#AriseAndBringTheHeavensDown

I've got two friends headed to Southern California this week. They've got a vision and a mission, and God is doing some crazy stuff. He's also given us a crazy idea.

We've had some very intense prayers sessions this week. Dad has been revealing his love in ways we've yet to encounter - a refreshing reminder that our God is so much bigger than our imaginations. Two sharable pieces of prophecy spoke directly to my friends about the trip they're heading on.

First, a prophetic word I found on Facebook; a dream by a guy named James Goll.  Since it related to SoCal, I shared it with my friends and they've been telling everyone about it ever since.

Then, we watched Father of Lights. And not only the prophetic word above, but every conversation we've had over the past two years, was confirmed. Often, word for word parallels were drawn, which you can see for yourself if you check out the dream above and the trailer below.

On Thursday, April 4 at 8 p.m., their mission commences. Here's the idea Dad gave us: At 8, pick one thing to ask Dad for. And go for it.

Psalm 37:4 says "delight in the Lord and he will give you the desire of your heart." So, God is good. Isn't that worth delighting in? You have needs, aching heart desires. Aren't they worth asking for?

Maybe your Aunt has Multiple Sclerosis, your bills are behind, or you don't have any food for dinner. Maybe you want to feel God or find your favorite discontinued candy bar.

Whatever it is, at or after 8 p.m. on April 4th, lift up your heart and ask Dad. And share the idea with as many people as you feel willing!

Post your request, be it a single word or a whole paragraph of words, here so we can join with you. Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but desire fulfilled is a tree of life (Prov 13:12).

(note: you are more than welcome to ask Dad for your hearts desire whenever you want. We are asking you to join us in unity, as a sort of prayer cover, for the event my friends are headed to. Thanks for joining!)

Hush, Listen, Obey

Your personalized health plan Part 2

Ironically, the afternoon I wrote this, my internet got shut off. Don't pay your bills, lose communication with the outside world. That's the "real" world kids. So, I got a ride with my roomy to Panera this morning and can finally post the conclusion to that rotten cliff hanger I left you all with several afternoons ago. I shall not apologize though; the story would have been incomplete prior to today. 


Within days of flipping God my middle finger, He responded by bringing me Jeremiah. After months of friendship he bashfully started telling me about healings he saw and participated in at the Lighthouse. Then he told me to watch Finger of God by Darren Wilson.

If you don't feel like you can hear God clearly just yet, watch listen and read as much testimony as possible. Fortify your faith. Here's the thing, you do hear God. It just takes faith to believe you do. And testimony builds faith like steroids build muscle (without the creepy side effects).

Neti-pot.
Day 4. 

Fast forward to three years ago, I told God I believed he was The Healer. Of both the world and myself. And then I declared, to God and whoever else was listening, that I would under no circumstances take medicine again.

As though my heart and guts had ears I heard (roughly, as it's hard to translate spirit language into English), "Agreed. Now, be ready. You will be tested."

A few months later I laid hands on my mom during a migraine. She was healed.

A couple weeks after that, I got my first migraine. I thought I would die. I spent the morning in a steamy shower and in prayer. And as I toweled my hair dry, God showed me an irony in getting my first migraine after healing my mom. I laughed, and was instantly healed.

Later, I would discover my only food allergy: fresh figs. Four horribly painful experiences and a failed (and expensive) doctors visit later, instantly healed. Twice, because I ate half a fig before I remembered not to.

The day we returned from our honeymoon type thing, Jeremiah and I shared the experience of concession-stand-hotdog-enduced food poisoning. That one, we did not get miraculously healed from. But we didn't die (test passed).

Dozens of ailments have swung bats and fists my way. A few I endured and walked away healthy without a doctor or medicine to speak of. A few were miraculously healed by prayer - either at the hands of others or myself.

I've laid hands on nearly every person I know. Most of them have been healed as well. Every one of them walked away feeling warm and cozy inside.

Despite these awesome confirmations of Dad's love, presence, and desire to heal, I'll admit I have a seriously hard time getting healed myself. I don't even like the words "getting healed" or "hard" in the same sentence. As far as I understand my conversations with Dad, we are already healed. Christ's work is finished.

 Dad is not making us sick or keeping us sick for any reason. Health is part of our Christly identity. Dad gave us the command to heal the sick, and in so doing gave us the power and authority to get it done (Matthew 10:8)

But it doesn't always happen the way we'd like or expect. And sometimes we pray and pray but remain sick. Sometimes, it seems really frackin' hard to step into the wholeness and health that is our eternal identity.

The past week and a half has been dreadful. It started with the most intense migraine I've yet experienced. It lasted a full 24 hours, through my final shift at Mud Bay Coffee. I couldn't think straight enough to wage any "spiritual warfare" or speak any in depth prayer. I spoke in tongues (or muttered gibberish) for a few minutes, and when I stopped Dad said take some aspirin now, and Advil in 4 hours.

Hush, Listen, Obey

Your personalized health plan Part 1

"You believe God heals, right?"
"Yes. Of course. Absolutely."
"Yet you're still sick."

I was imagining having this conversation with someone in a church before laying hands on them a few days ago. In my imagination, I was the one asking the questions. But the moment the conversation ended, I realized that I was sick one.

Despite every effort, I spent my days off this week inconsolably ill and apparently un-healed.

"You're still sick."

"Apparently... What now?"

Appearances aren't always what they seem. Sometimes, when it appears we're not getting healed and God isn't responding, it's because He's inviting us into some good quality alone time with Him.

Now, seek God's voice. Not healing, or a Bible verse, or stuff to do.

Listen. 

Stop what you're doing, tell yourself to hush, stop asking questions, and see what you hear. 

Sometimes our efforts to get healed...

Make better doors than windows.

Keep in mind, our entire being is an antenna designed to tune in to God's frequency. It's not always our ears that do the hearing.

Then, do as directed. Or for you, maybe it's as you imagined. Or as you feel compelled.

God wants you healed. He's already made it so. He's not preventing it. Pray. Keep praying and don't stop. But while you're at it hush, listen, and obey. It's a plan with such potential to be simple.

Simplicity often comes in retrospect, though. Let me tell you, that conversation I nonchalantly posted up top seriously screwed with me.

A lifetime has lead up to that conversation; I'll start a few years back to bring you up to speed.

By age 19, I'd seen one man I prayed for daily pass away. The death he experienced, which took three months of unexplained hospitalization, I would not wish on anyone or any family. I'd spent ten years of daily prayer seeking the healing of that man's wife. She still has Multiple Sclerosis, it's still getting worse.


I tore my ACL and feared I'd lost my opportunity to play volleyball at another college.

So mid-prayer one day, I abruptly told God to fuck off. That I was never praying for anyone's healing again.

---
Part 2 will be posted later this evening. Thanks for lending me your eyes and hearts. Comments welcome!

Religious Affliction

Jesus came to free the captives, not exalt the Oppressor 

Jesus was not meant to be a religious leader.

He wasn't, at any point in the Gospels a religious leader, figurehead, or subscriber.

I once posted this as my Facebook status and the response was interesting, though my point seemed missed. So I'll go a step further.

Christianity is not a religion.

Relationship and Life are good soil.
Buildings? Not so much. (See Matthew 13:3-8)

Sure, there is a religion that has named itself Christianity. And there are people who ascribe to this religion who've name themselves Christians.

But Christianity, to be a "Little Christ," is not a religion. It is life and relationship.

And by golly it's messy. No rows of pews or bullet-pointed lesson plans.

Until recently, I read portions of the Gospels involving the Pharisees as conflict directly against the Pharisees. In Matthew 16, for example, the Pharisees and Sadducees demand miraculous signs from Jesus. I read Jesus' response as a direct scolding of the religious leaders. "Watch out! Beware the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees," he warns onlookers.

Jesus engaged in conflict throughout the Gospels very rarely. Specifically, I've noticed he conflicted with Satan, and demons. And frankly, "conflict" is a bit too kind. Conflict implies that Satan had an opportunity for victory; implies a contest with an uncertain overcomer. There was never a contest, Jesus is the victor.

My initial understanding of Jesus's interaction with the Pharisees was that the religious leaders were the target of the conflict. But I realized that I was directly contradicting my statement above, that Jesus' target was/is Satan, not the men and woman he created. Jesus said to be ware of the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees, not be ware of the men themselves.

The Pharisees were rather confused at this warning. We haven't even brought any bread, they argued. Jesus reminded them about the thousands he fed with the equivalent of a boy's sack lunch, and explained that he was in no way speaking of bread. They understood he wasn't speaking of bread yeast, but of religious teaching.

Which leads me to the idea I'm currently exploring: "Religion" is an oppressive, afflicting spirit.

Protest

Brainstorming alternatives to fighting fire with Fire

I learned recently about a protest being demonstrated at my husband Jeremiah's work. The protest has been ongoing for the past year at least (How am I just hearing of this!) and will likely not end while those participating work at the store.

I was let in on the details of the protest after tossing Jeremiah a t-shirt for work. Standard uniform is a t-shirt provided by the store and casual pants. He tossed it back and said "I don't wear that one." We were running late and there were no other shirts in his drawer. I was getting frustrated. He rifled through a pile of clothes shoved in his closet, found another shirt and put it on.

I looked down at the shirt in my hand and the shirt on his back. Same color, same back logo. "What the heck?" I asked.

"The one you gave me says 'Crew' on the front."

"So?"

Jeremiah, ready for work back before
joining the t-shirt cause.  

"So I don't wear it. I never have worn it. We're protesting them at work."

"Protesting what?"

"The shirts that have the word 'Crew' printed on them." I gave him a look that managed to both express my confusion and demand further explanation. "One of the store's core values is equality of staff. 'Crew' very clearly separates us from the other positions."

"So no one wears them?"

"A lot of us don't. We aren't trying to spread it around or recruit people or anything. Word gets around, some people care some don't."

I had an experience recently after trying to explain my thoughts on giving and tithing. My thoughts were met by a woman whose "been in ministry since she was saved." Of her responses, most notable were "You can't give to people and call it tithing. God defines tithing and giving, not you... Hopefully you have a Bible so you have access to the same verses as me."

I realized that the point I was trying to make - I give to people, not establishments - needed a lot more explanation than is reasonable on a platform like someone else's Facebook page. In parting, I explained that since I've chosen not to attend a church building, I tithe differently than she does. Though our expressions of Church are different, I am not omitted from tithing.

The interaction was incredibly fruitful for me, as it led directly to a conversation with Dad. As a writer, I find miscommunication particularly frustrating. As a life-long student, I find imposed teaching from strangers particularly frustrating. As a member of Christ's body, I find it particularly frustrating when the religious spirit comes along sewing separatism and disunity.

"I don't attend a church building, Dad. I'm under the impression this is a decision I came to with your guidance and blessing." In response, the details of Jeremiah's t-shirt protest came to mind. I noticed many parallel's between his protest against separatism at work and my protest against separatism in the Body of Christ.

"What are you protesting?" Dad asked.

"Religion. Is it wrong to protest?"

"Does it separate you from community?"

Aha! I can't protest religion by creating separatism and disunity. Doing so would undermine and omit me from my core values. I find Jeremiah's t-shirt protest seriously profound because, if done differently, they could easily create the very environment they are protesting. Instead, their tactics have generated unity between 'crew' members without sewing separatism with employees in other positions.

On the whole, I haven't sacrificed community with anyone by not attending church. I should note, I do go to church if someone I care about building relationship with invites me. To refuse an invitation on the basis of protest would be anti-social and separatist. That said, genuine relationships with the people around me are the foundation of my community. When relationships start to get trivial and fake, I know I've exceeded my circle of influence and need to refocus my energy. When I accept a church invitation it is to build relationship with one or two particular people, not to beef up the number of people in my circle.

There is potential, and at times I have, chosen anti-social behaviors due to my religion protest. Intentional living is key to building community. When my intentions are gray, I find it inevitable that I'll miss my mark. If my intentions are to live in community with others free of religion and full of Christ, I must make intentional decisions to act in ways that foster my intentions rather than undermine them.

I know many - most of those in my church community, actually - who've chosen to omit weekly church building attendance with similar intentions. If we can truly claim that our decision is based on our intentions, we must begin asking ourselves how to sew seeds of unity and community lest we embrace the separatism we've abandoned.

P.D.A.

The need for trust and freedom in corporate Worship

I've been thinking about worship lately. Particularly, about how I worship alone in my room verses how I worship in a corporate setting. There are two vital elements, without which I find it almost impossible to fully engage in and join a worship atmosphere: freedom and trust.

Worship, for me, is about seeking Dad's face and drawing into intimate communion with him; about giving and receiving love, honor, glory. I don't need to sing or raise my hands with my eyes closed, cry about how unworthy I am or clap my palms - I can do these things, but the only time I'm limited to them is in corporate environments.

On my own, I can be doing dishes, painting, writing, dancing, yoga-ing - and be swept into worship. There's freedom in my worship closet to express my love to Dad in whatever way I feel compelled. I can make messes and dissonant noise and a fool of myself. There are no expectations, no attention to attract but my Dad's. I'm completely free.

There has been a few unique occasions when I walked into a worship service in a church building at a Sunday service and felt freedom to step publicly into my prayer closet. One was a recent experience at a church in a big red barn.

"I found a mustard seed of trust..."

Though I was a stranger in this church community, I felt a sense of unity in leaving my shoes piled at the chapel door along with everyone else. For the first hour or so, I simply sat watching and soaking. Space was open in the center for laying out, dancing, flag twirling. Tissues were available throughout the room, which I thought odd until I needed them later and realized how brilliant they were.

Eventually I noticed I was the only person in the room observing, the only person whose eyes weren't intently focused on Dad; the freedom became clearly visible. There were no words on the screen, the band played without a plan and the singers sang without lyrics. There were no expectations - people sang or prayed or laid flat on their faces. Individuals, worshiping at once in solitude and unity fully abandoned to the love of God.

I could see the freedom, but I couldn't enter into it. I wasn't thinking in these terms at the time, but I I didn't trust the people I was worshiping with. Not that they'd done anything to warrant my mistrust, but I didn't know them. I had no relationship with them. And the baggage of past religious experiences was weighing on me. To bring my intimate relationship with God into view of a barn full of strangers? For me, it took guts. And it took trust.

Heathens and Kitchen Witches and Jesus Freaks, Oh My

Here's a snippet of conversation I shared at the coffee shop today. Identity has been an anointed topic of conversation within my community lately, as has identifying our generation. This conversation

"You're a pagan, right?" the customer across the counter asked earnestly. I hesitated, unsure how to respond. We'd been talking about fear tactics of religion, Christianity in particular, while I made lattes.

... Despite what religion has told you.
pictured: Simon The Leper

"Well, I guess I don't exactly know what a pagan is."

"You can totally be a follower of Christ's teachings and be a pagan," she explained. "Pagan originally meant country dweller. And did you know heathen literally means one who lives at the hearth."

"I describe myself as a Pagan Eccentric Kitchen Witch," chimed in her husband. "Religious folk seem to immediately jump to the conclusion that I'm anti-God and going to burn in Hell."

He chuckled and continued, "But the funny thing is, these words now associated with damnation and used derogatorily were totally benign until religious and power-hungry people got ahold of them. Kike, for example. It's used as a slur toward Jews, which doesn't make a lot of sense. When they were immigrating, illiterate Jews signed paperwork with a circle, rather than a X. The Yiddish word for circle is kikel. There's nothing derogatory about it."

"You know, its occurred to me that 'Christianity' makes no sense as a label for a religion," I said. "The word means 'little Christ.' It was first used by persecuting authorities to label people they saw doing what Christ was doing. People raising the dead, healing the sick, slumming it with 'lowlifes', feeding and clothing the poor. How many people have you ever seen being so Christ-like you would naturally call them a Little Christ without need for them to label themselves for you?"

"Exactly," he said. "Did you know Christianity is the only religion that includes a Satan figure? A single figure as the source of evil?"

"How do you scare people into obeying religious rhetoric and surrendering their money without the devil? Fear is a powerful controller."

"I've been trying to reclaim the word Christian. Kind of like the SlutWalks are reclaiming slut." They nodded. "But It's occurred to me that while I love Jesus, I'm absolutely a follower, I'm not a Christian. It's hard to explain that in passing conversation, though. At this point, I think Pagan Heathen Heretic Jesus Freak is much more accurate."