Are you a flicker or a flame?

We each carry a flame that we either feed or let die out. Has God risen up in your life like Mary Magdalene who couldn't contain herself when the Lord appeared to her. She joyfully ran out to tell others the good news, "He's risen!"Contrarily some of our lives, become so routine and passionless, that we wearily go through the motions of our daily activities forgetting the power available to us through Jesus' resurrected life? Is your testimony, more like a miserymony!

In Isaiah 30:21 we are told, "You will hear a voice behind you saying, 'This is the path, walk in it'." And in Psalm 16:11 David extols the Lord saying, "You will make known to me the path of life. In your presence is fullness of joy." Joy is a fruit of the spirit that keeps our flame alive. If we neglect to listen to the Lord's leading in our lives, we have wondered away from the path that leads to life and joy. That could be the first clue to why we may have a heavy spirit.

When I find myself trudging through life as a whimpering, gasping flicker without a breeze fanning my embers and no wind beneath my wings, it's time for deliberate measures. That's when I make the heavenly 911 call for a little CPR that breaths life back into the dry places and leads me onto the path of joy and a passion filled heart.

How do I do that? First, I evaluate whether or not I've gotten caught up being a Martha and need to spend some time on my knees becoming a Mary. Secondly, I evaluate if I have given room in my life for my natural heart led bent, the things that intrinsically flow from my life, releasing joy.

Thirdly, I give myself a joy assignment. I sprinkle throughout my calendar fun; be it a walk in the park, an ice cream cone in February, a lunch with a windy friend, a much needed date with my husband, service to the needy, or smell-good-flowers on my table. These are just little things that stir my heart to joy and counter any stuffy pretensions that might be tripping me up.

I believe there is nothing more foul smelling to the Lord than when we religiously withhold ourselves from life and suffer along. Sometimes we need to stand back and get a bigger picture. Are we more productive, leading a life of excellence when we are depressed, oppressed and squeezed into a tight rigid box or when we are joy filled and giggly? I know my energy is boundless when my joy is released.

It is in the Lord's presence that we get permission to be who we were designed to be. We get to be who God says we are as we listen to His voice saying, 'this is the way walk in the path I have made for you. Not your neighbor's path, not your parent's path, but your own path.'

The Lord wants our lives to reflect His glory. Every good and perfect gift is from above, so why would we withhold His goodness, keeping it at arms length, when it is available to us now? We bring a lot more to the world when our hearts are aflame; walking in the fruit of the spirit, joy! If you truly want to be happy, no one can stop you.

The Silent Voices

I recently had the privilege of watching a video presentation of Bono speaking about the Justice Campaign and his vision to eradicate poverty in the world. He made some pointed and accurate assessments I believe. He said throughout history the church has always been behind the curve. In every era we have initially shunned the lepers. Our current day battle of course is poverty and Aids. It isn't difficult to see that much of the church has judged those with aids and closed our eyes to those in poverty. Jesus cared for the lepers. Christ put the poor at the head of the table while many of us have put them out of our minds.

Have you noticed the Lord has always sent prophetic voices that are outside of our comfort zones. They don't fit the picture we have in mind for God's spoke person. John the Baptist was a radical locus eating, fur wearing enigma. Think about Jeremiah, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther King and many others. Could it be the reason is that a well dressed man in a Pinstripe suit would hardly make us take notice. He would be more likely to be mowed down. However, the more obtrusive, unpolished vessels he often chooses are more like a splash of cold water in the face to jar us from our lackadaisical slumber.

We need to be awaken from our apathy and look for ways to make a difference. Lord, forgive us for our hardheartedness. Break our hearts with the things that break your heart and then cause us to take action!

Joy

Lord, come with your smile to meet me. I need it like I need the sun. You are always the smooth I need, in habitation with the rough. In your presence is fullness of joy, so that is the place I want to roam-get out of the stagnant stiff air. It's amazing how joy is the first thing to go when I'm making it on my own. It's amazing how the giggle in my heart won't play. I don't want to be trapped with the adults. I want to run where the children run. Where You joy to meet us and spray paint the walls with Your love. I'm so glad that you are at the helm running things. I don't have to depend on myself. I know your saying, "Kimber, please don't make that mistake." Your grace is sufficient for me. Help me drink it in today, drink in joy, joy, joy. I am so grateful that the Creator takes joy in me today. Joy like a boomerang comes flying back when I send it out to speak. Joy comes flying home when I release it's dance into my girlhood feet.

Done, Canceled, Forgiven

I woke up at 2:00am wrestling with my mistakes. Let’s just call it what it is, sin. The instrument of my punishment was not the consequences of my sin, because when remitted the lashes cease. The infliction jeering me was no other than the town- know- it- all, the neighbor on the corner peering through her smoky lenses, face pressed to my window with her finger pointed.

There’s no way to win with that kind of measuring stick. It’s just stacked against you from the get- go. I’ve been measured against it one too many times. I ran out to meet her with my hands flailing; I raised His scarred hands as if to say, “Look!” Suddenly the penalty wouldn’t stick. That old whipping post of a measuring stick was meaningless. He’d washed it all away. He hosed me down, bore my sin.

My confession never met His turned eyes or the “talk to the hand” grimace. I was given a grace refund. My account was cleared. He persuaded me with His love that nothing could separate us. I broke that measuring stick with those lines now red, too tall to measure. I jumped up and down in sweet release. He’s not a mortician carrying out my withered body; He’s my life giver, my solitary hope, my friend in blue jeans

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Got My Running Shoes On

OK, I finally did it! I quit putting off blogging. Of course my daughter had to walk me through the land mines. I've been told for quite a while that I needed to be blogging, being that I am a smitten writer. However, the leap was more intimidating than I expected. What intelligent thing do I have to say, right now on the spot? Sorry, not much. "There were good days, there were bad days..."

Today I felt pleasure as I set up the location of my Path workshop and continued to find others who are hungry for inspiration. Isn't everybody climbing out of their boxes and looking up these days? I was actually pushed out, but some of us are slow learners. I had no choice. The box was turned upside down. I could have laid there in my shock and stupor contemplating the view, but fortunately with a little wisdom I got up to avoid being stomped on as others sped by. The good news is that eventually, like a swift slap in the face I began to get back on the play ground. When you're splattered on the sidewalk you really find that there is only One whose love and patience is stellar enough to hang in there with you. Oh, how glad I am that I don't have to face the hard days alone on the cold cement.