I was listening to a preach today while I took down and stowed away the remnants of Christmas at our house (yeah...I know...long overdue) and the came upon a provocative statement:

"Now listen to me, I believe that you are really far down the road to spiritual maturity when you can really know yourself, know your strengths, know your weaknesses, be able to admit them to yourself and to the people you're in relationship with, and even let them help you keep yourself in line without being offended when they do that. " Joyce Meyer

That was probably a run-on sentence, but if you can get past that, wowee eh? What a zinger.

Now, your first time reading it through, you might think "meh...makes sense, but really Heather, it's nothing to get all excited, over is it?"
Well, I think so.
It's one of those 'easier read than done' statements. Let me unpack that a bit.
Yesterday I met with my new accountability partner. It really was a top drawer meeting. We went all out - at least I know I did. I was able to share a lot of stuff that has been steeping on my inside for quite some time. She is really easy to talk to. Until I arrived at my last item. It was a toughie...
I've gotten to the place with myself where I can admit where I am weak, yet acknowledge my potential if I just hunker down and do the discipline. I was able to share what the issue was, but balked at the "please help me" part. The answerability. Letting her in so that she can help me to keep myself in line. That's touchy!
I've gone down this accountability road before, where I have chosen to become offended by people doing just the very thing that I asked them to do, by choosing to get caught up on 'how' they do it, or their tone of voice, or their level of smirkiness (as I sensitively perceive it).

It's not easy to give up the right to become offended...it's like surrendering an instant defense mechanism, a faithful old friend, a tried and true way of ensuring that I get to stay the same, stale me and everybody else has to back off...

And yet, all sulkiness and storminess aside, it feels like it may be a new season. How refreshing and lovely!

"My beloved speaks and says to me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing has come..." Solomon's Song 2:10-12

posted by:
HD

So...how's your church life?

I was browsing the online community tonight and I came across this testimony from a brother who has started attending a cell group/small group after years in 'the church'. He lists the impact it is having on him and I think it is useful to post it for you to read.
How's your church life?

For the first time with a group (of Christian people), there are 2 things I don't feel.

# 1 ~ I don't feel like a project that the group is determed to "Fix". I don't feel that any pressure to fit into a mold that is the group's idea of what a Christian should be.

# 2 ~ I don't feel like an outsider. The group doesn't treat me like I'm an inconvenience or someone to be tolerated.

Now for what I do feel....

# 1 ~ Loved. My churchmates love me. I know this. They smile when they see me. They include me in vertually everything. We share our joys, sorrows. Basically we share everything.

# 2 ~ Valued. i feel like my opinions matter and what I have to say has merit. Not only that but I am valued as a person, a friend and a brother.

# 3 ~ appreciated. I don't feel pressure to do or say anything. But when I do contribute (I cook occassionally) the group appreciates it and tend to eat like hungry truckers. This brings joy to my heart.

As I pondered the experience later, I could only think that that is what the early church was like. True fellowship, true love, true faith in action. Bonds were strengthened and community was fortified. Praise the Lord.

excerpted from www.brotherdavyd.blogspot.com

posted by:
HD

Quotable & Noteable

" I'm in love ... That's why I'm unstoppable."

Heidi Baker

www.irismin.org

I've just finished reading the book "The Heavenly Man - the remarkable story of Chinese Christian Brother Yun" I was deeply provoked by it, in a godly way.One portion that I found especially encouraging is found on page 290. Brother Yun outlines their training style. There are vast differences between what we do, and what they do. The best part - in my opinion - is that they aren't even trying to be sensational, or extreme (just for the sake of it), but practical:

Every Back to Jerusalem missionary receives training in several main subjects.
These include:
1.) How to suffer and die for the Lord. We examine what the Bible says about suffering, and look at how the Lord's people have laid down their lives for the advance of the Gospel throughout history.

2.) How to witness for the Lord. We teach how to witness for the Lord under any circumstance, on trains or buses, or even in the back of a police van on our way to the execution ground.

3.) How to escape for the Lord. We know that sometimes it is the Lord who sends us to prison to witness for Him, but we also believe the devil sometimes wants us to go to prison to stop the ministry God has called us to do. We teach the missionaries
special skills such as how to free themselves from handcuffs, and how to jump
from second-storey windows without injuring themselves.

This is not a 'normal' seminary or Bible College!If you ever visit one of the places where we are training our Back to Jerusalem missionaries, you will see how serious we are to fulfill our destiny in God. You may see people with their hands handcuffed behind their back, leaping from second-storey windows!

Nothing less is required if we are to break down the walls that separate Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists from knowing the sweet presence of Jesus."

Wow. How practical are we at training our soldiers and missionaries?

HD

Haha...

Still looking for the perfect last minute gift?

It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended.

Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team
sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.

Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And, as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse.

That's when the idea for his present came.

That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church.
On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.

For each Christmas, I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.

The story doesn't end there.

You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our
grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.

You know, I don't care if this whole thing is just a hoax and there never was any "Mike", it's a powerful idea, that is so anti-mall-materialism-creditcard-Christmas that it deserved some space on this blog.

So, still looking for a meaningful last minute gift for someone you love? I know some kids who could use pillows to lay their heads on...contact me at: heather@thewarcollege.com to follow up on this, or more gift-giving ideas...

Church

We had Church on Saturday, or at least our version of it. I think Jesus likes our version of Church; anyway it was really amazing to sit back and look at 1 years work. It looked like 73 people, kids and parents, playing, eating and worshiping together.

We have been here in Charlotte for one whole year, our #1 objective was to learn everybody's name in our neighborhood and to let Jesus do whatever else he wanted. He wanted to connect a community together using his hands, feet and heart.

61 kids have confessed his name as saviour this year and several of their parents are renewing their commitments through them.



I do not know what God has in store for us next year, but I know that if I keep learning everybodies names he will invite them to write them in his book of life.

Thank-you God for letting me join you in your plan to win the world; one person at a time.

Rob

I've been reading a book by John Maxwell about growing in leadership, setting priorities and creating and fulfilling goals. What I read today hit me like a ton of bricks:

"Time is the most valuable coin in your life. You and you alone will determine how that coin will be spent. Be careful that you do not let others spend it for you."
Carl Sandberg

How are you spending your last days before Christmas Eve?

wrestlemania like you've NEVER seen...

Good morning friends - if you're a Salvo in the South, then the name Phil Laeger is familiar to you - or if his name doesn't ring a bell, his music surely will. If you haven't heard of the man, then you're in for a treat.

Phil's back with a new cd - and it's free. For real free. Rob and I have already downloaded it, and I'm listening to it right now.

Downloading it won't mess up your computer, and it's not complicated, it's just all the sweetness both musically and lyrically that we're used to from Phil.

He had chosen to give it for free for anyone who chooses to receive - sound like a familiar concept?!

Check out his reason for the price below, and then click to download.

It’s not an original idea, © 2006 Phil Laeger. com giving away your music for nothing - and I’m not just talking Keith Green, or even Derek Webb for that matter. As much as those two guys are heroes of mine, the concept of giving music away is nothing new.

That said, most of the things we get for “free” nowadays aren’t really free at all.

“Buy one, get one free!” - What? Wait a second.. “Free with your purchase of...” Ok, hold on...

Taking it one step further, most things in this life we think we’re getting free end up costing us more than we thought.

I think that’s why we have a hard time when we’re confronted with the words, “the free gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Ok, wait, what’s the catch?

Someone will say that the catch is that you have to give up things like lying, sex before marriage, drugs... But those things are all actually outcomes of truly receiving the free gift, rather than pre-requisites. There is a difference, and it’s more than just semantic.

And so, this album is free, not because I just couldn’t possibly use the money, or because I’m a anti-capitalist, or because I don’t think the songs are that great (actually I’m very pleased with the overall feel of the album and the songs are some of my favorites I’ve done)...

it’s free because I hope that, in some small way, you’ll be reminded that God is not a bait-and-switch salesman that promises good things for you but has ulterior motives in mind.

He is a good God.

If you really feel like giving, then take the money you would have spent on the album and donate it to a trustworthy charitable organization or send some money to help out in Darfur. You don’t even have to buy a red iPod nano. :)

If you’ve already given to a relief organization and you feel specifically called to support my ministry, use the contact info below to find out what the current needs are.
If you’d like to donate securely online, click on one of the links below.

Grace to you. Enjoy the album. It is called Pride and Glory, Truth and Beauty.

----Phil Laeger


www.phillaeger.com
www.saytunes.com/bands/phillaeger
www.myspace.com/laeger
www.purevolume.com/phillaeger

THE WORLD TODAY ...

You hear it all the time:

"Why do people want to have kids
in a world like
this?"

or

"Who would want to bring a child into a world so
messed up?"

Umm, I do !!

Seriously, the more messed up the world gets, the more kids I want to have.

I think it's the ultimate counter-measure to a fallen world; to raise up zealous, loving, Jesus-filled freedom fighters.

Psalm 127
Sons are a heritage from the LORD, children a reward from him.
Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one's youth.
Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate.

Go be fruitful then...

r.d.

This morning I awoke to the ringing of the phone:

"hi miss heather, my kids missed the school bus, and you know our power's been shut off so they can't stay at home, it's just too cold in the house, so could you please drive them to school?"

When I got home from taking the kids, and hearing that it was one of the boy's 10th birthday, and he had to spend the night with no electricity, there will be no cake, no presents, and no general 'fuss' over him from his mom, I poured myself glumly onto the couch and just sat there. I think that just stinks.

Rob came out and seeing me, said:
"are you okay? what are you doing?"

To which I responded:
"I'm not very happy about all this, so I'm telling the Lord how I feel."

As I was doing so, The Lord brought to mind a snippet from one of the Salvation Army Songbooks, so I went in search of it. This is what it said:

"I bring to Thee my heart to fill;I feel how weak I am, but still, to Thee for help I call."

"I've little strength to call my own, And what I've done, before Thy throne I here confess, is small. But on Thy strength, O God, I lean, And through the Blood that makes me clean, Thou art my all in all."

And where I cannot see, I'll trust, For then I
know Thou surely must be still my all in all."

Where I cannot see I'll trust - isn't that the 'deal' with this entire spiritual journey?

In this case, I have to trust that God loves this family a billion times more than I do and He wants the best for them, and is already moving and working on their behalf.

So even if I can't see Him working in the heart of my little birthday boy in the van on the way to school, if any of what we're doing here means anything, I simply must trust that He is.

Moments like these - which are frequent - remind me of my human-ness and inability. I must lean on Strong Arms if I want to love like He does.

I must pause for "fill-'er-up" heart moments throughout the day, and continually be mindful, that He doesn't need me or else it will all fall apart.
Oh no, it's not like that at all.
The King of Kings has invited me in to this great mystery of love, both vertically and horizontally - up to God and out to Man.

Bottom line for me - is that even though my heart is broken. Broken. Loving 'round here, and it's painful and confusing for me to see the reality of the lives of my wee friends and their families, my truth is that I'd rather have my eyes open to it all and be a part of it, not matter the inconvenience and personal discomfort, than to have never set firsthand eyes on any of this suffering, and be less of a woman - and less of a Christian - for it.

Good Morning friends.

It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood, a beautiful day for a neighbour...

Yesterday, it was like 76 degrees down here (25 ish Celsius) and it was lovely. As a matter of fact, there was more about yesterday that was lovely than just the weather. I had so many God-moments, I woulda thought that Christmas came early.

Speaking of Christmas, I'm sitting in the quiet of my empty house this morning, preparing for cell group in a couple of hours, and the kids that will soon be runnin' around all energetic. I thought about taking them to the mall to see all the lights and the decorations and Santa Claus, but apparently down here, it costs a lot of money to do the whole 'see Santa' thing at the mall.

Too bad. I remember being overwhelmed by lights and trees and people and gift wrap and snowbanks and Christmas music at the mall as a child - and peering over the second floor bannister down to the Santa scene below, listening to him ho ho ho and all that.

I was drawn in by it, entranced, because it was something I was a part of that was way bigger than me - At age 7 or 8 or 9 my imagination wasn't deep enough to have fathomed how everything could be made so perfect, so extra-large sized but intricately detailed and then suspended impossibly from the ceiling, or how snow could be so sparkly and white and magical looking...(cuz if you've seen snow in Ontario by December, usually it's looking more than a little dirty). It was a feast for the senses, and gave me something to lay in bed at night and visualize, and get excited about.

Something in it all sparks the imagination of a child towards creativity and belief - a belief in something greater than myself and my little world of day to day life and understanding. I want the kids I know to have the same opportunities to be invited into something greater than themselves, that fills them with wonder and surprise and delight and is stunning compared to the drab reality of their day to day life.

To allow them to be kids instead of expecting them to think like adults, and grow up before they should.

I don't want to just introduce them to the half real/half man-made Christmas experience of middle/upper class America - although that's part of it - but I want to introduce them to a homeless, penniless, beaten-down-got- up-again, full of wonder and miracles, change-your-situation-through-faith-and-prayer, 100% real Christ

He's around longer than Santa...and you don't have to pay no $30 to get to Him...

Selah this on a Friday Morning...

"If you are finding Christianity to be boring, then you are probably doing it wrong."

Aaron White, Corps Sargeant Major
@ 614 Vancouver Salvation Army
http://www.armybarmy.com/article15-46.html

What is Selah? ( Hebrew: סלה)
Meaning "stop and listen", within the context of a prayer or psalms.
It is similar in purpose to Amen in that it stresses the importance of the preceding passage.
In this way, Selah is thought to imply that one should pause and reflect on what has been said.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selah

An Addendum...

Right before I posted the blog below, I heard a rustling at the door.

Then the doorbell rang.

I admit, I was hestitant to open it. What if it was harm? Fear itself? Someone with a gun ready to shoot me? A crazy person who wants to wrestle me to the ground and invade my home?

Sheesh. My imagination, when given an inch runs a mile.

So I open the door. It's a lady. Okay, so fair enough, she is pretty crazy looking, and she's making some really intense eye contact. She's high and she's looking for "Virginia", but I'm pretty sure she isn't on a mission of death and dismemberment towards white Salvationist missionary pastors...

Oh for crying out loud. I can be such a turkey!

The Lord wasted no time in giving me an opportunity to strengthen my faith muscle...and to put my money where my mouth was!

(Just between you and me, all the way from my desk to my door, I was reminding myself of what I had typed seconds before - I will not be afraid of the trouble at night, it will not come near my home...I will not be afraid of the trouble at night, it will not come near my home!)

Let faith arise...

I've been thinking this evening about what makes me angry. I had a run-in with one of my neighbours this evening. That didn't make me angry, more like frustrated.

What makes me angry, is that as I'm typing this, in my office in my little house on Statesville Ave., I'm sensing fear.

"Sensing fear?" you might say, "What do you mean by that Heather?"

What I mean is that I'm here alone, it's dark, and I'm hearing funny noises that sound like people creeping around, lurking outside my windows. It's making me jumpy and a little nervous. And THAT makes me mad.

You see, when I was a kid, I was petrified of the basement. Now, my parents will testify that my brother and I played down there all the time, and we did. And it was ok. The issue came when the basement was dark, and I had to walk up the stairs.

We have these really creaky wooden stairs at my parent's house, and there's a lot of them. I used to be fine till I got to the foot of the stairs, but as soon as I began to ascend, I would get this awful panicky feeling like something was chasing me and about to grab my foot and drag me into the darkness of the basement. So I'd race up the stairs as fast as I could, into the safety of the kitchen, where I could be assured of the presence of Mom or Dad, the familiarity of the washer and dryer humming along, and the reassuring sounds of the radio. No fear there. But there was just something about that basement.

Even when I was a teenager, and, as all Canadian teenagers do, I moved into the basement, I was afraid. I was afraid of the sounds down there. The shadows. That a hidden person, or a ghost was going to grab me on my way to the bathroom - which made for some long, bladder-filled nights.

It was fear that had a grip on my mind. And it was such a tight grip, that all it would take is for me to hear one noise and I was so far gone into fear, that I could convince myself that it was an intruder, or a ghost (I only had to watch one of those reality shows about haunted houses and the memory of it haunted me for years) and if I moved and drew attention to myself, it would reveal itself to me and 'get me' somehow.

Rationally, this make no sense. But feelings are rarely rational.

Now, not everyone falls prey to this kind of fear, some people actually relish it, but I was different - I was paralyzed by it. Even after I came into the Kingdom of God this continued. In fact, I didn't have any freedom from it until about a year ago, when I was again, living in the basement, hearing funny sounds.

Alone in the basement at night, at 28 years old, I would succomb and be afraid over and over again exactly as I had when I was a little girl, over 20 years earlier. Unable to shake this eerie feeling like there was an unseen presence in the room with me, I got into the habit of leaving all the lights on and the TV on too, I coping mechanism I learned in my teenage years, because nothing can get me in the light, right? Just the dark. Just what goes 'bump' in the night. Except it really was not funny at all. It went on and on.

That is, until one night, I just got angry. I HATED feeling afraid and nervous and freaked out and unsafe. Hated it. That was not God's destiny for me, to live under fear's thumb. So, one night, I just started speaking out the truth -

God loves me.
He's here for me.
He's got my back.
I'm totally under His protection.
Nothing bad will happen to me.
I don't have to feel afraid.

Wait a sec, what? I don't have to feel afraid?
What a concept!
I'm a very 'feelings' sort of person, and since I'd always been so used to getting caught up and swept away by what I feel (sortof like a rubber duckie caught in a tidal wave) the concept that I don't have to get dragged off by every feeling that comes into my head was like an epiphany.

So I began to pay those 'fear feelings' very little attention. When my radar started to pick up something scary, I'd just tell those fearful thoughts to go away, that I'm not choosing to feel afraid right now. It's nonsense and I won't let it control me.
And it worked.
And I did a victory dance!

So tonight, I'm home alone. I'm hearing noises. I'm beginning to feel uneasy. To feel nervous. I even started to imagine it's my distraught neighbour outside my house coming to 'get me', or some high homeless people plotting outside my window to break in and steal all my money. (haha)

But you know what? Right now, I don't choose to feel afraid. My feelings don't get to be the boss of me, so instead of letting fear grow in me, I'm going to let faith rise up, because the truth is that I have the Lord's angels camped around me and they've got me covered (Psalm 34:7) and that God is my Refuge and my Strength, and not only that, but He's an ever-present Help to me in times of trouble (Psalm 46:1).

"I will say to the Lord, "You are my safe and strong place, my God, in Whom I trust...I will not be afraid of trouble at night...Because I have made the Lord my safe place...nothing will hurt me. No trouble will come near my home. For God will tell His angels to care for me and keep me in all my ways, and they will hold you up in their hands." Psalm 91

Another Saturday come and gone

Around here, Saturdays are jam-packed with action. I love it. I pickup a couple of vanloads of kids in the morning, have a cell group of 8-10 kids at my house for lunch and prayer and then another family of kids who used to be our neighbours but have since moved away, stay through the afternoon and we have dinner together. By 7:30, if all goes well, the kids are home, dishes are done and the rug is vacuumed.

The one thing though, that is done first first first, before all else, is the meticulous cleaning of the bathroom. Especially around - you guessed it - the toilet.

Rob and I don't have any children that we've birthed ourselves, so my experience with little boys and girls coming into this ministry here in Charlotte was negligible. I learned right quick about the bathroom.

I've learned that little boys have poor aim.

Little girls aren't much better.

A bottle of hand soap that started out full this morning will inevitably be mostly gone by tonight, with globs in the sink, on the sink, around the sink and on the wall, and if you wait too long, they harden into hygienic cement, that you have to pry off with your husband's toothbrush. haha.

Any little rugs around the toilet and all bath mats should be put up for the duration of children's time over, because if they can miss the toilet and hit the linoleum, who's to say they won't ricochet onto the rug? The difference is, you can tell when someone's hit the linoleum, because you may unexpectedly hit a wet spot and slide across it. With the rug, something may (just as unexpectedly) soak into your sock, but in those moments, you fervently hope that it's just water...

Any hair products, skin care and beauty products located in the bathroom are fair game, and will be sprayed, smoothed and lathered...

At this tender age, apparently flushing is optional...and once you get three or four little folks in a row sans flush, you know you got to go for the plunger. How does so much come out of such little bodies? Yikes.

If, by the end of the evening, I happen to notice that the toilet tissue roll (that I put on fresh this morning) has been ravaged, and all that remains are mere wisps of useful material, I know, without a doubt, that I will need to throw every towel/facecloth/scrap of material that is within an arm's reach of the the toilet into the washing machine with a dollop of bleach - better to be safe then sorry. And man, I'd be really, really sorry...

Always disinfect the doorknob. I shudder to think of what a scientific sampling would find growing on that thing.

Inevitably, all of the 3-5 year old children will have to go all at the same time
"IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" they'll all try to go at once, no one will 'make it' and you'll have to rustle up at least three pairs of alternate pants out of the donation bin. Although good for comic relief, 3 year old boys in 18month old pants is a sad, sorry, silly sight, and it makes them a little testy...

THEN, you'll forget about the state of the bathroom, because you're so focused on getting these little kids out of fouled-up clothes, and your husband will enter into the restroom for some 'quiet time' and flee in horror, because not only has he slid on something wet on the linoleum, he soaked his socks on the rug and then the smell...the indescribable smell...well, even a grown man cannot endure it.

In all seriousness though, there are things that I'm learning here that mean a lot to me. And they're worth it, even though it's hard to be away from family and home. Tonight I looked at pictures online of my cousin's first baby, Ava. I wept, because she is so lovely, because I miss my cousin, because life back home continues whether I am there or not, and it's hard to be geographically absent in the lives of those that I love. My promise from God about all that is

"Jesus said, "Mark my words, no one who sacrifices house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, land—whatever—because of me and the Message will lose out. They'll get it all back, but multiplied many times in homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and land—but also in troubles." Mark 10:29-30

So when I do return home, I will have wee cousins running around that love me and want to be picked up and twirled around, houses full of family that would love to have me in, church family who have been praying for me for years and a brother who would sit and watch a movie with his older sister...yup, I'll have it all in London. In Toronto, in Vancouver and in Charlotte...and houses, family, brothers, sisters and children wherever else the Lord chooses to whisk us away to...it's a multiplication of blessings, and that's the kind of math that I can totally understand!

Pie Anyone ?

Jesus is so faithful and amazing, we received a phone call from a lady we met at a Church, like nine months ago, and she shared that the Lord had led her to spend the day baking a pie for every family in our neighborhood. Her only question was " how many ? "

I tallied up every family we minister to and so last night 30 pies showed up at The War College residence, complete with a tub of Cool Whip for every pie.

Then we all grabbed some pies and just began heading out to deliver them. There were attempts at organizing the whole endevour but everyone was so blessed up by these pies we couldn't help ourselves but to keep grabbing more and running out to pass them around.

What a blessing to see the body working together, one family baking all day, another family passing out the pies, and another one eating the pies knowing with every bite that Jesus is the kind of guy who wants to be part of the little things, that he simply desires to be a part of this years thanksgiving meal; and he'll use a pie to get there !

One thing that I know is that the real big eternal difference we are making here does not come through the sermons and apologetics, they come through a cup of cold water given in Jesus name.
(Matthew 25)

We have one family of five kids here, 10, 10, 13, 14, 17. Their Mother left two weeks ago and just never came back. I felt very humbled when bringing them their pies because they were truly thankful. The two little guys hugged me so hard I thought that I would drop the pies.

What did I ever do to deserve such a blessing of being loved by orphans and the forgotten. I am truly thankful that I am not burdened with the nice things, the pretty things, the useless things of Man's striving, but am surrounded by Jesus' most precious treasures; children with no hope at all but him.

Need some encouragement to press in and keep going?

Isaiah 41:10 says

"Fear not, there's nothing to fear."

Why?

"For I am with you. Do not look around you in terror and be dismayed."

We need to keep our eyes more on God and less on our problems.

"For I am your God. I will strengthen and harden you to difficulties."

You know what it means when you get hardened to difficulties? It means that some things that are just wiping you out now, if you hang in there with Jesus, five years from now those same things won't even affect you at all.

I mean, they won't even phase you.

You won't even miss a step.

And you know what? There's things that you may not even notice anymore, that three or four or five years ago, you wondered how you'd ever get through.

There's a great progressive work that's going on in our life. God changes us from glory to glory.

"I will harden you to difficulties. Yes I will help you. Yes I will hold you up and retain you with my victorious right hand of rightness and justice."

C'mon now, that's worth a good Holy Ghost shout!"
~Joyce Meyer

The Lord learned me something today…something about calming m'self.

I was in the middle of some paperwork, when I heard a pounding on the door – accompanied by multiple doorbell rings – a sure sign of a pack of little boys at my door.

Well, upon opening the door, I was faced with panicked faces “Pooh is choking, Pooh is choking…” The boys were freaking out. Little Pooh stumbled into my kitchen, crying and convulsing. The fact that he was crying tipped me off that he wasn’t actually choking, but obviously, the guy needed some help.

So I bring him in, and he’s flailing all over the place, sobbing, just generally freaking right out. The other boys were very concerned for Pooh, but as soon as they got into the kitchen, they couldn't help but start looking around for potential snacks...and after being distracted by

"Can I have a banana?"

in the midst of all the chaos, I sent the other boys back outside. (!)

Calming Pooh down was the hardest part of the process, but until he sat down on a chair and stilled himself, I couldn’t do much to help him.

The story goes that he was outside playing football, talking and sucking on a hard candy, all at the same time. He went to swallow some candy flavoured spit and tackle somebody at the same time,and shockingly, swallowed this hard candy, which ended up getting stuck halfway down.

When he couldn’t get it to go down, and couldn’t get it to come up, little Pooh lost it. His friends helped him along the freakout process by alternately pounding him on the back and then on the chest and ultimately dragging him towards my house, with ominous prognoses of death, or at least paralysis all along the way.

Sigh.

Anyways, to sum it all up, once Pooh had a seat in a comfy chair, a lukewarm glass of water (sipped slowly) and a little massaging of the throat, the hard candy went down, the tears slowed and stopped and he quieted himself. Everything was OK. Big sigh of relief.

Then off he went to play, popping another piece of candy in his mouth on the way out the door…

So, what did God manage to teach me in that?

Well, it fits what I’ve been hearing from God lately, about not jumping to conclusions on my own, and then riding the freak out train, looking like a fool all along the way.
Instead, when I’m faced with disturbing news, impending doom, or just a problem that feels too big for me, I can choose to not have a fit, but instead just sit down in a comfy chair, slowly sip some water (or hot chai tea) and allow Holy Spirit to be a calming influence on my mind, quieting myself and things will turn out all right.
Why? Because I’m not so focused on the problem and how it makes me feel. There’s room for God to bring reason, understanding and solutions, and ultimately, spiritual maturity.

“My heart is not proud, O LORD, my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, put your hope in the LORD both now and forevermore.” Psalm 131

“The child is cross and fretful while in the weaning; but in a day or two it cares no longer for milk, and it can bear stronger food. Thus does converted soul quiet itself under the loss of what it loved, and disappointments in what it hoped for, and is easy whatever happens. And thus the psalmist recommends confidence in God, to all the Israel of God, from his own experience. It is good to hope, and quietly to wait for the salvation of the Lord under every trial.” Matthew Henry Commentary Ps. 131

grace,
HD