The Power of the Shack

I'm going to have to learn how to add links so readers can go directly to the site. I suppose you can copy and paste this one and go to it. I'm sorry I can't do better but everyone needs to hear this message.

http://wavesministry.org/worship/messages/

One of the fastest selling books today (and has been for some time) is "The Shack." I read it last year and was blown away by it. Today I set aside about an hour and listened to the above link where the author spoke at Pepperdine University. I'm blown away again by God--His love, His grace and His power. This is a book and a message about forgiveness and brings it in a way I've never heard before.

Please go to it. Listen. Read the book. Let God speak to you and heal your soul.

He's Not An Ostrich God

I don't know how some people handle stress, but I'd like to be able to handle mine like an ostrich. In my own mind I see myself as strong and able to handle just about anything head on. I've done just that when I have come face to face with tragedy, pain, death--something I can see, touch, feel. I don't turn away. But if it's just out there in the netherworld, I want to hide my face. It's easier to be like Scarlett O'Hara and say, "I'll think about that tomorrow." Or never.

I remember feeling so much compassion for people when I was about 14 years old that I made a conscious decision to close my heart. People on the street who looked sad or poor or crippled. I couldn't stand it because it hurt too much. That became my Ostrich Period. Somewhere during my life journey I allowed myself to begin feeling again. But the "ostrich desire" didn't die. I would still rather hide my face from what I can't change. I want to be Pollyanna and look at life through rose-colored glasses--don't think about it--don't look at it and it doesn't exist. But I can't do that. It does exist and it hurts.

My "waiting for sugar" daughter is hurting. I wish I could help her, but I can't. She hasn't asked for my help and may not. I probably couldn't stop the hurt--definitely couldn't stop it, but I could hold her hand and love on her and hope that would give her comfort. I can't hide my face from this, but I wish I could. It would be so much easier to not know about it until it's all over.

I'm not a coward. I'm just a mom who hurts when one of her children hurts, and who can't do anything to help--except pray. And maybe that's all I'm supposed to do. Daddy God loves her more than I do and He doesn't have any "ostrich" in Him.