The Reality of My Nightmare

I've woken up in a panic these past three mornings from a reoccuring nightmare. I can't even take a nap without experiencing the same dream over and over. Unfortunately, this isn't one of those "I had too much to eat before bed" dreams or one of those "I got swallowed by a giant sea monster" nightmares. Those would be preferable since those are easy to shake off with a little mental processing and common sense. These nightmares have been different.

The last thing I saw before my eyes shot open this morning was an elderly man being burnt alive as I lay on the ground bruised and bleeding thanks to the large armed guard that stood nearby. Each night, my nightmares take place in a shoddy prison camp in which I am being held captive with about 20 other Christ-followers and an elderly Jewish man. We have been imprisoned for refusing to renounce our faith in Jesus and the gray-haired man has been imprisoned for being considered of a lesser pedigree. Day after day, men armed with assault riffles and pure hatred enter our holding cell and try to wear us down to a point of the renunciation of our faith. They spit in our faces and drive the butts of their guns against our heads as they scream threats against our lives and the lives of our families that we have not seen since our imprisonment. Because they need to make room for more prisoners, each day they come in and burn one of our fellow inmates alive as we are forced to stand by and watch. This morning, they came to kill the elderly Jewish man who had become my dear friend. Days before, he had begun to ask me about this man Jesus on whose behalf my friends and I were willing to endure such pain. Over the course of a few days, I had the opportunity to tell him the story of God's great love for mankind and His plan of redemption through Jesus Christ. As my friend was being bound to the platform to be burned, I shouted out to him, "Remember the story I've been telling you! It's not too late! Jesus is here, surrender your life to Him! He is your only hope!" I began to sob violently as my dear old friend cried out, "Jesus, come and be the Lord of my life! I believe that you died for all of my sins and that you were raised back to life! I need you!" And with that, I saw my friend breathe his last and felt the force of the gun being brought down on the side of my head. Then, I woke up.

How could I possibly shake that off when it is the reality of so many believers around the world? Each year, approximately 105,000 believers are put to death for their belief in Jesus, and hundreds of thousands more are daily tortured in prison for their faith. I attribute my nightmares to the fact that I am in the process of reading the book The Insanity of God by Nik Ripken. In his book, Ripken tells the stories of the persecuted church in Somaliland, Russia, and former nations of the Iron Curtain. He records firsthand accounts of pastors who spent decades in prison being beaten, starved, and deprived of every human right. He tells of their love for Jesus that is so strong that they would willingly offer up their lives and the lives of their families if it meant Jesus was glorified through their testimony. 

What do we know about a faith like this? For most of us, the answer is nothing. The majority of people who will read this blog, though possibly not all of you, live in a nation where it literally costs us nothing to be a follower of Jesus. Some may argue that I am incorrect in saying this. They would argue that it costs them their time, or a friendship, or their reputation among their peers. Seriously? We need to get over ourselves. There are people dying, watching their wife and kids be gunned down in the streets, being beaten and forced to eat human waste. These people are experiencing the cost. At the first sign of social pressure, most of us would run and hide. What are we going to do when the persecution of Christ followers makes its way to the west? What are we going to do when we have a decision to make between faithfulness to Jesus or the lives of our children? We have to recognize the price that has been paid for us. Jesus was beaten, mocked, and killed unjustly for something that WE did. He was obedient to death so that when we die, it is not the end. For us, their is no pain in death. We should count it an honor to suffer as our savior suffered, an honor to die for His name. The most man can do is take our life, and that is to no definite end, because to be absent from our bodies is to be present with God.

So fall in love with Jesus. Let nothing be of greater worth. Remember those who are suffering as though you were in prison yourself, because my nightmare is a reality for our brothers and sisters around the world.

Give It Up

Do you ever think about the words you sing when you worship? I mean REALLY think about them? I will be the first to admit that I have made it through entire worship sets where I sung every word of every song completely in vain. I have sung "break my heart for what breaks yours" as I put up iron-clad walls to protect my heart. I have sung "Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders" without any intention of actually following him into an uncomfortable situation. Last night I sang "I surrender" as I clung so tightly to things that He was asking me to lay at His feet. 

For weeks I have been walking around with my fingers in my ears, not wanting to listen to what the Lord was saying to me. I knew He was calling me to surrender everything for the sake of following Him, but I didn't want to hear His voice. I knew that the moment I heard Him the only acceptable response on my part would be total obedience, and I just wasn't willing to put my heart on the altar. In all honesty, I had created for myself an idol. The truth is that anything in our lives that we would not let go of in a split second for the sake of the Lord is an idol. We cannot let anything hold so much of our affection that we would chose to be disobedient in order to retain it. When I realized there was something I was unwilling to give up, I knew that's what I had to do.

It has never hurt so badly to give up something for the Kingdom. As I laid down the thing I loved on the altar, I thought of Abraham's journey up the mountain to sacrifice his son Isaac. For years God promised Abraham a son, and now He was asking him to give that promise away. I can imagine how Abraham felt as he led Isaac up that mountain. I'm sure his stomach was in knots, his heart was breaking with each step, and he felt like he was living in a bad dream. But he was willing. Abraham's love for and devotion to God was even greater than the love he had for his son, so he was obedient. He was obedient and God was faithful. God stopped Abraham at the very last moment and provided an alternate sacrifice. I'm not sure my story will turn out the same way. My heart longs for an ending where God restores the very thing He asked me to lay down, but that's not where my hope lies. My hope is in the fact that my God is faithful. He does not do things to be mean or hurtful, but simply because He loves me. He is faithful to keep that which I have entrusted to Him and I have entrusted Him with everything. 

When I laid everything I had at the feet of Jesus, I heard His voice again. It is the sweetest voice I know. He calls me to go higher, to run faster, and to pursue harder than I ever have before. I refuse to let this season be in vain. In the midst of a time when I could focus on loss, when I could focus on the pain that remains in my heart from the surgery that God performed last night, I choose instead to set my eyes on Jesus. I choose to renew my mind with the Word. I choose to grow and be molded into who He created me to be. There is so much hope. There is so much peace. There is so much love in the arms of my Maker.

Just Show Me Jesus

College is hard. It's even harder when you spend the first two years muddling through classes you feel you are never going to need. I have heard countless students inform their professor under their breath that they are "never going to use this." I was thinking this exact thing as I sat through an hour of my Intro to Physical Science class this morning listening to my professor explain nuclear physics.

Whether you have experienced this on a college level, or whether you have experienced this in a sphere outside of academics, I think we can all admit that life demands the completion of seemingly useless tasks that are simply painful to complete. Teachers ask Theology majors to memorize the periodic table, bosses ask employees to do what seems like busy work, mothers pick up after their children only to turn around five minutes later to find a colossal mess, fathers work ten or twelve hour shifts only to go home and wake up the next day to do it all over again. If we aren't careful to protect our hearts and attitudes, in the midst of the monotonous and the mundane, life can become really miserable really fast.

So what's the fix? Clearly we can't avoid the tasks that we are required to complete in order to graduate school, keep our jobs, provide for our families, or maintain an inhabitable environment. However, we can give them purpose. As I was sitting in the lecture this morning trying to wrap my mind around radioactive isotopes and atomic masses of unstable elements, this thought crossed my mind: "If I could just find Jesus in this, I know this would be more bearable." I am passionate about Jesus. If you mention His name to me, be prepared to sit down and talk for hours about how awesome He is. I have reached a point in my life where it is easy for me to wake up early to be with Jesus. It is easy for me to study for my Evangelism class or write a paper for my Bible Lit class because I enjoy getting to know Him through these things. What if I could find a way to get to know Him through my Physical Science class, too? What if you could see Jesus in the busy work at your job? What if cleaning your house for the third time this week was a way that you encountered Jesus? What if all ten or twelve hours of your work day were hours spent gazing on His face? It would really revolutionize everything.

This isn't something that is going to necessarily be easy. Training yourself to see Jesus in your everyday, less-than-exciting schedule is something that you are going to have to work at. It is also something He is willing to help you with. I promise that if you begin each day, each task, asking Jesus to reveal Himself to you in the midst of it, He will do it. As I sat in class and absorbed the lecture with a heart that said "Show me Jesus," I found him. I was able to see the intricate design of our world that points to an all-powerful creator God. I was reintroduced to a God who is so big, yet cares so deeply about the smallest details of our lives. Not only did science become bearable in that moment, but it gave me another opportunity to worship my Jesus. Look for Him in everything. Let the most undesirable circumstances in your life show you Jesus.

High Place Safe Space

God, listen to me shout, bend an ear to my prayer. When I’m far from anywhere, down to my last gasp, I call out, “Lead me to the rock that is higher than I!” You’ve always given me breathing room, a place to get away from it all, a lifetime pass to your safe-house, an open invitation as your guest. You’ve always taken me seriously, God, made me welcome among those who know and love you.  Psalm 61:1-5

Sometimes I more easily relate to this passage of scripture than any other. I find myself seemingly far from shore, down to my last gasp. I become entangled in the things of this life and the next thing I know, I'm splashing around with my head barely above the water, doggy-paddling to say alive. In these moments, everything in the world seems to be fighting for my attention. Monster waves surround me in the form of papers to be written, exams to be taken, people to be loved, and plans to be made. 

But among the 30-foot waves, the downpour of the rain, and the crashing of the thunder that threatens to steal every ounce of my peace, I catch a glimpse of the coast in the near distance. I see the waves pounding against the shoreline, but I also see that there stands a rock on the shore that is untouched by the storm. It rises far above the reach of the waves and is formed in such a way that there is a niche to provide shelter from the rain. God, lead me to this rock that is higher than I!

Once I find myself in this place of shelter, the waves don't look as threatening as before. The freezing rain doesn't sting my skin as it falls from the sky. The thunder doesn't sound as intimidating muffled by the solid walls of the rock. It is easier to breathe in the safety of this sanctuary. There is a sense of safety that finds its way into my heart.

How foolish I would be to choose to remain exposed to the elements when this place of refuge has been made available to me. How foolish I would be to choose to splash around on the verge of drowning in a multitude of worldly demands when God is inviting me to take refuge in His arms. He has always given me breathing-room, a place to get away from it all, a lifetime pass to his safe-house, an open invitation as His guest.

Unfortunately, there have been moments I have chosen foolishness over shelter. Instead of retreating to His high place, I have tried to crawl back into my capsized boat and row my way out of the storm. It never works. I'm not strong enough to row fast enough to find my way out. It is only when I choose to run to the Rock that is higher than I that I find my safe space in the midst of life's most threatening storms. 

This high place, this safe space from the storm, is where you can find me today. Feel free to join me. He has room for the both of us.

A Home For My Homeless Heart

"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."

It's a trendy quote. When I first read it, I fell in love with it because it rang so true in my own heart. What this quote fails to mention, however, is just how restless you feel when part of your heart is always elsewhere. It fails to mention, too, that there is a longing deep inside of you to always be somewhere other than where you are. Dangerous stuff. 

This week is Fall Break for Oral Roberts University. I had been counting down the days until I would be able to return here to see my family and friends that I have been missing so deeply. My plane landed in Houston last Friday night and I could hardly wait for the other passengers to grab their bags so that I could run off of the plane and see my family. All I had been thinking about for weeks was finally having the opportunity to be at home. The time that I have spent here has been so sweet. I have loved seeing my mom and dad and spending time with my friends. But here I am a day before my flight back to Tulsa and I find myself saying that I am ready to head home. My heart longs to be somewhere I am not.

So where is my home, really? If home is where the heart is, I think it's safe to say I'd fit right in with a clan of nomads. My heart has the ability to be in Juarez, Rio, Lima, Tulsa, and Houston all in the same day. Let me tell you, it is hard to feel at home when your heart is being pulled in five different directions at once. It creates an extreme feeling of restlessness. It threatens peace with an overwhelming sense of discontentment. Restlessness and discontentment are not two words that I desire to characterize my life. So what am I supposed to do? I can't forget about my friends in Lima. I can't un-see the faces of the people on the streets of Rio. I can't quench the love I have for a city on the border of Mexico. I can't pretend that my family doesn't live Texas while I reside in Tulsa with people I also call family. The only answer is to find a permanent residence for my heart. But where?

There is but one consistent thing in my life. There is but one thing that I can count on day after day. There is but one thing in heaven and on earth that does not change with the seasons, nor come and go with the changing of the tides. I find a home for my homeless heart in the hands of my faithful God. It is too exhausting to live being tossed around always wishing for something not within my reach. Life demands too much to not have a place to call home at the end of the day. I chose to make my place of rest, my home, in His presence. This does not mean I will love any less. This does not mean I will not carry a burden for the people who have captured my heart. This means that I am content, I am at rest, and I am secure in my Father.

The Cost of Following Jesus

I woke up this morning with a knot in my stomach and tears in my eyes. I couldn't sleep last night and it was hard to eat this morning. All I want to do is stare out this window and watch the rain roll down the glass. I'm suffering from a broken heart. I haven't lost a family member, I don't have any fewer friends today than I did yesterday, and I haven't gone through a breakup. I'm experiencing the cost of following Jesus.

Following Jesus is without a question the most rewarding thing I have ever done. Everything good about me is a result of this decision. There has not been a single day since the beginning of my journey that I have said "I wish I had kept living my own way." Nothing compares to abiding in His presence and resting in his love all the days of my life. But there is a cost.

For some people, the cost of following Jesus looks like a lifestyle change. They have to choose to lay down their worldly desires and abandon everything that previously consumed their time and energy. For some people, the cost of following Jesus looks like the giving away of possessions that previously possessed the heart of their owner. For me, in this season, the cost of following Jesus looks like a broken heart.

My heart is burdened for the world. My heart is burdened for my friends. My heart is burdened for the little girl who woke up this morning with an empty stomach that will remain empty until she falls asleep on the floor tonight. My heart is burdened for the man who woke up this morning clinging so tightly to the things of this world that he cannot see his need for a Savior. My heart is burdened for a church that cares more about seating assignments than reaching out to the hurting people in their community. My heart is burdened for the people who have never been reached with the word of God. My heart is burdened for the people who have been reached but who have not understood.

But from my heavy, broken heart flows my most passionate prayers. From this state of heaviness and brokenness, I most fully experience freedom and peace. In the moments of crying out in anguish on behalf of people I have never even met, I encounter God with the greatest joy. With Jesus, the cost becomes the greatest reward.

The Key to Breakthrough

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me from the words of my groaning? Oh my God, I cry by day but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest. Yet you are Holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel." Psalm 22:3

If you were to be honest with yourself, you would admit that there have been times in your life when you waited for an answer from the Lord longer than you expected to wait. If you were to be really honest with yourself, you would admit that there were times in the waiting when you wanted to pull a David and shout to the heavens "Um, hey God its me... you remember me? Well I've been trying to get in touch with you for a few weeks and I was just wondering... where are you?" On top of our own doubts and insecurities, the enemy has a way of showing up in the critical moments and popping questions like...

"If your God is the provider he says he is, why can't you find a job?"

"If your God is really a healer, why have you been sick for so long with no cure?"

"If your God is a God of peace, where's that comfort you've been looking for?"

... and more times than not, we fall for it. The job we've been looking for doesn't open right away so we mentally cut out the portions of scripture that point to God as the provider. The pain doesn't subside when we think it should so we mentally throw out the passages on healing. Instead of comfort, fear increases in our hearts and minds so we discredit the Word on the issue of peace. Now even more than before, we feel forsaken by God.

Unfortunately, many of us stop here. We only read the first half of Psalm 22:3. All we hear David say is "My God, my God why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from the words of my groaning? Oh my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest." Our ugly hearts rise up within us and say "Yeah! That's right David. Tell Him how we feel!" but we never stop to consider the second half of the verse. See David knew the key to breakthrough. He understood how to overcome his crisis. He follows up the expression of his feelings with a declaration of who God really is. "YET YOU ARE HOLY. Enthroned on the PRAISES of Israel." Worship... the key to overcoming crisis.

Two weeks ago, I was laying in a hospital feeling slightly less than awesome. I found myself crying out to God, praying fervently to feel better. After day 5, I was starting to wonder if the healing was ever going to come. I didn't feel like I was being healed at all! I could barely walk without feeling as though I was going to pass out on the floor. Then the enemy showed up with his famous line. "If your God is who he says he is..."  In that moment I knew. I knew I had to make the choice to either allow my circumstances to destroy my faith or allow my worship to take care of my circumstances. I could have let my flesh and spirit meet half way and worshipped God for the things I could see in the moment, but I chose to go all the way.

"God I worship you as the One who heals me. If I never, ever feel better, I know you are who you say you are. If this were to never pass I would still shout it from the rooftops that you are the God who heals."

Needless to say, I am not in the hospital anymore. In fact, I am feeling well enough to be write this blog from somewhere other than my bed. My breakthrough came when I chose the truth over my feelings. My breakthrough came when I worshipped God for who He really is and not for who my circumstances painted Him to be. What area of your life could use a breakthrough? If it's your finances, worship your God who provides. If it's your children, worship your God who holds the wisdom of a perfect father. If it's your heart full of fear, worship your God who IS peace. The breakthrough is coming... I promise.

Unexpected Lessons

In my fever-ridden mind, I imagine that my day 4 in the hospital feels a little bit like the Israelites' year 4 in the desert. (That's probably an exaggeration on my part, but hey- I'm being transparent.) The Israelites had a tendency to be whiny, and they had a terrible case of short-term memory loss. We read their story and think, "What is wrong with these people? Stop complaining and start walking!" As critical as I can be of them, I imagine had I been there I wouldn't be the best traveling companion either. There was, however, a purpose for the Israelite's extended journey. The Lord used their detour to refine and reshape them. He used their time in the wilderness to retrain their way of thinking and reteach them to depend on Him as their source. And just like the children of Israel walked into the Promised Land having learned some unexpected lessons, I can see that I will be walking out of this hospital saying the same. This blog gives me an opportunity to record what I'm learning, and hopefully gives you an opportunity to learn these lessons without living them (or at lease gives you a head-start on the lesson).

Lesson 1: Midnight Worship Session

Acts 16:25-26 Along about midnight, Paul and Silas were at prayer and singing a robust hymn to God. The other prisoners couldn’t believe their ears. Then, without warning, a huge earthquake! The jailhouse tottered, every door flew open, all the prisoners were loose.

After about day 2, a hospital room seems to transform into more of a jail cell than a place of rest. This was the only thought running through my head Thursday night as I lay wide awake waiting for the alarm on my IV machine to stop ringing in my ear. The nurse finally came in my room to fix the tube and I was left alone in the silence... feeling more miserable than grateful for sure. That's when the Holy Spirit reminded me of my good friends Paul and Silas. These guys have counseled me through situations more than once, and laying in the hospital bed, I could imagine them laying on the cold, hard floor of the Macedonian prison. I also imagined how that was a million times worse than my big room in this clean, air-conditioned, American hospital... I was feeling better already. Paul and Silas not only had a good attitude in that cold prison cell, but they also had the right mindset. They had hearts that said "even in the midst of our darkest situations we are going to worship because we are thankful for Who God Is" and that's exactly what they did. So that's exactly what I did. I worshipped myself to sleep (right after I apologized to the Lord for not having done so sooner) and I will continue to worship until I feel the earthquake and watch the doors swing open. And you know what? I think I'll worship after that happens, too.

Lesson 2: A Sure Cure for Self-Pity

One thing about being in any kind of hospital or doctor's office long-term is that you can start to feel really sorry for yourself. You could be the healthiest person in the whole place, but you're not thinking about that. You're thinking about all of the people on the outside who are free to sleep in their own beds at night... all the people eating real food... all the people who get to go outdoors whenever they please. It seems to be human nature to dwell on what's wrong in your life instead of how blessed you are. Right before I got admitted on Wednesday, I was watching Pastor Steve Riggle preach online at Gateway. We have known Steve and Becky for years, in fact I refer to them as Uncle Steve and Aunt Becky, but I had never really heard them tell their whole story. Years ago, Steve and Becky were overseas on a mission trip when they were taken hostage by escaping inmates in a local prison. Long story short, Steve was viciously stabbed in major organs 5 times by one of the prisoners and Becky lost two inches of her femur when the prison guard opened fire on them. I was listening to this story in amazement of the fact that 1. Steve and Becky were still alive after suffering such injuries 2. Steve and Becky were still alive after receiving months of medical attention overseas where there was high risk of infection and exposure to things we don't even want to think about and 3. Not one time laying in that hospital overseas did they feel sorry for themselves, but they remained the most grateful people I have met. I have thought about the Riggle's more than once these past few days. If they could find a way to be so free from the crippling effects of self-pity, I can surely do the same. But what is the secret? Paul says in Philippians "I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am." What's the sure cure for self-pity? Dwelling not on your circumstances but on the One who supplies everything that we need and takes delight in doing it.


Lesson 3: A Line to the Heart
Yesterday I learned what a pick line is. After trying numerous times to get the IV back in my arm, the nurse told me they were going to call in a specialist to install a tube from my arm directly to my heart so that I could get the medicine I needed into my blood stream. She proceeded to tell me that I was going to be awake during this little procedure. That didn't really sound like something I was ready to volunteer for, but it didn't sound like I really had a choice. With all of my medical wisdom, I started searching my arms to find a vein I thought they could retry the IV in. I'd point to one of the blue lines and say "what about this one?" only to hear her explain to me that it wasn't the right kind of vein and the medicine wouldn't get where they needed it to go. Besides, she told me with the pick line in, there was a chance I could go home earlier and have home healthcare come and do the IV from the comfort of my own room. I knew that it was important to have the line and I knew if I wanted to get better, I really didn't have a choice. After what felt like hours of anticipation, the specialist arrived. He explained exactly what he was going to do and after numbing my arm, he began to bore a hole through the muscle and tissue so he could find the vein he needed. I can't say I was in a ton of pain since my arm had been numbed, but I can tell you that I haven't feel that much discomfort in a long time. There was no doubt in my mind that the doctor had just pushed his way three inches into tissue and muscle in order to gain the needed access to my heart. Aha! There it was... lesson number three. Oh how uncomfortable it is when the Lord is digging His way to where he needs to be, but oh how necessary and beneficial it is in the end. The pick line has been in for 24 hours now and I am so glad I trusted the specialist to put it in. It looks downright ugly, and I can feel the uncomfortable feeling you get from a healing wound, but the medicine is getting in my system, and the infection is dying. I can remember countless times that the Lord has had to tear things down in my life in order to heal me. Neither the tearing nor the healing process were comfortable, but praise God the healing came. 

The Anointing

"What is the anointing of God? It is that divine energy that comes upon you and separates you from yourself and fills you with His power! As a result, when you speak, it is like God speaking…and when you act, it is like God acting." -Oral Roberts

I was hesitant to write a blog titled "the anointing" because I know that people from all different backgrounds read my posts, so I try to keep them practical and simple so that they can be easily understood and applicable to everyone who reads them. But I also promised when I started this blog that I would be faithful to share with you what I am learning in my own life, so here it is.

I included the quote from Oral Roberts at the top of this post in order to give us a clear meaning of what it is to be anointed. Unfortunately, church leaders have done a great job of skewing what people perceive this term to mean. Now days, when we hear the term "anointing" we associate it with self-assigned titles that ministers use in order to boost their egos and promote themselves as men and women  working on behalf of God. The irony in this, however, is that the anointing is actually the absence of oneself. Real, authentic anointing comes when all you are is an empty vessel and your self is not inhabiting any part of you.

I spoke two weeks ago now at a women's conference in Brenham, Tx. It was one of the most awesome speaking experiences I have ever had. Usually when I get up to deliver a message, it takes me about 5 minutes to get my body to relax and get my spirit to engage with my mind. Not this weekend, however. As soon as I hit the floor for the first time on Friday night, the Lord was doing all of the talking. I literally walked around up front with a microphone and just listened to God deliver the message. In that moment, I was experiencing the anointing. And let me tell you, that message was a whole lot better than it would have been if I would have gotten up there and shared my own thoughts and opinions. I was an empty vessel, being inhabited by God, allowing Him to use me to say what He needed to say.  Is that how I am all the time? No, of course not. There are things that I say that are obviously coming from Alexis and not God, and it is obvious to everyone around me when that's the case.

But wouldn't everyone appreciate it if I were more often speaking the heart of the Father and not my own? If I were more often walking out in the anointing? Yes, the answer to that question is yes. So how does someone reach that point? I think John sums it up pretty well when he says "I must decrease so he may increase." It all goes along with the breaking I wrote about a few days ago. As the Lord refines us and retrains us, he is pouring the "us" out of us so that we can be filled with more "Him." As time goes on and the breaking process continues, there is more and more room for Him. That means more and more of His message; more and more of His heart. It's all a process that has nothing to do with us and everything to do with God. Our sole role in it is our unconditional surrender of ourselves to be emptied and used by Him.

Broken to be Used by God

broken |ˈbrōkən| [no obj. ] (of a person's emotional strength) give way: tame or train (a horse).

Have you ever seen a wild horse running thorough a meadow, completely free to do as it pleases? It's a beautiful sight to see, unless of course you need to make a long journey and horseback is the only way to get there. In that moment, even more beautiful than a horse in the wild is a horse in a stable, saddled-up and ready to go. In fact, the only thing that wild horses are good for is to look at. You can't use them for work, and you certainly can't use them for transportation. A useful horse is a broken one. It sounds kind of harsh. To a horse it probably sounds like the end of their freedom, the end of their glory days. 

But pretend with me for a moment that horses can reason and think logically. Now, imagine that there is a horse in a meadow somewhere that is completely untamed, free to roam the land and do as it pleases. It has no real purpose, but wanders around day to day searching for something new to indulge itself in. One day a man and his companions approach this horse, over take it, and despite all of its kicking and bucking, manage to get it into a secure stable in the near-by town. Every day the man works with the horse to break it in and train it for a rider, and though the he is as kind and as gentle as possible, the horse is absolutely miserable about it! He dreams of the days when he was galloping through the fields free to do as he pleased, overlooking, of course, the fact that those days lacked purpose. Day by day, the will of the horse is being broken, until one day he is finally ready to be ridden. The man walks into the stable early that morning as he did every day, but this day something was different about the man's appearance. Instead of his usual attire of work clothes, boots, and riding gloves, he is adorned in the attire of a king. After all, he is in fact the king. Another thing that differs about this day is the way that the man saddles up the horse. Instead of the usual saddle that is placed on it's back for training, the man places a beautifully embroidered saddle on the horse and places a bit of gold in the horse's mouth. The king then mounts the horse and parades it through the street as the people cheer and throw petals for it's feet to tread on. The king then leads the horse out of the city and into the camp where the other soldiers are waiting, ready for battle. The horse in that moment realizes that he has been given the most noble task of any other in the land. He is the King's horse and has the honor of leading Him into the battle. Wandering aimlessly through the fields no longer appeals to this horse. There could be no greater satisfaction found than the satisfaction that comes from being the King's. Now he knows true freedom- the ability to wholeheartedly serve the King.

So, where are you? Maybe you are in the field, roaming around aimlessly with no purpose, holding on to a false definition of freedom. I, however, find myself in a season of being in the stable, in a season of being broken. The King comes in and meets with me daily, retraining me that I may be used by Him. Most days it hurts. He is kind and gentle, but He applies the pressure necessary that I may be changed and transformed into who He needs me to be. Some days I find my flesh dreaming about the times when I was free to do as I pleased, overlooking, of course, the fact that those days lacked purpose. Forgetting, of course, that those days only provided temporary fulfillment. In the process of being broken, there are days when I feel completely exhausted as if one more ounce of pressure will not only break me, but completely destroy me. But then I remember that that is the old horse talking. The horse that didn't understand that the King's desire isn't to destroy me by any means. He desires only that I be in a place where I will know true satisfaction and freedom. A place where I am free to respond to Him wholly as the person He has created me to be.