search of the paranormal, a world hunting for ghosts

We don't have to go far. A friend or two telling "ghost" stories and the hair stands up on my neck. And I remember fear, how close it always was. How paranormal never felt "normal" as a child, but was a terrifying occurrence for me and my Sister.

I've experienced enough of the paranormal to know it's material evidence of darkness.

Fascination with the paranormal has history. There have been many labels over the centuries but they all amount to the same-- spirit realm. And they come in two shades.

Dark or Light.

Paranormal is a testimony of Light because He came "to open their eyes, in order to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God" Acts 26:18

We operate in the spiritual every day and yet we're surprised by it, marveling at seeing the invisible like a blind person suddenly having sight. And we fumble without Light. Blindness is darkness unless you're a glow worm and if you're a Christian you're called to be a glow worm. Because he who "walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.” John 11:10.

Glow worms.

The world searches for paranormal or hauntings, a Love hunt gone awry. A counterfeit chasing since the Garden and we look anywhere but right where He is. We go all different directions, every which way but the narrow one.

We clothe ourselves with pleasure, or satisfaction, or entertainment, or relationships and change wardrobes, asking ourselves "Is this the one? The key to all my happiness and contentment? Is this how I become spiritual by worshipping the supernatural? Is this it or should I look for another?"

"When the men had come to Him {Jesus}, they said, "John the Baptist has sent us to You, saying, ‘Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?’” Luke 7:20

It boils down to what we're looking for. The experience? Or the Creator of all experiences?

We carry an Eden-sized hole which needs to be back-filled like a bulldozer placing top-soil over hollowed out places to make a smooth surface.

It's the gaping divorce from a Garden, a breaking of fellowship by a gluttoned appetite of the heart, which has us eating from the world or paranormal.

We're walking wounded not always knowing our condition. Sick with sin-cancer, soul limping, ill from a choice-tainted fruit, and ingesting a serpent's poison at the Garden. We operate in our "normal" as if it's limited while secretly wanting the outer limits. We watch "Twilight Zone" with interest, but without any interest in God's miracle operations which exceed ozones and time zones, or that He created our twilight zone of stars, planets, milky ways.

The normal we need isn't confined in a "para", nor is natural suddenly a supernatural, nor is ordinary special when it becomes extra-ordinary. We live in both worlds, daily designed by the Creator of both, Himself. Men devise words to speak of what they don't understand, but we need Holy speech to understand at all.

"These things we also speak, not in words which man’s wisdom teaches but which the Holy Spirit teaches, comparing spiritual things with spiritual." 1 Corinthians 2:13

We long for an Eden return, to walk by fellowship through an Adam's gate through Christ. And our withered post-Garden life is renovated to fruit-bearers when we abide in the Vine. Hole-ness filled by "the fullness of Him who fills all in all." Ephesians 1:23 

And it's His Spirit which groans among earthly tents. The search isn't a para at all. Ghosts are about our own inward souls wanting something to believe in and yet we're haunted by clanging chains which bind us to dust. We're hunting for truth, instead of Truth. And those that have Him, know the search is really about finding a Holy Ghost experience and our way back Home to wear the supernatural likes it natural.

 "..Because we do not wish to be unclothed

 but to be clothed instead with our

heavenly dwelling.." 2 Corinthian 5:4



Over at EE's for September's "Saturday Evening Post"

Still I know....

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 it or sit it, or quiet it 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 this embrace. The seasons rotate their 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, always.

at Lisa-Jo's AND {in}courage

finding hope amid panic, National Debt and threats of economic collapse

Waiting for rain to drop from here

The drought is breaking records here in Texas. And breaking farmers, ranchers, dairy production.


The other day, driving 65mph on an Interstate Highway, I saw a tire catch fire on a U-haul truck trailer until I saw flames shooting off the rim. Yesterday, I saw three fire rescue trucks race past our front yard, to a neighboring county needing help. Making our 30 minute one-way trip to small-town, USA, I'm always finding another black, charred grass next to black tar-topped roads.


More signs of distress.

We've kept a record 21 days over 100 degrees, in a row. More heat, means more fire hazard, less water, more injuries, less grace, more irritants, less interaction, and more risk.

And now, a National Debt looms and threatens to suck the life out of our economy, creating droughts in already lean pocket books and drying up much-needed resources.

Kindof like here in Texas, where some have a shriveled up hope, looking to the future with a skeptical eye, weighing the pros and the cons, and the cons winning.

When we look at the world and all it's doom and gloom, we begin to think this is all there is too life. We want to run, hide, seek safety, find shelter from a falling sky.

A partially dried up pasture



It reminds me of someone God told to go and buy some real estate in a collapsing economy. In fact, this piece of land was to be taken over by an invading country.

But it wasn't China.

And while the invaders breathed down the neck of this country, a collapsed economy teetering on disaster which had already begun, God told a mere prisoner, go and buy it.

Here in Texas, we have grasshoppers like swarming locusts which hop in our faces and our mouths as we drive our little motorized buggy to our back pastures.

A pestilence as come upon the land, a swaggering financial institution threatens to topple day-to-day, food prices soar so that people are growing more of their own, and each day looks more grim by the news of what is the world.

And yet, if has God called you to go and do something crazy by the world's standards, what's stopping you? Has He asked you to go against the grain, against safe and sane, and go by faith to take hold of that promise He's given you, even if it doesn't make sense now?

That's what Jeremiah did.

By faith, he bought land, signed the papers, sealed the deed, had the witnesses, only for it to be handed over in captivity and ruin. And oh, he questioned God on it. Sooner, than later, he mentioned mighty things God had done, he went on and on about God marvelous works.

Yet, he couldn't help but falter here,

"Look, the siege mounds! They have come to the city to take it; and the city has been given into the hand of the Chaldeans who fight against it, because of the sword and famine and pestilence. What You have spoken has happened; there You see it!  And You have said to me, O Lord GOD, “Buy the field for money, and take witnesses”!—yet the city has been given into the hand of the Chaldeans.’” Jeremiah 32: 24,25

Yet.

Yet, You've given the city away!

And still You said, "Buy the field for money...."

Why?

We wonder, with Jeremiah, why You'd call someone, you or me, to something which seems so fool-hardy, so unconventional. Why risk it all for nothing?

You tell us it's because You have a Promise to do good. Even if it comes later, than sooner.

And I've been here, finding beauty in the courageous expenditure of Faith.

Because I'm learning, Faith is the purchase of Promise.

By Faith, we have currency needed for Heaven's exchange.

Faith becomes the active commerce by which we lay claim to the Promised deeds. And I'm awed by the beauty of this interchange.

Faith is the way we are able to stand in firey trials, run out on a limb, dance in the glory of Promises not yet seen but coming, one day. This is how you're able to do it despite naysayers.

Because it's not about Debt ceilings, raising interest rates, bank loan freezes, foreclosures, of how the world seems on the brink of collapse and is paralyzed with fear. It's about our economy of Faith and spending it. Stepping out in it means it'll be His glory and not the world's or ours....

And definitely not Congress' or people who live in big, white houses.



 Over here at Bonnies...

if you've given up

Dear Wayward World,

Your charms have slithered into the hearts of many people, even our sons and daugthers. Oh, not the ones who know and stay close to the Father, no.

Not those.

Rather, the ones who've bitten into your fruit and chase after the snake which coils around their souls.

Those.

You smile with knowing, Wayward World, because you know them well.

I've known you too and how you lie. How being strong meant being hard and this was how to survive. How I thought you had answers and received from your resources, esteeming knowledge as power. How you gave promises of {false} truths: if I do "this" or "that", then I'd improve myself, or finally be good enough, or in the least, better.

You drag the weary along until they're lost in your maze of self-help, self-confidence, self-esteem, self-evaluation, self-remedies, until all they have left is, self.

And no Christ.

Besides, you point out, Christ means rules, regulations, no fun, boring church, goody-to-shoes. But, should we consider, maybe just one church service, you whisper, "They'll stare at me. It'll be awkward. Where would I sit? I don't fit in. I'm not that good. I don't really need them anyway."

And our co-dependence continues. A harmful dependence of thinking I have this World just where I want it. But really, we now know that is a lie too.

I can't blame you. "For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places." Ephesians 6:12

No longer am I yours. Shell of skin, tent of Holies which burns inside, leads me to my eternal home. And for this, I write you:

Those who've fallen or jumped into your pit, for those who've been lured by your seduction, by your hideous beauty, by your black truths, I only come for One thing.

Jesus, that scandalous word so hard for me to speak during my prodigal years. The Power of that name, kept hidden by silence, tied up on my tongue, stayed by sin, swallowed in darkness, Jesus.

Little did I know back then, how this Name evokes an outpouring of love like Noah's flood and this is the ark which carries us over the rising waters of life.

Jesus.

I remember, all newly returned, the foreign-ness of that Name, how I felt red and fumble-y and shy to say the word which held Life...

And Love.

It is a radical Name.

But so is the Love contained within it.

And when all seems spinning, spiraling out of control, when we've given up, when this cruel World takes more from us than we can bear, when it feels like the bottom fell out and we're crashing to a hard landing, then we have nothing to lose.

Why not fix our eyes on that Name? Because the Wayward is a bondage of self-strengths which will fail us and we have a Liberator who sets us free from darkness and despair and we become aliens to the World. A Name which pulls down Heaven all around us and plants the residence of a Kingdom in our heart, this is where belonging to a Home that no longer belongs here is the address that Perfected peace and worth it's weight in gold for giving up on the World.


{if you given up, try One more thing}

With Ann....

when you don't know if it really will be ok

There are days that hope in a situation is so far gone, that I'm blinded to how's, when's, where's, and who's. Instead, I'm left with no questions or ideas, no nothings, a double negative and the bare-faced value of a bad situation.

My grown daughter, ever-increasingly distant, has continued the silence except the occasional birthday and Christmas exchange of words and gifts.

Many I days I only see fallout mess without one life-saving move that's possible for me to resuscitate it.

I've tried.

And I've surrendered to the Peace which surpasses all I know, going beyond the things I think I understand.

Being at the lake and the pool these last couple of months reminds me of when we were both younger and how we did these same activities together back then. 

Water has a way of soothing the world's aches away.

As I spent Sunday at the lake, watched boats send their large ripples upon beach shores, cooled under shady pine breezes, this fresh-water retreat was like a caressing whisperer of it's Maker.

"And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters." Genesis 1:2

The hovering--the part where nothing seems to happen.

It's the hovering which seems still and lifeless.

I'd rather the stirring waters which healed the man at the pools of Bethesda, to see God in action. But hovering? This quiet work above the waters?

There's a time when the Spirit seems absent to only find out, later, He's been moving. Because even hover isn't all that inactive, as much as it is action, many times used as a verb, of some slight movement, some fluctuation to suspend over a place or object (Merriam Webster dictionary).

And when I know nothing, when I can't see beyond right now, when I don't know if it really will be ok, I cling to the unseen Spirit which knows all things.

I close my eyes in blindness so I can see by way of a different Light. I trust by faith for Healing in hidden and exposed areas.

I know that no matter how it all seems like same-ness from day to day, the Spirit is always moving and changing lives, even at a hover.

But first it begins in the interior, dark corners of a heart, out of view from the natural. There must be a cracking, deep crevice fracture, of the hard shell one wears like armor from the world. 

There must be a work far beyond the physical, pulling down to the great reaches of a wearied soul, a mystery kept behind the veil until the veil is torn.

While it all looks the same as lost, we know that we know Him and that His adoption is still at work making sons and daugthers today and tomorrow.

And this is a life-long work of knowing and trusting a faithful Love who adopts us into his Hope and frees us from needing our life to always be ok.


"...but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you. I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you." John 14:17,18



At Laura's 

when you're tired of running

Our tennis-shoe soles were thumping against the moving black belt of a treadmill, last week, when I mentioned always being the new girl. My family's constant moving (every year or several months), meant the locals wanted to meet us, talk with us, get to know us.

Over time, this became a way of life: going, leaving, changing, uprooting, running.

Nobody really ever knows the new girl too long, before she's gone again.

And so, the last couple of years being part of a small group of people, long term, means dropping the "new" girl. I realized I didn't know how not to be that girl.

Living in temporary relationships means living a shallowed eternal perspective. I can't do "church" by myself like I thought after leaving it behind as a teenage-bride.

So on the cusp of changing that, of growing deeper roots, I determined to stay with a group of folks, long-suffering eachother, loving over differences, giving Grace to mistakes and flaws, forgiving myself as much as others, learning to be who I really am without a label to hide behind.

But in my heart, I doubted.

"What if the 'new' girl is really dull and boring? What am I beyond the 'get-to-know-ya' stage? What's behind the plain me, once 'new' has rubbed itself worn? I fear my polished arrival will become lackluster once their interest wanes from familiarity."

This week, a lost calve wandered on to our farm. His mother-less state drove him to a small herd grazing on our front pastures, but none with milk he needed.

It was by accident we noticed him at all, his brown coat blending inbetween a couple of brown Jerseys.
He tried to nurse, but these were motherless heifers. His long and knobby legs revealing his weak state of infancy. With a bottle of milk in hand, we tried to coax, chase, corner, entice, soothe, capture, all to no avail, not even within arms reach. He ran, always running from helping hands, always driven by fear and panic to go further from the thing he needed for life. Staying two steps ahead, leaping across obstacles, or struggling against barbed wire, he ran.

I've ran, hard.

Alone, my infant spirit tried to survive, tried to escape Helping Hands, leaped away at my own peril, cornered myself by driven fears, hid behind labels (good or bad) as way to be something other than me.

Yesterday, we called a neighbor friend who was able to reunite the calve to his mother so he'll receive nourishment needed to grow and mature.

And I've been nourished by spiritual milk, and we must go on, mature full-grown, to connect with this herd, called the Body and learn this way of communion.

Being humble means we are weak. And that we know it.

But even more, being humble means, we let others know it too.

"The Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in His wings; and you shall go out and grow fat like stall-fed calves." Malachi 4:2

with Ann....

a church without walls {or a 501(c)}

“Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”

                         John 2:19 (Jesus speaking of His body)

Preachers of the day were asking Jesus "what sign do you show to us?" and this was their answer. Destroy this earthly temple but I'm raising up something Heavenly which has nothing to do with pillars, stones, man-made structures, but by the Spirit.

They didn't understand.

I dare say we still lack understanding today.

I've been comfortable with my walls, doors, programs, and windows with or without stained glass. I've liked my church schedules to be neat and tidy and not a minute too late. I've volunteered upteen hours to some ministry, only to exhaust myself with works.

Our western religion prefers men to enter on our behalf and bring us Knowledge instead of entering in ourselves. We've microwaved our American faith to drive-through service where we've become altogether spiritual gluttons. We have pet denominational doctrines versus the whole doctrine.

In the past, I've taken snippets and built a religion on pieces and gouged my eyes to other truths. I've prejudiced my view of another by their (Christian) denomination rather than embracing Christ in them and finding common ground in Him.

If our natural bodies were originally designed to be fit and lean, not too skinny, not obese, but a healthy size, then shouldn't our spiritual live also mirror fitness? Our diet should be quenched by the Spirit and not a building, or service, or program or pastor, alone.

Teaching was meant to enhance our already Spirit-filled life, not to be the Life.

Church is no longer man-made walls, but ones built with flesh and bones.

So why do the "priests" of our day, seek to condemn those who worship in Spirit and Truth? Why do pastors or congregations feel others err because their church doors don't hang on a 501(c)? Why are homes not considered a good enough place for "not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another..."? Hebrews 10:25

We must give Christ liberty too. Not just in church-y 501(c)'s but to those who choose to meet wholly outside these guidelines and choose homes, parks, or other places for the sake of growing in the knowledge of Him and doing it together.

Should we not meet in the "traditional" way, it's not for purpose of isolation as if to cut us off from the world. It's to stretch us in Christ by laboring together to birth mercy, kindness, gentleness, patience, and longsuffering. It's to have intimacy and transparency which allow us to use our gifts to the utmost ability in fellowship with one another.

It's to learn Jesus deeper by pressing in with Grace when we are like sandpaper people rubbing eachother raw.

And how can we do this without Love knitting us in threads to one another where Jesus has absolute free-reign to design the patchwork of our small fellowship? Is the Spirit so feeble that He's unable to teach "insulated" groups who don't bow under a 501(c)covering? Is the Spirit so diminished that a small group means He's limited by numbers? Or is ministering with a neighbor, or a friend, or family  member, or somebody (whether or not they're Christian) not a large enough ministry for God?

This is not to say there aren't cults, or abusive small communities, or legalistic followings which look for places to set up their kingdoms. I acknowledge those, and know first hand, people who've been abused by those perverted gospels.

Nor, am I saying we should skip around from one church body to another, taking offense each turn we leave, as we bounce around like a lost ball.

This is solely about Jesus.

This is about letting the true Shepherd be the Head.

This is about being like 12 disciples who went through thick and thin because they knew each other well. It's about filling our tanks in a communion of hardships and good times, without the friendships themselves being our highest priority, just our priority of making Him the highest.

Only when we are truly filled by the Spirit, do we have the resources to do any works at all. And we don't do them because man designed some new program or ministry, but because His presence is so strong the Indwelling spurs us into the world to do His bidding.

Why is it so hard to imagine a church without walls, denominations, worship styles, or theological differences?  Why do some in the church show contempt and disdain for those who leave traditional church to meet outside traditional buildings so they can rally with Jesus and with others who are desperate for Him and Him only?

And why should we despise the traditional or the untraditional if we're all under Jesus?

Perhaps not much has changed since Christ. Even if we should abandon our traditional temples of worship, 'though others balk, we trust the Spirit which already prepared a resurrected One. And no matter where or how we choose to worship (in a 501(c) or not), it simply comes down to One who not only raised up a new Temple, but by the breath of God, Spirited a Bride for Himself.

"'Come, I will show you the bride, the Lamb’s wife.'" Revelation 21:9

{What's a 501(c)?  for friends from other countries, a 501(c) is a U.S. government recgonized tax benefit given to most organized churches of all denominations, with exclusion to home fellowships/house church/organic church/(or insert label for Spirit-lead Jesus folk who don't meet in traditional church buildings)}

Ps. My Brother-in-law is a full-time pastor and my Dad and Mom are both really involved in their traditional church, leading and teaching. So I have some dearly loved, traditional folks, who are near my heart.

With Ann and friends,

--cool morning drives on the farm, a most unusual "date" with Hubby and I talking more about our dreams for the future
--hot summer days which are the best for pool waters and fellowship and lots of reading
--ladies working out for fitness together and all the while enjoying good company to help make the discomfort of exercise, tolerable
--knowing that God-dream of living on a farm came to fruition, one we used to try to explain away, tried to lessen the desire which burned, tried to think of reasons why we would NOT like it, but then it happened and boy, do we love living this God-dream, only He could do that

Also at Laura's "Playdates with God"

Over at EE's....for Septembers "Saturday Evening Post"

when you're still learning about prayer at 40-something

We were in the car on our way home from church enjoying the air-conditioned protection from the searing heat. Clouds had teased us all week of rain but nothing substantial came. No amounts to seal cracks which have opened up like microscopic grand canyons through our hay meadows.

My husband, said out loud a small, simple prayer "Lord, we need rain."

From the backseat my youngest son, says "Dad, I've already prayed that." As if it's already covered, either from a prayer that day or the day before. And so we began to talk about joining others in prayer and how two or more are gathered together, He is there too.

One prayer is all it takes. But He pricks the hearts of His people and even when we feel like we are one, we actually are many. One prayer may be something the Spirit has cast out, like seed broadcast in a field and landing on the good soil of many hearts.

And so I said "You know why God answers prayer?" to which my son matter-of-factly replied "Because we prayed it."  Well, not exactly. He's not a genie in a bottle (sorry Christina Aguilera).

I tell him, "His biggest desire above all is to show Himself to us. That He's real. And yet it's just enough to still require faith to believe all the rest." And little fireworks begin to explode in my heart as I said it.

The rest of our drive home was a blur, my ears muted to other conversations, while I meditated on that thought. He answers or doesn't answer, or gives a different answer ALL for the purpose of revealing Himself to us, not just as a nation, or a people but as a person. One on one, you to Him, linked forever by the supernatural Spirit once He's come into our heart.

And I think of prayers and do we really look for Him or just the answer. Get what we want and move on. Are we so wrapped up in looking for answers that when it comes, we check it off the list and go to the next thing?

Because that was me.

Within a couple of hours of this conversation, I heard thunder. Then I saw bright, white flashes lighting up the whole room as it rattled our walls with booming protest as if to say "Look! I'm revealing myself." A peek outside revealed sheets of marble-sized rain drops splattering like shattered glass on the road, grass, and driveway. My husband and I stood under our carport to watch and said a quick "Thank you" and I secretly felt, ok that's done.

"Next!"

And then we pulled out our handy-dandy cell phone weather information. Mine never did say anything about thunderstorm warnings and I was confused. So my Husband brought up the radar on his.

So small it looked like nothing was there. But when we zoomed in, there was a tiny green and red glob (green- meaning rain, red- meaning severe) right over us with the rain/storm only covering a radial reach of a few miles. A few miles and it didn't move, not east or north or south. No where but right here.

Stationary for about an hour, we received approximately 2 inches of rain.

And looking at this miracle storm so minor on the screen so small as too appear as nothing, I went from "Next!", to "er, next?" to finally recognizing in my heart, His words of, "Do you see me now?"

He went on, "Are you going to ignore me now, when I placed the shadow of my rain in the exact place you and your family placed your prayers of faith? You thought you were just teaching your kids, but I'm still teaching you too. And I never tire in revealing myself. I delight in being seen, no matter how old you are."

Friend, it's His good pleasure to reveal Himself to you in a most personal way. Look for it, not just in the answer but in The Answer-er. Don't miss it. Don't dismiss it. Look closely and believe.

At Ann's.....because how can I not find gratitude

--conversation, praise, or silence in the car each time we drive our one-hour-round-trips to town and back
--rain and answered prayers but above all, He longs to reveal HIM to us
--good friends who are super-brave to share and be transparent
--encouragement from a small group of women who show me Jesus over and over and over again...
--how He wipes our sin with the cloths of Grace and wraps us in His marvelous salvation!




And at Laura's      

"Saturday Evening Post" (June)

It's "Saturday Evening Post" at E.E.'s place. Super-easy linky of sharing a post you've already written from the month of June. Go over, link up, and share....

Join the fun and be part of the community.

Mine was "i'm that wretched sinner..."