Why Should I Keep Praying?

My dear brother and friend Stuart Greaves shares truth and wisdom in the video.

An Invited Into Divine Partnership

When did it happen? Over time? Lack of understanding? The misgivings of powerful men?

But we lost sight of something so dear and critical in our relationship with Jesus. Partnership.

We see ourselves as only, merely, servants. We are servants, yes. Bondslaves, absolutely. But out of love and utter devotion. Completely surrendered. "Not my will, but Your's be done."

But we are called to be partners. We are the Bride of Christ. Not the concubine.

Until the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus taught His disciples. He sent them out on test runs. "Go do what you've seen Me do."

Then came Matthew 26. Jesus is about to endure the greatest ordeal of His or any man's life. He goes to the Garden to pray. Here's what He says to His friends,

"Sit here while I go over there and pray.” And He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and distressed. "My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death; remain here and keep watch with Me.” And He went a little beyond them, and fell on His face and prayed...

Jesus is not teaching or demonstrating, or hanging out with the disciples, He's imploring them to pray with Him. The toughest hour of His life is about to come upon Him and He, the God-Man, needs His friends. He needs support in prayer. This is the only time we see Jesus call us into partnership with Him. "Do this with Me." Not for me. Not to Me. Not because of Me. But with Me.

Then, He leaves them. He goes to another spot in the Garden to pray. Why? Seems odd, doesn't it? "Watch with Me, but I'm going to be over here."

This is such a picture of what was to come. Of what IS our life with Him now. We are here. He is "there." He sits at the right hand of the Father making intercession for us. We are still called to partnership in intercession with Him!

When He returns, the disciples are sleeping. We know it well.

"And He came to the disciples and found them sleeping, and said to Peter, “So, you men could not keep watch with Me for one hour? Keep watching and praying that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Romans 13:11, Ephesians 5:14 have verses that call to the Believer, "Wake up!" We are to be on the alert, watching and waiting.

But we are weak. Prayer is hard. It's a spiritual battle. But it is THE ONE THING where Jesus invites us to partner with Him. "Keep watch with me."

He is coming. Will we be found watching or sleeping?

Light yoke, easy burden

By the fall of 1990, I'd been on the road for four years, traveling seventy percent of my time, installing computer systems and training newsroom and classified ad reps around the world.

I'd been to Australia twice. Ireland, Spain, Venezuela three times (before Chavez, thank goodness,) Mexico, Canada, and traveled the U.S. from California to Maine.

Two weeks in Mexico magically stretched into three. And I had NO money the last week I was there, traveling from one little town to the next.

A personal weekend to New Zealand -- I had to see what kind of town was named Christ Church -- was nixed by my company when the Australian distributor wanted me to stay to do additional training. (Oops, Rach, yeah, we forgot to tell you about that...) During the training days, a married man pretended to be single and flirted with me the entire time. Thank goodness I was unmoved by his advances.

I came in from lunch one Friday with my co-workers to find I was on a three o'clock flight to Colorado Springs with one of the engineers. I had an hour to go home, pack, and get to the airport. We landed around ten mountain time and drove down to Pueblo. We arrived at the paper at midnight and worked until the wee hours. By then, I'd been up almost twenty-four hours.

Did I have plans for the weekend? A young, single girl? You bet. And it didn't include trouble shooting a down system.

I've sat in dark, out of the way offices and cried because the publishers were livid that their half-million dollars systems weren't working right. I've worked forty hours on weekends to get the output right for a classified ad section so we could make a Monday "go live" date.

I once trained seventeen Mexican typesetters gathered around one tiny fourteen inch monitor how to write production reports using Informix via a hired, outside, interpreter. A task complicated enough without a language barrier!

I'd done trade show in Las Vegas, Atlanta, and Melbourne, Australia. Toured Toledo Spain where the Christians were persecuted by the Muslims. Chains of remembrance were nailed to the side of churches.

I'd driven the highway from Sydney to Melbourne.

I'd laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Once, I just fell down on the side walk and guffawed.

I'd shopped in St. Louis until I dropped.

I'd met amazing people, bonded with talented, fun co-workers, strenghtened my weak Spanish, faced enormous challenges and won. I'd both loved and hated that corporate job.

And I got tired. There was just a point where I said, "I can't do this travel thing any more."

So, that fall of 1990, I was in a hotel in Charlotte, NC, spending the night there before catching a plane home the next morning.

"Lord," I said just as an exhale from my heart, "Your Word says Your burden is easy and Your yoke is light. That if I come to You, You'll give me rest. I'm weary, heavy laden and I need rest. I don't want to travel any more."

The prayer was all I had because there were NO solutions in the natural. If I wasn't on the road training, there was no job. I was not technical enough, nor trained, to be an engineer. Customer support had two non traveling positions, but they were filled. We road warriors backed them up when we were in town.

Documentation was new and also filled.

Literally, outside of quitting my job, getting off the road was impossible. I'd asked. My boss had nothing to offer me. Another road warrior had tried to come off the road. Didn't work. They kept sending her out.

So, I flew home from Charlotte with a peace, but no hope of a solution. Monday morning of the next week, I went into work, prepared my expense and trip reports and checked the calendar for my next assignment.

December was blank. I had no trips. But the word Doc was written on all the weeks.

Same with January. And February. Doc. Doc. Doc.

In the course of a few days, on the heels of my prayer, a shift had changed in personnel and a position had opened up in Documentation. My boss slipped me into that slot and I planted my "glad to be home" self and never traveled again.

In 1991, the Lord began other changes in my life. My best friend, now known as Hubby, began to realize we were supposed to get married! That's a whole other story. We were engaged by the end of the year and married in March 1992.

God hears our prayers! His timing is perfect. But as we lean into Him on a daily basis, releasing our hearts to Him, He actually engages us on how to pray! And when.

That rest prayer was totally spontaneous to me. While I understood what Jesus was telling the people in that passage, I'd never applied it so deep and personal to my life.

The Lord Himself, by the Spirit, prompted me to pray, "You give rest, Lord. I need rest. Your burden is easy, your yoke is light."

He answered immediately. I believe He wanted to boost my faith. He wanted to encourage me. He wanted me to know He was intimately acquainted with the issues of my heart.

As you go into the New Year, ask Him what is on His heart. What is He prompting you to pray, to believe for in this season?

Ten ways to manage your holiday weight

Yeah, 'tis the season to be jolly. With cookies, cakes, candy, cheese spreads, chocolate covered... everything.

So, what's a girl to do? My hubby always goes into December saying, "Let's just get through this month and in January, we can eat just lettuce. 'K?"

Um, no. And why wait until January? Why not plan and start to manage our eating now? Several years ago I started Weight Watchers in December right before our birthdays. I lost fifteen pounds that month.

Here are a few tips.

1. Keep those skinny jeans handy. Try them on once a week, and if you can't get them on, wrap the waist band around your neck. The ends should stay the same distance apart. If you can't wrap the waist band around your neck, you're in trouble. Let's just say it.

2. Throw away the jeans you wore when you were a senior in high school. I want you to hold onto your skinny jeans, not your "are you insane?" jeans.

3. Bit it, write it. A great motto from Weight Watchers. Keep a log of what you eat. I'm not too great at this, but I try to mentally calculate my calories during the day so I don't overeat.

4. Eat light the days you have evening events.

5. A taste is almost as good as a big-honking-piece. In the past, I've had just a fork full of cheese cake instead of a slice. Or, I'll get a small bag of chips to go with my sandwich instead of buying a big bag. Look for ways to manage smaller portions of your fun food.

6. Move more. My job is so sedentary. I understand why writers struggle with their weight. I mean, I walk across the house to my office, and plant it, and there I stay for hours. So find ways to move more. Park out farther in the parking lot when you go shopping. Don't hover for a front space. Let someone else have it. Also, take breaks in the day and instead of reaching for a snack, walk around the neighborhood. Whatever, but move more.

7. Do wacky jacks! Have you seen these? Tony Horton on P90X introduced me to them. Get in a jumping jack stance, but instead of doing straight-up jacks, draw you knees to your elbows, bending your torso side to side to meet your knees. Wacky jacks. It will jack up your heart rate. And they are fun!

8. Consider push ups as a reward. Finish your word count? Complete a project? Drop and give yourself 20. Okay, 2, but you know what I mean.

9. Pray. Ask the Lord to help you manage your appetite and cravings. Just say No to food when you're full and satisfied.

10. Tell January you're going to meet it 1 - 5 pounds lighter. Take that you holly-jolly holiday food.

What about you? Have any tips for us?

"Don't Get Ahead of Me!"

Have any of you done the P90X program? Or watched portions of it? Tony Horton, the developer and instructor of the P90X work out regime, has an off the cuff, unusual but very fun style of instructing.

On some routines, he lets us work out at our own pace. On other routines, like the ab ripper X routine, he insists we follow his count as we work through an exercise.

Take Scissor Abs. The legs are poised in an L shape. One up, one down. Tony's count, we switch legs. The down leg goes up, the up leg goes down. And you hold each switch for a second or two.

Tony says, "Don't get a head of me. Switch on my count."

Why? Because he's leading us in a designed routine intent on strengthening our abdominal muscles. There's no point in doing it if we fly through it and don't generate any resistance or tension.

Many, many times, God directs us in a like manner. "Don't get a head of me." It's not that we are stagnant, or sidelined, but we are moving forward by His direction.

Far to often, we think the go ahead from God means we take off on our own, and work at our own speed and pace. And we miss out on so many essential criteria.

Take prayer and the Word. We get up, breeze through a devotional or our daily Bible reading, offer up a bit of prayer and we're off. We're doing our discipline, our routine, but... are we accomplishing anything.

It hurts my abs when Tony holds us in a position for a few seconds. I'm so glad to hear him call, "Switch." But keeping with him has physically changed my body. For the better. I'm not ready for swimwear modeling, but you get my meaning here.

What if we approached God like our exercise routines? What if you heard God saying, "Don't get ahead of me. Okay, switch." What if we purposed to run with Him rather than ahead, or behind, or not at all.

God does want us to run with Him. Did you know that? We're not to be spectators, or sideliners. But He also wants to accomplish something in our hearts and minds as we run, and labor with Christ.

Are you ahead of Him? Are you running with instead of ahead. Where are you in the process? Can you take a few extra minutes and linger with Him in the Word and prayer?

Beloved, it's time to develop spiritual muscle. It's time to reshape and sculpt our inner man with the love and Word of God.

What's your P90X commitment for the Lord in 2011?

What's in a dream?

I believe in the power and purpose of dreams. They communicate issues of our own hearts, or perhaps the weird multi colored Cubism image of the pepperoni pizza we ate the night before.

Or the meds we're taking. Meds can really mess with your dreams. Be careful.

Largely, I think dreams come from God. Sometimes they are "Slough off" dreams. Meaning, some kind of gunk from the world got on you that day, you dream about it, some thing weird, gross, sexual that makes your skin crawl. It's your soul sloughing it off.

Psalm 127:2 says God "gives to His beloved even in his sleep."

I've seen things in my sleep, read books, heard songs, understood a relational conditions, or gained insight into a question of my heart. I've asked God for dreams when some answer or help from heaven eluded me. And He's answered. Not always, but a good bit of the time. When I've really needed insight.

God directed Joseph and Daniel in dreams, and Joseph, Jesus's earthly father. Pilot's wife dreamed about Jesus and begged her husband not to mess with Him.

On occasion, I have those "between" moments -- not awake, not asleep -- where I sense the presence of the Lord. I've gained insight there too. Clarity about a story, or life situation. Often encouraging words for others.

I've had dreams about world leaders and events. Friends of mine have had dreams about presidents -- before they were elected.

Maybe you've had a dream something bad might happen to a family member, or a national or world leader. Perhaps even your local mayor or pastor.

I had a dream once where our president sat in our sanctuary with rapt attention to the prayers and worship.

That excited my heart. And you know what? I can do nothing about it. Except pray.

Why are we given dreams? To teach, to warn, to edify, to prepare. To pray.

If you're given a dream in which you feel helpless to do anything about, the purpose is for prayer. God is calling you into intercessory partnership with His Son, Jesus.

I can't call up President Obama and say, "Sir, Jesus is calling you to His heart." I can only pray what I saw in the dream and what I felt the Lord was communicating to me through the dream elements.

If you dream someone may harm themselves, pray life into them. Pray God's destiny and hope. Pray protection.

We are ambassadors. We are Kings and Priest. We are partners with Jesus for His kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven.

Pray for understanding of dreams. Don't just slough them off as weird or "Gee, I don't know." ASK! Look for understanding in the Word. Most of the time, you'll find a verse or chapter that expounds on the elements of your dream.

Ask for Daniel 1:17. To understand and interpret dreams and visions.

Be a wise and informed partner of Jesus so when He gives you a prayer assignment in a dream, you know how to respond.

If He reveals something of your heart, or His, again, you'll know how to respond.

Pray. Believing.

Building a Culture of Prayer Part 4

Here's where building a culture of prayer gets sticky. Controversial. Theological break down.

We can all agree on the power, purpose and need of prayer. It is a cornerstone of our faith.

Maintaining consistent prayer is difficult. Why? Because it's a labor. Jesus said in Matthew 11:12, "The kingdom of God suffers violence and the violent take it by force."

What kind of violence is the peaceful Jesus advocating? Violence against our flesh. Violence against sin, lies and deception of the enemy. Violence against those who lead us astray.

Prayer and fasting are God's violent measures against the way and will of the world.

And we must be violent about taking our time, thoughts, emotions and will captive to prayer and fasting. To the truth of the Word.

Even so, why? How can a church or city maintain a culture of prayer? Vision. We must have a vision of why and how and for what we are praying day in and day out without seeing results or answers.

The vision comes from two paradigms. The love of Jesus for the church and individual believer as detailed in Song of Solomon. And a correct End of the Age view. Understanding Revelation and the 150 chapters in the Word that talk about Jesus return to the earth for His Bride.

See, I told you it was touchy. You cannot maintain a culture of prayer if you do not know, understand and somewhere along the line encounter the love of Jesus. The kind He talks about in Song of Solomon 4:9. If hearing "you're His favorite one" makes you uncomfortable, then you're falling short of His love and His favor and your place before Him.

How intimate and close can we be with someone we believes looks at us with sadness, disgust or anger? He's not the mad, sad God waiting to punish you. Yet so many of us carry that view. Hard to pray to a God like that.

And how can we maintain a prayer culture if we believe we have no purpose and plan to partner with Jesus for His triumphant return to earth? We do. We are not "out of here" before it all goes down. You have to read all the 150 end time chapters to get some kind of picture.

Yes, Jesus said "we can't know the day or the hour" but we CAN know the season. Too many of us cling to that one verse about "not knowing" and burying our head in the sand. There are also plenty of verses where Jesus admonishes us to be like the sons of Issachar and recognize the times and seasons.

Here's one. Matthew 24 Jesus is telling us how to recognize the end of the age. "Wars and rumors of war. Earthquakes." We've had what, seven or eight earthquakes and a major volcanic eruption this year? Wars and rumors of war. Yep.

We are called to partner with Jesus for His kingdom to come on earth at it is in heaven. Beloved, He's coming here. We're not going "there." He's coming to establish His kingdom. The one He bought and paid for on the Cross.

He's only coming "a second time" once. And that's to judge the quick and the dead, to judge the nations and their kings.

If you think Christianity isn't about politics, read Isaiah. Jesus is King! That's political.

Revelation 22:17 says, "The Spirit and the Bride say come, Lord Jesus." That's our job. To pray with the Spirit, "Lord come."

Are are His ground troops, interceding for the earth like Noah, like Moses, like Joseph for God to come and be with us in our darkest hour.

The end of the age will be brutal and dark.God's people praying, having a culture of prayer, rooted and ground in that amazing love we read about in Song of Solomon, will keep the earth from imploding until He comes at the prescribed time.

Ephesians 3 tells us to pray to be in the love of Jesus which "surpasses" knowledge.

Knowing who you are and where you're going is key to life. It is double key to maintaining and fueling a culture of prayer both in our hearts and in our churches.

Do some reading and researching, studying, get a good study on Song of Solomon and the end times. I recommend resources from IHOP-KC.

Check out what we're doing in my community at MyHOP.

Be blessed!

Building A Culture of Prayer Part 2

I've been to my share of dry, boring prayer meetings. You? Not that God is boring or dry, but we are with our weary souls, amused minds, harried hearts.

After a long day of working, or dealing with kids, a prayer meeting is the last place we want to be. We'd rather turn on a sitcom, a sports event, catch up with American Idol and escape our own cares.

Sitting in a quiet prayer meeting only accents our trials, gets our minds churning, and if we're not stirred up, we've gone the other way, nodding off, jerking awake when our chin bobs to our chests.

But prayer is a corner stone of our faith.

Romans 12:12, Paul writes, "rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer.

Jesus reminds us in Matthew 21:13 "And He said to them, "It is written, ' MY HOUSE SHALL BE CALLED A HOUSE OF PRAYER'; but you are making it a ROBBERS' DEN."

Colossians 4:2 "Devote yourselves to prayer, keeping alert in it with an attitude of thanksgiving;"

1 Thessalonians 5:17"..pray without ceasing;"

1 Timothy 2:8 "Therefore I want the men in every place to pray, lifting up holy hands, without wrath and dissension."

1 Peter 4:7"The end of all things is near; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober spirit for the purpose of prayer."

Jude 1:20"But you, beloved, building yourselves up on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Spirit."

Revelation 5:8"When He had taken the book, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each one holding a harp and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints."

Revelation 8:3 "Another angel came and stood at the altar, holding a golden censer; and much incense was given to him, so that he might add it to the prayers of all the saints on the golden altar which was before the throne."

Far too often we lose sight and vision for prayer. We relegate it to the here and now ONLY. Prayer for the sick. Prayer for finances. Prayer for a co-worker or family member. All very important issues to keep before God in prayer, but we are also to partner with Him for His divine plan, for His return!

What will the world look like just before He returns? Prayer prepares us. Prayer impacts culture and governments.

We must fill the bowls of heaven with our prayers. God adds His own fire and incense and hurls our prayers back to earth!

We are partners with Jesus for His Kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven. We are loved! We are not just pawns on a chess board for the Lord to ignore or manipulate, we are robed in the righteousness of Jesus and part of His plan.

Building a culture of prayer is about strategically joining together with your church family, with churches in the community, for the express purpose of praying for God's will to be done in our cities, churches, schools and nation.

We are not to be out of culture, but influencers of culture. We gain God's heart for education, for government, for the church, by being in a place of prayer.

There are over 22 "houses of prayer" in the state of Florida. Some meet daily, some weekly, some monthly, for the express purpose of partnering with Jesus for His Kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven.

We've learned lately how to weave worship, the Word and prayer so meetings are alive and people are engaged. It's hard to fall asleep in these meetings. And with a little bit of focus, it's difficult to remain churned-up from the cares of the day.

Prayer is purposeful. Focused. Those in attendance are encouraged to sing along with the spontaneous choruses of the worship team which often come from scripture or a prayer that was prayed.

The room engages and becomes about putting something in the bowl, about touching the heart of God.

A prayer leader makes sure prayers are direct an on target. Did you know we can actually administrate prayer! And not grieve the Holy Spirit. We can!

Praying folks are not allowed to share, or prophesy, preach or teach. Just pray. Preferably from Scripture.

A key component those is understanding our "rights" as the Bride of Christ. We are invited into the Beloved. We're clothes in the righteousness of Jesus. We are Kings and Priest. We can boldly enter in.

Hebrews 10:22 admonishes us to "draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith."

Pray is laboring with Jesus, the great Intercessor. It's not always easy or fun. Rarely convenient. But if we work together to build a culture of prayer, it will become a part of our spiritual DNA, a part of our tapestry, our lives and our children's lives.

If Jesus is sitting at the right hand of the Father making intercession, (Heb 7:25), how much more we should seek to be with Him there.

Prayer is not an option. It's not for "the other guy" and it's not for the "intercessors." It's for each and every believer.

Is there a corporate prayer meeting in your church with a specific prayer focus and leadership? If not, can you start one? Or partner with someone who has the burden?

Learning about prayer at my Mama's knees

When I was a little girl, my father smoked. In fact, one of my first memories of him was listening to Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass, playing on the front porch while he smoked a cigar.

He had a three packs a day habit. In the early '60s, a lot of people smoked. My paternal grandmother smoked. My uncles and aunts. To this day, I love the smell of a lit cigarette.

My older brother and I would ride with Dad to the drug store -- he in his stocking feet -- and run inside for a pack. Can you see it? A five or four year old going up to the counter with a dollar and asking for a pack of Camels?

I'm not sure how my Mom came to this notion, but she started to pray for my dad to quit smoking. I'm not sure if he wanted to or if she thought he should. She didn't nag him. My brothers and I were not subject to big fights over cigarettes.

Every day she had my older brother and then younger brother (there were only 3 kids then) pray for Dad to quit smoking.

"Let's ask Jesus to help Daddy give up cigarettes."

So we did.

One day my dad opened a new pack of cigarettes, lit up, but spit it out. It tasted bitter. He tried a different cigarette. Then a different pack of cigarettes. All bitter. The taste and desire to smoke was gone.

For the rest of his life, Dad never smoked again. He didn't even have a craving.

What an impression to leave on a young girl's heart. My mom demonstrated faith and holiness, and the heart of Jesus, by teaching us to pray.

I wish I still had the faith of my four-year-old self.

Thanks, Mom. What a terrific inheritance.

The last of Fire Dweller

Tonight is our last Fire Dweller prayer and worship meeting. Six and a half years ago, four youth pastors gathered after an amazing summer conference and said, "We have to do what He's calling us to do."

Pray.

The meetings began in our living room, stuffed with teens and young adults, the tangible and sensory presence of God filling our living room.

I remember being in tears within minutes of prayer starting, or inhaling the spicy fragrance of my King.

We moved to a down town church about a year later and met on Friday nights for over four years, hauling in sound equipment, setting up and tearing down. A lot of that falling on Hubby.

In the last year, we've been praying at a partner church and while we've matured to the point where one worship leader, alone, with three or four prayers, can hold a solid two hour meeting, prayers continuous with worship, God has not breathed on our venture as we first believed.

As the leaders, hubby, me and three others began to feel God shifting focus, and another leader in the area stepped forward with what he feels God is calling him to do.

Prayer is our aim, not ministry. We love Fire Dweller, but we are not tied to "it." We are only tied to the obedience of prayer in our city/county.

A dozen or more years ago, a handful of leaders sat around a rusty table at Teen Missions during our annual prayer retreat, talking about the Lord, what He's doing in this hour of history, and we said, "We're all in, we're going for Him, together."

We said it again a half dozen years ago. But as I looked around the table, my eyes watered. Only three remained from the first group of pledges. Some God moved on. Others only committed in the passion of the moment and were easily swayed off the path.

"I've been here before," I said, teary, "people pledging to follow Him to the end and only three remained. I'm on this mountain until the end. And many of you will say the same, here and now, but where will you be in a year, in two?"

Our good intentions to follow Him to the end often come up shallow despite our good intentions. It's the mundane, the day in and day out that prove our metal in Jesus.

Of those around the table the second time, there must have been a dozen plus, only four remain. Others not around the table have joined, but many who said, "Yes, we're on this mountain," couldn't endure.

The mountain isn't Fire Dweller. The mountain is prayer, gazing on the beauty of the Lord, beholding Him in His sanctuary.

So, we remain, waiting to see what God will doing next. I know in my heart of hearts that the six plus years of Fire Dweller were not in vain. I saw a picture in my mind's eye of all the fields we'd plowed. We labored to prepare for the planting. God will cause the rain and sun for growing.

Ministry, callings, paths we walk are often seasonal. If we never put away the plow, how will we plant? If we're always planting, how will we harvest?

Walking with God, partnering for His kingdom on earth as it is in heaven is labor, a joy, a partnership, but we must hold all things loosely. Our identity is not in ministry but in Him. Genesis 15:1.

Fire Dweller served the purpose of God. All those who came and prayed, who lead worship, who lit the candle and fanned the flame, even if for a moment, share in the reward. EVERYONE!

Well done.

I love this Odysseus quote from Troy. "If they ever tell my story, let them say that I walked with giants. Men rise and fall like the winter wheat, but these names will never die. Let them say I lived in the time of Hector, tamer of horses. Let them say I lived in the time of Achilles."

As for me, if they ever tell my story, let them say I walked with giants. Let them say Iived in the time of Don Luszczewski, Javier LaBoy, Matt Collins, Ted Travers and Tony Hauck. Let them say we cried out for Jesus to visit our region and our nation. Let the say we broke up the fallow ground with plows and horses, and we believed for the planting and the rain. Let them say the harvest for the Lord was great."

God in the market place

I was leaving an office building down town this morning and passed a woman reading a library book in a little alcove.

She kind of smiled. I kind of smiled. You know, the weak, "Hey. . ." and move on.

As I jogged down the stairs, I had a sense to go back up and talk to her. About what? To witness? To make sure she's having a nice day?

Maybe it's just me being weird because I didn't give her a big smile and loud hello.

Out the door and down the sidewalk, I still felt the tug. God? Then I knew, she was asking God for or about something and He wanted her to know He was going to do it.

I turned around.

"Hi, I'm Rachel." I offered my hand.

"I'm Teresa." She shook my hand before removing her glasses.

"Are you asking God for something?"

Smiling, she sat back. "Yes, I am."

"He says He's going to do it. Keep surrendering, keep asking."

"Thank you very much, I will."

Mission accomplished.

Look for God to use you in the market place today!

Passion, Intensity, Wisdom

Last night, my beloved Buckeyes almost won the 2009 Fiesta Bowl. Texas scored a touch down in the last sixteen seconds.

The Buckeye's played hard. It was a well matched game. I was proud of them. But sometimes it's the extra effort, the passion of players that makes the difference between win or lose.

Football is four quarters. Players have to give their heart and soul for the entire hour of play.

In the 2003 BCS Championship game against Miami, Ohio State was on the verge of scoring when Craig Krenzel threw an interception to Miami safety Sean Taylor. OSU phenom, Maurice Clarett, CHASED HIM DOWN and stripped the ball.

It change the game.

How often do we see players chase down their oppenent after a bad play or turn over. Clarett had a passion. He loved to play. He wanted to win. And when the turnover happened, he didn't give up.

Yet, off the field, Clarett's passion and intensity lacked wisdom. A star college career, possibly professional career was lost because he was full of misguided, uncontrolled passion.

He got in trouble. His ego caused him to listen to the wrong voices. And in the end, all is passion and talent was wasted.

Could a bit of Clarett passion made the difference in last night's game? Maybe.

The apostle Paul writes to us, "Run the race with endurance. Run to the end so as not to lose the prize."

Too often, we lose intensity and passion in life. We stop fighting the things that entangle us. We compromise, make excuses. Even at times, let misguided "wisdom" steer us wrong.

Jesus said in Matt 24, "due to lawlessness, the love of many will grow cold."

Don't know about you, but I don't want my love to grow cold. We have to be passionate, intense, and disciplined. It's a day-to-day commitment.

I grow weary as much as the next person. But I want to live with my eye on the prize. I don't want to get to the fourth quarter and ease up in the last 16 seconds only to find that I've lost.

I've had a few battles in my life. In the '80s, I got hit with out-of-the-blue fear and panic. I fought. I prayed. I used the Word of God to change my emotional chemistry.

It was scary at times. I remember once saying to God, "Look, if this is the life you have for me, go ahead and take me home now cause I can't live like this."

It wasn't an every day, all day battle, but enough to really annoy me. I chose to be passionate, intense and believe God more than fear. His perfect love cast out all fear, John wrote.

I'm happy to report. No fear. God's Word and prayer works. But it's intense and hard and I had to stay steady.

Stay steady. Seek wisdom and grace. Fight the good fight. Play all four quarters!

Thoughts on this election - from my heart

I normally don't like to be political in the cyber world because I have many good friends who see things differently than I do.

And I respect differing opinions. Debate and reasoning is good. Proverbs tells us "iron sharpens iron." While political dialog can be painful, it sharpens all of us.

Cotton doesn't sharpen cotton. Cloth doesn't sharpen iron. Sharpness comes from learning, listening and debating, hard ideas against hard ideas make us strong and sharp. Speaking the truth in love.

So, I'm a bit vocal this election because I'm extremely concerned about the direction of our country.

I don't want to watch the death of the American constitution in my life time, but fear I am. And I admit it. I'm a patriot. I love my country.

My concern about this election is the very extreme liberal values and socialist ideas of Obama. I am concerned about his social and political associations. I am concerned about his upbringing and education.

I'm concerned he says, "I will not waver on Choice." Meaning, he will not do anything to restrict the murder of the unborn. In fact, at a Planned Parenthood banquet, he stated his first act as president will be to sign the Freedom Of Choice Act.

Many claim not to be a "single issue" voter. I can respect that - we all have our passions. But if you are pro-life leaning at all, or even pro-choice with restrictions, HEAR what Obama pledge Planned Parenthood. "First thing..." Apparently, abortion is a single and important issue with many, including the Democratic presidential candidate.

Obama has said he wants to redistribute wealth. Are you struggling financially? Are you pursing your own dreams? Starting a business, wanting to pursue art or writing?Where will the money come from if not our economy? If not from people with money wanting to spend it on your product?

The poor don't create job. Do you think the gov't in all its corruption is going to help you open a new business and succeed? Write and sell books? Become the next Picasso?

Being equal in this country does not mean we all earn the same paycheck, own the same number of houses and drive the same type of cars.

It means every one has a chance to make it! Work hard, go to school, learn. Education is available, jobs for hard workers are available. There are no social or legal restrictions that keep a person locked in a class/cast system.

Unless you choose to think the gov't is the answer to your problems. Then you imprison yourself.

Obama wants to be our "sugar daddy." A man we don't really know, have no relationship with, who more than likely has his own dreams and goals ahead of ours. For a communist government to work, there can be NO selfishness, no man or woman wanting power or glory or fame.

What an impossible feat for the weak human heart with out God, without the love of Jesus. Even then, our flesh will strive.

I'm vocal this election mostly because it feels different to my spirit. It's not just a Bill Clinton verses George H. Bush. It's not Al Gore or John Kerry against W.

It's not the Dems verses the GOP. It's more than that, I feel it. Winds of change blowing that make me feel uneasy, unsafe.

I guess that's it. I no longer feel safe in my country.

If you are undecided or ambivalent, please, go to God in prayer and ask for revelation. Isaiah 46 God says, "I've not spoken in secret."

Vote how He directs you, but do not be ambivalent. This election signifies a drastic change in our culture and who we are and who we claim to be.

If God is decreeing now is the time for change for His purposes, then so be it. I pledge my allegiance to the Lamb.

At the end of it all, my hope is in the Lord. I've seen what man can do, I want to see what God is and will do!

Pray!!!

Often we feel we can't pray specifics when it comes to our life, our church or our nation.

We say, "well, we can't know God, really." We say, "God is not a Democrat or Republican." We say, "we can't know God's plan."

God is beyond our understand and comprehension, but it's so very clear in His Word, "I have not spoken in secret." Isaiah 45:19.

Just reading His Word enlightens me. I gain His heart and mind by the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead living in me.

We must learn to discern, friends. With our hearts as well as our minds.

In the past, I've prayed for elections without true faith, without conviction. Because I am truly concerned about the direction of our nation, for us, for Israel, I no longer sit on the sidelines.

Take a football game. Who's the better player? The one who sits on the bench, cheering for the team to win or the one who runs out onto the field and makes the plays?

Ball players become skilled by routine training - we've all seen shots of a football practice field. As believers, we must also recognized we've become skilled in the things of the Spirit by routine training - worship, prayer, the Word, fellowship.

Game time, the coach calls in the plays from the sidelines. Yet, once the play goes into action, the men on the field MUST tap into their skill from training and advance the ball - even if the planned play doesn't work.

As a follower of Jesus, I must trust His truth in me. As I pray and fast, looking out of the landscape of our nation, I know I must pray specifics. How can I know the heart of God? By understanding Him through His Word.

God hates these things: haughty eyes, lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that run rapidly to evil, a false witness who utters lies, an one who spreads strife among brothers.

I place this over our political system and my heart grows sick, even more so when I place it over our media. The media is worse than our politicians. They call evil good, and good evil.

But as I compare candidates, knowing that BOTH are weak, imperfect men, I must judge Biblically. I've listened, I've read, I've prayed. I've been for both candidates throughout this election, if not for just a moment. ;)

But we have to want to know truth. Not our truth, but God's truth. And it's is possible for us to know who God wants in power for this season of history. That's what I'm praying.

I pray for a specific man to be in office. No secret here, he first has to be pro life. And I go from there.

Pray, beloved, pray. Specifically. We have not because we ask not.

What I've been up 2

So, you're wondering, "Rach, do you blog any more or are we just supposed to imagine what your life is all about?"

No indeedy, you're not. Please don't. I'm blogging, see, I'm blogging.

I've been busy, too. Working on a new synopsis for next book, working title Dining with Joy. How do you like it?

I'm reviving my celebrity "chef" idea. Only she's not so much a chef... Stay tuned. Susie Warren and I really hashed out the story this week with me pausing to get input from the lovely and gracious Ami McConnell, editor extraordinaire.

Tonight we had this whole story worked out, Suz and I giving each other a thousand mile apart high fives when I go, "Wait, we can't do that scenario. I've already done it."

I took a break to think and asked the Lord for an idea and ta-da, it came! God is so good. Called Suz to run it by her, check for holes, then called Ami and she said, "Sounds good. I like it." And I'm off to rework the synopsis. Yay!

Note to all you writers out there. If you are reworking a story from a previous synopsis. Don't. Just start over. It's too hard to reset the tone of the new or modified work. The more you try to edit from an existing synopsis, the more convoluted the story becomes.

***

Fire Dweller prayer was fab tonight. I love, love leading worship with Javier. We get this rhythm going, back and forth with antiphonal songs, weaving them in with the prayers being offered.

He was doing some jazzy stuff on the guitar tonight that was really good. He's so incredibly talented.

I love the flow of the Spirit between us. And that he's a good friend, a true brother.

***

Off to bed with a growling stomach, but I weigh in tomorrow for Weight Watchers. Must be good.

***

I love my husband. He's the absolute best. Just felt like adding that line on tonight. I can't begin to put into words what an amazing man he is. I am so very grateful to the Lord for him!

My barking dogs

And I don't mean my feet. Hahaha, get it. "My dogs are barking..."

Well, okay, never mind.

My dog, dogs, you know them Pal and Lola, bark. Yep. Not all the time, but Pal lays by the front window looking out, then goes berserk when something goes by: another dog, a person on a bike way, way down the road, the school bus, and the piece de resistance (snicker,) a squirrel.

Yet when Lola first moved in with us two months ago. She didn't bark at things passing by the window. No siree Bob, she didn't. But Pal taught her. Nice doggy.

She has this shrill kind of bark that makes my heart pound. But I'm so happy she's participating in family traditions, I hardly mind.

When I open the back door from them to run out and bark, Lola fires into the yard with Pal, rou-rou-rouing away.

Pal looks at her, she looks up at him, "Isn't this fun?"

They are good friends. Nothing like the turmoil with Jack and Pal. I couldn't have handled  another second of that gig.

Pal seems to endure Lola, if not appreciate her at times.

Red, on the other hand, is still an ornery cat and behaves as if all the world is his on a silver platter.

Off to Fire Dweller. Got to fill those "bowls!" Rev 8

 

Behind the Scenes 3: Sweet Caroline

I couldn't worship. Though I tried. I felt tired, weary and instead of gazing at my Redeemer, I danced with panic and fear.

That's it, my career is over.

Nelson is going to wonder... "what the heck?"

I've disappointed my fab editor.

I played out scenarios of my agent calling me with the bad news... "the book is unpublishable." I imagined my editor detailing all the story's flaws and weaknesses.

I felt sick that I'd disappointed her, locked in a funk, unable to escape.

But, I prayed, begged Jesus to help me. In the moments of circling out of funk, surfacing for air, I thought, "well, maybe it's not as bad as I think." I pictured a more favorable e-mail from my editor or agent.

But the black hole awaited. Outside of the Lord taking me up to heaven and handing me a new and better manuscript, I didn't know how He could fix this situation.

After the service, I hunted down friends who I knew could and would pray, who would speak the Word of the Lord, who would press me out of the funk. Funkville is not a great place to be.

First my friend Ted. After praying, he said, "At the end of the day you'll say, 'Look at what the Lord did.'"

Second, my friends Anna and Lin prayed. Anna said, "The Lord is going to do something. Just watch and see." Lin saw a basket of fruit. Little did she know but about a month before the Lord said to me, "I promise you fruit."

I left church encouraged. Kissed by God.

Tired but wired, I managed my way through the day. Susie Warren called to check up on me. "Send me the manuscript."

She spent her Sunday evening and part of Monday reading and editing. She encouraged me."You're on the right track, just rearrange these scenes."

I did. Added senses. Added description.

How did I get here, to this state of unsureness? Well, when I first started Sweet Caroline, I'd developed a southern fiction, saga-esque book in my mind. But I was to write a chick lit. Somehow working my ideas in to a chick lit felt odd and I tried to jump start the story in Sophie Kinsella style with an email. It went down hill from there. At least to me.

Plus, the method of writing forward without stopping to fix or edit just did not work for me.

Anyway, Susie's input helped immensely. Plus, Chris Lynxwiler ever-ready on IM.

By Tuesday, I was feeling good about the book, more confident, less funky. I even took time to meet Davis Bunn and Mark Mynheir for coffee.

Pause. Are you wondering why I didn't ask my editor for a deadline extension? Seems logical. But if I did, it didn't buy me anything. First of all, Tony and I were leaving town the first week of March for eight days. So, that would move my deadline to the end of March after which my editor would be out on maternity leave.

I thought, might as well get her feedback and fix the weaknesses on rewrites. I'm really good at rewrites!

Anyway, when I came home from coffee with Davis and Mark I had an e-mail. Due to a publishing schedule change, I had a new deadline for Sweet Caroline. May 25. Three extra months.

Was I praising God that day? Absolutely! Did I say, "Look at what God did?" Yes. He more than answered my prayer. The new schedule was a win-win for my publisher and me. The email was so encouraging and I was so grateful for the extra time.

Coincidence? Not at all. God knew what I needed. More important, He heard my heart. And He loves me.

I took March off to get some distance and perspective, then reworked the book over April and May. Even though my editor was out with her beautiful new baby, my "other editor" helped me fine tune and polish Sweet Caroline.

Poor Leslie. I practically rewrote it when she handed it back with a few suggestions. In the end, I loved the story and was very happy with how it turned out.

I've learned being close too to a manuscript does not give me an accurate perspective.

Tomorrow, final Behind the Scenes.

Behind the Scenes 2: Sweet Caroline

I didn't get a good, good start on Sweet Caroline until December. Between October and November, I had a lot of starts and throw-aways.

Here's one:

My grandfather Rainier and I had a tradition. The day after Thanksgiving he'd come by our house around four in the afternoon and take me to the Frogmore Cafe for a hot bowl of Frogmore Stew.
"I had enough turkey, Posey," he said to my mother, patting his belly. "I need some low country boil."
He glanced down at me with a wink. I was six and the baby of the family. Still am in some ways, I suppose. "Care to go with me, Caroline?"
"Momma, please?" I hopped off the stool and hugged up next to Pop's leg. A retired Marine, he carried a certain authority, commanded deep respect.
I heard Daddy talk about him with the men standing in the front yard after church, smoking cigarettes. It's where I first heard the words Nazi and the big war.
But to me Pop was my best friend. Like we were cut from the same cloth sixty-six years apart.
"Jessup, you’ll spoil her." Momma flattened her hands against her hips, shaking her head. "Now, Caroline, if-"
I ran for my sweater.
Momma followed us all the way to the drive way. "Now remember, she's only six. Don't get talking to Jones and forget she's sitting there. Remember little pitchers have big ears-"
That pulled Pop up short. "Sakes alive, Posey, I'm seventy-two, not addled."
Momma sucked in her bottom lip and wrinkled her nose. I didn't know what addled meant but it sure shut Momma up. Grandpa took my hand and smiled down at me.
"Guess that did it."
Pop’s friend, Jones Whitmore, owned the Frogmore Cafe, a converted nineteenth century home facing the Beaufort River. The old sweeping veranda creaked when we stepped up, but the Frogmore was warm and cozy. Even at six, I felt enveloped by the atmosphere. Low sounds, low lights, wonderful smells.

Here's another start and stop.

The wind carries a wintery chill as it blows through the live oaks, catching up the Spanish moss in an easy, melancholy dance. A few stubborn dry leaves, lacking the courage to fall to the ground, rattle against the side of the veranda's roof.
Propping myself against the porch railing, I cradled a For Sale sign to my chest, feeling my heart beat against the tips of my fingers. Some of my best childhood memories happened in this place, The Frogmore Cafe.
Through the moss and barren trees, I watch the Beaufort River flow gently toward the Atlantic, diamonds of sunlight lingering along the water's surface.
The cafe door opens behind me, then claps shut. My father's broad hand presses down on my shoulder.
"Well, Caroline, how's it feel?"
"Weird." My entire body is conflicted with swirls of anxiety and excitement.
He bends forward so his hands rest on the railing and gazes toward the river. "It's going to be a lot of work."
I bob my head, once. "Can't imagine it not."
Dad looks over his shoulder at me. "You’ve never run a cafe slash restaurant."
"No, but I'm a good business woman, Dad."
"Until Parker stole your business out from under you." He shift his gaze back to the river. "You're too trusting, Caroline."
"Your confidence in me is exhilarating."
Dad dips his head with a chuckle. "I'd feel better if I knew you could manage the back half of the restaurant." His ton is gentle, but laced with a warning. "Never will forget that call from the high school principal."
"I was there, Dad, remember?"
"'Hank, Caroline is a fine student, but we just can't keep her in home econ...'"
His laugh burst from his chest with a deep resonance. "A fire. Of all things. A home ec kitchen fire."
"How was I supposed to know the cherries and cinnamon would spill over on to the baking element and ignite?"
"Come on, Kit, surely you see the irony." He motions behind him toward the once-tabby exterior of the nineteenth century home that was now my cafe. "Pop filled your head with a bunch of dreams."
"Tony's coming to help me."
Dad tips his head to one side making a clicking sound with his teeth. "I don't mean to be a downer, but are you sure that's a good plan?"
"Absolutely. He's a great chef. Experienced."
"Got fired from his last job for insubordination, I believe?"
There are no secrets in Beaufort, South Carolina. What happens in Atlanta, or Charleston, or Savannah is breathed around here in soft whispers.
"He didn't get along with the executive chef." I face my father. "Do you think I can do this or not?"
Dad slips his hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks and starts down the steps. "I've always said you could rule the world Caroline. You could rule the world."
I run after him. "Except for?"
"You lead with your heart. It's like a big welcoming matt for the down trodden and the users. Even Jesus walked away from the insincere."
"I have to do this, for myself, if for no other reason. No guts, no glory."
Dad stops by my car parked along Bay Street. He pats the cherry red door with the palm of his hand. "Pop's old '65 Mustang. Still running."

Finally, at the beginning of January, I'm closer to what would be the final product.

My life changed the day a man died. The day I sat in morning traffic on Hwy 21, the spring sky promising to be blue, while the Beaufort River draw bridge slowly swung closed.
The day the carburetor of my old '68 Mustang convertible sputtered and choked, then died right there on the bridge with a hundred cars in line behind me.
The day I arrived late for work at the Frogmore Cafe to find everyone milling around in red-eyed, stunned disbelief.
The day Daddy told me he was finally marrying his long time girlfriend, Posey, and I had to move out of the house. Was two months enough time? Yes, if I had money.
The day God heard me whisper a simple question, "Hey, I don't know if you're really there, but if you are, could you dig in your bag of goodies and find a life for me?"
***
Two months. That's all it takes for my broken down jalopy quit on me again just as I exit the bridge and turn left onto Bay Street. I mashed in the clutch and gunned the gas to keep it from dying completely - and to save face with the line of cars behind me - and send a vapor of black smoke out the exhaust.
So fitting that I inherited this heap from my mother. Thank you, Sarah Sweeney, wherever you are.
The carburetor sputters and chokes and the 'Stang hesitates, then lurches forward. Come on, come on. I ride the clutch, gun the gas and aim for an open parallel parking slot in front of as I inch over to the side of the street, barely slipping into a handicap spot in front of Rhett Gallery.
The engine rattles and shakes. And dies. I jerk my bag to my lap from the passenger seat, muttering soap worthy words, and dig around for my cell phone.
As I auto dial Daddy, a siren and blue lights blip beside me. "Can't park here, Caroline."
I don't even look over. Dang J.D. Think I don't know I can't park in the handicap spot? "Car's broke down, give me a minute."
"Caroline?" JD inches the squad car forward and blips the siren again.
Go out with a Sheriff once and he thinks he owns you. I peek over at him. "I'm calling Daddy."
"I can radio in a tow truck for you." Sheriff JD holds up his handset.
Shaking my head, I point to the phone, "Daddy can fix the car. Besides, no money for a tow."
"Don't worry about that, now."
Oh no. Rule number one of lowcountry dating. Don't be indebted to a man who claims he's loved you since fifth grade and grows up to carry a gun for a living.
"Yeah, Caroline." Daddy's voice booms into my ear.
"Help." I wince. "She broke down again."
"Where?" Sigh. "I told you to get rid of that thing."
"And buy what? With what? I'm in front of Rhett's." With my best smile, I give JD a thumbs up. He can move on now.
But he doesn't.

***
Originally, I thought Caroline would not work at the Cafe and discover she inherited it. Then I wrote a couple of scenes with that in mind and the story did not feel real to me. The conflict was not genuine enough.

Now, I pray a lot while writing. Pray for God to write His story through me. I think a lot about my characters, analyze each scene, questioning it's relevance and importance. Is the scene contributing, or redundant? Is there enough tension? Why should the reader care about these characters?

I just didn't feel like I was getting the story right. One night, as I went to bed I asked the Lord for a dream to help me understand the story I needed to write.

He answered.

The gist? Write the story as if Caroline worked at the Cafe, but instead of it being a fancy place, make it a run down Cafe. Then there was the part about Tom Cruise making a movie in Beaufort, but I cut that part.

So, on January eight, I started the story over. While I used a lot of material I already had, but nevertheless, I was starting over.

I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote. Long days, long nights. The book was due March 1 and on February 17th, I sat in my chair and wrote for fifteen hours to finish the book.

Tony was reading and offering input, then a friend was critiquing. The Saturday before it was due, she wrote, "I think you need to add a thread to up the conflict."

What? How? Where? Now? I freaked. I only had five days. How could I create more conflict and tension in five days? I was up until midnight writing. Then up again at 3:00 a.m. trying to rewrite.

I managed to crawl into church, a zombie. Thank goodness I wasn't leading worship. But on that day, my friend Jesus began to really show Himself strong.