The Cry of the Crow

This morning I sat on the couch by an open window, and I heard the distinct cry of a crow. It wailed, it screeched, but most importantly, it would not stop. I looked out the window for signs of it sitting in a tree limb, but I couldn't spot it anywhere. The screeching continued, grating against my ears. I had half a mind to run out the front door and scare it far, far away from the front lawn.

And then something stopped me in my tracks and the way I heard the screeching changed. The crow's cry made me think of a human's wail. How often do we hear others pain or cries and at first response, see it as an annoyance? Seek to remove it as far away as we can from our comfortable life?

Maybe what we see as annoyance is really another's cry for help.

Maybe we miss others' cries for help because we're so focused on how it affects us.

And maybe we need to see each cry as a call to us as Believers, to care for the least of these.

Because really, that's what we're here for, isn't it?

"And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me." (Matt. 25:40)

"Remember this when you doubt ..."

On my MacBook, I have a little program called Stickies. I keep various notes, reminders, and Scripture verses there as a reminder. Today I was perusing the notes I've left myself there, and I opened up the pink sticky that is titled "Remember this when you doubt."

There is only one verse typed underneath. 1 Timothy 3:16:

"All scripture is inspired by God, and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness."


All Scripture.

That means not one word was spoken without God's Spirit behind it.

That means that every word is inscribed with His fingertip and carries life because He is the author. Every word.


And the enormity of this verse weighs upon my heart because these past two years I have clung to God's Words with every fibre of my being, even though they have caused me division and have forced me to choose between making people feel good or choosing the Words I believe to be true. I have been told that I am foolish to cling to Words which carry little meaning to the culture we live in. I have been told I am judgmental, religious, un-loving because I believe every Word Christ inscribed in Scripture. I have clung to those words when the world around me has told me that they are outdated, or that they leave too many "gray areas" for us to ever take them literally.

Believing that 'all Scripture is inspired by God' has been a hard statement for me to stand by. But I have chosen to believe it, and because it is truth every word I read in Scripture breathes life into my soul. Because it is truth, it is worth every hurtful word thrown at me. It is worth being considered foolish, because in reality, the Words inspired by God speak Wisdom into my heart.

They are inspired.


And they contain life.

Wrestling

Tonight my heart is full of questions. I am wondering about church, about traditions, about how we worship.

I am wondering where we've gone right and where we've gone wrong. I'm wondering where we've followed God's Word, and where we've strayed.

The truth is, although I've been taught all my life that there is something wrong with the traditional church, with a pastor, a congregation, and a building ... that we're doing it all wrong, completely unbiblical ...

Something in my heart tells me that's not entirely right either.

My heart reminds me of the ways I've been blessed by pastors. My heart reminds me of how I've been encouraged through sermons, how I've been blessed incredibly through corporate worship. How God has spoken to me again and again through church family.

And I am torn between what I've been taught ... and what I know to be true, if it is truth. How do we know? If we've all been doing it wrong since the beginning of gathering in churches, and if it is really all rooted in Pagan traditions, then who's been doing it right? If we've all been meeting in a way Christ never intended us to, then why hasn't He been more clear about how we're falling so far below the mark?

These words probably don't make much sense, but tonight my heart is full of questions. Full of sadness, too. Because maybe in the end it doesn't matter if we are meeting in a building or not. Maybe these questions are pointless and futile. Because ultimately, if our hearts and eyes and ears are focussed on Him, He will lead us and bring us to the place of worship He has called us to.

But still ... my heart is wrestling tonight, seeking His truth.

Finding Little Gems

Sometimes when I read the Bible I fall across a verse that glistens and shines like a little gem. It's hidden in between a mountain of other verses, but for some reason on that day, my eyes and heart will fall upon its words, and it's as if the words scream, "Listen to me! Here is wisdom! Take it, drink it in, impress it upon your heart!"

And today I found one of those gems in Proverbs (which, really is a book FULL of gems, it's like a crystal clear brook that you reach deep into and come out with shining, glistening stones!):

"The wisest of women builds her house,
but folly with her own hands tears it down."
(Proverbs 14:1)


These words mean a lot to me, for I have seen what happens when a house is torn down. I have seen what folly - both by man and woman - done by their own hands can do in allowing a house to crumble down, the house which was built with the very same hands with which it was torn down.

The same hands which tear a house down can build it up.

The same mouth with which we can bless one another can also curse and destroy.

"From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. 
My brothers, these things ought not to be so!" 
(James 3:10)

The same feet with which we can follow Christ can also turn and run away from Him.

"If we live by the Spirit, 
let us also keep in step with Spirit." 
(Galatians 5:25)


And my heart echoes the cry of James, my brothers, these things ought not to be so! May our hands build up instead of tear down; may our mouth bless instead of curse; may our feet follow Him instead of turning away.

Calling

Last night I settled into bed after watching an episode of Downton Abbey around a quarter to one. I was home alone, but managed to fall asleep without any worry or concern for the creepy noises that seemed to awaken my fears every so often. But around 2:30 am, I awoke after drifting in an out of sleep. It was as if something was gripping my heart, telling me that something was not quite right. It wouldn't allow me to fall back asleep, and fear and anxiety began to creep in to my heart. I flipped on the lamps beside my bed, sat up, and pulled my Bible onto my lap.

My mind waded through the people I could call to pray to assuage my fears and anxiety. No one was home, so it meant I couldn't go wake anyone up to pray for me. My mom was far away and not in her bed at home, and so I couldn't call her. My dad and brother were forty minutes away, and the friends I mentally listed off I didn't feel comfortable calling in the middle of the night to pray for me. (How I was reminded how different life is here than at Redeemer, where housemates were a few feet away, and friends were often up til 3 or 4 in the morning anyways, so a text for an urgent prayer was never an issue!)

And suddenly I felt incredibly alone, in a big empty house, with no one to call to pray for me. And so my fears settled in closer around me, my anxious heart taking big beats unaware as to what was wrong.

But just as quickly as the tears began to rise, beautiful words arose in my heart.

You shall call on the Lord your God and be saved. The Lord will fight for you - you need only be still.


And so I raised my arms high and called to the Lord my God, the one who would never be a phone call or a long drive away. I called to the One who lives with me whatever new home I find myself in, and the One who sits beside me as I sleep all night.

And He answered. And He fought. I read Scripture out loud and prayed over my room, and I put worship music on until I fell asleep.

I called and He answered, for He is faithful and will never suffer the righteous to be moved. Thankful for that today.

I Looked for Love in Your Eyes

I think if there is one thing that has been on my heart lately, it is how much our sin affects those around us. I think we like to live in the imaginary world that the sin we commit only harms our hearts, our lives, our souls. But what we tend to forget is that we are a part of the Body of Christ. And what that means is that when one part of the body is damaged, it affects the others. So when one of us falls, we hurt the others around us. When we sin - the consequences are not only borne on our own souls and bodies, but the consequences are passed to our siblings, to our family, and to our children.

Because sin is never satisfied. Ever.


It seeks to devour. The Enemy seeks to devour whatever it can. And because of this, sin just doesn't stop at us. It wreaks havocs in families. It wreaks havoc in relationships. It wreaks havoc for generations to come.

Praise God that He offers us redemption. Praise God that He offers us His Spirit to protect, to guide, to lead us away from that path of destruction.

But that path is a wide one, a horrible one that we so easily find ourselves walking. And today my sister passed on this link to me, a poem that a wife wrote to her husband who is addicted to pornography.

Because pornography doesn't just damage the one who consumes it. It damages one's spouse, it damages the children, and it damages the woman or man who are onscreen. It's effects are widespread.

Pornography is something which devours.


And so, with a sorrowful heart, I include her poem here. You can find the original post here.

I Looked For Love in Your Eyes

"I saved my best for you.
Other girls may have given themselves away,
But I believed in the dream.
A husband, a wife, united as one forever.

Nervous, first time, needing assurance of your love,
I looked for it in your eyes
Mere inches from mine.
But what I saw made my soul run and hide.

Gone was the tenderness I’d come to know
I saw a stranger, cold and hard
Distant, evil, revolting.
I looked for love in your eyes
And my soul wept.

Who am I that you cannot make love to me?
Why do I feel as if I’m not even here?
I don’t matter.
I’m a prop in a filthy play.
Not an object of tender devotion.

Where are you?

Years pass
But the hardness in your eyes does not.
You think I’m cold
But how can I warm to eyes that are making hate to someone else
Instead of making love to me?

I know where you are.
I’ve seen the pictures.
I know now what it takes to turn you on.
Women…people like me
Tortured, humiliated, hated, used
Discarded.
Images burned into your brain.
How could you think they would not show in your eyes?

Did you ever imagine,
The first time you picked up a dirty picture
That you were dooming all intimacy between us
Shipwrecking your marriage
Breaking the heart of a wife you wouldn’t meet for many years?

If it stopped here, I could bear it.
But you brought the evil into our home
And our little boys found it.
Six and eight years old.
I heard them laughing, I found them ogling.

Hands bound, mouth gagged.
Fisheye photo, contorting reality
Distorting the woman into exaggerated breasts.
The haunted eyes, windows of a tormented soul
Warped by the lens into the background,
Because souls don’t matter, only bodies do
To men who consume them.

Little boys
My little boys
Laughing and ogling the sexual torture
Of a woman, a woman like me.
Someone like me.

An image burned into their brains.

Will their wives’ souls have to run and hide like mine does?
When does it end?

I can tell you this. It has not ended in your soul.
It has eaten you up. It is cancer.
Do you think you can feed on a diet of hatred
And come out of your locked room to love?

You say the words, but love has no meaning in your mouth
When hatred rules in your heart.
Your cruelty has eaten up every vestige of the man
I thought I was marrying.
Did you ever dream it would so consume you
That your wife and children would live in fear of your rage?

That is what you have become
Feeding your soul on poison.

I’ve never used porn.
But it has devastated my marriage, my family, my world.

Was it worth it?"

Looking Within

In the past few days, I've found myself with a lot of time alone. I've been sick, which means I haven't left the couch much. And I've had a pinched nerve in my back, which means that when I do get off the couch, my back screams at me to find a place to rest. Sleep has evaded me, because nights mean I simply can't get comfortable.

And what all of this means for me is that I've spent a lot of time alone. And for any of you that know me, I am one who hates being alone! If I can, I find someone to walk to and from school with me. I hate studying alone, although goodness knows I probably would get more done if I did. I hate going for walks without a partner beside me, and I hate not sharing a room with someone.

But I'm learning. Slowly. The other day I stood in the kitchen shuffling around for a can of soup, muttering to myself about spending the evening alone on the couch, a thought stopped me right in my tracks. What is it about being alone that I find so terrifying? I asked myself. Am I afraid to face myself - or worse - God?


And I've thought a lot about that question since then. I've thought a lot about how the more we look within ourselves, the more we see the Creator. The more we understand ourselves, the more we understand the Image we bear. Those thoughts seemed to push me even farther into unfamiliar territory ... of loving the time spent alone. Of using those times to reflect on the One who created me, of exploring my thoughts and hopes and dreams in the hopes of hearing what God might be speaking to me.

It seems to me that when I am stripped of friends, of a job, of school, of a familiar family ... it's in those places that I seek the one who never leaves my side. It seems that it is in the quiet of a walk alone, or a night spent on the couch blowing my nose incessantly, that He finds us there. Because life is full of distractions, be them good or bad ... but sometimes they need to be pushed aside in order for us to see What truly matters.

Maybe instead of running from being alone, I need to run towards those moments. Maybe they are sacred and precious and need to be held onto no matter the cost.