Thoughts about Albuquerque and the God who Loves Her

Sitting here, looking out the panoramic window of my 18th floor hotel room at the city of Albuquerque, I feel so much at peace. There's something about looking at the grandeur of nature, even surrounding a city, that is just so inspiring for me.  It makes me think of the greatness of God: His power, His protection (this flat basin community in the Southwest is surrounded on several sides by strong, tall mountains), even His grace and mercy, when I consider the many people who call this city home, some of them living on the streets, others barely keeping body and soul together, and others who have excelled enough to own a home of their own.  No matter their economic status, however, each of these lives has challenges they face every day.  God wants to help them face those challenges.  I wonder how many of them know that, or realize that He really WOULD intervene, if they asked Him.  I know that some have done so.  There's at least one Bible-believing church in this town, run by people who truly love and rely on the Lord, and I've been praying for them, and for all believers in this town to blaze with Christ's glory and for revival to come.  I agreed with a dear friend who also loves Jesus this morning for that very thing.  I believe He heard me. In fact, I know He did.  I can't wait to see how my God fills this basin with His glory!  Come, Lord Jesus

I am in such pain today.  It seems no matter what I do in a given situation, I do not measure up. I cannot go into detail, but I can say that I have tried everything I can think of to resolve the situation and have decided there is just no way to reach a resolution.  For those who would advise me to pray, to trust God, I am doing both, and I know that He has my back.  That does not keep me from feeling excruciating emotional pain sometimes because of what I am enduring.  Some days, I wish I could just walk away from the whole thing but, for a variety of reasons,  that would not be advisable. It's not because I'm afraid. It's not because I don't have personal strength.  It just is wiser to endure the pain for a while yet.  Still, the pain sometimes feels unbearable.  I am so sick of this situation and how it makes me feel. I am exhausted from the trial.

Catering to My Introvert

Most of the time, I consider myself an extrovert. Fairly outgoing. Energized by being with other people. Easily able to converse with strangers.

Then there are days like today when I just want to hunker down in the quietest place I can find, as removed as possible from the chaos and babble of the world around me, and soak in the solitude.

And what a lovely soaking it was. Nothing intense, mind you. No deep delving into the Word of God, with my notebook and pen on my right hand and a stack of bible commentaries on my left. (Please don't read anything into the fact that the commentaries are on my left; it's just that I'm quite decidedly right handed and, when I'm seriously dug into bible study, I want my pen in hand, ready to jot down whatever the Lord happens to say to me. Consider it, if you will, an illustration of the "pen of the ready writer". Today wasn't that kind of day, however.)

Today was simply a relaxed time of meandering of the mind, briefly touched by a moment of prayer via IM with a pastor I didn't know but who clearly touched the hem of His garment for me, as tears flowed nearly unstoppable down my face and God touched my heart to its very core. Deep inside, I could feel the Holy Spirit tenderly massaging the week's wear and tear from my soul, as He gently hugged the worn out child within. Lightly, I brushed aside the salty rivulets from my cheeks, as I meditated on how sensitive the Savior was to my bruised heart and spirit. "A bruised reed He will not break," I thought to myself, as the hint of a smile turned my lips slightly upward. Then I spoke. "Dear Lord, it is true. You always understand me, always know what I need, and are sensitive enough not to force Yourself upon me, but to wait upon me for my moment of willingness and to gently part the fragile leaves of my soul, pouring into them, as slowly as I need you to do, the water of Your Word."

Thank you, Lord, for knowing that I am not always the loud and raucous party girl, making her friends and co-workers laugh uproariously, but also the fragile and sensitive flower of a woman, who still needs her Man to care, to listen, to caress.

Where is Ralphie Boy?

Some of you are probably wondering where that bedraggled old guy in the worn out bathrobe with a stogie hanging out of his mouth went from my blog. For better or worse, I deleted him. (I did try to bring him back but, evidently, in my playing with the design of this blog, I totally deleted any ability to put a photo on my page. So, unless I can figure a way out of the mess I've created -- or someone else can help me do so -- his picture is gone, unfortunately, for good ... at least from these pages.)

Here's the reason why: Ralphie Boy freaked out a few people, and got some folks thinking I'd totally fallen off the evangelical bandwagon. One of them even stopped talking to me. (Phew! I knew this blog would get me in hot water with some people, but I never thought they'd stop talking to me in real life. Golly!)

Probably calling him my muse is what got me in so much trouble. You see, in some quarters, muses carry some pretty heavy demonic overtones. I guess I kinda knew that. In fact, yeah, I did. But I thought I'd take the risk anyway, figuring people would understand, from the way I wrote about Ralphie Boy, that he wasn't a muse in that sense of the term. He's simply a major character in a novel I'm working on right now, my first, as a matter of fact. The only sense in which he's a "muse" is that he's the character through which my story is being told. It's his story and, as other writers of novels will attest, he tells me through a sort of interview process who he is and what he wants to say.

In essence, Ralphie Boy is a guy who has sort of been birthed, if you will, from the many interactions I had with friends in the homeless community, people whose lives have touched mine in such a powerful way that I have to write about their world. And I'm looking forward to doing so, through Ralphie Boy's eyes.

Now Ralphie Boy isn't the only character I'll likely write about. There will be others, too. Probably many of them. As many, perhaps, as there are characters on the streets of this world. I hope you'll want to listen to what they have to say. More than that, I hope you'll learn to love them as I have done.

My thanks to all the Ralphie Boys (and Ralphie Girls, for that matter) who have caused me to wrestle with the deep issues of life and become more "real" in the process. It's to you my novels are dedicated and from you that they spring.

Some Mighty Desperate Men Out There

Back in 1998 and 1999, when I first forayed into the world of cyber-relationships, the waters were pretty calm. Just prior to that, God had spoken to me very clearly that He had a marriage partner picked out for me. If you know my history at all, you realize how out of the blue that was.

Back in my late 20s, God had given me an unshakeable contentment in my singleness and an ability to see my single years, be they temporary or permanent, as a huge gift for knowing Him, loving Him and serving Him. So, in my 40s, when I came back from one of my longer short-term missions ventures and asked Him what His next "project" was for me, marriage was totally off the radar. There wasn't anyone even remotely on the horizon. But, just like I'd known God was speaking when He led me in various other aspects of my life, I knew He was speaking about marriage to me now. All I had to do now was wait and see how this whole thing transpired.

That's when I started "testing the waters" in Christian chat rooms, where I met a lot of terrific people -- both guys and gals -- most of them very serious about the Lord and who enjoyed sharing where God had them right now and where He might be taking them. I even met a few guys who became great friends and one of them turned out to be my husband.

After my husband died, I got involved again with a few singles ministries in our area. I was in no hurry to meet anyone. The contentment I'd always had in the single life returned. I hosted a bible study for singles in my home and just enjoyed my life. Six years later, with a growing desire to live nearer my mom and siblings, I moved back home.

I loved being with all of them, but it also started creating a longing in me for another spouse. Since I'd "found love" once before via the Internet, I tried plying those waters once again. What I found totally shocked me. No longer was I meeting people who were willing to get to know people at a normal pace. I was meeting some very desperate men. Guys who chatted with you for just a couple of hours and "bing, bang, boom", they were professing undying love. I'd have chalked it up to "just one wierdo" if it happened only once. But it happened to me three different times! And each one of them was as intensely "overboard" as the one before them. Very strange...and very sad.

I'm sure that not all men, or all women, who are in the "singles looking for a mate" category are as "marked" as the ones I met were, nor am I going to advise every person reading this to stay away from Internet relationships. For me, however, and for now, I'm going back to my contented single life. If and when God decides to bring me another spouse (and I really don't care, one way or the other; I really am content just being with Him), I'll let Him do the nudging, the leading and the guiding. Until then, desperados, stay away from my door!

Opening Pandora's Box

In my last missive, which was far longer ago than I ever intended (but equally as bizarre in the time of day it was authored; guess I'm a late night scribbler), I commented as to whether it was okay for a Christian to have a muse other than Jesus Christ, implying as I did so that I wasn't all that worried to have my rather road weary muse, Ralphie, by my side. And that is, in fact, the point. A muse which travels alongside one is one thing; to have any other than Jesus Christ pointing the way, quite another.

Since my last missive, I was considering a ghost writing assignment from a woman who entitled her project "Spiritual Gifts Assessment". From the camp in which I, and many others of similar theological persuasion, find myself, such a title brings to mind many tests given to determine whether a person is "gifted" in certain aspects of ministry to the local church: discernment, speaking in tongues, wisdom, administration, helps, et cetera. So I thought, "Perfect fit!" and immediately launched out a hopefully well-crafted reply, along with my curriculum vitae, listing my various achievements as a Christian writer/editor. (Anyone interested in seeing these and hiring me is welcome to visit my website: www.onwordcommunications.com.)

She responded graciously that, though she respected my viewpoint, she thought I should check out her blog, as we might perhaps not be as harmonious a duo as I had imagined. The title was indeed a bit scary: www.deadgirlsguide.com. Still, I decided to investigate. Generally speaking, the advice she gave in the sampling of blogs I read could not be faulted. It was basically good advice. That doesn't mean it can be trusted, however. The source for her wisdom was gravely in question. According to her own testimony, published at her own site, the woman says her insights for helping others come from conversations she had during a near-death experience with two angels, posing as Gabriel and Raphael. I say "posing" because the Bible clearly tells us that Satan and his horde enjoy presenting themselves as "angels of light", and so I contend were those that contacted her. Why?

1 John 3:24b-4:6 says, "And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit which he has given us. Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are of God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world. By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit which confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit which does not confess Jesus is not of God. This is the spirit of antichrist, of which you heard that it was coming, and now it is in the world already. Little children, you are of God, and have overcome them; for he who is in you is greater that he who is in the world. They are of the world, therefore what they say is of the world, and the world listens to them. We are of God. Whoever knows God listens to us, and he who is not of God does not listen to us. By this we know the spirit of truth and the spirit of error."

The angels this woman spoke to never spoke to her of Jesus Christ, at least not that I can tell from any of her blogs. Also, she knew by my own bio that we would not be, shall we say, on the same spiritual playing field, playing by the same rules. If the angels she spoke to had been messengers of the Lord Jesus Christ, they would have told her the path of salvation and perhaps we might be playing on the same field by the same rules and writing that book together today.

Of course, I took the opportunity to share this concern I had about her angels with her in my reply and I pray for her, that she may be set free from these "posers" from the dark side and learn what true spiritual gifts are, the primary one being Jesus Himself.

What about my traveling companion, my muse, Ralphie boy? Let's just say he's a composite of some interesting brothers in Christ I've known, who knew the Master and had tasted and seen that He is good, even when life is not. He reflects intimately the many faces of people I have met on the mysterious road on which the Master has taken me, people whose lives have intersected my own and made my life the better for it. For more information on the Ralphie boys that have changed my life so powerfully, see a blog written by my pal, Steve Kimes, on homelessness here at Google.

Don't Make Fun of My Muse

So, what? You got a nicer looking muse than mine? You think a born-again Christian like me should only have Jesus as her muse? (Oh, boy! That's a blogging land mine I just created for myself. But hey, I didn't create this site to talk into the online ozone.) Well, think again.

You bet I love Jesus, but when it comes to writing, Ralphie Boy here (apologies to the "A Christmas Story" Ralphie; I just loved that movie, at least the first few times I saw it) totally describes me. Sorta haggard, a bit careworn, lived a lot, seen a bunch of stuff and, for the part that is "the muse" in him for me, someone who's perhaps walked some tougher places than I have.

I really like Ralphie Boy. In fact, I respect him. He's had it hard in life. Maybe he's even made it hard on himself sometimes, with various addictions and bad choices, that sort of thing. But who of us hasn't had it rough sometimes. Who of us hasn't been addicted to something or other? (You reality TV fans that don't dare miss one episode of, oh let's pick something at random, perhaps a show that's likely seen its glory days and is soon to pass into TV oblivion, American Idol, you know you're addicted. Fess up!)

But Ralphie Boy keeps pressing on. Keeps pressing in. Keeps moving forward. Just how he does that and why he does that is an interesting story. It's partly my story, too. So stay tuned. Who knows? You may get addicted :-)