Rousing Chorus

Sada Rodger’s team on the Nightwatch rocked out the 4am this morning going well into the 6am.

If you have the IHOP webstream you really should go back and watch the archive 🙂

You are righteous in all Your ways, You are gracious in all Your ways. I am not offended at the way You lead, Jesus Christ, lamb of God.

Your love

On Saturday my friend Joanna played a two hour Devotional set in the house of prayer.

I met Joanna in the fall of 2004 when my brother Jeremy was doing the first half of his internship on the Nightwatch at IHOP-KC. Back then she was a worship leader on the NW and J sang on her team. I loved her worship sets, and I think Holy Spirit did to, because He always, ALWAYS seemed to come when Joanna would sing; in sweet tender ways, bringing many tears while touching the hearts of us in the room, or in wild and crazy ways, sweeping everyone off of their feet and into love driven dance. One particular morning she jumped off the platform to dance with the rest of us while the other musicians carried the music.

Not currently acting as a full-time worship leader, every now and then she will fill spots in the hop and I try to attend each one.  She’s captured the best part of her worship set from Saturday and you can listen to it on her website.

This is what You died for, that I may be Yours: that I may know and believe, accept and receive Your love.

And Your love is like an ocean, never ending, who can search it out?

Who can know the depths who can search the heights of Your love, of Your love? Stronger, deeper, wider, higher, bigger than I could ever imagine, Your love, Your love.

And this is why You died, that I may be Yours, that I may know and believe, accept and receive Your love.

When you no longer own your heart

Over the past few days the Lord has been reminding me of the burdens that He has given to me, one after another they have come, reminder’s of places and people that have stolen my heart, that I have contended for in prayer, that I have given my life for;

The ending of abortion, the  deliverance and salvation of a generation lost in darkness, the raising up of children who are friends of God, the freedom of millions 0f women and  children in forced prostitution, the forgotten orphans of Romania, the hopeless of California, and the salvation of my loved ones.

The emotions and memories attached to each burden have come washing over me, one at a time and my heart has wept to join with the weeping of the broken hearted Savior, the One who see’s all things, and hears all things, and FEELS, so intensely, about all things.

And I think that to truly be His friend, I have to give up my own heart. To stop focusing on the things that once drew me away and captivated my attention, to give myself to the Love of God, and lay down my thoughts and loves in a different manner than I have ever considered. I have been dramatic in seasons of longing to give my heart to Him more: literally burning posessions, anything that represented the love of this world and all that is fading away in the desire to love Him.

To be honest, I’ve burned my bridges more than once. And though there is something to be said for “cutting off your hand that you may not sin” I think it’s more internal than that. Are we willing to give our emotions to Him, to feel what He feels for the things that burden His heart? I’ve heard of a man who at times has heard the “silent screams” of aborted children and spends hours weeping under the wheight of it and crying out for God to bring an end to abortion. It makes me think of Jeremiah lamenting and weeping for the lost of Jerusalem who would die in the calamity that had not yet happened, and in his groanings cried out “Oh that my head were a fountain of tears! That my eyes would RUN with water!”

Am I willing to be that kind of a friend to the Son of Man?

I am beginning to think that He takes our prayers seriously. In those moments when the song is just right, the musicians seeming to play the strings of our hearts, and we whisper those sweet words of love like “Here I am Lord, send me” or (let the IHOPer understand) “Here’s my heart Lord, take and seal it, I give it all to You”.

What if He began to answer those prayers? What if He began to take our hearts, and piece by piece, give back to us parts of His own? I think I would love more, that’s for sure.  I can imagine that I would have more patience, that the momentary would have less importance, and the individual would have more, that I would be quick to speak of my Savior in public, would be quick to repent, quick to listen, quick to pray, quick to give, and slow to keep.  I can imagine that I would spend less time considering my heart, my desires, my thoughts; my heart would no longer be my own to consider.

Increasingly over the last week, when my eyes are closed I see the fronts of abortion clinics where we have stood and prayed, I see the people of Mexico & El  Salvador, the school children of Ireland, the orphans of Romania, the streets of San Diego, the youth of the inner city, the faces of the ones who I love, the houses in Omaha, the fields of Iowa.

How have I come to the place where my eyes no longer flood with tears when I consider these things? How many steps have I taken that led me away from the place of waiting with my Savior? I don’t know, but I want to go back, I think He’s leading me back. I want to come to the place where my heart is no longer my own, and I want to stay there.

Ode to a dying Laptop

There is some sort of a wire that happens to control the screen in my laptop that is dying. The slightest change in position and the whole screen freezes, or worse, fills with funny lines and distorted versions of what I was previously viewing, or unfortunately the document I was previously working on.

Today it took nearly an hour to find just the right position to turn the screen back on. :/

A while back, a friend was relaying a conversation between her father and herself, where she was describing some dreams in her heart and he was reminding her that as an Intercessory Missionary…….she’s flat broke. All the time.

Her response? “Yea dad I know, but…..(follow with weak attempt to boldly speak in faith)….but my Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills right?”

His response? “Well I wish He’d kick ME a couple of cows”

At the moment I’m not sure how I’m going to pay for the bridesmaid’s dress for my brother’s wedding, not to mention the cost of the alterations necessary (the price I pay for a small frame) and needless to say, a new laptop is NOT in the budget. Though I’m not sure how I am to function at work without it.

Abba please, just one cow?

What a sweet invitation

A little over a year ago in a particularly difficult season of increased migraines, I found myself lying down on the couch in our living room with all of the lights turned off, the blinds tightly shut & my eyes further barricaded by a massive ice pack. Drifting in & out of consciousness I fought tears. Crying builds the pressure in your head & makes you want to do anything to not feel anymore.

Wow, even as I type that it sounds SO dramatic but it is really true, there are times when the pain is so strong that you wish you could do ANYTHING to not feel, & you cry out for the mercy of the Lord just to sleep.

The air coming out of the vent on the wall would sporadically make the blinds rustle enough that one of them would silently slip out of place & the light from a street lamp would fall across my face, bringing me almost to the point of awareness. In these moments between sleeping & waking I gradually became aware of gentle music & a light chorus being sung. It was quite an odd feeling when I realized it was my own voice I was hearing, singing a chorus of

Pain, what a sweet invitation, what a sweet invitation to knowing You

We don’t like to talk about that part of God’s heart – the hurting part. But He makes all things beautiful & He finds us in all things – so if pain is an entrance into knowing Him more, then I will follow through that narrow door.

Dreams Dreams Dreams

I dreamt all night long last night. Dream after Dream after Dream in a never ending stream, all full of the same thing; Invasion, War, hiding children during fighting, serving those who had been wounded. Over and over an over again. What brought on this night of visions? I have no idea. But I awoke with a raging migraine feeling as though I’d never closed my eyes with vision after bloodied vision burnt into my brain. What an interesting start to my day.