Wednesday, March 16, 2005

In the silence of my mind, for it is truly the only place of silence, I sift through my thoughts and memories. Places filled with joy, with hope, with sorrow, with laughter. While sorting through my mothers belongings, how I miss her so, I found the words of my cousin Tamra. She died at the age of 21 from the same cancer my mother was healed from. It is strange to me why the Lord would let a 74 year old woman be healed when she was told there was no hope, and let a 19 year old die. It is his will and not my own. I want to replicate her thoughts here where all may read them. May they have a profound affect on your soul as they did on mine. Here they will be immortalized for all to read. Unbeknownst to her, her faith was her ministry. She clung to every wisp of hope the Lord offered until her death. She never faltered in the eyes of those around her. What greater testament could there be?

Words from the journal of Tamra Lyn Wright, 03/21/1982 - 11/11/2003

September 4, 2003
The reality check is that it"s not about what we want. It's all about what God wants. Pastor said it the other day on TV. He said if you haven't asked the question yet, you will, "God, what do you want?" He'll bring you to a place where He asks "will you lay down what I promised to obey me now?" Most often what he is requiring at that given moment is to sacrifice what it is He promised. We seek Him. He declares a promise/prophecy regarding our lives. We then begin to do everything in our power to make that happen -- Faith without works. Through impossible circumstances God delivers what He promised whether it"s in the form and fashion we expected or not and then He does what seems as a completely out of character move. He requires that we take that promise, put in on the alter of sacrifice and kill it with our own hand. I think for a lot of us, here is where we stagger. We know what God has said and believe without a doubt we come to the point where we see it manifest. Our faith is tangible, but then when obedience meets the unforeseen instead of looking up and seeing the Son, we look away, take a step back and try and reason with God.

We tell Him, "You promised this. You are the one that called me into the ministry. I was happy doing what I was doing." But God you said, "I didn't ask for any of this." "All I've done is be obedient to you and now you want me to sacrifice the fulfillment of the promise you made." "God I don't understand." God sits there silently waiting for our obedience -- we can't see He has provided a Ram in the thicket. We can"t see the significance of simple obedience anymore.

We get to this point when obedience is cool, when it makes sense, but the moment God requests/requires us to do that which is far beyond our line of sight, we, unlike Abraham, stagger. Not to worry or feel condemned though, God is still waiting at the altar -- put the promise back and watch as God miraculously moves.

Sometimes in our passionable pursuit of His promises they become more important than Him. We guard them with our very lives, which we should, but He who gave it in the first place requires it aback -- it is not ours to hold onto. I'm not saying we just throw away everything God has given us, but which is more important, the promise in whatever form whether seedling or fully manifested or the promise given? This isn't a test we take once. It can easily be part of the the daily taking up of one's cross. Our lives acknowledge His lordship, we relinquish all rights. Though we are now absolved and have full access to all that Christ bought back on Calvary, it sill belongs to God. As the old cliche goes "Father knows best."

When your flesh becomes your master, you become a slave to sin.

If you are at a point where you cannot tell your flesh no at any given time, regarding any given thing, then you are in trouble and heading down a dangerous road. Your spirit no longer has ascending and you are probably not being led by the Holy Spirit.

September 12, 2003
I think it's often the silent tears that ring the loudest in Heaven's ears.

The silent tears that carry the secret burdens of my heart. The ones I'm not even sure what they say. But, my Daddy knows. As he catches every one of them they tell Him the story. The story of everything that has ripped at my core. That which causes to want to hide and cower in the corner. Not all of them tell of the horrors, many express the deepest gratitude, that which mortal words couldn't even find a syllable for. The greatest linguists of every generation combined would bury their heads in hopelessness at one attempt to express that of which a single word never utters. The silent tears. Sometimes in life things happen that cause us to grow silent, yet we have to express ourselves. It is then often at the moments of breaking that the flood of language burst forth. Not a single audible word spoken and yet a thousand things said. God is in the business of tears. He's an expert in the language. I'm eternally glad because all I really want as these silent tears stream down is for Him to hear my heart's cry. "Oh God you are my God and earnestly I seek you."

Out of me depths of my soul, my heart cries for the ever-living God. Not for a need to be met, not because the storm rages. or my enemies have surrounded me, but simply my life is nothing without Him. Nothing matters without Him, without His presence. I have stood in the presence of some great men and threw them all away for moments with Him. Yet, how often I throw His priceless invitations for momentary pleasures that really frustrate more than fulfill. We foolishly think that God's void can simply be filled with some fleshy treat. They act like numbing serum and slowly numb the area around our void making us feel momentarily staisfied and yet we are still empty or there may be residue of an event or an experience. For the vast majority it's empty not because it isn't present but because we miss the daily filling. We are not to be empty but overflowing. We are to give from abundance, not lack. We shouldn't have to drop the bucket into our well and fish out a drink for the thirsty. We should be overflowing our banks so any who walk by can simply drink. Do not worry about the fiery trials, as your well is dug deeper the fresher and more satisfying it will be. Out of the depths I cry not for a superficial temporal fling, but for my eternal lover, the one who knows my sould through and through, just to be with Him -- just to feel His touch again. It's not the anointing that drives me, it's simply His presence. We don't have to say anything, just be together.

How can you not stop and reflect on these words? How often have you cried and longed for his presence? We all chase after the brimming cup. Drink deeply and be filled.
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