Help along the Way

I'm standing at the top of the stairs of the 23rd Street subway in Manhattan with a suitcase weighing about 23kg and small but heavy backpack on my shoulders. I took my time walking the three or so blocks from the hostel as I had been struggling with asthma for a while and frankly just didn't have the lung capacity to go faster than quite slow. 

Deb had left a couple of days earlier so I was solo on this next leg of the journey. The last time I faced these stairs she was there to help me, thank God for her. She even carried our suitcases up no less than four flights of stairs and back down again at our hostel, one at a time off course. Phew! What a friend. Thank you Deb. But this time it was just me...and God. Deb had been praying for me and she messaged to say she had had a picture from Holy Spirit that someone would help me with my bag at the subway. Thank God. Armed with that encouragement I mustered all my strength and ungracefully pulled the suitcase up one heave at a time from the locker storage to street level. 

So there I was slightly out of breath from my walk to the station and facing two flights of subway stairs. I grabbed hold of the suitcase as best I could and started precariously down the stairs. I had to stop and catch lots of breaths and honestly struggled to even move the bag again to get ready for the second flight. As I stumbled with it, a man going past said, I'll help you with that. So I carried one end, or tried to and he the other. I think he just carried it all really, I simply couldn't. The help that was promised came.

It was only a couple of stops before I got to the bus terminal I needed to be at. After alighting the train, I stood at the bottom of another few flights of stairs. There was a throng of people backed up behind me as they waited for me to ascend or rather get out of the way. Suddenly, a man behind me said, 'Miss! Miss! There's a ramp over there'. There is! Thank you, thank you! The help continued to come. I got out of the way as quickly as I could and found the ramp. Ah what bliss! I wheeled my bag up what would have been three flights, slowly and gratefully.  

I had booked my bus ticket online and had an online reservation to show however there was a stipulation that it had to be printed. Really? How old fashioned. I had no means of printing the ticket before I got there so I was hoping to get it printed at the terminal. I stood in the line - it's not queue here, it's the line - to ask for a printout and the lady sent me to another office where I found, to my surprise, computer terminals and printers for the specific purpose of...printing tickets - how helpful! It wasn't one of those where you put in your reference number and out pops a ticket, you actually logged onto your email account and printed off a PDF version from your emails. Strange to me but if this elaborate facility was available, I was so grateful to use it as the last thing I wanted was to be denied a journey because of a lack of a printed ticket. So I happily got my ticket printed, briefly checked my emails (who wouldn't) and started making my way to the gate.

As I walked along towards gate 30 a man approached me and said, which gate are you going to, I said, 30. He said, I'll help you. I hesitated a moment and thought, does he work for the bus company or the terminal? He isn't dressed for either. But he had apprehended my suitcase by then and walked with gusto toward gate 30. Meanwhile I was praying that he wouldn't steal my bag and that he would slow down. So before we get to gate 30, there is another long set of guess what...yes that's right stairs. There was an escalator up to the terminal but not down to the gate. So I thought I'd better take my bag and do the necessary. But the man said, don't worry I'll carry it for you. He took me right to gate 30 and there I was standing in line, breathing as normal and steadying myself from the slight nervousness of what was going to happen to me and my bag. 

I had received some money for my travels earlier that day, which was a miracle of provision. I had asked Holy Spirit where to sow the first of what I had received and awaited His direction. After the man had helped me to gate 30, he asked, do you have a tip for me? Instantly I knew, my first fruits were to be sown into this man. Yes, I do! I had exactly the amount Holy Spirit told me to give in a single note for him. He thanked me kindly and off he went again. The help just kept coming. It was an interesting intervention as the man was well spoken, well dressed and polite. I'm stereotyping here but this man didn't look at all like someone who needed to make a few bucks carrying heavy suitcases around the bus terminal. An angel?!

I make my way onto the bus and sit at a window seat, every one wants the window seat right! As the bus fills up a young man asks if he could sit next to me. Off course you can, I said, so he did. I thank God these days for the ability to charge phones on the move. But neither of the power outlets near my seat would work. So the young man next to me notices my struggle and offers to charge my phone from his laptop. Really? Yes! Really.

The kindness of God knows no boundaries. In EVERY step He watched over me that day and always does, every day.

Psalm 121 (ESV) says: 

I lift up my eyes to the hills and ask where does my help come from? 

My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. 

He will not let your foot be moved, he who keeps you will not slumber. 

Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. 

The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade on your right hand.

The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.

The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.

Papa God, I marvel at Your goodness, Your kindness. You reveal Yourself through so many things in each day, oh that our eyes may be kissed by Holy Spirit to see it. Thank You! 

Come away My beloved

Seeing is believing. So the saying goes, so most of us live. If you're satisfied that what you see is what you will get and all you will get, then changing to accommodate anything outside of what you see is going to be difficult. 

On recommendation from a friend, I watched the movie Lucy last year, then again recently. I remember the first time I watched it, as Lucy discovered that she could access parts of her brain she didn't even know existed and therefore access realms of possibilities that were previously inaccessible to her, my hope of seeing beyond what I currently see increased exponentially. The three dimensional existence we find ourselves in is not the greatest existence we could hope to have. The current capacity at which we use our brain is not the optimum capacity it could function at. There is so much more than this current reality. Off course we know there is more than just three dimensions and sure we know we are not using our full brain potential. But is this knowing sufficient to induce curiosity enough for us to investigate further? Or does it merely give us another reason to put off into the future what we could actually access now? We are created to know more, to know more, is to know God. 

Our tendancy is to look at time, space and matter and marvel so much at what we see that we become satisfied with the mere existence of those things, with the created thing. We gasp at people who can access more than 2% of their brains and what ridiculously amazing things they can say, do, invent or formulate and we stand in awe of intellect, of the brain, the created thing. What about the One who created time, space and matter...and our brains. Are all of these visible things an invitation to know the Creator of all things, visible and invisible?

2 Corinthians 4:18 (KJV)

While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.

As I travel to the nations and meet believers, some very hungry to know Father God more, I see more often than not, a lack of simply spending time in His presence. Most believers don't know how to do this. We know how to pray, intercede, sing and sing in tongues, worship, praise, fall to our knees. But just being in His company, just letting yourself go to Him and simply be with Him with no agenda, no sense of obligation, letting His love engulf you, feeling His delight, few of us seem to know. 

There has been much taught about making time for God which usually entails praying, reading the bible, studying etc. none of these are wrong unless they come from a sense of ritual, of obligation: I must do this or else I will not be close to God, this is how I abide in Him and how He therefore abides in me. Is there anything stimulating or exciting about forcing yourself to read the bible, especially when you're tired? Doesn't the living Word eventually become just a text that you have to get through. God is not boring. I have found the best thing I can do with my time with God, is be with God. 

Imagine having a friend that was really good at software programming. Every time you need a programming question answered, you call up your friend and suggest hanging out. You spend the entire time asking question after question gleaning as much information as you can from your friend. You end the time with more knowledge about the subject you talked about but no more knowledge about your friend. There was no intimacy in that time between you, you didn't ask about them, you weren't interested in the person because your intention wasn't to spend time with them for who they are but to spend time with their knowledge. Yes we have questions and God is interested in them but that shouldn't be the basis, the focal point of spending time with Him. Drawing close to Him for who He is instead of what He can share with you or what He can do for you, doesn't do much to engender intimacy and affection.

I heard Bill Johnson say once, 'here I am God, becoming the object of Your love'. The more we want is contained within our eternal God, who is beyond time, space, matter, logic, reason or gravity. Just meeting with Father God and allowing myself to be drawn into His embrace, His affection is as necessary as breathing. Allowing my imagination to journey with Him, surf the wave of His presence, is where my cup not only gets filled but overflows. In that overflow, my questions disappear as I am full, satiated, complete. Yet, He knows the questions I have. He is not opposed to answering my questions. In my time with Him, He reveals mysteries to me, of things that are, of things to come, He delights in revealing the secrets of His Kingdom to us. It is in this place He births a hunger to know even more, to explore the innumerable facets His heart. The fruit of getting to know Him establishes identity in us. Out of this place of peace and intimacy He will sometimes point us to His word, showing us the hidden depth that is impossible to perceive with 2% of our brains when we read our bible last thing at night after a long, tiring day. 

In His presence, we go beyond the natural, beyond what is seen, beyond the temporal.

2 Corinthians 5:1 (ESV)

​For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

There is a simultaneous process that should be happening as we walk with God. Just as our tent (body) is wearing away, there should be a greater reality, an awareness that what is being formed in the spirit within us is increasing. The former will perish. The latter is eternal. If we allow Father God to father us, allow ourselves to become like children, eager to be loved, eager to be taught, to learn, we will access the more we know is accessible, but normally beyond our reach, through our hunger to know Him. There is a quality to this earthly existence that can only be gained from the eternal realm of God. That is the life Jesus came to give us, He said, 'The thief comes not except to steal and to kill and to destroy, I come that they might have life and life more abundantly,' 

Let's look at this verse briefly. 

Who are 'they' - us, who believe. 

'Might' - Jesus didn't say, we will have, He said, might. In the Greek, this word might is echō: to 'lay hold of, to possess, to hold one's self to a thing' - we can have life if we lay hold of it, there is a choice.

'Life more abundantly' - in the Greek this is perissos: exceeding some number or measure or rank or need and superior, extraordinary, surpassing, uncommon. 

We do not merely exist. For those who believe, we have life and life that is exceedingly superior, extraordinary, surpassing and uncommon. How? Through the body and blood of Jesus Christ. He has satisfied all requirements that we never could and having become that sacrifice, He perfected death, once for all, and is now seated at the right hand of God the Father, who is absolutely pleased with His Son, and guess where we are on all this? Seated in the Son. Let us explore the place we share with Him. 

Daddy!

Sunday morning. I'm at church. Not any church. An Episcopalian church. Say what? The answer I got was that it's just like the Church of England, Wales or Scotland except it's called episcopal over in the USA. Sometimes you go to one of these hard to pronounce denominations and they do this stand up, sit down, stand up routine (it's not a comedy) and I wondered if this was that sort of church. My friend assured me it was not. 

So here we were on a Sunday morning in Charleston. Yes, Charleston, South Carolina. Immediately, I think, gosh The Notebook was filmed there right? Cringe. Did I just say that. Okay I'm a hopeless romantic and yes I know it's only a movie. But still. Anyway, to lend to the ambience it was a balmy spring day, I wore my lovely floral dress and had had slightly more sleep than previous nights. I was all set for the modern episcopalians. The worship was wonderful, music I could relate to and therefore lose myself in it with Father God. The teaching was succinct, wonderful, real meat one could sink one's teeth into. There was no waffling, I liked it, a lot. I was even paying attention. All was going well. 

Then the kids came back from Sunday school. A little red headed girl ran to her parents sitting a couple of rows ahead of us. Her beautiful burnished, red hair was in a quirky ponytail. She got on the seat next to her dad so excitedly and just snuggled as tightly as she could into his side. Her dad kissed her hair over and over again and she just loved it. I didn't realise I was watching them as intently as I was until tears streamed down my face, no ebb, just a continuous flow. Still I watched them and this little girl stayed with her dad, enjoying him enjoying her. Suddenly, right then, I knew I missed that. Not that I had had that kind of affection with my dad when I was that age, or any age. I do remember once sitting on the couch with my dad, head next to him and he stroked my hair. I'm guessing I was in my twenties. I don't think it was a long time that I lay there but I remember it because it happened just that one time. 

I remember another time when my dad was really ill in the hospital. I went to visit him on an afternoon and as I entered his room he put out his hands to me. A genuine affection, not just held in the heart but displayed. That moment will stay with me all my days on earth. A father's embrace is irreplaceable. Even as I write this, I long to have a dad that will kiss my hair, that I will return to bouncing and happy and snuggle into his side, totally trusting that he loves me completely. But reality is, I don't. It doesn't matter how old you are, you will still want it. That pang of lost moments and the heart longing for the sanctuary God designed a dad to be doesn't just disappear. 

I've noticed people who have had a really loving dad have a certain sweetness about them. There's something positively hopeful about them, at least, most of the time. They like smiling and they do it often. They are genuinely nice people. I've never seen myself that way, nice and sweet. Yet, I've had some people actually say that to me. They've even accused me of being gentle, loving and kind. Genuinely meaning it. It's sometimes incredulous to me as it is not how I see myself. But I am learning not to look with my earthly eyes but to look with the eyes of the spirit. Because I do have a Father's love. I do have it unconditionally, no matter what I do or don't do, how I dress or how I speak or act. He loves me, always. He's not in a good mood one moment and in a bad mood another, He's unchanging, always excited to spend time with me, delighted in me. I don't have to work for His love and I don't have to wait for him to have a good day to love me. And though right now He isn't a flesh and blood dad, He is real. He is more than flesh and blood. I have access to His love, affection and presence whenever I want. He's not going to change His mind and He isn't going to die. 

The more I spend time with Him, the more sweet I become. The more I hang out with Him, the more I snuggle into His side and let Him kiss my face and take pleasure in me, the more secure in Him I am. I'm exposing myself to His radical love. Sometimes its tangible, like a slight pressure in my ear, heat in my hands and feet or on my face. Sometimes it's a tingling. Sometimes it's just incredible peace that settles over me like an invisible cloak. Other times it's great joy. So when I saw that little girl run to her daddy, so trusting, so completely safe with him, even though it tears at my heart not to have a loving dad like that, I know I can run into my heavenly Father's arms and remain for as long as I need to, He's always there, ready to envelope me. He is my safe place and with Him I have complete peace. His love is irreplaceable. 

Thank You Abba for loving me so well right into sweetness. 

I went up to the dad and mom of that little redheaded sweetheart and though it was hard to speak, I mumbled, thanks for being such great parents. An orphan spirit can be crushed with the love of Father in a father.