing with you, but I have come across many stories very similar and some very different.  I believe that someday I will write a book titled "Stories in the Sand."

without You

Today I was reading something that I wrote and sang a few years back.
Brings me back to the sweetness of prayer.

I'm waiting for the emptiness
The bareness of my soul to subside
  because without You I am incomplete

It's You that makes me who I am
It's You that makes me weak
It's You that makes me loose my selfish independency

I've come to realize that I am really nothing at all
so small...
so small...
lost in the vastness of who You really are

It's really all You that just happened to me
I lay all the credit down
I give You all the fame to attain
It's really all You that just happened to me

so small I am but You are...
The Magnificent
The Great "I AM"
The ALPHA & The OMEGA
The High & Lifted One
The One who loves unendlessly & past all this brokeness

It's all You that makes me me
More of You and less of me
More of You and less of me
Because without You I am incomplete

Loosing all this selfish independency
which was really nothing at all anyways

I cry for more humility
More of You and less of me
Because there's not room for both
More of You and less of me
Because without You I would not be me
Jesus, I would not be me, Jesus

hurt to change

I read this quote (Longing for Eden) that pierced me today.

"Until the pain of remaining the same becomes greater than the pain of change,
          one will always choose to remain the same."

We know that we are more than conquerors through Christ Jesus, when He reveals the pain of staying the same outweighs the pain of changing.  Although changing at times hurts as Christ peels layer after layer after layer of our worldly flesh or desire off, the pain of staying the same is death.  I would rather be restored and changed, than to be dead and plateau.

My prayer is that the Lord would continue to make my sameness hurt to change. This is what I pray.

The pain of remaining the same
Plateau on the life in carnality
Oneness with the world pertaining to the average life of goodness
what goodness could even compare
as we remain the same without change?

Oh no...  Never giving up
Pressing on through the pain of change
Never stay the same
Oh no... Never stay the same

The pain endureth until the end of the night
Must it go? Must it leave tonight? Must it disappear with the dawn?
Pain leaves with the quickness of my self preservation

What pain endures past a leveled ground of comfort?
What pain endures past this horizontal plane?
What pain endures beyond my plateu of this so called life
      past the canyons surrounding my soul?

For You are good, You are good
even through the pain

Make my sameness hurt to change

This is your act of worship

He brought me to the desert to dance and sing...
He brought me to this desert to break these chains!
This is my spiritual act of worship...
To dance and sing... even in the depths of the night.

I will dance and sing...
wave my flag high.
Let  FREEDOM Reign.  Let FREEDOM Reign.
I will dance and sing...
praise this Glorious King.

He brought me to the desert to dance and sing...
Oh how I love Him.  Oh how I love Him.
Jesus in this place.

Today is...

TODAY IS 10-11-12!!!
 I found this funny!
 :-) :-) :-)

He Loves me. He loves me not.

As a little girl, I can remember walking outside on my grandfather's farm and picking flowers, mostly daisies.  They were white with yellow centers and they were the wild kind.  The farm there had rolling hills, with a few old rusty grain silos parched on them.  As a child, I used to wander around the farm, day dream, and make up songs/stories (what most 5-6 year olds do :-D).  I can remember getting lost in thought on those rolling hills, which seemed much bigger than what they really were.  I used to sit behind the grain silos and pick the wild daisies that grew right up against the rusty walls.  I often would pick a few other wild flowers along the way too.  My young curious mind, would often wander to the thoughts of God.  While playing on the farm,  I often would sing my thoughts to God.  I'm not sure if this is normal for a 5 year old, but maybe God was making me into a "David."  As I picked those daisies, I would always ask God... "Do you love? Do you love me not?"  Then I would begin to pick each pedal off the flower, while saying or singing...

Pedal #1  "He loves me."
Pedal #2  "He loves me not."
Pedal #3  "He loves me."
Pedal #4  "He loves me not."
....
....
....

I would often get to the very last pedal and most of the time it would be...

Last Pedal #...   "He loves me!"

... but on the times that it wasn't I would ALWAYS "make up" an extra pedal and say...

Last Pedal #... "Yep, He loves me!"

I would then smile up at Heaven and feel absolutely LOVED!

Even as a child, I always knew the love of God.  It was never really explained to me at this age but something in my child-like heart knew that there was a Father out there who extravagantly loved me. I knew that in his flower making skills there was no such pedal for me called "He loves me not."
I knew His Love as I walked on those rolling hills.
I knew His Love when I sat along that grain silo.
I knew His Love when I walked along that big creek, which now seems more like a stream.
I knew His Love when I picked those daisies.
I knew His Love when I sang to Him ... "He Loves me.  Yes, He loves me."

"Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!"  1 John 3:1

Today as I was shopping, I came across this treasure.  I was brought immediately back to my grandfather's farm and my days of daisy picking.  I was reminded just how much God loves me.  He really really loves me!

American Dream

I had a dream last night in which I was house shopping. I was walking around a neighborhood with quite a few number of houses.  Every house looked the same except for the different sizes of the yards.  I was alone and without a realtor.  I came to this one specific house.  I walked in and began to walk around.  As I was walking around the house looking at the rooms, I came into the kitchen, which was in the very center of the house.  There was a familiar friend from my childhood in the kitchen.  He was sitting at the kitchen table (kitchen island) on a bar stool, which was in the middle of the kitchen.  As I approached him, he began telling me how he and his wife had bought a house just like this house and it was in the very same neighborhood.  He then took me to look at their house.  To get there, we walked around a small pond in the neighborhood while passing a few other homes.  Their home was almost the same as the one I had originally looked at, but with just minor differences.  I then looked at the yard to see how big it was.  The yard was much smaller and closer to the other houses, the trees were also very close to their house.  I noticed in the dream that all the houses looked the same.  I then looked at my friend and told him that I wanted to buy the first house. I said... "It is what I want."  I then woke up.

As I thought about this dream, I was surprised why I would ever want to buy a house like this.  In the dream, the house was not beautiful although it was not ugly either.  It was not unique but it was very similar to all the other houses in the dream.  It was small and simple, a little boring.  The only difference from my house compared to my friend's house was that it had a bigger yard. I was not really impressed by the appearance, size of rooms, yard size, uniqueness, or character of the house.  Yet I still stated that I wanted to buy the house. Why?  I prayed about this dream today and the interpretation of it.

I felt that God was talking to me about the so called "American Dream."  I believe that God has given me a choice of how I can live my life.  To the average American it may seem like the thing to do.  Most might settle down, buy a small-adverage house-in a small neighborhood, along a small pond.  Most people might actually be content with their average lifestyle.  For years they might even say... "this is what I want."  This is exactly what I said in my dream.  As I said this in the dream, my heart felt something completely different.  Although these words came from my mouth, my heart was not satisfied with the decision.  I awoke thinking... "Why on Earth would I settle for the average lifestyle?"  I personally don't think that God was specifically speaking to me about buying a house but that the house was symbolic for the "normal" American lifestyle.  God has given me a choice of what lifestyle I may live.  There are two options to choose from: The path that most people take, the so called American Dream with an average life, average neighborhood, average house, average yard, average pond, and average family or the path less traveled into the unknown, living in random countries, random cities, random cultures, unknown houses, among unknown or different languages, and with the unknown of when the family may come, if by chance it ever does.

One path seems average and the other path seems random & risky.
One dream seems contentful and the other dream seems unknown.
One home seems small and grounded and the other home seems limitless and vast beyond the oceans.
One seems so stagnant and the other seems so fruitful in new seasons.
One seems to be walking by sight and yet the other seems to be walking by faith.

I have to admit, I like the latter.  This is my path. This is my dream. This is my home.
"This is what I want."


Somehow I can't help but think of the path less traveled. :-)

that chosen to be close to God one

I want to be that chosen to be close to God one

To hear Your Voice
To feel Your Nearness
To see Your Face
And to know Your Gaze

Because I want to be that chosen to be close to God one

To look in to the night sky and know The One who created each star
To walk along the oceans and know The Man who filled them up
To look upon mountain tops and know The Master Painter
And to step into different seasons and know The Changer of them all

I want to be that chosen to be close to God one

To walk into a different nation and know You ~The One Father of them all
To step into the darkest places and know that You have already gone before me
To look into the face of strangers and to exchange a glance through Your Eyes
And to love others through the love that You have chosen to love me

Because I want to be that chosen to be close to God one
God choose me