Rebuke.

Man-pleasing.

God told me last night that I don't need to worry about pleasing anyone but Him. Isn't that funny? Funny is not the right word. I don't know what is. Beautiful, maybe. Like He looks at me and my shabby little blog and says, "Aw, that's cute, wrong, but cute."

I know he gives me words but when He makes it real that he actually knows my thoughts (or reads the blog being written in my head) But I know there's more to it than that, there always is. I can't get into that now. This makes sense in my mind.

Here's what the moment brings me. Now is the time to be diligent; the time for obedience is now.

Trust me, I'm not actively trying to not be obedient. In fact, IF YOU REALLY KNEW ME, you would see that I'm looking desperately for things to be obedient to.

Nothing would please me more than to do my Father's work. How can it not be written all over my face when it is resounding in my spirit and written on my heart? Sometimes it seems like no one understands this when I tell them. 'Yeah, well if that were true then you'd be doing this. If that were true you'd stop walking around with your mouth shut and your eyes wide open and do something about it'.

It is possible (and probably very likely) that I'm looking so hard that I can't see what's in front of my face.

Sometimes we don't know that we don't know until we know.

Kala-pleasing & the queen of excuses.

I have trouble with man-pleasing.

Yesterday I went to my (old) favorite store and bought myself some shoes, a skirt and a vest. And I felt guilty all the while, telling myself that I won't need these things in the Kingdom of Heaven. In fact I don't even need them in this decrepit world of death. What's the point?

Ooh, ooh! I know the answer to this one. Buy stuff, look cute, fulfill some some fallen "need" to be accepted. As if clothing would bring acceptance. "Hey, I like her skirt, and those boots are fantastic! Maybe I should marry her!" Yea. WRONG. And then old-man-Kala and I spent $40 that doesn't even belong to me- $40 that could have been put towards building a ministry or contributing to my church.

OK, I have trouble with man-pleasing and Kala-pleasing. Enough already. God is showing me how fleeting all these things are. And my pastor is right when he says there's a sense of urgency. People die everyday. Where is my place in the Kingdom of God on earth?

So here's this urgency with souls on the line, and there I am gallivanting around town, tossing money at cashiers like I'm going to die tomorrow. When truth be told (I should like to think), if I actually were going to die tomorrow, I'd be shouting from the rooftops of the precious blood spilled to SAVE YOU.

Wow. It's official. I suck.

And to top off the official state of suckdom, here's this beautiful cashier with eyes calling out for rescue, a smile that's seen better times, and a customer (me) who knows the Truth that can set her free.

And then I want to let her know that she is loved, that she doesn't have to run, and that what she's been looking for has been right in front of her all the time. So I'm battling my mind, or my spirit or something else, and making excuses as to why it would be inappropriate to just let her have it right there in the middle of her work-place.

Wait a second, am I really fighting against this army that I claim to want to be a part of? Way to go, Kala. Way to go.

So I didn't say anything . But instead, I was real nice to her, told myself that my kind words made it all better. Yea, I told her I hoped she had a great day. As if by anything I hoped for her day to become could save her soul and give God his Glory, when the Glory of God was nowhere to be found. I couldn't even say God bless you. And did it make me feel better? Uh. Of course not.

So, man-pleasing.

I've got to let God break me of it. And He's showing me how to make room for Him in there, it's just taking me a little longer than I had hoped to let Him in do to His thing. But I'm aware of it's consequences on my spirit, and on the souls of others. The more aware I become, the more Glory God will get because I will be unable to help screaming it from the rooftops. I cannot stop this. I will submit to the Lord my God and he will be my courage and my strength. And out of all these ashes, beauty will rise; AND IT WILL BE SOONER THAN I THINK.

Sometimes and most of the time

Sometimes it's hard to look at who I was, and then tell her that she isn't allowed to exist anymore. But then I put my eyes on Him, and without words, she's gone and I do not miss her.

Sometimes it's hard to tell who I am that it's okay to make mistakes; because in the Army of the Lord the battle doesn't stop for anyone.

Sometimes it's hard to tell who I'll be that I'll get there sooner than I think. Because it's a scary thing, walking blindly into an un-touched battlefield with un-moved enemies and an unprepared army. But then I see Jesus going there ahead of me, saying 'Follow me'. And I drop everything with eyes fixated on the radiating light.

Thursday

Here is what I (used to) do (OK, sometimes still do, until I realize who I am).

I walk through my days a lot of the time feeling so alone. Like all these people surround me and even communicate with me but it's like no one can hear me at all. Or I scream and no one's ears have the capacity to hear such awful noise. The pitch is too high, or too low, or just intolerable. Or they can hear it but they can't decipher what strange language seems to be coming out of it; so no one really knows who I am, and if they did, well what good would it do anyway. All they want to know is ruled by some selfish desire saying "what can she do for me?"

And then my mind fights back and says, no Kala, your not alone. Don't you remember what it says in your Bible? And I'm thinking that my mind is a useless piece of mass plotting against my pity party, bullying my heart around a little bit, (maybe taking it's lunch money) and completely in-validating the way I feel.

And of course I know better than that. I am a daughter of the King, after all. And I believe Him when He says I'm not alone. And it's when He shows me how much I'm not alone that it even makes any sense at all. And he uses others to show me, too. Even still, it seems like a senseless thing. To give in to feelings when you've got a huge book called LOVE to remind you everyday. But He only shows me when I let Him. And then I go right up to that old man throwing himself a nice little pity party with a table for 1, punch him in the face and tell him to stop distracting me from the Truth.

And on nights like Thursday, He brings something to my memory, shows me how it made me feel, and then shows me how it made Him feel. And then my heart breaks into a hundred pieces at my inability to recognize real Love when it's bleeding right there on my face.

And then, he simply speaks, and those pieces can't put themselves back together fast enough. Like if they don't something in them will explode. And then my blood pumps through a new heart and the rest of my body soon catches up to the newness of it all. And restored blood flows through every part of my broken body and then He puts it all back together again (for now).

And then of course, there's the other voice. You know the one, frantically trying to convince me that I couldn't possibly be worthy of such a Love. That my aloneness is justified and that every day I don't feel it, I've ignored a piece of who I am. And who am I? Alone. That's who.

And this is the literal fight against Love. It takes a pretty hateful sort of a creature to try and convince someone that who they are isn't real. Not real at all. And then it becomes so entangled with who God's created me to be that I've become immune to it's blows, wouldn't recognize it if satan himself woke me up in the middle of the night screaming ALONE! ALONE! ALONE!

And so the wounds just look like skin; and I live another day just the same as I did before.

But, oh, how beautiful my Savior. When I see him coming on that white horse, furious lightning and violent clouds, saying That's MY girl. Don't you dare touch her. And the sound of the thunder speaks more than words could scream. And the lightning penetrates my soul and all I hear is perfect Love.

NOT ALONE. NOT ALONE. NOT ALONE.

thoughts and a little bit of testimony

Faith without works is dead. And I've been told not to let my feelings lead me; but isn't that how God speaks? OK I already know the answer to this; I'm just being stubborn. But know this; if I can't exactly hear Him, (supposedly) and I really cannot see Him (supposedly), I can feel Him. Sometimes, anyway...I guess. I don't know. Yes I do. I do know. I'm lead by what he impresses upon me to feel. Which is good for the most part, sometimes... I think.

And yes I cannot rely on that alone, because I'm fallen and it's my emotions and their consequences that get in the way of hearing from God. And faith without works is dead. So where exactly is the line. As if there were, on one side, created emotions stirred by a fallen world, a dead man and a spiritual battle and then on the other side there is God-sent impressions meant to move us into obedience and encouragement. So what does this line look like, and would I know if I were walking right over it? See my dilemma. Since I'm going to be doing God's work (yes I AM), I'm going to need to know these things. And I'm going to need to know that I really know. Because again, faith without works is dead. So I want to stay in the boundaries of the line that God has provided for me. Question: how do I know if I'm doing it right? Answer: I won't know and I'll fall probably a lot more than I fly at first; but I'm going to keep my eyes on the One whom it's all for. That's it. Keep my eyes on Him. This is not about me, for all my life, it was never about me.

I don't care if you don't understand what I'm talking about. It'd be nice, though. Then I wouldn't feel so alone. OK; I'm not alone. SEE. Did you see that right there? There's that feeling thing. The wrong kind of feeling. I'm over the line and into enemy territory. Back up, Kala. The never-ending battle for my mind rages on.

Today, the war in my veins tries to take back the grounds it had footed before I met Him. No, I mean REALLY met him. See, I met Him once, as a child. He came to me; offered to carry anything I'd be willing to give to Him. "Thanks Jesus" I said, "I'll keep that in mind".

And I looked at Him a few times, told Him I loved Him because it made me feel good. Hey, I even accepted Him as my savior; whatever that meant. And I left Him in some realm of reality that didn't seem to fit in with the only one I knew.

I turned my eyes from the blood pouring out to ransom my slowly but inevitably dying soul; to more comforting things that didn't require such responsibility. I didn't find the suggestion that I live for some One other than myself as comforting as the prospect of instant gratification. I mean, didn't that feel better? Feel. There's that word again.

And my eyes saw, but they did not see. And my ears heard but they did not hear. So I left Him hanging there on a cross, bleeding and forgotten. But He never forgot about me. And He stayed there, on that cross; dying for me while simultaneously mourning because I wouldn't accept Life. And he pleaded my case to the Father because that's how much He loved me. He pleaded forgiveness on my life by offering His own. And really and truly had I known what I was doing I would have thrown myself at the foot of that cross, sacrificed my very life to give Him the only comfort I know how to give Him; my life.

But I turned and I never really looked back. Of course, I talked about Him here and there. Prayed to the Father when I needed Him to hear something. And I probably smiled real big thinking there was someone out there willing to die for me. You know; all those words I read in a big old book that I didn't understand; and that couldn't have possibly been written for me.

And I don't know at exactly what age I turned my back on my first love. I don't even know if I was ever fully facing Him. What I do know, is that I didn't make a place in the front of my life for Him.

And I looked everywhere for something else to replace Him with. As I got older, it came in different forms. My idols came in the form of rebellion, vanity, music, friends, manipulation, alcohol and boyfriends. And as they say, nothing I found would ever fill that God-shaped hole in my life. None, except Emmanuel.

And it didn't happen all at once. He began shining His light in to the dark areas of my life; exposing them and cleaning them up. He replaced my music with His. He told me I was beautiful and I believed Him. He somehow coerced others Jesus followers into being friends with a little soul like mine. He showed me that I would never find acceptance by rebelling. He said, "I love you because of who you are, not just because I'm supposed to."

Hook, line & sinker. And now, my eyes see and my ears hear and I will never be the same. And even when I cannot feel Life, I know that I am still Living. And even when the darkness hides the light from me, I know that it is still burning. I never knew Life like this.

I am not alone, never alone. And now my blood belongs to Him because He bought it with His own.

And after it all, the war is still raging in these veins. But I have taken up arms. I come with a mighty warrior leading the way. And He shined a light for me when it was too dark to see. He carried me when I was too tired to walk. He stood up for me when I was too weak to fight. And He died for me so that I could live.

revisited.

I love that I wrote this four months ago; and it makes more sense now than it ever did then. I've been wounded and redeemed by the blood.

Love supernatural, and I feel as though I could break open from the touch of the Spirit. Just the way He knew it would feel. And it’s strange to reason that I might could fall in love with the character of so many people at any uncertain time until I became conscious that it is not love for this person. This person who is wretched and vile. It is love for the Christ I see seeping out like blood from a wound. I want to bleed this Blood. Curious love. I want to bleed this Blood. And like Blood from a wound, scores of those in our nation may be moved to discomfort by this Blood seeping out, this supernatural Love seeping out. But I fall in Love with this Blood seeping out. Wound me, that I may Bleed it, too.

wordless

I haven't written in a short while and nothing's to blame but too little time and effort on my part alone. Unfortunate, yes. Will it change? It's too soon yet to tell. My draw to my writings usually come in waves. We will see where this will lead. But it is certain to say my lack of writing is not due in full or in part to lack of the movement by God. Oh no. God is moving and pulling and yearning. In fact, He has been the biggest distraction from my finding time to do so. I cannot think of a better word than distraction, however to use this word, distraction, may imply a negative occurrence. Let me assure you, there is none more positive than this.

God is pulling me toward Himself more and more, and while I know what direction it is spiritually (and believe me, I use the word 'know' loosely), I don't know how it will transcend into this life as I know it now. But I do know that the true desire of my heart is to follow Him in pure obedience the best my fallen little life knows how, to God be the glory.

But here is what I know for now. God is doing some pretty big things and I don't know what it will look like, but I know that I will never be the same. And each day comes forth and is followed by another one just the same, only a little different and a little better. And so over time this thing becomes bigger than me. It already is. It always was. I cannot stop this. I cannot look back.

I do not know how to explain what I mean without being so vague. Just wait and see.

the power of the words

lost, cry, cross, trust, deliver, heal, restore, redeem

JESUS.

Psalm 72:12-14

For he will deliver the needy who cry out,
the afflicted who have no one to help.

He will take pity on the weak and the needy
and save the needy from death.

He will rescue them from oppression and violence,
for precious is their blood in his sight.