Recently, National Geographic aired a documentary made by two photo journalists who, for a year, followed the same detachment of US troops deployed in the Korengal Valley of Afghanistan. It was raw and poignant, and showed the face of warfare: its boredom, its filth, its danger, its courage, its casualties, its sorrow, its frustration, its injustice. Over forty men died there either taking or holding ground only to have our forces abandon these positions at a later date. 

It broke my heart to watch it.  Many of the men who made it back carried deep scars and claimed they had yet to reconcile everything they saw or did.  And that’s when it struck me how similar spiritual warfare is to its physical counterpart.

Like in Afghanistan, we are all fighting a war, a spiritual war that generally thrusts us into combat, daily, and for which we need courage. And the causalities are many: broken marriages, drug addiction, loss of jobs and home, loss of health.  And sometimes we conquer enemy territory at great cost only to relinquish it at a later date, like a recovering alcoholic who has been sober for years only to succumb, unexpectedly. And often we are left with scars. And Satan doesn’t fight fair, either.  He, too, is not above using our children or spouse as shields or fodder. And he hits us when we least expect it.  But unlike Afghanistan, where our soldiers never left their wounded comrades behind, we, in the church, tend to shoot ours or leave them bleeding and unattended.  Instead of compassion, we judge.  Instead of love, we ostracize. 

When is the church going to learn we must stick together?  When one falls, we must be there to pick him up, to encourage, to love, to nurse back to health; but never, never to abandon.

War is ugly, and dangerous, and hurtful.  All war.  And just as the “War on Terror” isn’t going away any time soon, so too, spiritual warfare is here to stay. The Bible says we have an enemy who hates us; one who seeks to “steal, kill and destroy.” No matter what our denomination, believers in Jesus must stick together like never before, and at all costs, care for our wounded.

Until next week,

Sylvia

Right now, my bed is covered with bows and ribbons and bright colored Christmas paper and an assortment of gifts waiting to be wrapped.  I love giving presents.  Oh, the anticipation of seeing someone’s face light up when unwrapping that perfect gift, the one he or she has been hoping for; the one that really means something. The smile, the sparkling eyes, the obvious pleasure on the face makes my pleasure complete.

I imagine that’s how it is with our Heavenly Father.  He delights in giving us gifts, too.  We all know His greatest gift to us was Jesus, but I’m talking about something else here. I’m talking about those personal gifts to us, the ones He takes great pains to select, to wrap, and then to reveal at just the right time: that healing touch, that deposit of peace in the midst of a storm, that scripture that speaks to the heart, sending that needed person at just the right time, that unexpected baby after a couple has tried unsuccessfully for years, that job opportunity at the most unlikely place, that . . .

It’s hard for me to watch TV this time of year. Nearly every channel has a “Santa” story showing a big hearted, all-knowing personality that just delights in giving gifts.  I know many enjoy this type of entertainment, but I can’t help but feel sad that this fake figure is so revered, and that so much energy goes into perpetuating his myth, when all along we have Someone who truly delights in showering us, His children, with gifts; Someone whose heart swells with joy and delight at the prospect of blessing us, and not with gifts that eventually break or are forgotten in some dusty closet, either, but with gifts that help us live fuller lives, gifts that many times have eternal value.

Oh, what a wonderful, generous God we serve!  And what pleasure He takes in us.  It’s only fitting that we take the same pleasure in Him.

Until next week,

Sylvia  

Ever wonder why many of our present day Christian Churches are so anemic?  I have. And the answer I’ve come up with is this: it’s because they are filled with anemic Christians. I mean, where are the Smith Wigglesworths of today?  True, during the early to mid 1900’s he could pack a church like few others, but that’s not what I’m talking about.  We have a handful of mega churches today with seating up to the rafters.  And true, when he prayed for the healing of others, people actually got healed.  But we have a few preachers today that do the same thing.  And yes, it’s even true that up to fourteen people were reportedly raised from the dead by Wigglesworth. But in parts of Africa, some pastors in small churches are raising the dead too. 

No, what I’m talking about is how Smith Wigglesworth was so connected to God, so sold out, so under the power of the Holy Spirit that often when he walked by a person that person became immediately convicted, and then just as quickly accepted Jesus as Savoir.

Wigglesworth often said that the only book he ever read was the Bible. He was a man who walked by faith; a man who lived by the Word of God. Oh, to be so sold out!  If ever the world needed more Christians this saturated in the love and power of God it is now. But all too often what it sees are Christians who look or act no differently than the rest of society.

In the midst of these hard economic times, in the midst of “wars and rumors of wars” people are looking for answers.  And that’s were the Body of Christ comes in.  Most of us have not been called to preach in churches or even conduct healing services, but we have all been called to be “salt and light” and that’s not easy.  It can only be accomplished by submission to the Holy Spirit and by cultivating a deep intimate relationship with Jesus. But unless we do this how can we be of any use in an ever darkening world?

Just some thoughts.

Until next week,

Sylvia 

Recently I was talking to a friend about who shed the first drop of innocent blood in the Bible.  Her answer: “Cain.”  There was a time when I would have said the same thing.  But since reading every scripture from Genesis to Matthew that mentioned blood, I know the real answer is “God”.  Yes, God Himself shed the first drop of blood when He made coats of animal skins for Adam and Eve after the fall. That meant an innocent animal had to die in order to cover their sins. 

From this we can see that right from the beginning God set up the blood standard, that “it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul” (Leviticus 17:11).   Sin was not to be paid for by gold or silver; or compensated for by good works; or exonerated because of family ties, lineage, or status.  That’s why in the Old Testament under the Law the priests slaughtered animals and sprinkled their blood over the altar to atone not only for individual sins but for the nation’s sins. “In fact, under the Law almost everything is purified by means of blood, and without the shedding of blood there is neither release from sin and its guilt nor the remission of the due and merited punishment for sins” (Hebrews 9:22 Amplified Bible). Still . . . all this was but a foreshadowing of things to come; a foreshadowing of the perfect solution.

Enter Jesus, the Lamb who allowed Himself to be slaughtered for you and me. “Ye know that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition from your fathers: but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot.”(1 Peter 18-19)  

I don’t know why it took me over thirty years to connect the dots, thirty years to move from a vague knowledge that Jesus came and died for the sins of the world to the absolute knowledge that He died for me; that all my good works were but filthy rags in God’s sight (Isaiah 64:6); and that the only standard that God acknowledges is the blood standard.  And that God, not only instituted this standard but actually completely satisfied it Himself.  Period.  The end.

This Thanksgiving, if I had to name the one thing I am most grateful for, it would be the blood standard. Because of it, and because I have acknowledged and appropriated it for myself, I have peace with God.  I am accepted. I am forgiven.  I have a hope and a future that extends far beyond this earthy realm.  I can’t think of anything more wonderful.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Until next week,

Sylvia

My kids bought me a Ragdoll cat.  No kidding, there’s actually a breed of cat called Ragdoll!  They are mostly white, long-haired beautiful cats with sweet, lovable dispositions that make good companions.  They are so relaxed they actually go limp when petted, hence the name. The one downside is they don’t like to be left alone.  The perfect cat, really, for someone like me who spends a great deal of time in a home office and could use the company. 

And so my family and I took the long trek to the breeders; I with a brand new carrying case and cat toy; my grandchildren with an assortment of names: snowball, sugar, fluffy . . . .  But instead of getting a female, like I planned, I fell in love with a male who had the most beautiful blue eyes and cute chocolate colored tipped ears. The seller, being a good breeder, wanted to give him a thorough grooming and going over, so I couldn’t take him home as planned. But this week I’ll get Cody.  That’s the name we settled on. 

So as I wait for the big day, I ponder the goodness of God.  He has created such wonderful things for us to enjoy, not only nature in all its beauty, but other creatures as well; creatures with diverse personalities and qualities.  He made something for all of us, even the most discriminating.  We just need to take time to enjoy it: that sunset, the trees with their changing colors, the birds overhead, the scurrying squirrels, the . . . .

Until next week,

Sylvia

God visited our church last week.  That’s not to say He never did before.  The scripture “where two or three are gathered together in my name there am I in the midst of them,” (Matthew 18:20) is true, and the gathering doesn’t even have to be in a church.  But this visitation was noticeably different, and it was during a two-day Women’s Conference.  There were four main speakers, all powerful and anointed because they were the real deal, no show horses here prancing under the lights; they were separated unto God.  They had gone through the fire. 

One by one they gave their messages, messages sprinkled with confessions of shortcomings and frustrations, and sometimes even past sins, but all powerfully rooted in the Word.  I tell you we were rocked to the core.  These were women who knew God. Women who had seen His hand move mightily in their lives.  Women who had gone through fires hot enough to refine them like gold and force their dross, their impurities, to the surface so that the Master Goldsmith could skim them off.

For two days the presence of God fell so strongly it forced us all on our faces. I have never experienced anything quite like it.  It was wonderful and sweet, loving and healing.  And it made me weep over the superficiality of my own spiritual life.  And it brought home, once again, how the spiritual life, the genuine spiritual life is costly.  It does not come cheap or easy like some instant oatmeal you pop into a microwave.  But rather it is forged in fire by the hardships of life and one’s willingness to die to self and give all to God.

But who willingly jumps into a fire?  Fire burns.  It’s painful.  And it often doesn’t seem fair.  Is it fair when jobs are lost? Babies die? Children wander off the path and do drugs? When unreasonable and unlovable people move next door? Or when floods come and wash away homes? Perhaps not, but they are all fuel for stoking a fire that the Goldsmith can use to bring up our dross.   The question is, are we willing to let Him do it?  Are we willing to let Him use all these things, these hard, hurtful things, these things that are not fair and that He does not cause, for our good?

I had to think about that for awhile.  The whole fire thing scares me.  But when I remember those women, those Godly women who truly walk with the Lord, I see no other way. And while I can’t honestly say “I’m willing,” I can say to God, even as I see Him strike the match “I’m willing for You to make me willing.”  And that’s enough, for He’s able to take our puny declarations and work wonders.

Until next week,

Sylvia

Nothing rocks your world like the loss of someone you love.  And recently I lost my best friend to cancer.  But what I learned throughout the process is this: God’s grace is truly sufficient. He can and will take you through with remarkable tenderness and care.  Oh, how great He is and how much He loves us!  Like in that famous “footprints” piece, He will carry you when you are unable to walk. 

The other thing I’m learning is that faith blunts pain.  Since I believe in a literal heaven and hell, and since I believe Jesus’ words when he said “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man comes to the Father but by me,” (John 14:6) and that “in my father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you,” (John 14:2) I know that my beloved friend is living in a realm that is wonderful beyond my comprehension because he too believed these things.  And whenever I grow sad over my loss I remember that even now God is rejoicing over my friend with singing.  Oh, I have my moments.  Grieving must run its course but faith provides a wonderful tonic, a balm to ease the way.

For all those who have suffered loss, God is not only able but willing to be there for you; to carry you when you don’t think you can go on; to bind up your broken heart and give you beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness (Isaiah 61:3) Rest assured He will not leave you to face this alone.

Until next week,

Sylvia

Who of us wouldn’t prefer to write his life story, his life history with pencil rather than indelible ink where the mistakes he has made, where all those wrong words and acts can be erased?  Well, in a way, that’s what happens when we come into the saving knowledge of Jesus.  He changes everything.  He makes all things new.  In fact, the Bible says we are literally new creatures in Christ.  That’s not to say that our past wrongs don’t carry consequences, they do.  I once read this analogy how sin is like driving a nail into a board and forgiveness is akin to the removal of that nail.  And though the nail is removed the nail hole remains.

Even so, Jesus delights in redeeming our past mistakes.  He delights in taking them and making something good; in giving us beauty for ashes.  Mother Teresa once said that she was just a little pencil in God’s hands. Oh what a wonderful thing that is!  I can think of nothing better than to let Him write my history for me.  What about you?

Until next week,

Sylvia

The Harry Potter mania has been bothering me for a long time, especially since I know of many Christian parents who endorse it.  My kids, who are grown now, accuse me of being too black and white.  I suppose I am, especially when it comes to scripture.  Long ago I had to decide if I believed the Bible was true or not.  You see, I didn’t especially like everything it said. In fact, I would have liked to do my own “cut & paste” job, omitting those things I found uncomfortable and keeping those things that weren’t. But after much study, soul searching and arguing with God, I finally came to the conclusion that the Bible is His inerrant Word. Period.

Regarding Harry Potter, here’s the problem. Parents are accountable to God for what they allow or don’t allow in their homes; and what they allow or don’t allow their children to do.  So my question is this: if God forbids a thing, can a Christian, in good conscience, practice it or endorse its practice without offending God?  I think not.  The Bible makes it perfectly clear, in numerous passages, that witchcraft, sorcery, etc. is forbidden, as in Deuteronomy 18:10-12. “There shall not be anyone found among you who makes his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, one who uses divination, one who practices witchcraft, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or one who casts a spell, or a medium, or a spiritist, or one who calls up the dead.  For whoever does these things is detestable to the Lord.” This is just one scripture, but there are others.

Because the Potter books often read like a manual for witchcraft, and because each succeeding book has the potential to draw a child deeper into occultic arts, I can’t view them as harmless entertainment.  Kids, as a rule, go through various stages, often feeling ugly, unloved, unpopular, misunderstood.  Just like Harry Potter!   And when they’re going through this how easily they can be drawn to the Potter books, and through them see a way, via the occult, to empower themselves by manipulating others.  Indeed, the people at the WICCA (white witchcraft) website have claimed that since Harry Potter and TV programs like Sabrina the Teenage Witch, they can’t keep up with all the requests they’re getting for information.

The Bible tells us that we will know them (those things and people that are either good or bad) by their fruits. If something inspires our young people to violate the Word of God, how can it be good?

Just my two cents.

Until next week,

Sylvia

The other day my husband, who wasn’t feeling well, asked me to make chicken soup, because when he’s like that he enjoys nothing better than hot broth. We all have foods that comfort us when our bodies hurt or we are feeling poorly.  But what about the times our hearts or minds hurt?  What do we do then?

I, for one, go straight for the Psalms.  I love them.  Honest and full of raw emotion, they always have a way of speaking to me when I’m at my lowest.  Check this out: “Save me O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul. I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am come into deep waters where the floods overflow me.  I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God.” (Ps 69:1-3) Wow!

But the Psalms are also uplifting and encouraging, as well as instructional. Take for instance Psalm 27: 1, “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?  The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”  You read and meditate on that for awhile and I guarantee your troubles will seem a lot smaller.  And how about this one which is speaking of King David: “Thou hast given him his heart’s desire, and hast not withholden the request of his lips”—a golden promise to us “kings and priests” if ever there was one.  Then there’s this: “Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord” (Psalm 27:14)—a mini refresher course on how to gain victory. And of course this in Ps 90:12, “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom” which is a great reminded that we’re not going to be here forever so don’t waste your time on the silly stuff.

Oh, what wisdom and comfort can be found in the Psalms!  They are my hot broth.  If you’ve never sampled them, maybe you will the next time you’re feeling poorly.

Until next week,

Sylvia