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“You are trying to put on my armor.” Back in September, God directed me to the story of young David and King Saul. Saul hears a report of a young man asking what the reward will be for killing the uncircumcised Philistine who actually dares to defy Israel's army which David calls “the army of the Living God." When Saul hears there has been a nibble on his reward bait, he immediately reels in, calling for the inquirer to be brought to him. David comes and tells King Saul very boldly, “Don’t anyone lose heart; I, your servant, will go fight the Philistine.” Saul is not comforted. He tells David, “You’re a young man. He’s a warrior. You can’t do it.” David replies, “I’ve done it before. Lion, bear, … Goliath! They’re all the same to me. Goliath is not challenging the army of a man or of a human kingdom. He is challenging the army of the living God. That same God is the one who gave me victory over the lion and the bear. How is this different?” King Saul blesses him, saying, “May the Lord go with you.” Then he dresses David in his own armor. “You’re going to need all the help you can get. Let me help you, too.” David finds Saul’s help, the heavy armor, too cumbersome. Later, his arms will be strong enough to bend a bow of bronze. Now, he needs his arms and shoulders free to twirl a sling shot. He needs his load to be light so he can run. Saul’s armor only handicaps him.

Last year, I joined our church’s prayer team. Several times since we returned to Kenya, God told me to pray for an individual at church, and I did it. Later, I would find out that what God told me to pray was right on target, even though these prayer needs were ones I didn’t know on my own. After I told a friend about one of the times, she said, “If God ever tells you to pray for me, don’t hesitate. Pray right away.” That is another story for another time. However, those times were not regular, and I wondered whether I was somehow hindering God. I decided that since God was clearly calling me to pray, I should join the prayer ministry. Yet as I joined the team, I was fearful. What if I didn’t hear anything from God on how to pray? I have seen how much more effective my prayers are when I pray according to God's leading rather than my own thoughts, so what would I do if I heard nothing? What if nothing happened when I prayed? People come to the prayer team with their struggles, and if I pray and nothing changes, what kind of witness would that be of God?

Years ago, I had wondered what the difference is between doubt and unbelief. When I studied the Greek word for doubt, I was struck by the fact that one of the meanings is to judge a dispute. I saw that a person who doubts continues to sit in the judge's seat listening to the evidence on both sides without ever making a judgment. At some point, the case has to be closed. In a criminal case, the decision is guilty or not guilty. In a doubt case, the decision is belief or unbelief. This past week, I went back to the Greek word for doubt. This time I was struck by the fact that the word can also mean to make a distinction. When Peter is reporting about why he baptized the uncircumcised household of Cornelius, he tells the council that God made no distinction between them and the circumcised believers. The greek word translated distinction there is the same word used for doubt in other verses, such as the passage about the mountain casting itself into the sea. I find it helpful to consider why another culture would consider two ideas to be related enough to use the same word where we would use different words. So, what would it mean to say that to doubt is to make a distinction? When I look at the story of David, he was clearly not making a distinction between battling the lion and the bear and battling Goliath. When I joined the prayer team, I made a distinction between praying for people when God directed me and volunteering for the church’s prayer team. Somehow, because I volunteered for the team at church I saw myself as responsible in a way I wasn’t at home when I simply prayed when God told me what to pray. David didn’t see any distinction, and that was faith. I saw distinction, and that was doubt.

Like Saul, I thought I would need more armor for this fight than I had for previous fights. I tried to put responsibility on my shoulders. That was when God told me, “You are trying to put on my armor.” I knew God was talking about this situation. I felt clearly that He was saying, “Responsibility is my hauberk, my shoulder armor. When you wear it, I can’t, and neither of us can function as effectively.” It sounds odd to say that God couldn’t function as effectively because of me, but it echoes what the gospels said at times about Jesus -- he could not do many miracles there because of their unbelief. I knew that God was right about me trying to wear responsibility on my shoulders. What surprised me was Him telling me I wasn’t supposed to carry it. For as long as I can remember I have carried a heavy weight of responsibility, so I asked God, “Then what is my shoulder armor?” He replied, “Submission.” I had to think about it for a couple of days before that made sense. I looked up the Ephesians passage about our armor and studied it. I knew it didn’t mention a hauberk, but I wanted to consider how this new revelation related to the rest of the armor.

I studied the breastplate of righteousness, and I thought about how in the Old Testament, the high priest’s breastplate would be attached at the shoulders, so the two pieces of armor would be connected. As I thought about how the breastplate and the shoulder armor related to each other, it occurred to me that our righteousness comes from submission to God. I thought also about the protection that being able to “pass the buck” provides. Jesus lived a life of complete submission, only doing and saying what God did and said. We are to put on his righteousness. God carries the responsibility, and as long as we are in submission to his will, we are protected by his authority. That means that when God tells me to pray for someone, my task is to pray, not to make anything happen. I don’t even have to do anything to make God speak and direct me in how to pray. I am available, and I give what I have, what God gives me. Paul said, “I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase.” 1 Corinthians 3:6 (KJV). I listen, and I pray based on what I hear, but God gives the answer. For the first few months on the prayer team, I had to keep telling myself, “God cares about this person more than I. I pray; the answer is up to God.”

I also try to wear responsibility when God speaks to me. I feel as though I have to make myself fulfill what He is saying, and I get tangled up trying to make God’s message come true. Yet David refused to make God’s word come true in his own way. He didn’t feel that he had to make it happen at all. He would consult God about what he was to do at the moment and then do it. His eye wasn’t on fulfilling God's promise to Him but on following God’s direction in each moment. That brings me back to the campfire image. As long as my focus is exclusively on arriving at my destination, I am missing out on this moment with God. Years ago, I remember reading in the Psalms and having a sudden sense that God was telling me, “You’ve left where you were, and you haven’t arrived where you’re going, so you think you are nowhere. You’re not nowhere. You are exactly where I have you, on the journey.” I learned from that message that the journey is important, but I still thought that I was supposed to accomplish the journey at sprinters’ speeds. God wants to do it at journeyers’ speeds. It is not enough for me to submit to God’s plan for my life, I also need to submit to his pace.

Like David, heavy armor is too cumbersome for me. I am on a journey, and journeyers know that weight matters. The burden of responsibility is too heavy for me. For God it is an essential piece of His armor, protecting the shoulders and neck. The Bible says government is upon His shoulders, or as the NET states, "He shoulders responsibility." (Isaiah 9:6) If I am wearing God's hauberk, God can’t. I am stealing from Him, to my own detriment. Make us aware, Father, of when we are putting on your armor and work in us to be satisfied with our own armor.

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Recently, I had a dream where I was hiking through some woods with God.  We were hiking towards a place I could not see, and I kept peering through the trees trying to see our goal.  Then the dream changed.  We were still in the woods, but God was sitting on a log beside a campfire.  I was standing off to the side unable to rest because we hadn't arrived yet.  Suddenly, I had a vivid sense that God was inviting me to stop waiting impatiently for the journey's end and to enjoy my time with Him.  After I awoke, I knew that God was talking to me about trials.  We weren't hiking through a sunlit field, but rather a shadowy forest.  He was saying that in times of walking through trial, I could take time to enjoy His presence and get to know Him better, or I could stand apart from Him in my impatience for the end of the trial.  The only way for me to have joy was to take my focus off the end of the trial and to put it on the God walking with me.

I do find it hard to enjoy the moments when I'm walking through trial.  Though I want to maintain an attitude of hopefulness and joy, I find myself tangled up in a battle against hopelessness and complaining that I never seem to win.  I thought about James 1:2-4, "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing" (ESV).  I have already learned how to look back at testing and see good in it, but that does not help me in the moment.  In the moment of trial and testing I lose joy and hope.  Romans 15:13 reads "Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe in him, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit" (NET).  I asked God, "Teach me how to have joy and hope in times of trial."

God chose the evocative image of sitting around a campfire.  Recently, while we were spending a week in the bush teaching at our DTI, we sat around a fire with some Maasai believers.  We were waiting while water heated for our bucket baths.  Alitzah looked at the fire and said, "We should have brought marshmallows."  What is more delightful than holding a stick over fire while slowly roasting food?  God's image invites me to roast His word in the fire of the Spirit, letting the Word take on new richness of smell that I can savor from the moment I begin to cook to long after I finish eating.  And the taste!  And the nourishment!  A nice German sausage, anyone?  Years ago, while we were waiting to go to Kenya the first time, I began reading passages that had the word wait and a name of God.  The study greatly strengthened me.  Right now, I've decided to put passages that talk about joy or hope or  endurance or suffering or comfort on my stick in the Spirit fire, savoring about three or four a night for the next several months.

Anyone who has been to church camp knows that campfire is a time for praise and worship.  As we sat around the fire, I gazed up and saw the familiar three star pattern of Orion's belt.  Behind me was a newly familiar constellation, the Southern cross.  Those stars depicted different pictures to our Maasai friends, but to all of us they declared the glory of God.  As we listened, we could hear the familiar sound of crickets and the crackle of the fire.  We could also hear the newer sounds of zebras and hyenas not very far away.  Sometimes, we would gaze into and poke at the fire.   Shalviah squatted nearby, fascinated.  The wind blew around us as we wrapped Maasai blankets and sweaters around our shoulders.  The wonder of it all called forth song.  We sang, "He's a good, good Father" and "I'm no longer a slave to fear; I am a child of God."  Joshua translated "Holiness, holiness, is what I long for" into Maa, and we sang that.  We lifted our hands and danced.  Sometimes we silently reflected.  God's image invites me into worship.  We are called to join the heavenly declaration of God's glory.  In Luke 19:40, Jesus tells us, "If [we] keep silent, the very stones will cry out!” (NET)  I would often listen to worship music while I worked, but now I am setting aside daily time simply to worship.

Campfires are also times for testimony and remembrance.  After a day of studying heavy topics at the DTI, we sat around and swapped stories.  Some were funny.  One of our Maasai brothers told of a time when he was camping around a fire with other Maasai and visitors.  They woke in the night hearing an elephant approaching.  Our friend described how he leaped over the fire to get away, accidentally grabbing a bone instead of his sword and how one visitor couldn't get his sleeping bag unzipped and had to flee like a caterpillar.  Our friend was a good storyteller, and we could picture it vividly as we laughed.  I remember a time I asked God to show me IMG_0374something that makes Him laugh.  The next day, I saw a one inch caterpillar on my doorstep,  When I approached, it reared up and wove its body back and forth like a cobra.  It had two eyespots and something that resembled a forked tongue.  A tiny caterpillar pretending to be a deadly serpent made me laugh with God.  Proverbs 17:22 tells us "A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones" (ESV).  In Genesis 21:6, "Sarah said, 'God has made me laugh. Everyone who hears about this will laugh with me'" (NET).  I want to tell the stories of how God has given me laughter, so God and others can hear and laugh with me.

Some stories were testimonies.  We learned how the first pastor of that congregation became a believer.  He used to drink a lot.  One night, his body began to swell after a lot of drink.  Though he hadn't yet heard about Jesus, he cried out to Creator God, and God healed him.  Shortly after, the missionaries arrived in his village and told him about Jesus.  He gave Jesus his life that day, and he has never returned to alcohol.  Campfire time is a time to say to God, "Do you remember that time when I ..., and you ...?"  I remember how I used to be terrified whenever anyone was late.  What if the rapture had happened, and I was left behind?  My youth group had watched the thief in the night movies, and they had terrified me.   One day when Alitzah was a baby, Joshua was late, and I felt the familiar fear rise.  I remember standing at the sink doing dishes when I felt the presence of God and His assurance, "I haven't left you."  That fear has never returned.  In Isaiah 43:26, God tells us to put Him in remembrance, but too often, as in the passage, we only remind Him of our complaints.  A campfire is different.  For those who grew up going to church camp, a campfire calls us to tell stories of hope and joy.

Campfire is also a time for prayer and for thanksgiving for answered prayers.  At the DTI, they have a tradition of praying for and blessing one another.  Some of our Maasai brothers were struggling with colds, so we prayed for them.  They gave thanks to God afterward that they slept better and were enabled to concentrate in class.  Isaiah 62:6-7 reads "On your walls, O Jerusalem, I have set watchmen; all the day and all the night they shall never be silent.  You who put the Lord in remembrance, take no rest, and give him no rest until he establishes Jerusalem and makes it a praise in the earth" (ESV).  During the years we lived in the bush, I was overwhelmed with fear.  Returning to the bush for this week was like measuring myself on a growth chart and finding myself grown beyond imagining.  I overflowed with thanksgiving for what God has done in me, and as I gave thanks, my story encouraged the students to trust in what God is doing in their hearts.  I give thanks to God for all those who have prayed into my growth with me, such as our home group members and our prayer supporters, and I praise God that He allows me to pray into the lives of others.

The Bible tells us in the last days we will see visions and dream dreams.  When I started having visions and dreams a few years ago, I stopped writing because I wasn't sure how people would respond.  Recently, I decided that I will not let fear drive me any longer.  I love sharing what I am learning.  If you are on this journey with me, may God bless your campfire times!  May they bring you joy and strength, and may you find an abundant hope harvest in your heart!

As I reflect on an accusation that our children will grow up to be resentful of all the deprivation, we, their parents, have put them through, I recognize that accusation as a fear which has haunted my own heart for many years.  I don't think that this issue is exclusive to missionaries, however.  It is an issue many parents dread.  When a new baby comes, we fear our older children's reactions.  When a new job requires us to move, we worry how the children will respond.  If we find ourselves parenting in unhealthy ways we never intended, we despair.  We remember the wounds we still carry from our own childhood, and so we worry about the wounds our children will suffer.

Lately, however, this fear has been fading from my heart.  The more I grow in knowledge and relationship with God, the more experiences I have of His presence and provision and healing, the more this issue fades.  1 John talks about our hearts condemning us, but says that it is in God's presence that we are able to assure our hearts of the truth and bring our hearts into a place of confidence before God.  I am amazed as I see this passage coming true in my own life.  The voice of accusation in my own heart grows fainter and fainter as I gain confidence through my relationship with God.  So, as I reflect on these stories, I want to share them with others, in hopes that they will awaken hope and inspire reflection upon their own stories.

One of these stories is about God meeting my oldest daughter in an area of inequality.   One gift I have given to each of my children is a name song, with words of blessing and affirmation unique to them.  Sometime after our family had grown to three daughters, I noticed that our oldest daughter's song was much shorter and less rich than that of her two sisters.  I began to pray for God to give me more words for her song, but I couldn't seem to match any words to her tune.

I prayed for over a year regarding this.  During that time, our son was born, and his song was also richer and fuller than his oldest sister's song.  About three months after our son was born, I remember sitting on my daughters' bed singing their songs.  I started with the youngest girl and ended with the oldest.  As I was singing, I was praying.  "Oh God, please give me more words to the song.  I want her to have a richer song before she notices that her song is so short.  I don't want her to feel hurt and unloved.  Oh Father, she is six.  She is going to notice soon.  Please hurry."

Suddenly, I heard, "Maybe I want her to ask me for it."  At that very moment, I finished my oldest daughter's song, and she started to cry, "My song is so short."  I felt like I was dreaming.  "Did she really notice tonight?"  Then I thought, maybe I didn't actually sing her whole song; after all, I was praying at the same time.  I sang her song again.  She continued to cry and say it was short.

Still feeling as though I were dreaming, I told her what I had been praying and what I had just heard.  I told her God wanted her to come to him for her song.  We prayed together for the right words of blessing.  Over the next few nights, my daughter would tell me, "These words came to mind, but I don't know whether they are from God."  We would pray about them and work with them, shaping them to the tune.  In two or three nights, we had two more verses.

With two more verses, I was satisfied with the song; however, my daughter wasn't done.  She kept praying.  Over the next year, she kept telling me she was still praying for more.  She prayed until she had one more verse.  Now her song is four verses long, and three of them came through her own experiences with God.  I had thought her noticing the inequity in the songs would bring hurt and resentment.  Instead, it built up her relationship with me and with God, and my relationship with God was strengthened at the same time.

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We recently had someone ask us about the many things from which we are depriving our children.  He suggested that when they are grown, they will be filled with resentment and anger towards us.  Though it was written in a hurtful way, I think it is a true issue, but one we're not good at addressing within the church.  Really, it is two issues.  One is the issue of deprivation, the other is hurt and resentment.  And right now, I am focusing on the first.

As I think about deprivation, I remember a time in college when I was invited somewhere.  I didn't respond to the invitation because I was hoping to be invited somewhere else.  I don't remember the outcome, I just remember seeing clearly that accepting the first invitation would mean having to turn down any other invitation.  And in that way, deprivation is going to happen in my children's life.  No matter what choices my husband and I make, those choices are going to eliminate other possibilities.  One of the things I have had to learn over the years is what I call hanging up my hat.  I have to make a decision fully.  I can't keep my hat on my head in case a better option comes along.   A few years ago, as I was reading the Bible, I began to notice that the Bible speaks of unbelief and of doubt as two separate things.  I had always considered them as synonyms, but I felt God asking me what doubt was.  I had never thought about it, but I looked up the greek word and its definition.  In the New Testament, to doubt means to sit in the judge's seat listening to both sides of a case.  To doubt is not bad in and of itself, but it has a purpose.  That purpose is the ruling, the decision.  There was a reason God asked me about those words at that time.  I was at a point of indecision, of refusing to make a ruling, in a couple of areas of life.  I kept asking for more evidence.  One of those areas was whether God was really speaking to me.  Was I just imagining it all?  Was I really talking to myself?  Was I insane?  I had a picture at that time of me standing in the doorway listening to God urging me to come out and follow Him, but I was afraid to shut the door behind me and follow.

Interestingly, what God was calling me to was a life of less deprivation, of less self-sacrifice.  That was scary to me because the Bible talks so much about taking up your cross.  How could it be right to let God delight my heart?  Should I allow God to make me comfortable?  Surely that would negate the taking up of my cross.  Yet, I realized that though Christ took up His cross, he also rose.  He did not remain on the cross.  The Apostle Paul said he had learned to be content in all circumstances, in both need and abundance.  I was afraid of abundance, or even comfort.  Yet God did not want me to stay forever in a place of deprivation and sacrifice of everything that would give me comfort.  I could hear God calling me out of that place of deprivation, and I was scared to follow.  I am thankful I did, though.  Ecclesiastes says there is a time for everything.  I learned that there is a time for the cross, for dying to self, but there is also a time for resurrection, for life, and that in abundance.  Kenya has become home to me.  To be honest with you, I don't miss America.  I enjoy many things while I am there, but when I am here, there is so much blessing and so many friendships that I can't miss America.  There are hardships here, but there are hardships there as well.  And what I've gained from my interactions with my Kenyan friends is invaluable.  Those in the marketing or advertising business talk about branding.  Branding has to do with the image a company or organization presents to the world.  When people from the West see Africa, we tend to think of deprivation.  That is a branding issue, and it is a false image, because it isn't a full image.  It is as false as picturing America as inner-city life or as an ivy league college or as an ocean playground.  Kenya is made up of people, and they are as varied and intelligent and beautiful as people everywhere in the world.  Kenya is a place for living, for abundance — especially in relationships.

When I was struggling with whether to believe God, He said something to me.  He told me that Christ had completed the work of incarnation.  He told me that I don't have to become Maasai to be able to work with the Maasai.  I don't have to change my culture to work in Kenya.  He told me He had created me, and I was to give myself to others, as I am.  I recently taught a Sunday School class for 8-9 year-olds.  The lesson was about "You are the light of the world, a city on a hill that cannot be hidden."  The curriculum focused the message on all the things we need to do in order to be the light of the world, but it occurred to me that the passage isn't saying we need to do anything.  It just says that is who we are.  I started thinking and realized that a light doesn't light itself, and a city doesn't build itself.  The message of that passage isn't that we need to do anything; rather, it is that the one who lit us, the one who built us, thinks we are so incredible He doesn't want to hide us but put us on display!  Wow!  A few years ago, I asked my friend Wamzy, who is an amazing artist, to show me some of the jewelry she makes.  She was happy to show me.  As she did, she put one on me and asked me what I thought.  I was struggling to figure out a way to say it was beautiful but that I couldn't wear it, when another good friend, Nyamatha, said, “No, that's not our Ruth.”  She took it off me, putting it on herself instead, and it fit herself beautifully.  The Bible talks about Mary treasuring things in her heart; well, that has become one of the most precious treasures in my heart.  My friend saw me for who I am, and even though I am different, she valued me without any desire to change me.  In fact, she claimed me, with all my differences, as “ours.”  That is rare.  Even when I am in America, the expectation is that I should change myself and become like those around me.  It is a unique and special thing to valued for who you are.

As I nurture my children, I want them to see the incredible beauty of the earth and the people God has created.  I want them to focus on the things God wants to display.  I point out to them their own and others’ uniquenesses, even though seeing others’ uniquenesses means seeing something you lack.  I want them to be able to enjoy the gifts and opportunities others have been given, without regretting that they themselves have been given different gifts and opportunities.  Once, when I was asking God’s direction about a decision where I felt tradition would dictate certain things, God replied, “I don’t want all the flowers in my garden to look alike.”  Then He told me that He had created me with different desires than others and asked me what I wanted.  I was shocked.  Frankly, I hadn’t a clue what I wanted.  I had spent all my life trying to live up to others’ expectations, and here was God setting me free.  To be honest, the freedom was scary.  Couldn’t I just stay in the cage, painful and constricting as it was?  I told God I would rather Him just tell me what to do.  Though I still struggle, I am starting to enjoy the freedom, and that is what I want for my children.  I don’t want them live in a cage or even long for a cage, and I’m not saying American life would be a cage.  I am saying a deprivation view is a cage, a thought that we have to be like everyone else is a cage.  I want them to live the light of the world, the city on a hill that cannot be hidden, the incredible and unique person set on display by our awesome Creator.

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(Note:  this was posted by Joshua, but it's still Ruth writing)

While we were in the States for our furlough, I noticed something at a church we attended several times.  It was something that on the surface seemed customary, expected, fitting.  But underneath, that something nagged at me and made me uncomfortable.  It made me feel off-balance and weighed down.  Every service ended with the minister praying that we would be convicted of our sin.

That sounds so right, something at which you can nod your head.  We are sinners.  We need God to show us our sin continually, or we would ignore it, continuing in the same sinful direction we’ve always gone.  It is the theme for which we expect our pastors to pray and on which we expect them to preach.  Here is God’s standard, God’s ideal.  Have you arrived yet?  If our preachers aren’t preaching on our sinfulness, they have clearly gone soft.  They are people pleasers rather than God pleasers.  We have become accustomed on Sundays to hearing the ways we aren’t living up to God’s expectations.  We expect to have a mirror held before us that will show us our failings and what we can do better this week.

So why did something so right, expected, and customary leave me feeling so uncomfortable, burdened, off-balance?  Now for a long time, I had dismissed and ignored any feeling of discomfort.  I am a sinner and should feel uncomfortable.  If I don’t feel uncomfortable, it is a sign that I am worldly.  But then God told me that He didn’t want me just to do the right thing while my heart was longing for the wrong things.  He wanted both my heart and my actions to be united in love for Him.  He told me to stop ignoring and overriding my heart, but to start examining and understanding what it was communicating.  So what made me feel so uncomfortable?  I felt like I wasn’t making any progress.  All I could see was my failings, and they burdened me.  I would work hard on overcoming one sin, but before I even got a good start on overcoming it, it was Sunday again, with a new sin being held before me.  The burden of constantly seeing my sin before me was weighing down my head, and leading me into the unbalanced posture of discouragement and shame.

Now, this was what I was feeling.  How did my feelings compare with Scripture?  The issue troubling me was the constant prayer for conviction of sin, so what does the Bible say about conviction of sin?  Jesus, in John 16:7-11, speaks about the coming of the Spirit.    He says that when the Spirit comes, he will convict us with regards to three things, and not only one.  Sin is the first of the three mentioned, but Jesus does not stop there.  He adds righteousness and judgment.  For each of the three, Jesus adds a reason the Holy Spirit will convict us in that area.    Regarding conviction of sin, Jesus says, because they don’t believe in me.  Regarding righteousness, he says, because I go to the Father, and you won’t see me any longer.  Regarding judgment, he says because the prince of this world stands condemned already.  Now, when I read my Bible, I make notes in the margin, and often those notes are questions.  My note for this passage begins, “What does this mean?” because I don’t understand this passage.  But then I move on to comment that I rarely hear prayers for God to convict us with regards to righteousness and judgment.  I add that we seem to be neglecting these two important works of the Spirit.  Clearly, this passage indicates that there is an imbalance, but since the passage follows a logic I don’t really understand, I did not know what the imbalance was.

I continued to pray and meditate on this imbalance.  God promises to give wisdom if we ask, so I kept these thoughts in mind.  Well, one day, I was very discouraged about an area of living where I continually failed in my expectations.  In fact, three times in a row, I had completely blown it.  Each time I failed, I became more discouraged.  Finally, I prayed in desperation something along these lines, “God you need to help me, I am completely failing, and if you don’t do something quick to help me, I am going to ruin any testimony or witness I might otherwise be able to share.”  Then I held up the three pictures I had of my recent repeated failings as proof.  Immediately, God brought to mind another picture.  This one was of a time when I completely excelled in the same area.  The three pictures which had my focus were convincing me that I would never get it right, and my discouragement was growing and my ability to overcome was fading.  Yet when God held up his picture of my success, my discouragement drained away.  Immediately, new strength filled me.  My thoughts took a new turn, “Look, I can do this.  I am even able to excel at this.”  Is that conviction with regard to righteousness?

At the same time, God did the same thing in another area.  I was completely frustrated with the children.  They were gathering toys together and putting them under my bed!  They had some game going on under my bed.  However, what happens after the game?  The toys stay there.  I told the children, “I don’t want you taking all those toys under my bed, because you will just leave them there.”  I was doing something, but a few minutes later, I noticed that the game was continuing.  I was about to blow up at the children when my six year old asked me, “Mommy, I can’t find a bag.  Can you help me find one?”  I paused my frustration to answer her with a question of my own, “Why do you want a bag?”  “You said you don’t want us to take the toys and leave them under your bed.  I thought if I put them in a bag it would be easier to keep them together and take them out again afterwards.”  I had thought they were completely ignoring me.  God showed me that the children were understanding the purpose of my ruling and were acting according to my purpose.  Jesus was often frustrated with the Jewish leaders, because they were more focused on the letter of the law than on the purpose of the law.  I realized the children were actually honoring me with their game and let them play with their toys under my bed.  They remembered to take the toys out from under my bed when they finished.  Is that conviction with regards righteousness?

I am still meditating on the passage, but these experiences have shown me how helpful it is to see when we are doing well.  Philippians 4:8 tells us, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”  We know when we are riding a bike or driving a car that we tend to veer towards the things at which we are looking.  Is the same true when we are looking towards sin continually?  While we need to glance in the rearview mirror or over our shoulder at times, our focus needs to be the road in front of us which leads us to our goal.  We need to pray that the Holy Spirit will convict us of more than sin.  We need to pray that the Spirit will accomplish all three tasks in us.

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Over the years since I began conversing with God, I have had many doubts.  Are these conversations real?  Is God really talking with me?  Am I crazy?  One thought which could not take hold was that I was talking with evil spirits.  The voice I was hearing was a voice of love, and my heart responded to that love.  My love language is communication.  A God who both listens and talks with me won my heart.

This past summer, I stopped hearing God.  I do not say God stopped speaking, but I stopped hearing.  It was devastating.  Just as a tree grows in response to light, I had grown amazingly in response to God's love and His giving of Himself to me in communication.  Though I wasn't hearing His voice, I had the understanding that God was allowing my fears to grow so I could see them for the lies they were and reject them.  I knew I had been holding onto both faith and doubt.  I had to make a decision.  The picture I had was of a garden with small weeds continuing to steal nutrition from the true vegetables.  With God's help, I was plucking up the weeds before they could grow big, but they always snapped off and left the roots behind.  God wanted to remove the roots.

A few years back, God asked me what doubt is.  I didn't know.  Was doubt the same as unbelief?  With the help of my husband and BibleWorks software, I hunted for the answer.  I learned something interesting.  The Greek word for doubt basically means to sit in judgment listening to the evidence on both sides of an argument.  It means you haven't decided yet which is true.  You're considering.  The writer George MacDonald considered doubt an important part of our Spiritual development.  Without the process of doubt, we could never reach the truth.  Jesus brought doubt with Him.  Can the law really save you?  You say you keep the law, but if you break it in your heart, you are breaking the law.  If you break just one bit of the law you are breaking the whole of the law.  Can the law really save you?  If no one had doubted and considered Jesus' questions, no one could have come to faith in Him.

Doubt is important to our Spiritual development, but the purpose of doubt must be accomplished.  We must make a decision.  What do we believe?  We cannot keep endlessly listening to arguments.  We must make a decision, a firm decision.  God told me, we have to shut the door behind us and begin to walk down the path we've chosen.  He assured me, even if I made the wrong decision, He could lead me to a turn around place.  I thought about how often when driving we have to go the wrong direction for a time in order to get to the right place.  God told me to start walking, and He would go with me.  So I decided to walk down the path with God and talk with Him.  While we walked, He invited me to ask Him any questions and tell Him why I continued to doubt.

We walked and talked together for two years.  God more than answered every objection I had for Him.  Then He rested His case.  It was time for me to make a decision.  I had to choose whether I would believe what He said or what I had always understood in the past.  I knew what I wanted to chose.  God's words and His presence are beautiful.  What I couldn't figure out was what to do with the doubt I still had.  I tried to wrestle with it and make it go away.  It wouldn't go.  I agonized.  I waited.  I accused God of not helping me.

Finally I asked God one more question.  What do I do with the doubt?  Instantly, I was standing in front of my Grandfather's barn.  A vision like this was a new experience for me, but I knew it was God.  Um, why am I here?  "Climb up into the hayloft."  I climbed into the hayloft.  It was filled with golden light and hay and haydust.  I waited a minute; then um, what do I do here?  "Lay down and rest."  I lay down.  I waited a minute; then um, why am I in the hayloft?  I don't get it.  Instantly, I was in front of the barn again.  I saw the barn -- hayloft above, barn floor below.  The hayloft was dusty, but clean.  The barn floor was nasty.  You really want galoshes/gum boots to walk there.  As I looked, I heard, "You stay in the hayloft.  I will deal with the barn floor."  I realized that I had been mucking about on the barn floor of my doubts.  I was trying to rid myself of the filth of my doubts and was only getting more mired.  My place is to dwell on my faith and to nurture it by resting in God's light, in His life-giving presence.  The only decision I need to make is to continue to listen to and to respond to His voice, to continue to walk in His presence, to focus on what is true rather than on all the doubts the world would throw at me.

Over the years as I have conversed with God, I have many times had others say they longed for that kind of communication with God.  I have said that God loves to communicate with His children including them.  Several times, I have been asked, But what if you don't believe He communicates with you?  I haven't known what to answer.  These are people whom I love.  I want them to have what I have.  I'm a woman.  I love community gab sessions.  My conversations tend to be heavily spiked with God talk rather than gossip, but that's because gossip is boring and old hand.  It may be a new person, but the news is old.  The things I'm hearing are NEWS.  I love talking them over with others.  I have longed to answer their question but haven't known how.  The answer is that the question is wrong.  Instead of looking at ourselves and at the sin and unbelief at work within us, we need to look at God, the Good Father, who is love.  Love communicates.  All we can do is think on these things.  If we long to communicate with God, then that longing is something we inherited from Him.  He promised that His sheep hear His voice.  Our longing for Him tells us we are His sheep.  Don't be afraid to listen to the voice of love that is already speaking to you.

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One day probably five years ago, my daughter came to me with a request.  I don't even remember what the request was, but it was a life changing incident in my relationship with God.  You see, I spoke to my daughter.  She asked me for something, and I answered with words.  I don't remember what I answered.  Did I say yes or no?  Did I give a vague maybe?  Did I say "in a minute"?  I don't know, but my daughter knew and understood what I said.

I don't remember what I answered, because it was not my response that was life changing, but rather the fact that I used words to answer her.  I can't imagine not using my voice to answer her without the image of a stern, hard face popping up in my mind.  Parents do not simply hand or deny their children the things for which they ask.  We actually verbally answer, because we are in relationship with them.  In that moment, I saw clearly that God is a FATHER.

Always before, I had looked to the result of my prayer as my answer.  For example, if I prayed for God to heal someone, if they became better, I took that as a yes.  If they didn't get better, the answer was obviously either wait or no.  It was a discouraging way to pray.  I was never actually certain what the answer was.  Even if the person became better, I wasn't sure that was God saying yes.  Maybe the person would have gotten better anyway.  If the person stayed sick, I didn't know whether the answer was wait or no, unless they died, of course.

At the time I had my revelation that God has a voice, I had just begun reading a book by Andrew Murray, With Christ in the School of Prayer.  In the book, he reminded his readers that God always answers prayer.  When I read this, I was still thinking of the result as the answer, but when I heard my daughter ask me something and myself answering verbally, I knew that a result is not an answer.  A verbal response is an answer.  God is not a vending machine.  A vending machine dispenses results.  God is a father.  He relates with us, and relationship requires words and communication.

The image I had of God was of a loan officer reviewing my application and stamping approved or denied.  I didn't expect God Himself to answer me.  I just waited to see whether I received my check.  I wanted to qualify for my loans, so I did whatever I could to make the loan officer approve my application.  On my application, I might stress my righteousness, my neediness, my sinfulness, my good motivations, whatever I thought He was looking for.  And I got everyone I could to submit letters of reference – their prayers.  Then I waited.  It was an anxious time.  When I got my check (or not), I wasn't sure what it was about my application that made Him say yes (or no), so I didn't know how to do better the next time.

Well, when my daughter had a request, I used my voice and answered her, and in that instant, I knew God, The FATHER, must have a voice and answer our requests vocally.  I started to ask Him not to answer my requests only with actions, but first to answer vocally.  I must admit, I have had some interesting vocal answers.  God is quite humorous.  From believing and experiencing that God vocally answers prayers, I was able to grow to believe that I could converse with my Father.

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While we were in Nebraska four years ago, I was very concerned about one of our students.  This student had a friendship that seemed very unhealthy and which was affecting her in many areas, including her school work.  She was also struggling with panic attacks.  These were issues I felt were very pressing and needed to be resolved immediately.  As I prayed for her, these issues were in the front of my mind.

When I prayed for each student, I would think of all I knew about the student and lay it before God and then ask God to show me how to pray specifically for that student.  God would bring Scriptures to my mind, and I would pray these Scriptures over the student.  Then I would write the student a card sharing the verses I had prayed for her or him.

For this student, God gave me three Scriptures.  The first was Paul's prayer in Ephesians 3.  Paul prayed that the Ephesians would be rooted and established in love.  The second was from Hosea 2, where Israel's name is changed from "not loved" to "loved".  The third was Zephaniah 3:17, which speaks of God rejoicing over us with singing.

Because I was concerned for the student, and because she had requested prayer regarding the panic attacks, I found myself praying for this student many times.  Each time I would ask God how to pray, He gave me the same three verses, so I would pray them for her.  But, when I would try to pray that God would remove her from the unhealthy friendship and set her free from panic attacks, I would feel God telling me not to pray those things.

At first, I prayed as He told me and let go of my thoughts for her, but after a few times, I remember being very frustrated.  I felt very clearly that God didn't want me to pray regarding the things I felt were vitally urgent, but I didn't know why.  So as I was praying that day, I burst out, "Why won't You let me pray that You remove these things?  They are clearly bad for her, but You won't let me ask that You remove them."  Immediately, I heard, "The wheat and the tares."

The wheat and the tares (weeds) was a parable.  A man had sown wheat in his fields, and an enemy had sown weeds in the same field.  The servants asked their master whether they should remove the weeds, and he said no, that would uproot the wheat.  I saw that God was asking me to pray that her roots would be strengthened so that the weeds might be safely removed.  I remembered then that doctors often delay important surgery until the patient is strong enough for it.

Over the next few days, I came to understand even more.  I was reading through the books of Moses.  I saw how powerful God's holiness is.  It is so strong, people died by encountering it.  I saw that God told His people He wouldn't drive out the former inhabitants of the promised land too quickly, or wild animals would increase too much.  I remembered the passage about the demon who was cast out only to return with seven more.  I came to understand that God was saying He would not remove anything from a person's heart too quickly.  He would not remove anything until the person was strong enough for Him to replace the thing with Himself.  I came to understand that He enters our hearts slowly and gradually as we are strengthened.

I also saw that truly, this student was not ready for Him to remove the panic attacks and the friendship.  To her, they were supplying a need.  She did not know, except in theory, God's love for her, His deep valuing of her.  If God removed the friend, who seemed to value her, and the panic attacks, which seemed part of who she was, she would be left with nothing, and that would be devastating.  But as God's love for her became tangible to her, that love would drive out panic and right her friendships.

What amazes me most about this revelation is God's love.  He ignores what we would address – the lifestyle and emotional changes.  Instead, He focuses on communicating His love for us.  He wants His love to so saturate us that it reaches the deepest places of our hearts.  Where we would say, "Change.  Change.  Change."  or "God loves you. Change.  Change."  He says, "I love you.  I love you.  I love you."   And it is that love which is transforming.