Over the last few months I have turned into somewhat of a hippie chick- and not in the cool Janis Joplin kind of a way. I mean whenever I put on weight, it goes straight to my hips. Not my boobs, of course, but my hips... and rear end if I'm being honest. I have always been overly critical of my numerous physical shortcomings. Whenever I allow myself to enjoy something sweet like cake or a cookie, I tend to have "eaters remorse". I don't usually overeat, but I do have the appetite of a man. I am a clean eater for the most part, but I also indulge every once in a while, and when I do, it goes straight to my hips. Let me clarify, I am not overweight, just a little...... "hippie". I actually like my body and am very happy with the weight I am at-- I just wish the weight was evenly distributed throughout my body instead of all of it hanging out around my hips and bottom.
Sometimes our biggest critic is the one inside our head. A few months ago, I began practicing the art of giving Grace. I give Grace to my kids, my husband, and anyone else in my life, but I have a hard time extending Grace to myself. That inner critic inside my head spouts nonsense that I take with me to work, to church, kid's sporting events, the doctor, and to sleep. Is it just me that struggles with the guilt over all of the things that I'm not? It's this nonsense floating around in my head that tarnishes any hope of loving myself just the way that I am-- hippie or not. I'm healthy-- thank God, and that is way more important than being hippie. One thing the last few months has taught me is that life is way too precious to worry about what you eat, what your jean size is, or what other people think about you, or any other nonsense for that matter. God doesn't even see those earthly things, He sees your heart-- I need to remember that.
So along with my practice on giving Grace to everyone, I am going to also practice taking captive every thought that is not productive...or nonsense. (I'm pretty sure nonsense doesn't come from God). I'm going to practice giving myself some Grace for a change. It's going to be a challenge because I am my own worst critic, but I'm willing to try. My husband loves me whether I'm hippie or not, my kids love me just the way that I am, and most importantly, I have been trying to accept the fact that God loves me. So now it's time to start loving myself and all of my many imperfections. Grace giving is an art-- an art that I intend to practice diligently. I am going to try and embrace my "hippie"ness. Who knows, maybe I'll even buy a cool hippie skirt to go along with it.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Doubting Thomas
Are you a Doubting Thomas? I think we all have been at one time or another. Some of the apostles were doubters even after Jesus appeared to them from heaven--twice! Even after you read this, you may still choose to doubt. There. Will. Always. Be. Doubters. Here it goes: I have had numerous spiritual dreams over the past two years or so (I like to think it's a spiritual gift), but none more vivid than than the dream that rocked my world last September. Out of nowhere, I had a dream and an angel appeared before me in my bedroom and showed me laying on an operating table, and said, "that the time was coming that I would need some surgery on my heart- but not to fear because I would be okay". I awoke thinking, "what on earth??" I had been having some heart palpitations off and on for years, but was told it was too much caffeine. I had a heart check up just three years earlier and my heart was perfect. I run, I don't smoke, I'm not overweight, I have low cholesterol, and a low BMI, I eat organic, blah, blah, blah. So what could this dream mean? This dream means nothing according to my Doubting Thomas husband. "Dreams are just dreams- probably something you ate before you fell asleep" he says. He couldn't bear the thought of me having to undergo surgery. I told my sister and brother about the dreams and they weren't sure what to think either. The dream crossed my mind at least once a day over the past six months, until February when our local hospital offered 25 minute "lunch break" heart checks. I remembered the dream and thought, "why not?" So I went. Sure enough, I had a low weight, low cholesterol, a low BMI, good blood sugar, and, ....wait... what? my EKG is abnormal? What does that mean? They did another one, and sure enough- that one was abnormal as well.
This tossed me into a whirlwind of a storm. A storm of numerous doctor's appointments, tests, more tests, tears, questions, genetic testing, and tons of research (note: don't Google what you think you may have- it will totally freak you out). I have blogged about my son's heart issues before, but the thought never occurred to me that I could be a genetic carrier of a rare heart gene that had passed on to him or my other son. I have never had heart problems. I went back and forth from being angry at the universe and running to God. Back and forth--over and over. How could this happen? As the storm began last month- a storm with a lot of waves, a lot of emotional ups and downs- something beautiful began happening. Something I wasn't expecting. In between being angry yet hopeful (because of the dream), I began growing closer to the Lord in ways I could have never imagined. I mean really close. The Lord showed me what real joy is, and allowed me to feel it more than once. He sent me three or four of the most wonderful and supportive women to help get me through. Women of strong faith and strong spiritual gifts. When my faith would waiver, their faith and their gifts picked up the slack. I knew that every breath I take and every beat of my heart is literally in His hands. I learned to completely trust God- and quite frankly, I had no choice. God sent me the dream. God was in charge. God orchestrates our lives.
This little heart check, potentially saved my life. If it wasn't for my dream, I would have never gotten checked out. I would have never caught this pesky little- or not so little- gene that I may be a carrier of, and I would have not been able to get treatment for it until it was too late. This dream... this angel in my dream was... I believe, sent by God-- regardless of what other people believe. Regardless if they doubt. So whenever the dark cloud of fear tries to overtake me, I simply remember the dream. The angel said, "Do not fear- you will be okay". How many people can say that angels appear to them in dreams? Are you a Doubting Thomas? I'm not. I love the Lord with all that I am, and am so thankful that He sent me that dream. He loved me enough to send me a heavenly messenger to warn me about my heart, and for that I am forever grateful. If surgery comes, it comes. Technology is a wonderful thing--and because I am healthy, that works in my favor. I already know and trust that I will be okay- thanks to God and that dream He sent. I thank Him, and am going to trust Him for turning something that could have been scary and ugly into something beautiful and totally supernatural.
1 Peter 5:10: And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.
Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
This tossed me into a whirlwind of a storm. A storm of numerous doctor's appointments, tests, more tests, tears, questions, genetic testing, and tons of research (note: don't Google what you think you may have- it will totally freak you out). I have blogged about my son's heart issues before, but the thought never occurred to me that I could be a genetic carrier of a rare heart gene that had passed on to him or my other son. I have never had heart problems. I went back and forth from being angry at the universe and running to God. Back and forth--over and over. How could this happen? As the storm began last month- a storm with a lot of waves, a lot of emotional ups and downs- something beautiful began happening. Something I wasn't expecting. In between being angry yet hopeful (because of the dream), I began growing closer to the Lord in ways I could have never imagined. I mean really close. The Lord showed me what real joy is, and allowed me to feel it more than once. He sent me three or four of the most wonderful and supportive women to help get me through. Women of strong faith and strong spiritual gifts. When my faith would waiver, their faith and their gifts picked up the slack. I knew that every breath I take and every beat of my heart is literally in His hands. I learned to completely trust God- and quite frankly, I had no choice. God sent me the dream. God was in charge. God orchestrates our lives.
This little heart check, potentially saved my life. If it wasn't for my dream, I would have never gotten checked out. I would have never caught this pesky little- or not so little- gene that I may be a carrier of, and I would have not been able to get treatment for it until it was too late. This dream... this angel in my dream was... I believe, sent by God-- regardless of what other people believe. Regardless if they doubt. So whenever the dark cloud of fear tries to overtake me, I simply remember the dream. The angel said, "Do not fear- you will be okay". How many people can say that angels appear to them in dreams? Are you a Doubting Thomas? I'm not. I love the Lord with all that I am, and am so thankful that He sent me that dream. He loved me enough to send me a heavenly messenger to warn me about my heart, and for that I am forever grateful. If surgery comes, it comes. Technology is a wonderful thing--and because I am healthy, that works in my favor. I already know and trust that I will be okay- thanks to God and that dream He sent. I thank Him, and am going to trust Him for turning something that could have been scary and ugly into something beautiful and totally supernatural.
1 Peter 5:10: And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.
Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
A curse or a test?
My son- my first born- has an enlarged heart. I purposely don't talk a lot about it, because if I do I find myself being suffocated with darkness and fear. So I just block it out as if it doesn't exist at all; that is until he starts playing sports in the warmer weather. Finding out his heart was enlarged was by pure accident. He was being tested for asthma, and his EKG came back abnormal. You would never know if you met him. He is a healthy, happy, and kind 9 1/2 year old soul. A soul that longs to try out for tackle football. He has been asking to play tackle for two years now, and the answer has always been "no". I used every excuse in the book for him not to play, when the real reason is, I fear for his heart. I fear for his heart when he plays baseball, when he plays basketball, and worst of all when he runs in a track meet. When I am at a sporting event, and all the other moms are talking and socializing, I'm the mom who isn't saying much. Not because I am introverted (which I am), but because I am secretly, and continuously praying that my baby doesn't drop dead while playing.
I originally thought finding out about his heart was a curse, and maybe it was. I was destined to live in fear. Most people with his diagnosis never know they have this condition. There is no treatment and there is no cure. Well, tackle football try outs are quickly approaching for next year and guess what? Yep, you guessed it. He is begging to try out. Football is his true passion. All sports are, really. Just like that, I feel the darkness closing in around me, so much so, I feel like I can't breathe. I try and change the subject, but it doesn't work. I offer different sports to play. I tell him he likes to bowl and golf, so why not play those? He says he will play those but he really wants to try tackle football. I try talking him out of it by saying, "You know Logan, tackle football is very different than flag football". This doesn't work either. So now I have a very big choice to make. Tell him he can't play football, and risk jeopardizing my close relationship and bond we have, or I can give him to God and let him play. Hmmmm.
Yes, I thought finding out about his heart was a curse, and maybe it was originally. But now, God has turned it into a test-- a test of my faith. I had an honest to God dream once and Jesus came to me in it. He held up His hands and in each hand was one of my children. He clearly said that He has and will always have my children in the palm of His hands. It was an awesome dream--one that I think I was supposed to have and one that I hang onto with all my being. This is what happens when God gives us free will. A dark diagnosis presented itself, and I have the free will choice to be controlling and prevent my son from playing (and possibly dying), or I can trust the Lord with the love of my life- my little first born boy- and let him play regardless of what could happen. Gulp. Tears well up in my eyes just typing that part. I lifted Logan up to God the other day and simply said, "Here. He's yours. I trust You. It's not easy, but I do." So I gave him, and his heart, to God, and began sobbing and praying circles that he ends up hating football. It's a possibility, right? Anything is possible with Jesus in control.
I originally thought finding out about his heart was a curse, and maybe it was. I was destined to live in fear. Most people with his diagnosis never know they have this condition. There is no treatment and there is no cure. Well, tackle football try outs are quickly approaching for next year and guess what? Yep, you guessed it. He is begging to try out. Football is his true passion. All sports are, really. Just like that, I feel the darkness closing in around me, so much so, I feel like I can't breathe. I try and change the subject, but it doesn't work. I offer different sports to play. I tell him he likes to bowl and golf, so why not play those? He says he will play those but he really wants to try tackle football. I try talking him out of it by saying, "You know Logan, tackle football is very different than flag football". This doesn't work either. So now I have a very big choice to make. Tell him he can't play football, and risk jeopardizing my close relationship and bond we have, or I can give him to God and let him play. Hmmmm.
Yes, I thought finding out about his heart was a curse, and maybe it was originally. But now, God has turned it into a test-- a test of my faith. I had an honest to God dream once and Jesus came to me in it. He held up His hands and in each hand was one of my children. He clearly said that He has and will always have my children in the palm of His hands. It was an awesome dream--one that I think I was supposed to have and one that I hang onto with all my being. This is what happens when God gives us free will. A dark diagnosis presented itself, and I have the free will choice to be controlling and prevent my son from playing (and possibly dying), or I can trust the Lord with the love of my life- my little first born boy- and let him play regardless of what could happen. Gulp. Tears well up in my eyes just typing that part. I lifted Logan up to God the other day and simply said, "Here. He's yours. I trust You. It's not easy, but I do." So I gave him, and his heart, to God, and began sobbing and praying circles that he ends up hating football. It's a possibility, right? Anything is possible with Jesus in control.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
A lonely journey
Sharing your faith isn't something that comes naturally to me. At least not yet it isn't. I'm new to it, and as introverted as I tend to be, writing about my faith and my journey is easier and more comfortable than shouting from the rooftops. I'm safe and hidden within my computer, far from having to deal with face to face judgement from anyone. It's hard sharing your faith, when the old group of friends you still love, don't share your passion. It's hard sharing your faith, when there are some family members who think it's "just a phase" or me trying to be "better than them". They become uncomfortable, and then so do I. There's always that "uncomfortable silence" if Jesus, God, or anything spiritually is brought up.
The "Road to Enlightenment" can be a lonely one- that's for sure. But growing apart from old friends who don't support me, has allowed room for beautiful people to enter my life. People who DO support me- even if it's people I have never met and they send me messages via the computer. Don't get me wrong-I'm thankful for that, but part of me is saddened by the strain my christianity has put on other relationships in my life. I have been very careful not to be "that christian". You know who I'm talking about. Those christians that try and shove their beliefs down your throat to the point you feel like hitting them over the head with their own bible. Those christians that are arrogant and somewhat judgemental. Those christians that are ready for battle when you disagree or question something they have said. Those christians that act as though they are "holier than thou" only to try and make you feel less of yourself. Those christians that don't actually live their faith. Those aren't my kind of christians, and I'm sorry if I have ever acted like that. That's not who I want to be. Perhaps, my friends or some of my family members think of me this way? I don't know. Gosh, I hope not.
Choosing to become a christian doesn't make me perfect. It doesn't mean I'll never sin again. It doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun anymore. It doesn't mean I'll never have a glass of wine again. It doesn't mean I am better than you. It simply means, that I made the choice put my life into the hands of Jesus. I did this because I think He'll do a better job at managing me than I was doing. I wrestle with my spirituality A LOT. I too, have many questions, and just because I chose to become a christian doesn't mean I have all the answers. I often fall short when trying to become a follower of Christ, and trust me, I constantly berate myself for it. I can be an ugly perfectionist. I am on a journey to find the Lord. He's watching and reading- I honestly hope that. I hope He knows who I am, and who I want to be. I just wish the people closest to me did as well.
The "Road to Enlightenment" can be a lonely one- that's for sure. But growing apart from old friends who don't support me, has allowed room for beautiful people to enter my life. People who DO support me- even if it's people I have never met and they send me messages via the computer. Don't get me wrong-I'm thankful for that, but part of me is saddened by the strain my christianity has put on other relationships in my life. I have been very careful not to be "that christian". You know who I'm talking about. Those christians that try and shove their beliefs down your throat to the point you feel like hitting them over the head with their own bible. Those christians that are arrogant and somewhat judgemental. Those christians that are ready for battle when you disagree or question something they have said. Those christians that act as though they are "holier than thou" only to try and make you feel less of yourself. Those christians that don't actually live their faith. Those aren't my kind of christians, and I'm sorry if I have ever acted like that. That's not who I want to be. Perhaps, my friends or some of my family members think of me this way? I don't know. Gosh, I hope not.
Choosing to become a christian doesn't make me perfect. It doesn't mean I'll never sin again. It doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun anymore. It doesn't mean I'll never have a glass of wine again. It doesn't mean I am better than you. It simply means, that I made the choice put my life into the hands of Jesus. I did this because I think He'll do a better job at managing me than I was doing. I wrestle with my spirituality A LOT. I too, have many questions, and just because I chose to become a christian doesn't mean I have all the answers. I often fall short when trying to become a follower of Christ, and trust me, I constantly berate myself for it. I can be an ugly perfectionist. I am on a journey to find the Lord. He's watching and reading- I honestly hope that. I hope He knows who I am, and who I want to be. I just wish the people closest to me did as well.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Can I get a witness?
Before I chose the Christian faith, I took some time to try and figure out what exactly it meant, who Jesus was, what the bible says, and many other things. For almost two years I wrestled with my spirituality, and on some days, I still do. Long story short, I gave my life to Christ, and was even baptized a month ago along side my nine year old, in front of almost 1000 people (not an easy feat for this introvert). Before the baptism, people stood up and shared their testimonies. Testimony. What's my testimony? I'm not sure. I don't know that I can define my coming to faith by one single experience. These people that shared, had really hard lives, and sad stories of what lead them to Christ. I'm thankful that I didn't live through what they went through. I have had several supernatural experiences that I believe came from God, but is that my testimony? I couldn't share that. The people closest to me didn't even believe me, so how could I think a thousand strangers would? They would think I was crazy. So I said nothing.
The word "witnesses" appears 39 times in the book of Acts. To be a witness means that we have seen, heard, or experienced something concerning God on a personal level. If you have experienced the Lord on some personal level in your life, then you are called to be a witness. You are called to share your testimony with others. You are called to let your light shine regardless of what others think about you, because it's not about them, it's about Him. The point of being baptized, is publicly declaring to the world that you love the Lord and are not ashamed of it-regardless of how painfully introverted you are, or how far outside of your comfort zone you find yourself. You become a witness of the Good News. The pastor then asked, "are you being a witness? God is calling you to be a witness in some way, shape, or form. Are you answering His call?"
Random Thoughts of a Wandering Mind is my chance to be a witness. It's a chance to bring hope, a smile, a good feeling, an encouraging word, and some inspirtaion as a witness for Jesus. I was so self conscious when I created the page. What would people think of me? But today at church I got the message. It's not about them at all. It's not about me either. It's about Him. He has called me to be a witness, and I am trying the best that I can, to answer that call.
Matthew 5:16 Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.
Acts 22:15 For you shall be his witness unto men of what you have seen and heard
The word "witnesses" appears 39 times in the book of Acts. To be a witness means that we have seen, heard, or experienced something concerning God on a personal level. If you have experienced the Lord on some personal level in your life, then you are called to be a witness. You are called to share your testimony with others. You are called to let your light shine regardless of what others think about you, because it's not about them, it's about Him. The point of being baptized, is publicly declaring to the world that you love the Lord and are not ashamed of it-regardless of how painfully introverted you are, or how far outside of your comfort zone you find yourself. You become a witness of the Good News. The pastor then asked, "are you being a witness? God is calling you to be a witness in some way, shape, or form. Are you answering His call?"
Random Thoughts of a Wandering Mind is my chance to be a witness. It's a chance to bring hope, a smile, a good feeling, an encouraging word, and some inspirtaion as a witness for Jesus. I was so self conscious when I created the page. What would people think of me? But today at church I got the message. It's not about them at all. It's not about me either. It's about Him. He has called me to be a witness, and I am trying the best that I can, to answer that call.
Matthew 5:16 Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.
Acts 22:15 For you shall be his witness unto men of what you have seen and heard
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
I'm never going to be Rocky
I recently blogged about 40 things I wanted to do this year to celebrate me turning 40 in July. One of the things I listed was to do an indoor triathalon. Chad does them all the time, in fact it was his idea to list that as one of my 40 things. Seemed reasonable at the time, so I put it on the list. Little did I know. Little did I know.
The very next morning, after my first cup of coffee (I don't usually start to function until after my second cup), "coach Chad" came bouncing out of the bedroom asking if I was "ready to start my training"? Chad likes nothing better than coaching, and he's good at it. He coaches flag football, baseball, and swimming....for kids that is. Coaching me, however, is a different story. Chad is somewhat of an an athlete. I...am not. I don't "train" for things, I just kind of do them. IF I do anything at all. I once ran a 5K for the Susan G. Komen race for the cure, and I thought I would die. Seriously. It was my first race, and it wasn't pretty. It kicked my asthma into overdrive and I was sick for weeks afterward. So me putting an indoor triathalon on my list of things to do, was done so on a whim. More to please him, than to please myself. So here we are, staring at each other in the living room- he in his workout clothes, and me in my jammies coffee still in hand. "Come, on we'll head up to the rec center and practice the swimming part" he says. Ugh. Swimming. I'm a runner, and I run because I enjoy it, not to compete. I am not a swimmer. Sure I'll splash around with the kids and hang out in the pool, but swim for exercise, like laps? No way. I don't enjoy that one bit, and then add my U.S. Swim Masters-coach husband to the mix barking orders of everything I do wrong in the water equals a recipe for disaster. I'm just trying to stay afloat! Swimming would surely be the hardest part of the triathalon for me.
Needless to say, after a sarcastic exchange of words, we ended up at the rec center. Swimming for twenty minutes straight with no break is a lot harder than it sounds. The banter beween the two of us wasn't pretty either. Chad was coaching like he was training Rocky, only I was Rocky. I ain't no Rocky. I whine, take breaks, take my time, stop and drink water....you catch my drift. After thirty minutes or so of "training", he called it quits. Apparently I won't be able to make a career out of being a competitive swimmer. Rats! But that brings me back to my list of 40 things, and the indoor triathalon I have listed on it. So, just to show him that I could indeed do an indoor triathalon, I signed up for one today. Good grief! What was I thinking? My pride got the best of me. That stupid pride that I have been trying so hard to get rid of. Now I have to swallow that pride and ask for his help training me, or I might find myself having to doggie paddle through the swimming part of the race. Stupid race. Stupid ugly swim cap he's going to make me wear. Stupid pride.
Proverbs 13:10 Pride only breeds quarrels, but wisom seeks advice
Proverbs 11:2 When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom
The very next morning, after my first cup of coffee (I don't usually start to function until after my second cup), "coach Chad" came bouncing out of the bedroom asking if I was "ready to start my training"? Chad likes nothing better than coaching, and he's good at it. He coaches flag football, baseball, and swimming....for kids that is. Coaching me, however, is a different story. Chad is somewhat of an an athlete. I...am not. I don't "train" for things, I just kind of do them. IF I do anything at all. I once ran a 5K for the Susan G. Komen race for the cure, and I thought I would die. Seriously. It was my first race, and it wasn't pretty. It kicked my asthma into overdrive and I was sick for weeks afterward. So me putting an indoor triathalon on my list of things to do, was done so on a whim. More to please him, than to please myself. So here we are, staring at each other in the living room- he in his workout clothes, and me in my jammies coffee still in hand. "Come, on we'll head up to the rec center and practice the swimming part" he says. Ugh. Swimming. I'm a runner, and I run because I enjoy it, not to compete. I am not a swimmer. Sure I'll splash around with the kids and hang out in the pool, but swim for exercise, like laps? No way. I don't enjoy that one bit, and then add my U.S. Swim Masters-coach husband to the mix barking orders of everything I do wrong in the water equals a recipe for disaster. I'm just trying to stay afloat! Swimming would surely be the hardest part of the triathalon for me.
Needless to say, after a sarcastic exchange of words, we ended up at the rec center. Swimming for twenty minutes straight with no break is a lot harder than it sounds. The banter beween the two of us wasn't pretty either. Chad was coaching like he was training Rocky, only I was Rocky. I ain't no Rocky. I whine, take breaks, take my time, stop and drink water....you catch my drift. After thirty minutes or so of "training", he called it quits. Apparently I won't be able to make a career out of being a competitive swimmer. Rats! But that brings me back to my list of 40 things, and the indoor triathalon I have listed on it. So, just to show him that I could indeed do an indoor triathalon, I signed up for one today. Good grief! What was I thinking? My pride got the best of me. That stupid pride that I have been trying so hard to get rid of. Now I have to swallow that pride and ask for his help training me, or I might find myself having to doggie paddle through the swimming part of the race. Stupid race. Stupid ugly swim cap he's going to make me wear. Stupid pride.
Proverbs 13:10 Pride only breeds quarrels, but wisom seeks advice
Proverbs 11:2 When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom
Monday, January 7, 2013
Childlike Faith
I often pray before I walk into church that somehow the Holy Spirit would make His presence known to me. Okay, I always pray that I can feel and hear the Holy Spirit- I'm a very spiritual person. Ever since I started going to this new church, I THINK I have felt the Holy Spirit during more than one sermon. I say, think, because I'm really not sure if it's the Spirit I am feeling or the good energy in the room from all of the parishioners. Yesterday, however, something happened. Something I can't quite explain.
I had a good feeling about this church ever since my first visit. They do tons of missionary work, both local as well as internationally; how spiritually alive I feel just being there; and for some reason I noticed how many disabled children and teenagers attend the services. I often see many severly disabled children and young adults, non verbal and some completely immobile. The disabilities range from autistism, cerebral palsy, MS, and muscular dystrophy among others. I find myself praying that God would give them strength as well as their parents, and also thanking God for the health of my own children. The sermon was about how Jesus died, and grasping the fact that God loves you so much. I tried to listen to the sermon, but for some reason was taken with watching these children. Everytime we began to sing, all of the disabled children came to life. These children who are totally non verbal, confined to a reclining wheelchair, deformed, and helpless... come to life. They smiled, yelled out, danced, and some even raised their hand heavenward as if reaching up to Jesus Himself. It was as if they were overflowing with the Holy Spirit, and that Spirit danced inside of them.
I have no idea why, but I burst into tears. Literally. I would like to say that I was witnessing the Holy Spirit right there in front of my eyes, through these individuals. They have faith "like that of a child" and are moved by the Holy Spirit. They don't ask and overanalyze everthing like I do. They simply believe and therefore, have the Spirit alive and working inside them. I actually had to leave the church service and go to the car. I sobbed. I'm not sure if I was crying because I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit, or if I felt so ashamed of my own shortcomings and that these children taught me that in order to feel the Spirit, I needed to have child-like faith, or if for the first time in my life, I actually felt God's love for me. Either way, I was sobbing. I believe that the Holy Spirit was present, and He brought them to dance and brought me to tears.
Luke 4:14 The Spirit proclaimed the kingdom, and performed miracles throughout Galilee in the power of the Spirit
John 20:22 Jesus breathed on His disciples and said to them, "receive the Holy Spirit"
Matthew 18:2-4 "Truly I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven"
I had a good feeling about this church ever since my first visit. They do tons of missionary work, both local as well as internationally; how spiritually alive I feel just being there; and for some reason I noticed how many disabled children and teenagers attend the services. I often see many severly disabled children and young adults, non verbal and some completely immobile. The disabilities range from autistism, cerebral palsy, MS, and muscular dystrophy among others. I find myself praying that God would give them strength as well as their parents, and also thanking God for the health of my own children. The sermon was about how Jesus died, and grasping the fact that God loves you so much. I tried to listen to the sermon, but for some reason was taken with watching these children. Everytime we began to sing, all of the disabled children came to life. These children who are totally non verbal, confined to a reclining wheelchair, deformed, and helpless... come to life. They smiled, yelled out, danced, and some even raised their hand heavenward as if reaching up to Jesus Himself. It was as if they were overflowing with the Holy Spirit, and that Spirit danced inside of them.
I have no idea why, but I burst into tears. Literally. I would like to say that I was witnessing the Holy Spirit right there in front of my eyes, through these individuals. They have faith "like that of a child" and are moved by the Holy Spirit. They don't ask and overanalyze everthing like I do. They simply believe and therefore, have the Spirit alive and working inside them. I actually had to leave the church service and go to the car. I sobbed. I'm not sure if I was crying because I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit, or if I felt so ashamed of my own shortcomings and that these children taught me that in order to feel the Spirit, I needed to have child-like faith, or if for the first time in my life, I actually felt God's love for me. Either way, I was sobbing. I believe that the Holy Spirit was present, and He brought them to dance and brought me to tears.
Luke 4:14 The Spirit proclaimed the kingdom, and performed miracles throughout Galilee in the power of the Spirit
John 20:22 Jesus breathed on His disciples and said to them, "receive the Holy Spirit"
Matthew 18:2-4 "Truly I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven"
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