Sometimes God waits entirely too long to fulfill His promises.
Sometimes it seems He just forgets and sits our prayer requests on the back burner with the heat off while other people’s requests are bubbling over with answers and blessings.
And sometimes you are 99 with crusty, dusty eggs and only memories of how your husband used to fondle you. Then here comes this BIG God with His BIG promises declaring, once again, that you’re going to have a baby. Sarah laughed in her heart and said “Shall I have pleasure seeing as I’m old, and my dear husband over there is older than me?” Yes, Mama Sarah. I understand why you laughed.
Sarah used her physical limitations to indict God. She was basically saying “Look, God. You waited too long. I stopped believing when my girly parts stopped working. I still love you, and I’ll still serve you, but there’s no point in believing Your promise any more.” Does your faith and willingness to believe have an expiration date or contingency clause like Sarah’s?
I’ve been praying that God would send one of my co-workers her mate. I won’t hash out any details about her, but I will say this. It’s clear that long ago she stopped believing for an answer to that prayer. If the greatest prophet walking on earth today told her that God was going to send her mate, she’d scoff and say “Shall I have the pleasure?” She has decided to no longer believe the promise for whatever reason, and her lack of faith hinders her expectation of something good.
I didn’t think I’d have pleasure because of my former nature. You may think you’re too old, too big, too skinny, too– whatever crazy things us women come up with to judge ourselves. God is moved by faith, not emotion or rational arguments. When God makes a promise, He’s able and willing to perform it. Don’t disqualify yourself with unbelief! Don’t frustrate your own destiny with doubtfulness and negativity! God’s Word is true!
Should you have the pleasure of a Godly mate?
Should you have the pleasure of bearing healthy, beautiful children?
Should you have the pleasure of divine health and fulfillment?
Should you have the pleasure of a bottomless bank account?
Should you have the pleasure of eating as much chocolate as you want never gaining a pound?
Yes, and amen.
May we submit our shortcomings and limitations to the Lordship of Christ and allow His grace to superabound in our lives. May we hold dear to the promises He’s made always trusting in His timing. I pray this post stirred up your faith to believe that you shall have pleasure.
Read and meditate on the following Scriptures to remind yourself of God’s goodness. You WILL have pleasure!
Isaiah 34: 16
Numbers 23: 19
With love, sincerity, and hope for your future,
Image courtesy of bee.creativesolutions at FreeDigitalPhotos.netRead More
A few months have passed since I wrote the post about the incubus and succubus spirits, and folks from all over the world (crazy, right?) have emailed me confessing that they’ve felt suffered from these attacks. Over the past few weeks, I’ve encountered some other sorts of spiritual attacks that are worth discussing.
It all started on a Tuesday afternoon. I was in the middle of a fast, and especially tired. I napped, dreamed about a friend, and woke up with crazy stomach pain. I couldn’t make it to service at church that night, so I watched it online and prayed along with the guest minister. I dozed and woke up around midnight from a vision…
I saw myself standing outside my apartment. There was no light anywhere except for at the door. I felt unsafe and heard people running and shouting up and down the street. I opened my apartment door and shouted “I can see you!” into the black night thinking it would ward off the strangers. Soon as the door opened I felt someone push past me into my apartment. When I looked inside, I saw a short figure with muscles running recklessly through my apartment. At that point I jumped out of my bed and began to pray. I warred in the spirit by praying in tongues for twenty minutes or so. After playing some worship music I dozed back to sleep confident that the evil spirit had been evicted. (Unlike dreams, visions are interactive. You experience them rather than just visualizing them. All of my physical senses were fully activated during this experience.)
Around 2:30 am I felt my body get incredibly hot. I tried to walk up the hallway to turn adjust the thermostat only to discover that I could not walk and could not see. I bounced from wall to wall until I hit my head forcefully on one wall and fell to the floor. I felt my mind beginning to slip, so I cried out to the Lord to help me. I knew that if I didn’t get off the floor I’d either end up in the hospital or worse. Thoughts of B&B being cared for by another sobered my thoughts and gave me the ability to cope with the pain. I crawled off the floor, turned down the heat, drank a glass of water, and passed out on the sofa. I could literally feel the intense heat lift out of my body.
The next day I stayed home to recover. The stomach pain lasted longer than expected, and I could hardly eat the rest of the week. That afternoon, one of my girlfriends called to tell me she woke up around 2:30am and felt the urgency to pray for me until 4 that morning. What if she had not obeyed? My God!
Three other spiritual dreams followed over the next month, but thankfully, they were less intense. In the second encounter I saw a beautiful, but evil young woman mocking me. I asked the Lord who this woman was, and He said “She’s the one taking your blessings.” I had seen her many times before in my dreams, but only this time was it brought to my conscious mind.
The third dream revealed a large woman who monitored everything I was doing to the point that created a hole between my home and hers so that she could hear and watch what I was doing. I’ve had dreams of this spirit since I was a very young child, but again, only now was it brought to my conscious mind.
This is a deep topic, but there are five points I want you get out of this post as it pertains to spiritual warfare.
There is more to come on this topic, but I’m curious to hear what’s going on in your spiritual life? Who are you seeing in your dreams and visions? What happens in your life before a breakthrough? I’m listening! Email me through the Contact page or at email@example.com.
With love, sincerity, and hope for your future,
Sometimes I sit and think of creative titles for posts when I really have nothing to write at the time. THIS is one of those posts. In the back of my mind I felt like I needed to address why my nails are seldom polished and why thongs ain’t really the move at this point in my life. Some ladies are top notch all the time. I might be top notch a good two to three days out of the week. Because life.
So today, the substance of the post came to me at church.. At the risk of ticking people off… a risk I’m willing to take… I’m going to deconstruct (read: rant about) one of THE most annoying things that a man can do to a woman.
I went to church this morning for a prayer service. I woke up with intercession on my mind, but the kids delayed me so I arrived 30 minutes after I had planned. Happens.
My hair was in a ponytail, and I was wearing light make-up. I was wide awake, but hardly feeling social enough to grin the way people are expected when they enter the house of the Lord. I don’t know if it was my serious demeanor (felt more “focused” to me), or the mannish nature of the speaker of the hour… but dear God… he rubbed me the wrooooooooong way.
His rebuke for the attendees’ untimeliness lingered into a story about a woman who often came to church unkempt. He felt it was a disservice to allow her to continue looking slovenly, so he told boldly told her “Men don’t like that. You need to do your hair. Paint your nails. Put on some make-up. ”
Now had any other person in the church told this story, I might have shouted in agreement. A woman should always look clean and well put together. But in this case, at this time, from this person, my only thought was “Sir, you are no prize yourself.”
To be perfectly clear, I have little issue with what the man said. The problem for me is how he said it, and the fact that he felt it was ok to retell it. Whatever happened to speaking the truth in love? Why does everything have to be a rebuke? Why the heck do you think I’m going to say “amen” to this foolishness? You don’t understand what that woman has going on in her life, and chances are, you don’t want to because making rash statements as the ones you made validates your masculinity. *coughs “lame”*
Every woman wants to look and feel beautiful. I’m no different.
There’s a woman deep inside of me that longs to have every hair in place from sun up to sun down. She wants to apply her mascara confidently, knowing that it won’t spread under her eyes and leave her looking like a sleepy raccoon by noon. She longs to smell like her $90 bottle of perfume until the time she takes her evening bath with oils of frankincense and myrrh. There’s a woman in me that wants to have her nails perpetually sparkling with OPI’s Hawaiian Orchid. She even hopes to wear light silky panties that are invisible beneath her slacks and curvy mom jeans.
That woman can dream.
But this woman– she’s cooking and cleaning, wiping boogers, scrubbing tubs, baking cookies, and fighting battles. If a chip in my nail polish indicates a lack of womanliness, I’m certain you haven’t looked deep enough. Take your shallow, non-discerning behind elsewhere. (Having said that, chipped polish is worse than no polish at all, so I seldom wear any at all.)
And if my panty lines (believe me, they drive me nuts too) aren’t as enticing as the jiggle that only reveals itself with meager undergarments, I have one thing to say to you. “EYES UP, MISTER!” These hindparts need medium to full coverage because I’m more than blessed– if you catch my drift.
Bottom line, ladies and gents… A woman or man should look good, but don’t let the superficial block you from seeing the true nature of that person. Before you know it, some fella is going to scoop that lady up, pay for my hair appointments and mani-pedis, and hire a maid to do all her cleaning just so she doesn’t chip my polish while a superficial suitor will end up with an attractive mate who is less than interested in meeting his or her needs.
I don’t need to preach any further, do I? Good, because I’m out of breath. *wipes sweat from brow & drops white hanky*
With love, sincerity, and hope for your future,
I was looking for a piece of paper with some illegible scribble. That was the only sign in my mind that my dishwasher was fixed. Everyday that I came home and found no paper I became more and more despondent about having to wash dishes by hand.
I had become fond of the paper. The one time I could decipher the scribble, it read “I fisc the hole.”
Fisc? Ok, sir. Thank you ever so much. Now can you fisc my dishwasher? I know you said the part had to be shipped, but it’s been over a week now. And I NEED that paper? I will have conquered another item on my list once I get that paper.
So for seven days I trudged into the house, glanced at the mess on the dining room table… no paper… no fisc-ing. By day eight, I had resolved to call the rental office to remind them of my suffering. How dare they leave me without my modern day convenience? Yep. I came in the house, saw no paper, and planned to make the call. I glanced in the kitchen and thought “Boy, it looks different in there” then headed to my room to get a power nap before homework and dinner.
At 5:30 someone banged on the door and the kids shouted that the maintenance man needed to speak with me.
“Do it work alriiight, ma’am?”
“Work? Does what work?”
“The dishwasher, ma’am. I fisc it today. You no knooow?”
I felt like a fool. How could I not notice the paper I had been looking for for days? I ran into the kitchen, again admiring its cleanliness. To my surprise, my dishwasher was running perfectly with all the kids’ dishes from breakfast, my KitchenAid mixing bowls, silverware, and God knows whatever else was floating around the sink.
He followed me into the kitchen and watched as I discovered his gift of kindness. I hugged him and thanked him profusely for his kindness. And then I asked…
“But where’s the paper?”
“No paper dis time. I just come and do it for you.”
I gushed… half from embarrassment and half from… well, no. All embarrassment. All those dishes. All that mess. And I didn’t even notice the mighty gift that was offered to me because I was looking for a sign.
A foolish and perverse generation seeks after a sign… (Matthew 16:4)
That’s what the Holy Spirit spoke to me. That’s the same thing Jesus said to the Pharisees and Sadducees when they asked him to do a magic trick to make them believe.
Let us not be so wicked in our hearts that we look for the sign rather than trusting in the goodness and faithfulness of the Father.
I thought this was a joke. Who would ever in their right mind think to squat lower than parallel especially with weights on his or her back? I didn’t mind doing it at home when the trainer made me. He’d chant “lower, lower, loooooower” until my rear nearly touched my heels. Whatever. I was only squatting my body weight, so it was feasible. But in the gym with seventy additional pounds on me? Nah. Wasn’t going to happen.
I scavenged the workout sites, myth pages, blogs, etc. They all said the same thing. To restore the former glory of my thighs, I had to squat lower than parallel. In-freaking-sane. I chugged my water and mentally prepared myself for the challenge ahead. Off to the gym I went with a protein mix in hand to help me recover from the damage I was about to do to my hein poss (that’s “hind parts” for you infrequent readers).
I went hard. One hundred pounds on the leg press… five sets of 12. Another one hundred on the abductor and adductor machines. Sixty reps each down for the count. Leg extensions… not too many pounds and minimal sets and reps. They hurt. On I mosied to the back extensions… long as my muscles loved me. One hundred twenty pounds was too easy. I thought about upping the weight but didn’t want to get cocky, so I played it cool. Then I knocked out some lower than parallel squats at 70 pounds. They hurt… dropped the weight to 60. Finished. I was still feeling good.
Really I was feeling great. I figured if I had to down a nasty protein shake I better give my body a reason to need it. I took my highfalutin heiny on over to the Freemotion Hammie machine. I had been eyeing it for a while and felt it call unto me like a pint of Graeter’s Mint Chocolate Chip. I set the weight to 15 pounds, secured my right foot and squeaked out 5 reps. Repeated on the left side. Turned. Took a step. Cheeks locked up ass-aptually.
Out of stride and with awkward motion I stepped right and left in tiny gaits to minimize the pain. The children saw me coming to pick them up and waved for me to hurry. I had to stop in shame and hang my head. A little baby tear streamed down my cheek but mixed in with the sweat. No one could know how badly I was hurting. One of the workers opened the door for me at which point I sat my locked up hein poss on the cool floor and rolled it around in agony. Poor Brandon was mortified.
I’m not easily embarrassed, but I felt sorry for my kiddo. Not nearly as sorry as I felt for my hot achy muscles, but I tried not to cry aloud for his sake. The child care worker ran to the front desk to grab me a singular ice pack. I guess she didn’t realize I have two cheeks like most human beings. I slid the ice pack down into my pants, chomped on a banana, and enjoyed the relief. Before leaving I requested another ice pack, and away I went with my two babies and two large ice packs tucked safely away in my drawers. I really gave the fellas a show.
You guys know I have a gift for turning my foolishness into a lesson. Here goes… in 100 words or fewer!
Second, if you want to see any real change in your areas of weakness you have to go lower than parallel… proverbially speaking of course. You have to dig deeper. Go past the point that seems to make the most sense. Cast aside the status quo. It may hurt immediately. It may hurt later. But when you’re finished, stop what you’re doing and rest. Rests some more, then reflect. Then do it all over again.
You’ll be happy to know that my cheeks have fully recovered and are, in fact, rounding out to my satisfaction. I’ll be back in the gym Saturday after eating a few properly balanced meals at which point I will avoid like the plague that dang Freemotion Hammie machine. Choose ye this day which battles to fight!
With love, sincerity, and hope for your thick fiit thighs (if that’s your sort of thing),