People are Weary

People are talking about the weariness of it all. Fear is giving way to complacency. The glassy-eyed "quarantine
fatigue" is settling heavy over shoulders causing many to wonder if the giant will ever just go away.

With each day, the enemy steps out to boast his size and his exploits and his intentions. Fear. Destruction. Loss of Finances. Death. The target of his insults drop their weapons and shrink back, together, or never even bother to come out of their tent.

The kid shows up. He had been told to stay home, but longs to be with his big brothers giving the enemy the "what for" and, then, howling at the moon, together, like the old days.

Being the baby, he'd been included in brotherly wrestling matches and come up with a bloody nose, but always dove back into their mix. Playful tussles built strong muscles and strong bonds. They fought, together.

Arriving at the place of the battle, he sees something he's never seen before... the defeat in his brothers' eyes. To hear it in their voices is like hearing a foreign language. "Why are you here? You're too little and lazy. Shut up and go home! GIT!" As the the youngest and the smallest, he's accustomed to being the butt of their jokes as they poke fun and punch his arm, but this sounds different. Even the air around them feels off. Shame tinges their barbs.

Slack-jawed and rejected, he snaps, "Can't I even talk?" and turns to the other countrymen who snarl and shove his courage to the back of the line.

Anger and frustration subside just enough to remember his anointing. There is no boldness like that of one who remembers his or her anointing. It strengthens their heart and causes them to stand up. Then, the battle seems more like an annoyance and the giant is of little threat.

Yesterday, he was a shepherd who calmed his sheep with his voice on verdant hills. Today, he (or she) is a warrior. Before launching into battle, the bold one senses the need to calm the fear and intimidation in those around. "Don't lose heart on account of this enemy." 

Holy boldness rises up as this warrior warms up his shoulder. He sees the victory before the first stone is released. The warrior's eyes narrow on the enemy. The stone is placed in the sling. Raising his voice for all to hear, he declares, "This is the day it ends. The battle is the Lord's. Without sword or shield, He will deliver it into our hands, together."

Take heart, my friend. The Lord is on your side and wants to see you live in victory. How can I join you in prayer?

PEACE, ICE CREAM and TOGETHER-NESS

“If you don’t want us to be in the ministry, anymore, just say the word. Right now, you make the decision. What’s it gonna be?”


We had been doing ministry, together, as singles longer than we had been doing ministry, together, as husband and wife. Any couple with years of marriage to their credit knows, those first years of wedded bliss can be peppered with heated battles of the wills which are typically silly spats that “old married couples” just blow off because they have learned which battles to pick. Adding the stresses of ministry has the potential of becoming polarizing. But, as young couples do what young couples do, the emotions of the moment ebb, forgiveness gently flows and the make-up is great! Huggy, kissy, lovey! 

But, not this night.

Together, staring at the ceiling in the dark bedroom, both of us had had it. It, being the frustration with the ministry and with each other in the ministry, had exploded into a huge argument. My hubby wanted peace. I did, too. He was torn between tension of the calling pulling on the home. I was torn in half.

Perhaps, it was from holding my tongue and internalizing while church people felt the freedom of expressing their displeasure and opinions. Perhaps, it was from high expectations from the leadership while I did not even live up to my own. Perhaps, it was insecurity from the past stepping on my heels. Perhaps, it was all of these and more in a perfect storm converging at that hormonal time of the month. 

Regardless, there it was. “Right now, you make the decision. What’s it gonna be?”

Acutely aware our future was in my hands, I lay there with eyes unblinking staring at the ceiling in our dark bedroom. My mouth was dry. I wanted out. I wanted us to be a regular couple who attend church, together, on the weekends and some Wednesdays. I wanted to be the normal couple who work 9-to-5 jobs and leave the stress of work stacked up on their desks until Monday morning. I imagined we could be the idyllic couple who hand-in-hand leave church on Sundays to happily spend the remainder of the day at the lake and not give one thought to church finances or who decided to leave because of something said in a pulpit. I wanted my husband to drive a new sports car, if he wanted to, without repercussion that a preacher should not be making that kind of money. And, I wanted to not be told to not wear a new dress on Easter so others felt better about not having a new dress. For heaven’s sake, my double-pierced ears are not of the devil! Nobody else lives like this… why do we have to?

Staring up in the dark, it seemed like forever as I remembered the personal calling to ministry I felt as a student in summer church camp and the many conversations with the guy I was going to marry as we dreamed about life and ministry, together. I was dreamy about him and how the preacher life would play out. As ugly as that night’s argument felt, it was a revelation of how differently men and women think and how immature I was. 

I swallowed and licked my lips. Somehow feeling the weight of the future on my chest, but knowing the future would be with the love of my life, I whispered my decision. Then, my young hubby reached for my hand in the quiet, darkness and prayed for us.

That early marriage, dark room decision made so many years ago has been strengthened in the repetitions of doing the work of ministry and in living through some of the worst times in our life. From then to now, we have done it, together. And, we have stayed, together. 

Together is a word tapping a deep joy in my soul.

Honestly, surveying back, the greatest of struggles have been the blindsiding situations slamming into our lives like a Black Rhinoceros ramming into a clown car. It always happens at a time when both my hubby and I were physically tired and spiritually sapped. I am thankful for a man who asks, “Have you had your Jesus-time, this morning?” because he understands the enemy goes after the weakling. As old-fashioned as it may sound, we read the Word, together, and listen to the Word preached, together, thereby strengthening our spirits.

We work well, together, my preacher-man and I. Not everyone has this luxury. Many don’t see it as a blessing. Where he ends, I begin and vice versa. Even though ministry locations and job descriptions change, we hustle hard observing, processing and doing the work.

Then, after the Word and the work, we rest and play, together. Sometimes, it’s a quiet evening by the fire reading or it’s hiking over rocks and roots discovering a new trail or it’s a tall twist ice cream cone at our local drive-in. Joy is sweeter when there is peace and ice cream in the marriage!

It’s been said for every struggle is an even greater joy. I don’t know. I haven’t been counting. What I do know is that God has given me joy in creating a wonderful marriage with the man I love. And, we can face any struggle in or out of ministry, together.

_____________________

This blog post first appeared on SANCTUARY | Ministry to Ministry Wives founded by friend of the family and sister-in-ministry, Bridgette Tomlin.

Bridgette's goal is to connect ministry wives and ultimately end the isolation we tend to back ourselves into when loneliness and stress crush our spirits.

If you are a preacher's wife, a wife on a church or other ministry staff, visit Sanctuary to redefine what sanctuary and connect!

I'm Not Fearless

The Fearless campaigns have never really set well with me. I appreciate the angle. I applaud the spirit behind them. It's just not me.

Only twice do I remember fear freezing me where I could hardly breathe. Once, as a child waking up from a nightmare thinking a tiger was walking around my bed, I froze and held my breath so long I almost passed out. When our son entered high school, a tumor was discovered in his wrist. That was the second time fear would daily and randomly grip my lungs. The physician said until confirmation could be determined via tests, the tumor reminded him of osteosarcoma - the bad boy of bone cancers. 

A healthy fear is a built-in, God-given design to keep you safe. Spiders and lightning make me sweat. Therefore, I kill spiders unless they are the size of a chihuahua. Too many encounters with lightning keep me inside and away from windows and running water during a storm.

When the presence of fear prickles the back of my neck, I do stupid things like jumping between people attempting to control the atmosphere. And, grabbing the shirt of someone walking away with the stroller my toddler son is sitting in, which turned out to be a joke. They just don't know how close they were to being clobbered. Unintentionally, I put myself into sink-or-swim situations and hope for the best without a backup plan. God's angels must certainly work overtime protecting this special case known as "Sam." 

See, it's not that I'm fearless, I'm just full of courage. Perhaps, it's more of the blind courage of "if no one else will, I will." The benefits of not living with debilitating fear is an exciting life of items being checked off the bucket list. Albeit spontaneous impulses, I have chased the first snowfall of the season into the Smoky Mountains by myself, signed up for a half marathon with my hubby and gone scuba diving with my son. I want others to experience the exhilaration of a moment of courage, too!

Living out a courageous, find-a-need-and-meet-it life may have roots in one fear I wrestle with: Being obsolete. Now, in my early 50's, it would be too easy to sit back and let someone else fill the gap. I cannot. Or, when overlooked for a position due to my age, resign myself to a sad, sedentary, lack-of-ministry lifestyle. I will not. As long as there is breath in my lungs, I will continue to summon courage to try something new or develop a dormant passion and invite someone to go with me or accept the invitation! A life of courage just seems sweeter when shared.

Here's your challenge: Find something and be full of COURAGE!

Personal Desperation

Hubby was out of the country. It was my turn to teach the Bible study group. Praying and prepping led to a study of being spiritually desperate for the Divine. Wrapping up the study were three points when being in personal desperation.

A whisper tugged at me, "Pay attention. You're gonna need this."

STOP trying to manipulate a solution to your problem .

God’s ways and thoughts are higher than my own and my attempts to bring about a solution can often worsen the situation. 

"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your way and My thoughts than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:9).

Ok, God. Point taken.

PERSIST in crying out to God in prayer.

I’m guilty of wanting to pray, once, and be done because I want God to immediately respond. While instant answers to prayer do happen, I am on God's to-do list as He develops strength and faith in me when answers are delayed and I continually come to Him. 

Taking the reins comes honestly almost innately to me. My mom raised us to be independent, reminding us, "You don't need anyone." I kick into gear. It's not an act of rebellion or being snarky. Consequently, when answers to prayer are delayed, I assume the responsibility and take matters into my own hands. 

To say God is too busy isn't my thought process. However, my actions truly stem from the root of a lack of persistence to trust Him. 

Here I am, still learning this lesson. When answers are delayed, we are spending more time in prayer or even joining in prayer meetings. Join me in letting our problems drive us to the Problem-Solver!

WAIT for God’s solution and breakthrough.

"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint" (Isaiah 40:31)

Once God responds, don’t stop there. Let your heart and soul burn brightest with His desperation to see others come to Him.

And, for the record... I am in the big, fat middle of needing this. Stop. Persist. Wait. Repeat. <sigh>

Does this ring true with you? Say so, below. Someone may need to hear your voice.

That Which Was Lost

When Jesus spoke these words, He had just invited himself to dinner with a man who had let greed (and short-man syndrome) govern his life. During those hours reclining around the table, the savior spoke life back into a man who had lost something from the time he was a boy to just before the moment he, now an adult, climbed a tree to see the Savior walk by. 

We lose stuff daily and are not aware we have misplaced glasses, keys, cell phones and t.v. remotes until that item is needed. Frantically rushing around the house, we attempt to recall the last time we saw it.

What if we lost something more valuable? 

Hope. Dreams. Talent. Joy. Desire. Self-esteem. Creativity. Passion. (You name it.)

What if for years, because of failures or distractions we kept choking down the lie that we'll never do or become what our younger selves set out to accomplish? When did life become about surviving instead of thriving? 

Feared lost, that uniqueness which God created in us is still there, buried deep under years of numbing denial of its existence. Perhaps the only reminder being the sting of contempt for ourselves ever having thought it was possible. 

All is not lost.

I believe the Son of God came to save us from sin. I am convinced He can help us locate and reignite the spark we slowly allowed to be snuffed out. Hope. Dreams. Talent. Joy. Desire. Self-esteem. Creativity. Passion. (You name it.) I know Jesus came to find us...every part of us.

Smiling at 50: Empty-nesters

Christmas Trail Run - Arkansas - 2013

There are bushels of blogs, devotions and books dedicated to the seasons that women experience in their adult lives. College grad running toward the career of her dreams. Newly married. Mom. Empty-nester. The autumn and subsequent twilight winter years. 

I find myself in the empty-nester season when our only son recently married and our new puppy, Zuzu, has become our fuzzy, new child. Yes, we talk in high-pitched tones and pamper her with treats and sweaters and permit extended time stretched out at the foot of the bed, where she keeps my feet warm.

Facetime from India

It is that time in life when my hubby and I rediscover who we were pre-parenthood. What did we ever talk about before our "favorite son" (and only son) was born? Are we different? Have we met any of those newly-married goals we talked about deep into the night? I hope we are the favorite grandparents! What will that first grandchild call me? Where do we see ourselves in the not-so-distant future when it's finally time to retire? Am I going to be one of those pink-haired little old ladies with too much "rouge" coloring the apples of her wrinkled cheeks and stockings sagging around her ankles?

Seasons. Struggles. Transitions. Blessings.

I am a blessed woman. I love and am loved by my high school sweetheart. He is a hard

Mile 1 - post heart attack, 2013

worker and loves the God he preaches about at every opportunity. I get to accompany him on speaking engagements. And, sometimes, I get to sing or play the piano...like we did early on! When he's on fire in the pulpit and the words are flowing, I am certain my eyes sparkle and a little smile tugs at the corners of my lips, because I still find him attractive.

The weird and wondrous qualities of this stage are slowly emerging much like watching the image appear from a block of marble under the careful tooling of the craftsman. I love sleeping late or getting up early during the week however the schedule falls. We aren't tied to three meals a day. Sometimes, a a box of fudge brownie mix is as much a symbol of affection as a bouquet of roses. 

Running and fitness have become our new hobbies. He supports my training for the

Training Week 3, 2014

10K in April and says, "You've got this! You run faster than me." And, pushes when I experience the I-don't-wannas. "The sun's shining, today. How about we grab something to eat in Murfreesboro and do one of the routes on The Coffee Marathon?" Instead, we check-off two routes!

I'm a better me because of him. This empty-nesting season doesn't seem to bother him. Turning 50 doesn't rattle him or if it does, he covers it well. It's just another year. In celebration he wants to jump out of a plane with me and I want to hike a section of the Appalachian Trail with him!

I try not to fret about the color of my hair and the new "crows feet" to the side of my eyes. I have my honey, who compliments me and complements me no matter which season we walk through!

Smiling at 50 Training Week 3 Update: This week's bipolar southern winter runs me inside for cardio, one day, and outside on the next day for my training runs.

Riding with the Enemy

Needing a new and healthy looking Boston Fern for a showy, green, centerpiece in a large room, I stopped by a local roadside plant and veggie stand where they have the biggest and prettiest of everything, every year! They didn't let me down even at the end of the season. 

My helper directed me to an area out to the side where the leftover summer greenery was cramped in a tangled jumble. Together, we selected a beauty for which he cut me a steal of a deal and loaded into the backseat of my (fake) SUV. Off I went!

After the event, the fern was loaded back into the seat. With the weather mild, there was no threat of the plant dying as the car sat for a couple of days with the windows cracked, until I could unload. 

Who knows if either the fern or the storage box was the transport? It was just a short time afterwards when I noticed the web around the latch of the fold-down seat in the cargo area. I swept it down. It returned. I used a high-power vaccum to hopefully extract the little arachnid. Again, the web returned. Something in the back of my mind kept saying, " This web is different." Nevermind. It's one of those little ones. I've got road trips to make and more stuff to haul. Ugh. Spray the hole. Air the car. Go on.

Isn't that just like life? The evidence of a nuisance is there. I may temporarily rid myself of what's on the surface, but the fact remains there is trouble inside. It'll only get bigger if not dealt with. 

Past emotional wounds left to fester.

Offenses swallowed down, repeatedly.

Broken relationships. Unresolved conflict.

Bitterness. Hate. Jealousy. Insecurity. 

Eating Disorders. Fear. Anger. Depression.

Just to name a few.

We lifted the hatch. There she was clinging to life in that strong, sticky web, but still dangerous. Her colors revealed she was a fully grown, mature Black Widow still capable of inflicting pain and suffering. Now's the time to deal with the issue! How could I not?

It is unnerving to know she had been there all along. How did she manage to survive all that time? She could have hurt me. She could have hurt friends and family. All because I refused to take the time to explore what truly was the problem.

Are patterns in your own life repeated? Do you chide yourself for letting it happen, again?
Now's the time to deal with the issue! How could you not?

Valley of the Shadow of Death

In September of 2005, my son was diagnosed with a tumor in his left wrist. Imagine tremors quaking through me randomly each day throughout that month. Julie Wharton, my friend of many years, was beside me in a flash when she witnessed anxiety reach a point where I could not catch my breath. I do not exaggerate when I say fear would sneak up on my blindside, sink it's fangs into my jugular and chew.

Early in the process my husband, son and I used the Word of God (Bible) more like a table knife jabbing at something while blindfolded. But, then, it happened, that we got "our holy mad on" as faith was nurtured and our target came into focus. No longer wimpy saints, we wielded the Sword with spiritual strength, prayed the scriptures and aimed our hope, trust and faith into the heart of the matter!

To relieve stress, early morning jogs on the treadmill became a necessity. While in the middle of one such jog, Psalm 23:4 shot through my brain: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for You are with me. Your rod and staff comfort me.

At the end of that eternal month, no longer did my son's wrist ache and it was determined the tumor was not cancerous! 

I learned quite a few lessons during the actual testing period: When you don't have enough faith for yourself, friends and family strengthen you with their faith; With what you've nourished your spirit will come to the top; and, God desires to communicate with you.

Today, I was mulling over faith when, again, Psalm 23:4 shot through my brain while jogging. It occurred to me many people go through the valley of the shadow of death via different routes. Death of a dream. Death of the body. Death of a relationship. Death of a job. You get the picture. 

You may be there, now.

Convinced the Good Shepherd keeps His word and accompanies us through the valley, I am certain His staff is used to rescue us from the ledge. However, what would His rod -a different shepherding tool- be used for? I believe it is significant or it would not have been mentioned.

Here's what I think...

When my steps slow because of apathy, disobedience, anger or self-pity, He prods me forward with a strong prompting to the backside. When I'm distracted from the goal, the rod's nudge to my nose redirects my attention. When I'm frozen from fear, despair or depression, I hear the sound of His rod tapping against the hard surface reassuring He's there walking near me. And, when I don't see danger stalking me, His skillful handling of the rod clubs-in the head of the predator.

Let your faith rise. Encourage yourself in the Word. Keep moving! Some valleys simply are not meant to be inhabited, but journeyed through.

Humility

-Dwennimmen-
West African Symbol for Humility

The room was dim with the exception of stage lights illuminating a modest chair with a basin of water placed directly in front. The young minister knelt beside the basin. Waiting.

“God, we need a breakthrough. We gotta have You. Use us to be Your hands and may these students see You. Holy Spirit, do Your thing.”

The worship music softly playing in the background helped little to lighten the weight of the atmosphere. Finally, a student slid into the chair and quickly removed his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans. Wide-eyed he watched as the young minister guided his bare feet into the water and began washing them.

This student had done just about everything he could to cause misery during the young minister’s first year. As if there were no memories of the past, the young minister spoke words loud enough for only the student to hear the prayer. Blessing not cursing. Clearly the student was not prepared for this encounter. After a towel was used to dry his feet, the student rejoined the group and sat with his head in his hands weeping.

Sniffles heard from around the room revealed the tenderness of the moment was not unnoticed. One by one, students and leaders, sat in the chair. That night their pride and resentment and pain were disarmed by the power of humility.

How would one simple act cause such emotion?

Humility is overlooked by the inconsiderate and scorned by the powerful. But, is adored by common man and rewarded by God.  

While Impatience stands with hands on hips tapping her foot, Humility sweetly smiles offering a hand to accomplish the task together. 

With her mouth agape, Demanding is shamed by the very presence of Humility quietly walking through the room. 

When Humility asks the question, “What can I do for you, today,” Stinginess harumphs and crosses her arms in realization she has been exposed. 

As Cruelty and Ignorance point their fingers and hurl insults, Humility drapes her arm around slumped shoulders soothing the wounds with her words. 

All the while Arrogance proudly toasts herself, Humility serves all a cup of refreshment.

An act of the will selflessly seeking to benefit others is the quiet strength Jesus fleshed-out as He served the broken, the spent and the dirty. This powerful substance brings piety to its knees and promotes servants to leadership. It is love in action. A verb. A trait that cannot be faked. Humility is not just a posture, it is the very nature of our Saviour. 

“Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus” Philippians 2:5

Rise Up and Be Great!

Terry & me (with my great, big boots) on "The M" overlooking Missoula, Montana
January 2013 - Almost one month from his heart attack
(photo taken by Lowell Hochhalter)

I love my honey! Few know he has written songs and poems during our marriage. Terry's creativity usually comes from his quiet times when God stirs up something from deep in his heart. If you're needing an extra shot of encouragement, then, this is for YOU!


-Spirit of Courage-

I'm the still, small burn inside you
The ember refusing to relent.
I've been placed here to encourage
I'm the one that God has sent.

Though life has knocked your wind out,
You're still a favorite to One.
You're much stronger than a dark horse,
Breathe deep, get up and run!

Hear the whisper in your spirit?
Hear me calling you to come?
Make a break for the clean air.
Shed the rags of the norm!

Climb over tragedy and average,
Don't be a victim of fate.
You were made to conquer mountains,
Rise up and be great!

Written by Terry G. Allen
2013

I Love Mondays!

Yep, that's right! I LOVE MONDAYS! That has not always been the case. In earlier (and much younger) years, I was busy doing ministry and working and building a life full of fun and energy…until Monday morning. 

Monday morning, I hated the alarm clock and people and my job. My attitude was disagreeable. Cross me and you might be reduced to a melted form of skin and hair from my glare. I would keep to my desk under a dark, foul cloud of contempt for the day. If one's life is a reflection of what's going on inside, then I was a terrible representative of a life for Christ on Mondays.

This was actually on a Monday in Northern California
when my hubby caught me taking in the
fragrance of the Sierras on the breeze!

The Holy Spirit gently corrected me about my disdain for the day. It didn't feel gentle. I was convicted. It was as if a hot, arrow tip lanced my heart. I knew I was wrong.

You know the difference between conviction and condemnation. Conviction is from the Holy Spirit whose job is to draw us back to the heart of Jesus. Condemnation comes in the form of thoughts like, "I'll never change. I'm not good enough. I feel like a phoney! Why bother?" Condemnation is one of satan's tools to get us to give up and pull away from our loving, living heavenly Father.

I wrote a note to myself for the following Monday to serve as a reminder not to settle back into the old habit. In time Monday came easier, somehow softer. A new feeling of expectation began to grow as to the possibilities and opportunities that Monday yielded.

“Work hard and cheerfully at whatever you do; as though you were working for the Lord instead of people” Colossians 3:23 (NLT).

I choose to serve God with a smile, a ready hand and a pleasant attitude, because it’s all for His glory. I desire favor and opportunities to be deployed on my behalf as align my life to the Word. Don't you?