Happy Easter from Morning Coffee at the Well.

Isaiah 53

53 Who has believed our report?
And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
² For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant,
And as a root out of dry ground.
He has no form or comeliness;
And when we see Him,
There is no beauty that we should desire Him.
³ He is despised and rejected by men,
A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

⁴ Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.
⁵ But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.
⁶ All we like sheep have gone astray;
We have turned, every one, to his own way;
And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

⁷ He was oppressed and He was afflicted,
Yet He opened not His mouth;
He was led as a lamb to the slaughter,
And as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
So He opened not His mouth.
⁸ He was taken from prison and from judgment,
And who will declare His generation?
For He was cut off from the land of the living;
For the transgressions of My people He was stricken.
⁹ And they^[a] made His grave with the wicked—
But with the rich at His death,
Because He had done no violence,
Nor was any deceit in His mouth.

¹⁰ Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him;
He has put Him to grief.
When You make His soul an offering for sin,
He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days,
And the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand.
¹¹ He shall see the labor of His soul,^[b] and be satisfied.
By His knowledge My righteous Servant shall justify many,
For He shall bear their iniquities.
¹² Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the great,
And He shall divide the spoil with the strong,
Because He poured out His soul unto death,
And He was numbered with the transgressors,
And He bore the sin of many,
And made intercession for the transgressors.

Morning Coffee at the Well.: What lies beneath?

Morning Coffee at the Well.: What lies beneath?: What lies beneath?              I have always loved to write. My first memories of writing involve a front yard tree. I woul...

Morning Coffee at the Well.: Soaring

Morning Coffee at the Well.: Soaring: Soaring Morning cup of coffee safely wrapped in a travel mug, racing out the door with extra hugs and kisses still lingering, a war...

Soaring

Soaring

Morning cup of coffee safely wrapped in a travel mug, racing out the door with extra hugs and kisses still lingering, a warmed-up car sitting in the drive way, and I see it. The long graceful wings of a Hawk, soaring high above and then land on the highest point, as the morning dusk barely gives light and morning commuters too concerned with dew covered windshields and early morning meetings, drive by, never knowing, he watches.

I move to a better viewing area and stare upward, allowing precious traffic minutes to escape as I take in the scene. This, I think to myself, is where God always is. Soaring high above, watching us, even when we are at our lowest point. As the thought unfolds, the Hawk takes flight and I smile as wings expand and he lands in a neighbors Pine. I only see the top of his perfectly sculpted head, as I back out of my drive way.

What a beautiful thought….our God is always on High, waiting and watching, as the enemy prowls like a lion, lurking around the earth, waiting to bounce on his prey, our God soars overhead. How comforting.

But those who trust in the Lord will renew their strength;

they will soar on wings like eagles; they will

run and not grow weary;

they will walk and not faint.

IS 40:31

It is at our lowest moments, we tend to bury ourselves in self-pity, despair, and sink into a place of regret. We tell ourselves that God has forgotten us and ask why is this happening? We look down on everything, instead of looking upward, where we should know that our God is soaring above the prowling lion, protecting us from the Prince of darkness.

Father, thank you for moments like this that remind me that no matter how hard life is, you are always soaring above, looking out and taking care of our needs. Protect us Lord, let us find protections in your wings. Amen

What lies beneath?

What lies beneath?

 

           I have always loved to write. My first memories of writing involve a front yard tree. I would climb to my favorite spot and write or read in it for hours. A 5^th grade teacher once told me I had a talent for writing and from then on, Year book and Newspaper staff were always my electives.

We moved from that old tree when I was a teen-ager and I found a quiet spot in the woods across from our house. The resting place was large boulders in a half moon, facing a flowing creek, with even larger boulders, creating small dips and water falls. We, me alone sometimes, and the neighborhood kids, played all over those rocks. When no one else was there, I found solace with pen and pad.

I remember writing a poem titled, Fall. Inspired by the crinkle of dead leaves, I told the story of a green proud, spring leaf, turning fiery reds, oranges, and yellows, before falling to an earthly grave. Yes, I have always had a love of the over dramatic.

A few days after that poem, we heard gun shots and saw two neighbor men with shot guns and gasoline cans at my rock haven. To my horror, they had found a copperhead den, nestled in my rock cove and had already killed double digit snakes. I never, wrote, played, or went near those rocks, again.

This is how the enemy strikes. A comfortable spot, seemingly safe, beautiful in appearance, overlooking a calming stream….but hidden beneath is a pit full of snakes, ready to strike you down with life changing poison. This, my friend, if why we are called to be on guard at all times. Satan walks this earth, prowling like a lion, just looking for your weakness.

Father, I pray as we enter another week, that we are on guard against what lies beneath. I thank you for protecting us from the snake called Satan. For giving us Your word to

Why I blog

Four years ago, the enemy attacked our family with unforeseen vengeance. He used our oldest children to cripple us and take us into a spiral of darkness. But, before we talk about that, let's go further back, to 5 years ago and visit me.

I like to clean when the house is quiet, when everyone is gone and I can just do my thing. I turn music on sometimes and begin whatever task is at hand. 5 years ago, I found myself cleaning and then stopping to pray. Heart wrenching prayers on my knees with Savior. Normally, my prayers would take place in my daughters room. One night I anointed he door with olive oil in the form of a cross and then prayed on my knees. Sometimes minutes, but most of the time I would pray 30 minutes or more and although I didn't know then, I now know that I was preparing for spiritual warfare.
As I said early, 4 years ago the enemy attacked. Our daughter made the choice to no longer be part of our family, as some do that come from blended or broken families. It wasn't as peaceful as that sentence makes it, but after 4 years, we've healed some and know that we can't hold onto anger or grief.
7 months later, as we were learning to be a family with one of our limbs missing, we took our annual trip to the mountains for apple picking. I told my husband, " I just need normal, can we please do something that is normal." Still crippled with the pain, we felt that a normal day trip was just what we needed. You can't see me, but my eyes are rolling as I think back to that day.
Our beautiful trip was flooded a few minutes into picking with rain. It was okay, at first... we huddled under apple trees, that provided no protection from the rain and then made our way back to the cover of the barn, while my father in law and then 6 year old son splashed puddles and continued to pick apples.
Without details, it was during this trip we found out  things that had been happening with our oldest son and our trip turned from light in the tunnel, quickly back to the darkness we had been swaddled in. My husband was most affected and with hardly a word spoken, we faked a soggy family day, walking through stores in Hendersonville, eating ice cream, once we dried, and silently driving the longest hour and a half home, ever.
The next day was Sunday and I sat silent, with tears choking me, as my husband never made it to our Sunday School class. Eyes wouldn't look at me and our class talked among themselves, as I would crack out, I'm sorry, I don't know where he is.
I walked past a friend that looked at me, all knowing, as we made our way to the choir. The Pastor's wife and choir director's face went from smile to concern as I stood trembling, willing myself to keep, the ever slipping, mask on. When she mouthed, are you okay, I shook my head no and the music began. I almost ran off the stage when the song stopped and my friend, followed me. Took my arm and carried me to the prayer room. I still tear up as I think of the love she showed me in that moment.
Words spilled in hiccupping cries, as we clung to each other while she let me sob, kneeling on the floor because my legs no longer held strength.  She knew, she had tried to tell me a few months earlier, but blinded by love, I didn't understand..... We spent all of worship service in that prayer room. When I had no more words, she knelt with me and prayed over me, while sobs still escaped me.

My husband left for a 16 day trip overseas and I had hard conversations with my son. When he returned from that trip, he stepped down as Sunday school teacher and we took a 6 month break, so we could be fed. The Lord orchestrated everything perfectly and we began to heal.

Please understand, it wasn't that soggy day in the apple field or the day our daughter walked out of our lives, that broke us. Those were the tools the enemy used. We realized our house was on fire and we were so comfortable in our church going lives, that the enemy's forces snuck in and captured us with our bibles closed.
A few months later, I was sitting in church service and the Lord challenged me to wake up earlier than I already did, and start a daily devotion with Him, just 40 days. Moment of truth, y'all, this was May and I look forward to June, because no school, means an extra 30 minutes of sleep for this momma! So, I balked at the idea, because those 40 days would take most of my precious, long desired, summer days of extra sleep. Praise God, He won and I began a 40 day journey. The enemy didn't make it easy, as the very first night, I hardly slept, but still, I rose and read. Without those 40 days, there would be no, Morning Coffee at the Well. You see, I continued that devotion time, and while some days are better than others, I spend time with the Savior.
Now let's fast forward to a New Years day, where the Lord ask me to start blogging. Laughing, I wrote it in one of my many, many journals, but I didn't start until 4 months later. The first post was terrifying as I had decided everyone would hate it and make fun of me. Here I am, two years later, still typing away.

First, I have no regrets and I hold no anger toward my children. My prayer is that I will have a relationship with my daughter again and as for my son, we are long past that time period. He is becoming a responsible young man. One I am very proud of and always have been. Second, we see that year for what it was. An attack on our family meant to destroy us. It didn't. God got the victory and we continue to see the blessings....the good that God turned our bad, into. We know that God makes all things new, because we are new. Our family looks different but we survived.

Don't misunderstand, there are still days the darkness tries to consume me, but I have my journal and pen ready. I arm myself with God's word and a cup of coffee each morning. Okay......most mornings. I have a devotion at work, for when I need a few minutes of peace, and I have a play list full of powerful worship music for those days......you know those days....we all have them.

So, this is how and why, Morning Coffee at the Well, was birthed. A season of darkness, brokenness, pain searing through the heart of our family, and prayers that are still being prayed. Without that season, ......honestly folks, without that attack, I wouldn't be who I am today. The quick to anger woman, that holds Savior as faithful, fulfilling, all knowing, and friend. I only thought I knew Him, only thought I had a true relationship with Him. I still need to grow and I know that He is not finished. I also know that there will be seasons of darkness, but our family is better armed. Savior will be victorious, even if I fail to stay strong.
Father, I thank you for the victory over darkness. For being the Light and promising us eternal life. So many are sitting in darkness, right now. I lift them up to you. I pray I can do better, be better, and serve better. My God, My Savior, My Healer, My Provider, My Comforter, My Friend....in You....will I trust. Amen

Recycled

Recycled

A  pot simmers on low, side items for tonight’s thrown together meal ,dishes being put away so a dish full of the weekends coffee mugs, glasses, and outdated, fridge cleaned out Rubbermaid, can go in the dishwasher, and  I work to make room for clean glasses. Sighing, I look at a beautiful, hand crafted coffee mug, I purchased last year and after only one relaxed morning cup of joe, an unsteady shelf collapse, broke it. It’s sat, taking up space, with mended cracks, unusable, since before Christmas and tonight, I removed it from the shelf and placed it in the recycle bin. Walking back to an outstretched dishwasher, the chorus from this morning’s praise song played over in my head….. I come broken, to be mended……  over and over I hear this song, until I listened to Savior speak……. This is what I do, He spoke, I recycle you, into something new.

Revelation 21:5

Then He who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” And He said to me, “Write, for these words are true and faithful.”

Instructed to pull the cup from the recycle bin, I begin to study it and it wasn’t long before tears fell, as I bowed my head and said, I don’t know that I can transcribe the power behind the message.

The cup, though broken, is still a cup. A crack filled with glue is near the handle, but the beautiful design of the potter is still in place. The handle, once completely broken off, is glued backed together,  with pieces forever lost, jagged edges run sharp, but the handle holds strong, though the outline is no longer smooth and a deep rivet leaves space between the thumb rest and the curve of the handle. The inside shows signs of cracking, but the swirling the potters hands made while spinning the cup into shape are still lovely. When turning the cup over, the artist signature is there. This my friends, is when my breath caught and I was lost in a sea of tears. The song from this morning worship blaring, and my head bowed, I cried out to Savior and thanked Him for turning my brokenness into testimony.

His signature has always been there….and my friend, when I came to know Jesus, I came broken. I was an angry young woman that wanted nothing to do with a God that could have healed my dying mother, but did not. Broken, with cracks, rough edges, rivets where pieces of me were forever lost and His signature was there and on that day, He Recycled me. He changed me into a new person. He took all the life choices that had broken what the Potter spun, and turned those cracks into testimonies.

Father, show them they are but clay, spun together by the Potter, and broken by the world, but they can be made new, recycled by the blood of Jesus Christ. Come broken, to be mended, by the blood of Jesus Christ, Just as you are, oh Father, this is my prayer. Just as, we are……. Amen.