Blogging… hmmmm… I remember blogs.   My favorite two things about blogging are:

1. To read my faraway (and nearer) friends’ blogs and feel that closeness and day to day journey again – something you just can’t have when you have four states in between you (or more) – and I really do miss you guys, just so you know… and that day to day glimpse into each other’s hearts and lives something that is even hard in the world of night and day prayer (even though we’re in the same city) for moms with little ones trying to spin so many plates at once in a world where nothing stops (24 hours a day, 7 days a week)
2. I love writing and I love looking back and remembering what Noah did that day or how the Lord touched my heart during that particular time

Yet, sometimes, like the last however many months, you just don’t feel like blogging or at least I don’t.  Anyone know what I mean?   (Especially when you are an introvert like me — an INFJ for all you Meyers Briggs fans).   I have to FEEL it to express it and I have to be a bit out of my cave.   So what brought me out of my cave of late?

Simple.  10 YEARS of night and day prayer.  I’m just a mess over it : )

Ten years… night and day and day and night, no matter the hour… or as my much more eloquent husband says in a yet-to-be-released publication (that he might not be so thrilled about me posting on the world wide web), “If you happened to wander in at 3am on a Sunday or 5pm on a Wednesday you would discover a room longer than it is wide, large enough to hold only several hundred grey chairs.  At the front is a small platform where roughly ten souls, most of whom haven’t yet reached twenty-five years, play instruments and lift their voices in a flowing dance of structure and spontaneity mingled with interjections of spoken prayers.  Before them an assembly of people that ebbs and flows in size sits not looking at them but beyond them, offering supplication and praise to the One who alone is worthy of this incessant attention.”

And the reason for this phenomenon?  Well, I can tell you this… it’s not about a cool ministry or cool music (cuz ahem… we’re not that cool, people, trust me).  It’s not about the right marketing strategy or big conferences (cuz um, well, I won’t say anything about that).  Night and day prayer is about Heaven.  It’s about wanting things on earth as they are in Heaven.  And Heaven is a real place that is utterly centered around one Triune Person… the living God.  Our beloved Jesus Christ, the Worthy One, preeminent and supreme in all things for all time, in Whom we live and breath and have our being, by Whom and for Whom all things that were made were made, He is before all things and in Him, all things hold together.  “Night and day prayer is not a testimony to human dedication but rather to the power of the majesty of Jesus to ensnare weak hearts and hold them fast in unending preoccupation.”  (Stephen Venable)

This is where my heart has been feasting these last few weeks… in not just Kansas City, but the many expressions and witnesses God has risen up all over the earth to declare one thing, “Jesus Christ is worthy.”  More worthy than our wealth, more worthy than all the opportunities to ignore Him, more worthy than our ministries, more worthy than our egos, more worthy than the rulers of the earth… worthy, worthy, worthy is the Lamb, the One that was and is and is to come.

On September 19th, here in Kansas City, we celebrated 10 years of unceasing worship and prayer in our community.  Of which, I have been blessed to be a part of 8 1/2 of them.  I so remember first coming here… which is a crazy story that I won’t go into.  But I came from a VERY nice church and let’s face it in Texas, we just do things… well, BIG.  So I came with a certain “assumption” of what the International House of Prayer would look like.  And well, let’s just say it was not what I expected.  It was the “stable” as some like to call it… it was – well, it was a trailer.  That’s it.  I think I was like the 30-something’th person on staff.  And now, ten years later, we are bursting at the seams (in thousands) with I don’t even know how many properties – all with crazy God stories as to why we even have them (like Harry Truman’s land that was sold to us by a Jewish man) and crazy stories like that.   So much has changed in 10 years.   But what brought me to tears as we celebrated these last 10 years were not all the changes and all the testimonies of how far God has brought us over a decade… but the flame.  The fire in men and women and children’s hearts that brings them day after day after night after night back to the place of prayer and of worship… the testimony of Christ that is whispered in the walls of that building over on Red Bridge and the fragrance that rises toward Heaven… His gaze peering back at us, weak and broken and striving human beings that we are, yet He sees and knows and loves.  That mighty flame… loving and being loved by God Himself… prayers offered by the saints in accordance with His will… it remains.  That is simply stunning to me.  Everything around us might be changing, but the reality that binds us together is unchanging, eternal, unfailing… Jesus Christ is worthy… He is supreme.

In addition, during this ten-year celebration, the Lord put on the hearts of the leadership team that this the time to start 24/7 works of Justice.   Justice being outreach of all sorts – from simple evangelism to a Women’s Life Center to rescue, support and help victims of the sex-trafficking trade to Orphan Justice and adoption to an inner city mission center and prayer room as well as many other ministries flowing out of the place of night and day supplication for the mercy of God.  The center and heartbeat of the International House of Prayer will always, always be night and day prayer and worship.  All other realities flow out of that singular calling the Lord has put at the heart of this ministry.  Yet, I so feel the answer and kindness of the Lord to us in this season to grow even deeper in the place of prayer and in the 1st commandment by diving deeper into the 2nd commandment.   My heart has been really stirred by compassion and service flowing from the reality of night and day prayer… something I hope to write about a little more in the weeks ahead if I can find time.  Aslan is on the move… : )

Here are a few fun videos remembering the last 10 years that were showed during the celebration services:

The last 24 hours have been FULL and oh so RICH with friendship, family and fun.  A picture’s worth a thousand words so I’ll leave you with ten thousand : )

Candlers & Venables (minus kids)

Me & Dana with the kids (boys didn’t want to sit still, of course)

Noah and Daddy throwing pine cones into the river

Noah with his favorite girl, Madison

Mommy & Noah

Campfire and roasting marshmallows

Smores : )

Yummy : )

Coffee, smores, campfires, mountains, and bff’s… nothin’ but the best for us : )

Friends to the end

Madison, Dana & baby girl Candler (in the womb) on the boat at Dillon Lake

The captain and his boy

Unbelievable views

My cute boy

Father and daughter moment… so sweet

Noah and David playing a game with Matt

Matt throwing David overboard… just kidding (the water is about 40 degrees)

Sweet friends – Madison and Noah

They are super cute together… Noah ADORES Maddie

At Sapphire Point

Multi-tasking Matt

Noah and the chipmunks

Noah feeding his first chipmunk

On this day four years ago, Stephen and I went out for a short hike in the mountains of New Mexico…

And right about now, I was praying and weeping in a waiting room at a hospital in Espanola, New Mexico, while Stephen was in emergency surgery and the doctors were trying to save his foot and ankle.  (For those of you that don’t already know this, he fell off of a 30-foot cliff face and had both an open, compound fracture and a pilon fracture of his right ankle). 

Today, as a redemptive “celebration” to mark that awful day in our history, Stephen and Matt and our boys (Noah and David) went for a hike in the mountains of Summit County, Colorado.  No falls, just fun… and for Stephen, a little bit of redemption (and as you can see from the picture below, simply stunning).  They were really close to the tree line.  So from valleys to mountain tops… our pilgrimage continues and our joy overflows.

I have to say I had a lot of feelings before the hike… none of them remotely rational, because this hike was neither difficult nor dangerous… but it was the first time Stephen had done something quite like this since the fall AND he was taking our little boy with him.   My whole world went up on that mountain for a hike today, you know?  But it was good; and it was a gift to Stephen and a memory for him and Noah.  So I’m glad they went.  Dana, Madison and I went for a drive and ended up at an outlet mall (of all places : ))… so we had a good girls date too.

These two pictures are of Madison and Noah playing together — putting packets of sugar on their heads and giggling.  Noah LOVES Maddie… though I think it would be impossible NOT to love Maddie, or David for that matter.  They are the greatest kids ever, so much fun and so good for Noah.  Right after this, Noah and Maddie were rubbing noses and hugging… we tried to get a picture but none of them came close to portraying the cuteness and sweetness of that moment.

Last night, we all gathered at the ranch Matt and Dana are staying at in Breckenridge for some steaks and brownies… and had SO much fun as you can see.

Our view from the dinner table.

This is my Noah-bear, who always wants things in their proper place, trying to put the pine cones back on the tree : )  I’m not sure where or who he might have inherited that from… ha ha : ) 

Yummy brownies, oh yeah.

We are here in Colorado on our annual trip to the mountains… so LOVE it here.   This year, the Candlers are up here too for part of the time, which is simply the best.   Beautiful mountains, wonderful climate, favorite friends, and long days enjoying Jesus and each other… really, there is nothing better.

Noah and Fluffles hanging out in our room…

That would be Noah’s fake camera smile.   I love him… he’s such a trip.

The “back yard”, aka the forest of Breckenridge around 10,000 feet, at the house where the Candlers are staying this weekend.  Unbelievable.

The kids had so much fun picking flowers and exploring, climbing and jumping… really endless adventures to be had when your backyard is a forest.

Magnificent mountain Maddie.

Best buds.

Aren’t they the cutest little guys ever?!   Noah is on your left and David Cai is on the right.  They look like they are somehow related, don’t they?

Stephen recently wrote this article for the Sacred Charge website giving a vision for prevailing faith, and it absolutely provoked my heart… so I wanted to share it with all of you.   Enjoy and I pray it will exhort your hearts to believe as much as it did my own.  — Karli

The body of Christ in every generation must stand at a similar crossroads.  As we read of the power of the Holy Spirit in the New Testament and feel the painful disparity between what we find on those pages and what we have known in our experience, what will we do?  This question confronts us both individually and corporately, and though we may evade its pursuit for a season, at some point we must turn and reckon with its probing force.  While much could be written of the marvelous works Jesus performed in and through the apostolic church, only a cursory journey through the middle portion of the book of Acts is necessary to shine the light on the barrenness of Western Christianity in the 21st century. 

In a mere five verses in the fifth chapter, we are informed that signs and wonders were so prevalent that those who were in need from the cities surrounding Jerusalem were brought to the feet of the apostles and the sick were even laid out in the streets in the hope that Peter’s shadow might fall upon them.  The result was that multitudes of men and women were added to the Lord (v 14) and all who came found healing and deliverance in His precious name (v 16).  In verse 19 of Acts 5, the apostles are miraculously freed from imprisonment by an angel.  Acts 6:8 describes how Stephen, who was simply responsible for distributing food and not actually one of the apostles, “did great wonders and signs among the people.”  After baptizing the Ethiopian convert, Philip was caught up by the Spirit and transported to a different city (8:39-40).  In the next chapter a man who was paralyzed is healed through the ministry of Peter, followed by the remarkable account of the raising of a woman named Tabitha from the dead in the city of Joppa (9:36-43).  The night before he was to be executed, an angel came to Peter in prison and escorted him out of bondage into safety (12:5-19).  In a similar vein, Paul and Silas found themselves beaten and in shackles for the cause of Christ when suddenly a great earthquake shook the prison and released them from their chains (14:25-34).  As the story continues to unfold we are told that “God worked unusual miracles by the hand of Paul, so that even handkerchiefs or aprons were brought from his body to the sick, and the diseases left them and the evil spirits went out of them (19:11-12).” 

Furthermore, Divine communication is riddled throughout the tale of the first generation of followers of Christ.  Jesus appeared to Stephen at his death, to Paul at his conversion, and to Ananias with instructions to restore Paul’s sight (7:56; 9:5; 9:10 respectively).  Cornelius the centurion was visited by an angel in an open vision, after which Peter was caught up in a trance while in prayer (10:3, 10).  Agabus prophesied of a famine that would come upon the land, the apostolic mission to the gentiles was directed to go to Macedonia through a vision in the night, and the Lord Jesus appeared again to Paul in order to encourage his heart (11:28; 16:9; 18:9).  The testimonies go on and on, and this is not even highlighting the astonishing power of the Holy Spirit present in the preaching of the early Church.

By contrast the sick in our midst almost always stay sick, regardless of whether one is ‘evangelical’ or ‘charismatic’.  In other words, possessing a rhetoric which includes the power of the Spirit is not at all synonymous with the reality of it.  Though profoundly grateful for what the Lord has done, at IHOP-KC alone over the last few years we have had the privilege of standing in prayer with four dear souls in their struggle against terminal cancer… each one of them glorified Jesus by loving Him well as they lost that battle and died.  Not surprisingly we don’t find diseased and tormented unbelievers flocking to our churches as they did to the apostles and their followers.  We don’t even have the opportunity to be miraculously delivered from prison because our witness is not powerful enough to evoke the resistance from the world to put us in fetters.  While the diluted, culturally assimilated proclamation going forth from so many pulpits in the land may be effective at making ‘seekers’ feel comfortable, we know nothing of words so laden with heavenly power that thousands are cut to the soul and conquered by the glory of Christ (Acts 2:37).   And though there seems to be more people than ever with the word ‘prophet’ in front of their name, few and far between are those men and women who truly stand in the counsel of the Lord and declare His word in truth.

This is not the context to develop either the biblical theology of healing or that of suffering (both of which we have the propensity to monumentally err on), or to try to unearth the causes of the absence of the Spirit in our utterance.  Still from this juxtaposition at least one thing should be clear – we are missing something.  And thus we arrive once more at the question posed at the outset: what will we do?  Sadly the most common response throughout history has been the path of least resistance, accepting the way things are and explaining away the dissonance between the Bible and what we have known by putting the New Testament in a different category theologically.  In effect this puts the book of Acts high on a shelf to be admired and applauded but never emulated or sought after.  Yet as our generation stands at the crossroads there is another option.  It is the difficult way, and surely the road less traveled, but the one we must embrace.  In opting for this lonely path we are allowing our hearts to be torn over the vision for the fullness of the Spirit and daring to believe in what we have never seen.  Instead of finding a shallow peace with the way things are, we elect instead to throw ourselves into the crushing tension of intercession where we contend in faith for the way God desires them to be.  This posture is that which embodies and undergirds the fourth value of the IHOP heart-standards – Prophetic, or prevailing faith, as Mike Bickle has often said over the years.  To prevail in our stand for the power of God does not mean that we are free from doubt, or that we do not grow weary, but simply that the slow passage of time without the answer we seek does not extinguish our tears and prayers for God to break through.  In the end, our conviction in the mercy of Jesus and His passion to pour out His Spirit triumphs over the weakness of our own hearts and years of waiting.

For me the revelation of the Lord’s desire to release His power today and not just on the pages of history came like an avalanche as I discovered the writings of Smith Wigglesworth and John G. Lake during my college years.  At the time I did not realize how deeply my heart was being marked by the vision for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, nor was I aware of how much my motivation for His power needed to be purified and how much the desire to see signs and wonders would be tested.  Even in the ten short years that have intervened, I have found it increasingly difficult to avoid becoming calloused and to keep my heart soft and broken over our barrenness.  Zeal is cheap, but endurance is costly.  Yet through the pain of perseverance, I have gained clearer perspective on how we must contend for power from on high.  Revival does not exist to cure the chronic boredom we wrestle with nor to enlarge our churches so we can finally feel a sense of significance in the landscape of ministry.  In the Divine heart the unleashing of His miraculous might upon a city or nation is unto the glory of Christ and compassion for hurting people.  Unless our hearts are aligned with these two purposes, we will likely not prevail in our faith and if revival does come we will almost certainly be crushed by the pressure that accompanies authentic power.  God insisted upon this final heart standard in the DNA of this movement because He is so zealous for the exaltation of His Son and so filled with tenderness and mercy for the sick and the oppressed as they suffer.  These currents in His heart are just as strong now as they were when the apostles turned the world upside down in the first-century.  Let this be our confidence, and may His renown be our all-consuming aim as we stand at the crossroads.  What will we do?  We will take our stand and believe God for an unprecedented breakthrough of power and the full manifestation of the gifts of the Holy Spirit in our generation. 

May our faith prevail…

I love these pictures because  I love this side of Noah.  He is a gazer, my little contemplative, and I love to see the wonder and intrigue in his little heart.  It’s amazing how certain aspects of our personalities are there right from the very beginning.  Noah has always quietly and purposefully observed the world around him – with a remarkable depth in his little gaze… oh to know what is swirling in his little heart and mind…

And the wonder of it all almost always turns into overflowing joy… wonderfully contagious joy!  I love this little boy… he is the miracle and joy of my heart.  Can you tell?

In other news, the neurosurgeon appointment was moved up and so we saw him on Tuesday this week.   He is apparently one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, and he only sees patients on Tuesdays.  So that is probably why we had to wait five hours just to be seen.  The resident came in first, and he actually explained an os odontoideum for the first time, which was helpful.  Then we saw the neurosurgeon for what amounted to approximately twenty or thirty seconds total – during which time, I think I was first insulted and then told I needed to have a CT and come back.   To be fair, the resident tried to prepare us with a nice little disclaimer about his mentor - something about how great he was… world renown and so forth… thus, he doesn’t spend much time with patients and is very direct.  (Apparently, when you are that amazing, you don’t even need to talk to your patients anymore).    So I guess we should have been prepared for it, but it was still hard for both of us.   Afterwards, Stephen wrote a speech to the doctor in his head and I didn’t say much at all… until finally in the car, I just cried. 

I’m not sure why I cried to be honest.  The reason the doctor wanted me to have a CT is because he doesn’t think I even have the os odontoideum, which would be great news.   I think I’m just tired of doctors… and of feeling like we’re just running around in circles accomplishing almost nothing by seeing them.  I don’t have any delusions or false hope when it comes to medicine anymore.  I realize that it is what it is… sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t… and I know that doctors are just people with M.D. behind their names, far from the ’gods’ of our imaginations.   But it would be nice to have a doctor actually read through those papers they make you spend an hour filling out beforehand OR to sit down, ask you what is going on, and when you answer, LISTEN to what you have to say OR maybe, just maybe, remember as they are talking to you that you are someone’s wife, someone’s mother, someone’s daughter, someone’s friend… that the person sitting across from them could be someone they cared about and how would they want that person to be treated by the one they came to for help… is that too much to ask?

My rheumatologist is that kind of doctor.  The orthopedic surgeon that did my last hip replacement (for free because the Lord told him to)was definitely that kind of doctor — he was an incredible surgeon too so he was the whole package (he’s retired now sadly).   And really, Noah’s doctors are awesome too — pediatric doctors are usually great though.   But unfortunately, in my experience (which I think is pretty extensive for a thirtysomething year old), the good ones that are skillful physicians but still see a person sitting in front of them seem to be few and far between.   I’m grateful that the Lord has led us to some of the few though.   And truthfully, if I had to have a neurosurgeon (i.e. if I had to have brain surgery), I think I’d rather have the ‘world renown’ one with all his pomposity than the nice guy or girl that isn’t a good surgeon (not exactly the kind of surgery that allows for significant margin of error)… but wouldn’t it be nice if the “best” came with compassion… kind of like, oh I don’t know… the Great Physician (Who has every reason to boast, but humbled Himself that we would be healed).   Okay – sorry, just blog-venting… would that be ‘blenting’?

Anyway, today I had the CT, and in about a week and a half (the Tuesday after next), we see the nice doctor again.  And this time we’ll bring books and notepads and such to occupy the time during our wait… and hopefully, we’ll be better prepared for the twenty seconds with the doctor too.

I feel like I’ve been living in the reality of Mark 5:26-28 these last few months.  My Hope (capital H hope) is not in any doctor or medicine or anything this world has to offer.  It rests solely in that Man who was and is and will always be God walking through the crowds wearing His heart out on His sleeve.  If I touch even the hem of His garments…

More to come… another post soon.

Mourning makes us poor; it powerfully reminds us of our smallness.  But it is precisely here, in that pain or poverty or awkwardness, that the Dancer invites us to rise up and take the first steps.  For in our suffering, not apart from it, Jesus enters our sadness, takes us by the hand, pulls us gently up to stand, and invites us to dance.  We find the way to pray, as the psalmist did, “You have turned my mourning into dancing” (Ps. 30:11), because at the center of our grief, we find the grace of God.   (Henri Nouwen)

Never before has the reality of our life as a vapor (James 4) or a fading flower (Isa 40) been so tangibly real in my own life as it has in the last month or so… yet simultaneously, it is as if I am living in slow motion right now, where every breath seems to come to me just as slow as it leaves me, where every joy stuns and overwhelms me as it slowly washes over me and every sorrow wounds me as it steadily penetrates all my pretentious defenses.  Some days I feel like I’m the person in that climactic scene that we’ve all seen in the movies where the slow ballad plays and the main character is taking stock of his or her life through one slow motion glimpse or memory after another.    It’s amazing how even in the small things… like a lily opening up her ’soul’ to the sun after a sweet spring rain OR the innocent delight of my little Noah as he runs from one side of the room to the other while turning his cute smiling face to find Mommy’s delight in him as he passes me by… in these little, slow-moving moments, my eyes seem to open to Something, or Someone, more alive than life itself.

The days have been indescribably slow, yet indelibly transforming.   In the same chapter by Henri Nouwen quoted above, he says:

“I once saw a stonecutter remove great pieces from a huge rock on which he was working.  In my imagination I thought, That rock must be hurting terribly.  Why does this man wound the rock so much?  But as I looked longer, I saw the figure of a graceful dancer emerge gradually from the stone, looking at me in my mind’s eye and saying, “You foolish man, didn’t you know that I had to suffer and thus enter into my glory?” 

Mourning, loss, suffering, pain… all of these have an unwavering power to reveal our humanity – our smallness in the scheme of things – as well as our deep disdain for said weakness.    In the best of circumstances, it is easy to sing the old song, “I Surrender All…”  but when push comes to shove, those words do not fall from our lips quite as freely.  Or maybe they do, but the weight of them upon our souls is absolutely crushing if we are truly ‘drinking the cup.’   

I have been ”enjoying” that place of crushing these last few months.   I find that I am utterly helpless in this experience of physical pain.  I can take the medicines that are available to me and I can go through a short list of things that might help, but at the end of the day, all I can really do is endure.  And even enduring has taken on an entirely new meaning.  It’s hard to explain, but quite honestly, I have never experienced this kind of pain before and it has been a trial by fire unlike anything I have ever known.   Have you ever felt something, whether physically or emotionally, that you really (in all honesty, with no drama or exaggeration) thought that there was no way you could take one more second of… that it was too much and in its absolute desolation, you were left reeling as you tried to figure out a way to stop it, get out of it, or just do absolutely anything so you didn’t have to experience one more minute of it??

A friend of mine, D, had one of those labor and deliveries that we all pray will never happen to us.  Her baby’s head was turned and literally ”stuck” in the birth canal after hours and hours of labor.  The epidural that she was given to help alleviate the excruciating pain had somehow come unplugged, so she was left to experience every second of it.  Afterwards she recalled reaching a point in the midst of it where she just knew, “This is it.  I cannot go on any longer.”  And when she was describing just how bad it was and how she had reached that place where she knew she couldn’t take it anymore… I remember another friend, who we will call MB, responding (in a way that only he could get away with), “What does that mean?  What was the alternative?”  Meaning, what other option did she have?

And that, my friends, is the crushing blow.  There are no options.  It might get better, it might stay the same, or it may even get worse, but time will still keep moving and there is no other way around what lies ahead… the only way is THROUGH it.  And it is in our journey through that we find this profound invitation from the Lord. 

Because you see, He too went through and not around.  Jesus, though being in very nature God Himself, made Himself nothing, humbled Himself and became obedient to death, even death on a Cross.   He suffered more than any man, before or since.  He was beaten and scourged so much so that He was unrecognizable as a man.  Yet He was God… unlike us, He had a choice to go above or around or any other way He wanted, but He chose to go through… Jesus chose the Cross.

Now if God went through and not around, where does that leave us?

Well… first and foremost, it means we are not alone.   There is no pain too horrific, no loss too unimaginable, no depth too dark and impenetrable that Love hasn’t travelled the road before us.   Love went to the abyss and death didn’t win… even the grave could not contain Him.    He united Himself to us forever when He took on flesh and He invites us to know something of Himself even (and especially) as we travel down the terrifyingly dark alleyways life brings us.   God chose to reveal the passion of His own heart in the way of the Cross, and the way to the Resurrection will always be through, never around, the Cross.  

We also find each other at the foot of the Cross.   We are bound one to another in our “human-ness.”  Though our roads may look a bit different, we are all in the same boat.  We’re not so different from each other… we’re all utterly human and vulnerable to the storms that rage around us.   But that’s a different post…

His way also reveals the ‘other side.’  The joy that comes on Easter morning.  There is a promise, a living Hope, set before us in that Day.  Though we die a thousand deaths, death has forever lost its sting.   Oh glorious Day… how I long for the rising of the Son and the end of this long night.  But the darkest hour comes just before the dawn.  The way from Palm Sunday to Easter is the way of suffering.

And so, it came in a dream – the answer to my reachings for the Lord in the midst of this crazy hard season.  One night last week, I had a dream where I was in this desert and it was pitch black.   I was laying with my face in the dirt (appropriately).  And as I laid there, I started to hear the sound of these deep African drums and dark wind instruments.  The music got louder and louder and I heard what sounded like a children’s choir singing “dance, dance, dancing in the dirge” until their voices seemed to lift me out of the dirt onto my feet.  And just as I took my first step into a dance, I woke up.   I woke up with a new understanding…

Somewhere in this rubble and mass of stone, there lives a dancer.  Though right now, it is hard to see… maybe no one knows except the Sculptor that she’s even there… but what He sees is all that matters.   The path toward freedom comes as I surrender myself to the Hands of the Master.   I have before me this incredible invitation to travel with Him through the way of Love that I would not miss its heights and depths.   And what I am discovering is that the Dancer dances even now.  Here in the midst of mourning is where I find my first steps… it is here in the dirge that I am learning the foundations of the dance as I surrender to His perfect leadership in each movement and with every breath.

Yet I must confess that even as I took my first steps, I found myself asking Him with fear in my heart… are You sure this is the way??

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  (2 Cor 12:9-10)

Happy Week After Resurrection Day!

Tonight Stephen is preaching on the Cross at the House of Prayer’s (Good) Friday Night Encounter God Service.  You can watch or listen to the message LIVE AT THIS WEBSITE (for free).   Look for the menu that says LIVE WEBCAST WITH WORSHIP AND TEACHING and click on Watch or Listen (whichever you prefer) next to the Friday Night 6pm session.  The message starts around 7:30pm CST.

You can get the notes for the message above at this link.  Look for the menu titled Most Recent Notes and Stephen’s will be at the top or near the top.   You can also get a copy of a Harmony of the Crucifixion Accounts from the Gospels here. 

Today we celebrate the most unimaginable day in the history of all things… the day God was wounded for our transgressions and chastised for our iniquities.  God Himself bore our griefs and carried our sorrows.  He did not look away from the ocean of pain and depraved ugliness in the human heart, yet we despised Him, rejected Him and assumed Him to be smitten by God (though He was God).    Jesus was the Man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief… oppressed and afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth.  He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, yet He said nothing, did nothing to stop it.  He could have turned the world on its axis and called all of Heaven’s angels to His side.  No one actually had the power to take His life… it was Jesus who laid it down by His own accord. 

Today, on Good Friday, may our hearts come before a Love so Radical, a Passion so Holy, and a Desire so Unthinkable that even death was not too far to reach for the King of Kings and Lord or Lords. 

Take this to heart and doubt not that you are the one who killed Christ. Your sins certainly did, and when you see the nails driven through his hands, be sure that you are pounding, and when the thorns pierce his brow, know that they are your evil thoughts. Consider that if one thorn pierced Christ you deserve one hundred thousand.

The whole value of the meditation of the suffering of Christ lies in this, that man should come to the knowledge of himself and sink and tremble. If you are so hardened that you do not tremble, then you have reason to tremble. Pray to God that he may soften your heart and make fruitful your meditation upon the suffering of Christ, for we ourselves are incapable of proper reflection unless God instills it.

But if one does meditate rightly on the suffering of Christ for a day, an hour, or even a quarter of an hour, this we may confidently say is better than a whole year of fasting, days of psalm singing, yes, than even one hundred masses, because this reflection changes the whole man and makes him new…   (Martin Luther)

To those present that day the Cross was a scene unforgettable in its horror and yet somehow unthinkably beautiful. Memories of skin torn asunder, heaving sweat, dripping blood, and tear-stained eyes filled their minds. Through the testimony of Scripture and the ministry of the Holy Spirit we, no less than they, should also know the feeling of this graphic scene bearing down upon our souls until our hearts are crushed. When you join John at the foot of the Cross and behold the chest you leaned upon the night before now covered in blood and straining to be filled with breath, indifference is not plausible. If you kneel beside Mary and look up to see the One who entered your womb by the Holy Spirit, the One who grew before your eyes through the passing years, the One promised to sit upon the throne of David, now marred and reviled, your heart is flung into a torrent of emotion.  (Stephen Venable)

…That is why the saints have always taken up meditation on the sorrows of Jesus Christ:  it was by this means that Saint Francis of Assisi became a seraph.  One day a gentleman found him weeping and crying out with a loud voice.  On being asked why he did so, he answered, “I weep for the sorrows and ignominies of my Lord:  and what makes me weep the most is that we, for whom he suffered so much, live in forgetfulness of Him.”  And on saying this he redoubled his tears, so that this man too began to weep.  Whenever the saint heard the bleating of a lamb, or saw anything else that reawakened the memory of Jesus’ Passion, he immediately fell aweeping.  Another time, when he was sick, someone told him that he should have a book of devotion read to him.   “My book,” he replied, “is Jesus crucified.”  Hence he did nothing but exhort his brethren to think of the Passion of Jesus Christ at all times.   (St. Alphonsus Liguori)

Great thief of hearts, the strength of your love has broken even our hard hearts.  You inflamed the whole world with your love.  Wisest Lord, inebriate our hearts with this wine, burn them with this fire, pierce them with this arrow of your love.   This, your cross, is indeed a crossbow that pierces hearts.   Let the whole world know that my heart is stricken.   Sweetest love, what have you done?  You have come to heal me, and you have wounded me.  You have come to teach me, and you have made me like someone mad.  O wisest madness, may I never live without you.  Lord, everything that I see on the cross invites me to love:  the wood, the form, the wounds in your body; and above all, your love invites me to love you and never forget you.  (John of Avila)