when the stillness seems too much

I don't know why this is hard, the waiting, the standing still.

But it is.

Some days I long for it and yet, when it arrives, I'm not sure what to do with it, how to be still or sit still, or quiet the still.

But I need it.

And when the stillness is longer than I planned, when God seems silent because His words have stilled, isn't this where I reach a blind hand in faith to know He's still there, even if I can't seem to feel His fingers.


It's like our Texas trees, when the sky has stilled it's rains with drought, roots desperately search deeper waters under brown grass. A hidden work of ripping through new dirt to just find a drop of living water.

Our survival depends on it.

The sometimes dormant stillness of our faith seasons can feel like a winter-ed soul shut inside, frozen by the absent awareness of an active God, hibernation besetting our hearts under layers of stillness.

Waiting, praying or not, begging or beyond even trying, searching to only stop, because it's all there, a stillness so strong, you must painfully wait the next season.

Trees rest, grasses give up their green, perennials drop away from life, for the still, dormant time needed to grow. But then spring surprises us with its buds of sun-filled blossoms and lures our hearts to come and smell the cup of Hope rising with the temperatures....then we know.

Being still has supernatural qualities.


But even better, being still is the way our awareness is acutely affected by His presence and all the more beautiful once we sense Him springing in our hearts. And when we embrace the daffodil blooms, the redbud's unfurling, the dogwoods' wispy whites and pinks, when we look to the hills and see where our Help comes, then our faces shine in His glorious rising.

And we want to still this moment too and just bask in Spring's embrace after Winter's hold on us.

Seasons rotate in cycles and He's still creating, still changing, still speaking, still moving, still looking, still searching to and fro, still waiting, still sending His Spirit to plant new life so that our hope resides with this Counselor who's a most gentle, and faithful Gardener of our souls.

Even if my finite mind can't find the edges around His infinite ways, I know one thing is true, He's still here. And no matter how quiet the stillness is, how lonely our heart's ache in it, if we are don't give up chasing with all heart and soul and mind, He's still near, too.

{re-posted from the archives}

warning~~radical church rant

I interrupt this regurarly scheduled blogging experience with an out of the box Christian experience. This may challenge your thinking and hence, any like-ability I may have or have had with you. If you want to keep it same/same, then just click away now. Otherwise, this might be a polarizing experience.

"The very flaw of the pastoral system and it’s hierarchy is what makes you inept to operate fully in Christ to begin with. It stunts your growth.

The system limits the Spirit’s operation in His Body, under man’s system or program, by saying His Spirit can only speak here, or in this way, or preferably not at all, as He will only disrupt the service.

They place themselves between you and Christ and wonder why you aren’t more mature in your walk.

But, when the Body begins to question the church, then the question-er is considered a trouble maker."

{to read more about the dangers of people demanding a "king" to rule over them, click here}

Frank Viola: Beyond Evangelical

brave writing and your reputation

I share questions and my deepest felt faith with my closest friends, namely two: my husband and a friend from another state (although a married couple also comes to mind). I stay, primarily within this circle because I think: people (like you) aren't ready for the real me {<---link}.

I remember telling that to someone years ago.

They asked me, after having known me for almost a year, how come they didn't see this side of me before?

It seems they liked it. I was frustrated with them and told them just what I felt. I don't know who likes being told off, but I guess anything is better than being something you aren't.

I tend to circle my wagons in a tight little circle and only there, too those two, can I really be all of me.

That's where I am safe to explore possibilities.

That's where I can be crazy with ideas and they'd be crazy with me.

That's where I can express my failures and know they'll share theirs too.

That's where I dare to be free, in the secret and hidden places of two people.

However, His ways are higher than mine means I'm in a constant stretch upward and upward always has a way of going outward.

Writing does that too.

Going outward, is both liberating and terrifying. There's risk involved when you leave bits of yourself on a page.

What if they can't handle your real-ness? What if they don't like you anymore? What if they think you're a loon? What if they think you're not nice? What if they think, "you shouldn't say that"?

The what-if's are killers.

And if I'm writing for the what-ifs, then I'm just borrowing someone else to be me.

I've come to the point where I must be true to myself (and to Him) and surge past the what's and if's.

They say it takes a year or two, maybe more, to find your writing voice. I usually take that to mean, listen to His voice and write.

But I know.

In these two years of blogging, I might have toned it down to make it more palatable for you. I might have phrased it just so, that it would sound slightly like someone else. I might have made it nicer so you'd like me. I  might have made it catchy, so you'd think I was clever.

I might have made the words soft so you'd feel good about yourself, and in essence, about me too. I might have read your story and wondered, "now why don't I write those kinds of things"?

 I've done all those things at one time or another.

I want to be nice and for you to like me.

But we know that's just vanity talking.

I want even more, to burn and speak boldly what He gives me to do and say. And it doesn't always look nice, but it's eternal.

Lately I see my responsibility in not being afraid of man, or his opinions, or my reputation. Some people will think that is just rebellious.

But I'm not after man's praise, just God's praise.

That means, breaking the habit of preserving myself. Which begins with a new habit of speaking from the burn in my heart and with all cost to myself, releasing them.


The first step is dying to flesh.


And popularity.

With Ann....

who's in charge of the church anyway

The church is losing control of its people. Maybe now Jesus will have a turn.

To keep reading, click over to "eating locusts"...

dirty word of submission and crazy Jesus talk

Read this and tell me how you like them apples on wively submission?

{one of my radical rants}

debunking silent women in church--guest link

"There is no scripture from Genesis to Malachi that prohibits women from speaking in church or to literally keep silent in the church. There is not a single scripture verse in the entire law of Moses that deals with this subject." --Geneva

Click here, for a more exhaustive look and background to those pesky scriptures that Paul was referring to about women must be silent in church.....

{women} go tell the men--guest link

"Why couldn't I make myself fit those {silent woman} guidelines? I tried, I really worked hard at it. I prayed, I repented, I apologized and I pleaded with the Lord to change me into what a godly woman was supposed to be....The worst question of all, why did I sometimes feel I was called to “speak”? " --to read more of what Geneva has to say click here.

My good friend is finally writing, in the open, and you don't want to miss this post.

~~Tammy

post-Christmas in all its weirdness

We didn't have the tree this year. Or the manager, stable, and all the porcelain Christmas characters on display to remind us of that special birthday.


Our Christmas was brown.


But it was packed full of stuff, to be sure, as our time was spent moving. And between the boxes and the mud, well, that's where the brown comes in.


The severe drought we had all year, it's long gone. I can't complain, the mud looks real nice after a summer like that.


Except we have short memories, I think. No on knew when, if ever, we'd see rain. And then it comes, and comes, and runs all over the place, fills up the ponds, keeps coming, and it isn't long before we're wondering when it'll stop.


This Christmas, I didn't have time for all the hype or reflection.


And now this is the day, after.


Strangely, I don't feel the usual let-down, somehow.


I've spent most of this month moving, being thankful, and appreciating God's abundance. He lavishes His goodness on us and I'm always amazed or surprised by it.


I wrote and posted this here on Christmas day and thought, who posts such un-Christmas-y things on the day of Christmas?


Apparently, I do.


Even though I was aware of Christmas, this year, it didn't come to me in the usual Christmas wrapping.Yet it's been very special in it's own weird way.


There have been some great times of meditating on Him and keeping our thankful hearts before Him without all the other trappings, this year. Our family has been having a relaxed and joyful time without the usual stuff.


Our lack of preparations for Christmas, and now without my usual post-day blues, I feel as though I've been given the best gift, ever:


Peace and joy.


Funny how that works.





 at Laura's.....

the church and its hostages

{What better way to celebrate the post-Christmas season, than to talk about what Jesus did for us.}


I’ve seen how the Holy Spirit is sucked right out of church by doing, doing, and more doing. Or maybe it’s going, going, and more going from one program to another meeting, or confined by limited doctrines and intellectual religious experiences or exercises.

But few allow a Holy Spirit to live and breathe, and Lord have mercy, have control.

Join me at the new website to read more...