She was probably the first real mentor in my life.  My parents certainly influenced my life in many wonderful ways. Others left some very strong impressions, but I got serious about my walk with the Lord when this lady led a Bible study. It was at this time in my life that the Spirit of God sent her to discern who I really was and to walk all over my soul with her discerning words. Mentors have that kind of impact; that is, those whom God has sent, and to whom we’ve given the right to speak truth and bring correction as needed.

I spent a lot of wasted time trying to impress her with my spirituality. [how I laugh now!!] Oh, the times I spent memorizing how to talk like her, read aloud her favorite scriptures, and listen to the cassette tapes she loaned me. Surely that would win points for me. Right?

After listening to an entire six-tape series, I reasoned that she would certainly be impressed with my diligence. I bragged on myself when I returned the tapes saying, “I got it! I understand the biblical principles, now that I’ve finished the w.h.o.l.e set of tapes!” She said, “My dear…[it was then that I knew I was in for it!] don’t you know that it isn’t ‘yours’ until you flesh it out?”

Flattened again!

Decades later, I realize how much truth she was speaking. James writes it plain, so plain that I still wiggle and squirm under the conviction of this truth: “Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you are a listener when you are anything but, letting the word go in one ear and out the other. Act on what you hear and don’t act like those who glance in the mirror, walk away, and two minutes later have no idea who they are, or what they look like.” [James 1:22 The Message]

Most uncomfortable I was when she spoke such words that sliced and diced my fleshly efforts to impress her. Today I’m eternally grateful. It’s been 43 years since she walked into my life and all over my soul. Stopped me right in my tracks! And made me face the truth.

Mama worked, so my elementary school was chosen along the bus lines to downtown Raleigh. Every morning we began our day together ~ Mom to work at the Revenue Department and myself to school. I loved my teachers, and especially friendly Mrs. Mitchell: the lady who helped us safely cross the streets. It was the 50’s when children went to school in the district in which they lived–with a few exceptions, mine being one. Surrounding this school were homes of some of the poorest people in town.

Dinner time discussion was filled with my reports of children in my classroom who came to school with no shoes on. Maybe their walk to school was not too terribly long…and friendly Mrs. Mitchell did help them cross safely from their nearby neighborhood…but their bare feet exposed to all the year-long weather did not sit well with me. I wanted to help. I HAD to help be someone’s sunshine whose skies were definitely grey.

Daddy tried. He called the school and offered to buy shoes for the names of those I mentioned, but he was told that some of the proud folks wouldn’t receive the help. I cried myself to sleep many nights.

At this time in his career, Daddy was the accountant for a fruit and produce company. I can still remember my wide eyes staring at the crates of fresh fruit ~ some of the biggest I had ever seen before, or since. Back in those days, fruit ripened and plumped on the vines or trees. One Christmas, Daddy had an idea…one that he felt would work to help these poor children in my class. He purchased some of the crates of fruit.

We spread 5 white sheets of tissue paper on the floor and filled the middle of the papers with a variety of fruit for each child in my class ~ pulled up the edges and tied them together with colored ribbons. That way, Daddy said, no one would feel singled out. Joy filled my heart as we delivered these bountiful packages to school before our holiday break; that joy has lasted all these [many] years. Every time I see fresh fruit, I think of those several Christmases that we brought gifts to their homes. Every time I see tissue paper, I remember how 5 sheets of tissue held together packages of love.

Yes, their feet were still bare, but I was satisfied that we had done what we could to make Christmas a little more special. My life was forever marked by the joy of giving.

“Do not neglect to do good to share what you have.” [Hebrews 13:16]

Many years ago my goal was set. Time and again it would fade out of my conscious mind. I thought it was quite a noble goal; that is, “to grow old without internal wrinkles.” I can’t control what aging does to the exterior; yet, I have a choice about the interior.

What brought this goal back to mind was a look in the mirror. I saw the weariness on my face, and I knew I was in need of a rest ~ the kind that lasts longer than one night’s sleep.

Strangely, I heard the words “old rugged cross.” I had to listen again to make sure that I didn’t hear “old rugged face.” The words actually were intended to remind me of the Cross of Jesus Christ ~ while the word ‘rugged’ grabbed my attention. Off I went to my word search.

Rugged: “having a broken, rocky, uneven surface.” Then I read further…”strong features marked with furrows or wrinkles.” [Webster’s Dictionary] There I was: staring back at me. Ruggedness had shown up from its synonyms: rough, uneven, bumpy, stoney, pitted, jagged, and craggy. Words like this can provoke a person to age with internal AND external wrinkles.

We wake up to the surface of life often being uneven. We can respond or react. Respond to God’s grace; or react with what my friend calls ‘a fit of carnality.’ There is no doubt that the latter promises me internal wrinkles…maybe add a few more external wrinkles.

Jesus hung on the rugged. He bore my uneven, bumpy, jagged, stoney, pitted, rough circumstances upon Himself. So why do I choose to wear them?

The smooth crosses we wear on our necklace chains are lovely, but they fail to remind us of the ruggedness of what Jesus bore for us. Bob Mumford says something like this: “When you come to the foot of the cross of Christ, you come away with a mouthful of splinters.” There’s nothing smooth about the experience while bringing our carnal flesh to the Cross. It’s rugged, but it promises the greatest hope.

Back to the mirror. My rugged countenance reflects a soul weary of carrying its own. It’s time to lay ‘rugged’ down ~ right at the foot of that old rugged Cross…even if I spit splinters.

While preparing a birthday meal for our granddaughter and family, I cannot help but think of the generational blessings our family has had. All four of our children knew their four grandparents very well. They interacted with them regularly. We made sure that our children valued every visit ~ never taking them for granted. Their lives were deeply enriched as they were influenced genetically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually by them.

America’s most famous “neighbor,” Mister Fred Rogers, wrote: “Grandparents are both our past and our future. In some ways they are what has gone before, and in others they are what we will become.”

I value this even more for my children and grandchildren because I personally had few generational connections. I never knew my maternal grandparents; both died when my mother was seven years old. My paternal grandfather died when my daddy was eighteen. We visited my paternal grandmother, who lived in Virginia, about every six weeks for just a few hours until she moved closer to us in her latter years of dependence.

I often relive the moments I had with my Granny. She prayed for me. She told me stories of my daddy when he was a little boy. I have his first, spine-broken Bible that he carried to church and read quite often. Granny said my daddy’s hunger for Jesus was evident. His Sunday school teacher said his big brown eyes were like deep pools of water, thirsting to know more about Jesus. Because of that, Daddy led me straight to knowing Him.

Granny and I shared times of singing the hymns; she was so pleased to know that I loved Jesus. Our interactions were far too few; yet her influence in my life brings memories I treasure.

Rogers continued to write: “That each generation could stand on the shoulders of the last and feel twice as tall is a poetic hope for all our families.”

As a grandmother of nine ‘grands,’ it’s my husband’s and my deepest pleasure to be close enough to touch them ~ giving life, warmth and compassion. We enjoy speaking loving affirmations to them. We determine to impart hope to them regarding their destinies. We stand behind them in their endeavors so they will never question how highly valued they are. This is an honor we never take for granted as we offer our shoulders for them to stand on.

Gift-giving can be an exciting time! Holidays, birthdays, and special events are filled with surprises when the gifts given are prepared with life-giving intent. The purpose in this celebration is that the recipient know that they are loved very much. I personally know the joy I have in searching for the gift that will touch the heart and bring joy to the one to whom I’m presenting it. With anticipation, I watch as they open the gift…hoping that they don’t miss my best of intentions.

I’m recalling the many times in gatherings where the gift recipient was so busy tearing into the wrappings of multiple gifts that the gift itself was lightly valued ~ if at all. How disappointing! We all appreciate being remembered; yet we often forget the intent of the giver: deep expressions of their heart.

John recorded Jesus’ words: “You keep searching the scriptures in the belief that through them you get eternal life; and it is these that bear witness OF Me. Yet you do not want to come TO Me in order to have life.” [5:39-40] Those hearing these words had memorized and taught them ~ yet He told them they had missed HIM.

I’m recalling a very young family member exclaiming, after opening several gifts several Christmases ago, “Is that all?” How often have we unwrapped the deeply inspired Word of God in our hurried devotional times, with so-called ’tissues flying,’ only to come away with a secret thought…”Is that all?” Perhaps we’ve missed the Giver while rushing through black ink on paper in our Bibles.

The wrappings are the 66 books the Spirit of God inspired to be written to us personally; but the precious Gift, the inspired content, is the Person of the Word Himself. Coming away from devotional times and missing the Giver, we’ve simply torn the bows, left tissues flying, and balled up the wrapping paper. The search must be much deeper; thus, the Spirit of God is ever so near to reveal the Giver as we seek Him with all our heart and unwrap the gift once again.

Motherhood: a term that stirs nearly every emotion within the heart of a woman. Some will suffer the loss of never naturally birthing a child. Some will suffer that they ended the life of their child. Some will suffer with regrets as a mother, feeling oh-so-deficient in the role they have carried. Others will experience aching arms that wish to hold their child or children once more in intimate embrace…knowing they cannot for a myriad of reasons. It might be distance of miles; it might be broken relationships. Even still, it might be that their child is no longer living.

I want to say to men or women who read this blog…Mother’s Day is a day of great tenderness. It’s not always celebratory; oftentimes it is, as with a newborn baby in arms. Please be in tune with that which your mother, your wife, your daughter, or your friend is experiencing on this day, and multiple other days of the year.

Jesus loved His mother. He tenderly cared for her by profoundly demonstrating this in His last hour when He assigned to John the continuing love and devotion that His mother would need. Where are the “Johns” who will step in and love in place of the one who is absent? Barren women ache. Women who made desperate decisions regret. Longing mothers have to adjust to unfulfilled desires. Brokenness is painful ~ we must empathize.

Father God purposed that John would be the one who would be at the Cross, during that hour of great loss, when Jesus said, “Son, behold your mother. Mother, behold your son.” [John 19:27] A critical relationship exchange was being made. Jesus’ love for His mother was being transferred to one He could trust to hold her as dear as He had held her. The bar was set high.

I challenge my readers to “behold your mother.” That ‘mother’ may be your natural mother, a grandmother, your wife, a surrogate mother, a relative, or a friend. “John,” whoever you are…be tender to her. Try to understand her pain, her loss, the empty nest, her dashed dreams, the crushing grief. Along with that, celebrate her joys.

As we study the Greek word ‘behold:’ may we accept the challenge to view attentively, and to contemplate so that we may honor her by empathizing with her as she so needs.

The word ‘retrospect’ came to my mind tonight; so I went to that place…reviewing the past years of my walk with the Lord. I was a young teen when I accepted Him as Savior. I set out to know about Him. No doubt the ones trying to disciple me meant well, yet much of what I interpreted was legalism. It seemed hard, rule-based, and critical. I’ll take the blame ~ perhaps I felt I would have to earn my way into His grace.

Fast forward about 13 years, following college, and parenting three small children at the time, I realized my need for Him. Re-dedication was sincere because I was overwhelmed with the responsibilities before me.  Again, I take responsibility for getting into this needy condition ~ so desperate ~ I had tried to handle life on my own.

As I heard testimonies over the next few years of those who heard His voice, had visions and dreams from Him, and walked in an intimate relationship with Him, I realized how shallow my walk had become. Knowing ‘about’ Him was not enough. Simply knowing how much I ‘needed’ Him was not enough.

I needed to KNOW Him!

Jesus said, “This is eternal life, that they might KNOW You, the only true God and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” [John 17:3]

To ‘know’ [Greek] means “to be involved in an intimate, growing relationship.”

There’s nothing casual about this kind of a relationship. The reason for salvation was not just to escape the flames of eternal judgment, or to try to earn His grace. It was that His life would work in us and flow out of us. There’s only one way that could happen and it would be from an intimate relationship in knowing the Lover of my soul.

We will search for our greatest treasure with all of our heart. That being our Lord, we will then give ourselves wholly to Him because we’ve learned of Him. He then becomes our ‘magnificent obsession.’ Nothing earned. No longer handling life ourselves. Just seeking to know Him!

Two ears ~ one mouth = the given parts with which to relate. That ought to tell us something. If that isn’t enough warning, the scripture reads: “The prudent keep their knowledge to themselves; but a fool’s heart blurts out folly.” [Proverbs 12:23 NIV]

No doubt I could be graced with more silence, paying close attention to the given anatomy…so as to improve myself. As long as I’m interested in just having something to say, I’m just about to unload much foolishness of heart. The foolish one really isn’t seeking understanding but seeks to voice opinion ~ which he or she greatly values. Proverbs 3:7 NIV reads:  “Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil.” The fool only has interest in his heart revealing itself.

I’m free to make notes in my Bible margins and cover pages. Few quotations make it there, unless they speak deeply to my soul. The latest one, that I revisit very often, is by Admiral Bill Bullard, who lived during the turn of the 20th century: “Opinion is really the lowest form of human knowledge. It requires no accountability, no understanding. The highest form of knowledge is empathy, for it requires us to suspend our egos and live in another’s world.”

I conclude, therefore, that I’m given two ears through which to gain insight into others’ needs, to “suspend my ego,” and to gain empathy. I’m given one mouth through which to express my own opinion ~ being careful that what I say encourages, exhorts, and gives comfort. Two-to-one.

“Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue.” [Proverbs 17:28 NIV]

The flames licked up the little felt fig leaves we placed upon the bonfire altar the last night of our women’s gathering. Each of the retreat women had written upon their personal felt fig leaf what they wished to have the Lord consume.

Eve, being ashamed and full of guilt, dressed herself in fig leaves because she knew she was incomplete and separated from God. When God asked, “…Where are you?” He knew exactly where she was and why she needed covering. She’d failed to remember that, before the fall, she’d been covered and safe in Father’s perfect plan.

Fig leaves separate. We cover what we consider to be our blemishes, our failings, our weaknesses, because we deem ourselves lacking. Jesus said, “In your weakness, I am made strong”…but do we believe it? Our attempts to cover ourselves separate.

Truth is: we do need covering. God knew that and made the way for us to be covered, once and for all, by the matchless blood shed by Jesus. No more animals to be slaughtered and sacrificed. Though we are now eternally covered, still we tend to remain sin-conscious–thereby wearing fig leaves.

Hiding is the hallmark of the human will in a struggle against God. We run away from Him. We hide from those He’s anointed to help us; and we deceive ourselves into believing that we are safe tucked away in our self-made hiding places.

Jesus’ teaching on the Beatitudes began with the foremost posture for us to experience blissful hope: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” [Matthew 5:3] In other words, blessed are those who know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they need Him ~ and we need His ministers, through His power, to bring healing to us.

The main table in our meeting room displayed three 14″ letters: E.V.E. They were placed amidst green leaves, as if they were hiding. At the end of the service, we heard a noise like a thud. We turned to look ~ one of the letters had fallen over, broken. It was the “E.” Two points were now missing, creating the letter “L.” [LOVE] To us this meant God’s angel tipped it over in order to say: “You are LOVED! The curse of Eve has been broken off of you! Come out of hiding!”

“Our God is a consuming fire!” [Deuteronomy 4:24]

Hands on steering wheel…eyes straight ahead…listening to the Spirit in the quietness of my car…I heard Him say: “Behind all distresses of the soul is a lie.” Talk about throwing me some ‘meat’ to chew on!

Immediately my mind recalled: “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” [John 8:32] Obviously this was the counterpart of what He was revealing in the moment. Truth sets us free; lies bring distress.

Chewing on this ‘meat’ all week, I remembered countless times I could have uncovered the lie instead of being distressed! Better still, I could have sought out the unadulterated truth, instead of falling for the enemy’s seduction.

Someone once said that ‘truth always hits negative when it first comes.’ Considering this statement, I realize that truth daringly interrupts my passage that is going in the wrong direction and urges me to rethink what I’m doing. Truth believed and acted on will alter my course. Thus, the so-called ‘negative’ impact, which is actually for my benefit, re-routes my course.

Why then should I permit myself to be as breakable as the ruffled with ridges potato chip, wasting good time and lots of effort on that which does not even hold true? Therefore, I must search out truth and replace the lie.

Recalling the word of wisdom, I notice the word ‘behind.’ Hidden behind what is the obvious, hidden and disguised as an impostor, the lie is a trap set to bring me into distress. Distress is defined by Webster’s Dictionary as: “extreme anxiety, sorrow or pain.” I nearly skipped over the second meaning, which refers to distressed marks on furniture: “intended as marks of age and wear.” No thanks!