When We Get Dirty

 
  I drove through a lush valley the other day. Farmlands were ripe with artichokes, corn and a bounty of assorted vegetables laid ready for harvest. Laborers in the growing land became human conveyor belts as the boxed produce traveled from field to truck. The more south we drove the landscape began

















 to take the appearance of a giant zebra. The striped markings rolled over farmed mounds were perfectly spaced to accommodate the rows and rows of grapevines. I couldn’t get over the bounty of the land mile after mile. 
        My eyes gazed to homes situated on hilltops on each side. I thought to myself – Man, that must be some view each morning! What a great place to live!  But the longer I dwelled on the glory of living on a hill, the more I realized that most of my enjoyment would just be for taking in the beauty of the harvest rather than experiencing the wonder of touching the fruit of labor. Certainly hilltop living has its place, besides just scenery. There is wisdom in seeing the whole operation of growing and harvesting from an eagle eye; however something magical happens on the ground floor of hard work. 
      The life picture displayed for me, soon became God’s voice and colors of grace were drawn in. It was a canvas of the ups and downs of walking with the Lord. We’ve all heard friends talk about their mountain experience with gusto, but then we’ve also listened as others sigh when they are in a low place filled with struggle. I saw the low place of toil as the farmers became human ants working together for a common good. It was indeed hard work. My dimly lit window that I peeking out of into spiritual matters swirled before me and the breath of His spirit breathed into my small space so I could chat with my Maker. I rubbed off the moisture of his breath. The great scene of the abundance that lies in the low valleys of our souls became clearer with each wipe of the glass. Could it be so? that in middle of our hardest labor that  some of God’s best work is done?
       We are so accustomed to the struggle in the valley that we don’t look for much else like the laborers whose body aches from muscle spasms and sore joints from years of abuse. He continues to pull weeds, water and maintain the farm because harvest is coming. In the scorching heat his head is covered while his clothing takes on the color of the mud.  The long hours have dug the farmland into his pores.

But then…a green shoot bursts through the soil

 

 before long..

a flower bud appears.

Soon the flower falls to the ground and dies,

now a budding fruit starts to take shape.

 Weeks later,
harvest has come.

     The perfect environment for growth has been formed in the middle of back breaking work. The harvest will bring a revival of bounty that is distributed to all who will receive. .

                          The bounty doesn’t just happen.
                                      It happens in the valley of struggle.
                                                 It happens through persistence and pain.
                         It happens when old things die so new life can be brought forth.

    Maybe we should keep our eyes open a little better to see what kind of environment God is working on.
       Could it be that when someone loses their job they are forced to understand dependence? 
       Could it be when someone is looking for a spouse they know better than anyone the     
       importance of love?

Get where I’m going here?  Let’s not be so quick to rush out of the pit of struggle without gleaning all that the Lord has for us.
                        We grow in the valley;
                                        We harvest in the valley, and get dirty,

but most of all we shine with riches that give the hilltop homes something to really look at.

The Outlaw, The Cowhand and The Ranch Owner’s Son.

        Have you ever seen the poverty spirit on the face of friends or yourself?  It tries to deflate the power and joy of walking with God.  It takes a highlighter and emphasizes our struggles to scribble out a new story line of why this or that is happening.  Slowly the disappointment creeps in  and it wants us to beleive we can't and even shouldn't expect anything better. We can't always erase our struggles, but sometimes we do need to adjust our mindset.

What is a poverty spirit? 

 

-  For simper terms: it is an attitude of lack:

lack of time, lack of physical health, lack of finances, lack of Godly intimacy, lack of self worth, lack of joy - the list goes on and on. Worse than the un-honoring spirit of poverty, is our attitude toward it. We just learn to accept it, like it's our lot in life.

It is kind of like addicts that recover from addiction that still need to learn that anixouness and manipulation don't need to exist anymore. The one that has lived on the streets and has suddenly found a home and job has trouble believing they are safe and secure. Physical problems have evaded them, but the mental scars still need adjusting. They have to discover the new person inside that matches their new life.

 As a Christian, when we enter that world of spiritual poverty, we have lost our spiritual identity. We should be walking in abundance as God’s sons and daughters – how do we forget this? - After all there is a new person inside of us! Have you ever felt like Haggi when he said, “And he who earns, earns wages to put into a purse with holes.” Translated into present day lingo – that poverty spirit sounds a lot like this: “if you have time, you have no money and if you have money, you have no time,” “you pray and pray and nothing happens, but it always works for others,” how about “those hits just keep coming -one after another and don’t they come in threes?”  (can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that one)

I have entitled this little message The Outlaw, The Cowhand and The Ranch Owner’s Son. You can have a poverty spirit like an Outlaw that is always on the outskirts of blessing, or perhaps you find yourself like me (more times than I like), as The Cowhand trying to work my way to favor. I’m trying to dump those mindsets and darkness for a much wealthier place – The Ranch Owner’s Son.  How does the poverty or wealthy spirit work when it comes to how we live, our things, finding comfort or believing for a miracle? 

               When it comes to living –
The Outlaw mindset lives in the past and remembers how good it used to be and hopes to steal a piece of anything of value.
The Cowhand is doing everything for today.  He has to hurry up and get one thing after another done because time is wasting.  If he doesn’t do it nobody else sure will. He is his own keeper.
The Ranch owner’s son lives with eternity on his mind.  He dreams about Kingdom value instead of earthly possessions.  He is interested in people not tasks. 

              When it comes to gifts or things –
The Outlaw is a hoarder of even the littlest of things. The underlying issue is fear of lack. He no longer even sees it as a problem as stuff just piles up. He is drenched in the fear of "what if's?"
The Cowhand - finds himself buying things on credit - and "I'll works it off later" mentality. He is proud of his accomplishments and what his talent and hard work can do or purchase.
The Ranch owner’s Son – is a giver.  He knows his father is wealthy. He knows he can’t out give what has been given to Him.

             When it comes to finding comfort –
The Outlaw retreats and isolates himself when faced with crisis. He knows he is vulnerable and wants the dark shadows to hide his pain. He beleives he deserves what he gets.
The Cowhand – tries to fix it himself – by a great diet plan, encouraging people, upbeat music, a good movie and the list goes on and on.
The Ranch owner’s son knows that he abides under the shadow of the Almighty and that the Owner of the Ranch has given him a book of promises in the word of God. 

             When it comes to miracles-
The Outlaw says God doesn’t do miracles anymore especially for people like me
The Cowhand says God could or maybe do something but just not sure if God wants to do it for me
The Ranch owner says God loves to do miracles.

I’ve noticed a pattern when that poverty mindset steps in.
It’s when things “have me” instead of “me having things.” 

The wealthy or the Ranch Owner’s son searches for God’s place in every circumstance.  I want to start a practice of doing this –It's really just practicing His presence in my life (one of my favorite books by the way) Either when I encounter difficulty or when someone tells me their woes, I’m gonna ask that question out loud, “where is God in all of this and what can He do?” For believers, hopefully it repositions us from Outlaw or Cowhand to Ranch Owner’s Son. When I ask the unsaved, perhaps it will open a door to a wealthier way.

For right now -here’s my call to action:

•  Renew my mind – through his word and putting   good input in front of my eyes.
•  Give hilariously – find creative ways to bless others – a note, sharing a talent.
•  Give my first fruits – I’m tired of giving God my left over time or squeezed in time. I gotta remember that ALL of my income belongs to Him and He so graciously gives me 90 % of what is rightfully His!
•  Be diligent – Old habits die hard – I’m gonna remind myself of the Outlaw, Cowhand and Ranch Owner’s son – Who am I today?

Thanks for letting me process my conversations with the Ranch Owner!  So glad that I am his daughter- The Ranch Owner’s son!  Who are you?

 

 

 

When God says, "Turn"

   The sun slowly tickled the rooftops on the horizon and I was headed home. It’s the same path I take every day. My right turn was just ahead to the street my family has called home for years – Anacapa Drive.  I love coming home. Part of it is perhaps is the four legged greeting committee. Three cats drape themselves about to change the home landscape into a welcoming zoo. The pomegranate tree/bush has a Siamese dangling from the branches as a silken ornament. The walkway to the house is sporting a squirming calico who is trying to convince me she is a stepping stone. The black and white giant is perched regally on the porch awaiting his mistress and his tuna delight. The scent of a warm meal prepared by my sweet husband fills the air before one foot is even in the door. Who wouldn’t want to go home? Going home always starts with one familiar spot - a right turn onto Anacapa Drive.

   Today, the car in front of me didn’t seem to have the same passion I had for going home or for my favorite turn. I wanted to accelerate, but his clunker “pokied” along with the speed of a teenager forced to wake up on a hot summer morn. It was as if he couldn’t quite gauge where the turn started. He clearly didn’t know where he was going. I was so irritated. I wanted to kiss his bumper with a hurry up nudge.  It was then; I noticed he was an older gentleman. He had on one of those big bug-eyed glasses you get after cataract surgery. The shadows and the beams of light from the sunset must have produced confusion for his tired eyes. He was in no hurry to go anywhere, so he just puttered. There was no passion to get home, no excitement for the anticipated turn. 
 

                               It was then I heard a God whisper, “so it is with my church.” 

Humbled, I saw a reflection of myself in a mere instant – how do I act when God says, “turn. “ Like a scene from the movie Scrooge, my mind re-winded to the many times God had said, “we’re going my way, Lynn”, “lay your own talents down and pick up my grace,” “get out of the boat and start walkin’ on the water.” In all of the cases, I was the clunker.  In God’s grace, he wasn’t pointing out my failures as a sign of unforgiveness, it was a learning curve or should I say “turn.”

I took notice of the things that hindered the man in front of me for they were the same things that produce stumbling blocks for me.

• The path was not well lit - I reminded myself that it is in his word where I find his direction and light.  
• The way was unfamiliar – I must stay in the state of becoming like Him - stretching my abilities, taking risks with my faith and going the extra mile.
• He was  worn – Isn’t it true, that in my weakness He is made strong?
• The turning radius on his old car was not as good as a new car – What if God wanted me to befriend those with traits that I find uncomely like those who brag or are superficial? Worse yet, Does that describe me?  How flexible am I? How far does God’s grace in me extend? It is easy to love the poor and needy but what about traits of those that I find distasteful? Help me Lord to see with your eyes and heart.
• He tried to turn too soon and then too late and ultimately missed the turn altogether.   – How many times have I not waited on God and it got me in trouble? I can remember a few stupid purchases I bought that cost me twice the amount because I wanted it now. instead of saving for it. Believe it or not God in His wisdom sometimes wants me to do without or HE wants to give it to me, Himself.  And how about the times have I missed what God was doing?  Could it be that fear or past experiences hold me back from today, so I drag my feet?
• He didn’t appear to have a destination in sight – When God says turn, I need to remember the real destination – and that is to God, Himself.  The bumps, hard turns and brief moments of sheer delight should not be my focus.  I’m pretty sure Peter walking on the water underscored that one.

   I didn’t even need to pinch myself to know it was true, the puttering senior in the clunker car was me. I made a hard right on Anacapa Drive and zoomed up the street to my home. My lack of patience for the older man eased into compassion. I openly thanked the Lord in my car because he is steadfast in his love for me even when he observes my annoying “life driving.” He is not afraid of my failures as the navigator of heart. God’s turns include invitations to stretch my faith and submission to his Lordship. I think I will turn onto Anacapa Drive with a different perspective- there is a GPS (God’s Perfect Son) at work my life and yours. 

 

Want to make a turn with me?

 

Home is really a beautiful place! 

My Mother is a Legend

My father had been told he wouldn't live to see me born. My mother, pregnant with her forth child (me) thought she would be raising all four of us siblings alone.  She faced the news with the same tenacity as how she approached life -Bold and Resolute. As a faith hugger, she slipped into eternity sooner than my dad, but she did watch him live well into his golden years.  As Mother’s Day approaches, so many things remind me of this incredible woman and how blessed my siblings and I were to have called her, “Mom.” 

Here are a few wonderful lessons I learned from my mom:

• She believed in making things better, not always equal. Not every gift to our friends and children was exactly the same.  She looked at needs and met them as much as she could.  We were happy when one of us got new shoes, even if the others didn't get anything.  We, as children understood from her that giving was an act of love, not an entitlement.
• She was a mother, not always a friend. As the teen years approached, I tested the boundaries of her patience far greater than the three before me. My mother told me what I didn’t want to hear, took away privileges and once even slapped me in the face. (that’s another story, but I completely deserved it.)   She didn’t particularly care if I liked her or not. She had another purpose; she was shaping me. I was the wild monkey, but she was the keeper of the bananas.  There was no mistake of who was calling the shots, even though you couldn’t find a gentler soul.  As an adult, she was always more than a friend; she was my mom – a keeper of my history and a woman loved me from the start of my first breath.
• My mother had a church, but she was not a pastor.  Our home was a gathering place for a Mecca of different kinds of people who called my mother, “Mom.”  We sat in the cathedral of her sanctuary and listened to her heart.  While we ate, played, laughed from her wit and her love for all things, she was at work overseeing the basic need of humanity –love.
• She taught me that the wisdom of the soul is not always found after the letters of your name.  Mom was a fan of schooling, and encouraged each of us to run after knowledge, but her biggest goal was making us better humans.  A better human is always thirsty for information.  She modeled that with her vast self-taught knowledge of birds and nature and the gift of music that came to her naturally.
• My mom wore laughter lines, not a frown mark could be found on her delicate face.  I can remember holding my giggles with our mother, while my father, the engineer figured out a way to get the car running again in the desert. He had nothing more than a coke flip top and duct tape to work with. It’s a figurative picture that has etched deeply in my mind on how to handle stress – find a piece a humor about yourself or your situation.  The wisdom of laughter has carried me through tough battles.

• She held a degree in nature, but she was not a biologist.  Comical, vivid scenes of my mom nursing a dead bird for days in a Kleenex box portray the extent of her care to all.  (She didn’t have her glasses on and could not understand why it wasn’t opening its mouth to the worms she had dug up.)  Compassion knew no bounds.  She is probably the reason I let flies out the window, rather than smack them.
• Mom was a cheerleader on the sidelines of our lives, not playing the game for us.  Through her support, we learned to face failure, not escape it.  She knew that we were born to leave her nest one day and that struggle produces resilience.  Mom would share the pain of our burden and offer us tools to succeed, however we used our own creativity and strength to find our way out.   She didn’t blame teachers, friends or other parents when I got in trouble, because Mom was also supporting the process of my growth.  She made sure I took responsibility for my actions. 
• My mother was older than most, but not feeble of heart and mind.  As the last born, my mother was well past her mid thirties when she gave birth to me; however I never thought of her as ancient, even in my teens. It was not because of what she wore, (heck my mom was wearing nylon stretchy pants way before it was cool).   It was her open heart that made her young.  To stay youthful is to have an open mind which is pliable.



• She was properly put together, not righteously proper.   There was not a smack of pretense in my mother’s character.  Mom was not a fan of brand names and fluff.  She was practical and resourceful.
• Mom was a boundary maker, not rule stickler.  She knew that rules were meant to serve, not control.  Because of our relationship, it made me want to please her.   Rules with rapport always make life easier to swallow.  The gift of boundary marking generated a life long security for me. From her, I learned how to set boundaries myself.
• My mother was a retail market of confidence building, not a department store of timidity. Confidence is perhaps one of the greatest gifts one can give a child: confidence to speak your thoughts, confidence to make right choices, confidence to try new things, confidence to know how to be treated and how to treat others.  We all knew we could do and be anything we wanted to in life.

• My mom is a legend, not a mere example.  There are not many women that are graced with such rare beauty and wisdom.  I can only hope daily to step into a puddle of her goodness generated by a love filled footprint.

Gold is Nothing Special

 Gold is nothing special. The good book tells us we’ve been refined in the fire as gold. My daughter and I were having a conversation the other day about this very topic. She was doing a Joyce Meyer bible study with her women’s group. She was intrigued with the notion that gold is really just plain metal. It only displays its luster when light shines upon it. The thought of this idea, really puts our good deeds in their proper place.  We are not much without our Light of the World – Jesus Christ.
   Taking it a step further this morning, I asked the Lord to show me some ways that he shines on my golden spots (still being refined.)  Don’t we all want to be “lusterlious?” This morning I heard Him say softly, “it is in My joy.”  The strange joy of the Lord in the middle of chaos and heartbreak is a game changer for onlookers. You can’t fake joy, if you do, then all you look like is an uncaring buffoon.
  The kind of joy that gives you strength to smile and find beauty in the smallest details is God’s type of joy. Joy is river.  I can remember camping as a child and trying to build a little dam to make a swimming hole near a streamside. It was impossible to harness the fast moving water.  Rocks and sticks would tumble away from the places I put them from the power of the flood. 
   You see, liquid joy has the same effect as a powerful river.  It cannot be contained. It gets in every nook and cranny. It washes away debris. It cuts a clear path and breaks down resistance. It has a vast supply. No wonder the Lord says, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”
   The best part of the whole joy thing is – it’s not our own joy. Do you have joy like that on your own?  I sure don’t have enough. Today, I’m asking for more joy from the Lord. I want to be ridiculous in my happiness with joy that speaks to the broken.  May it be unbridled, filter through all that I am, wash away the dull prune faced spiritual pride that we think make us look good,
   It is in God’s joy that the gold of his new work in me shines today. Who is satisfied with boring metal anyway?  So, take a deep breath and breathe Him in.  Let your lips turn upward and may any self made dams break down.  It’s a great day to be alive! Let His joy bubble over you, because although Gold is nothing special, God sure is!

Cinammon!

     I was awoken early in morning on July 10th this year. My hubbie was already out the door and had started his day. I was alone in my room. There was a distinct scent stirring in the air that woke me up. My nose went to work like a famous detective even though I was still lying in bed.  I knew what it was- Cinnamon!   The sweet fragrance of cinnamon filled my room. In my somewhat drowsy state, I began to process how this could be?   Hum… Doug was gone and Angela my niece was sleeping the room next door.  Maybe Doug fixed cinnamon rolls?  No, he loves to make breakfast, but he’s a salty, not a sweetie (well at least like that), so he wouldn’t have made something sweet – that’s usually my job.

    I drank the heavenly odors in and seemed to float on their cloud.  Hum… I wasn’t dreaming.  What was going on?? My heart then engaged, as if I had heard Eli tell Samuel to go back to his room and when he hears a voice speak- say, “I am here God, I am listening.”   So I did just that.  “Lord, is this you?”  I felt flooded with love.  Indeed He was with me. I responded out loud smiling ear to ear, “Oh, how you love me, to have awakened me in such a special way!”  “And my favorite too”

    I decided to just relax and bask in whatever godly manifestation was taking place even though my heart was racing.  I was overwhelmed with His love.  As the fragrance dissipated slowly, I got up and went immediately to my bible.  What does this mean?  And how would I look it up?  I decided to Google cinnamon in the bible.  Where is it found and how was it used?

    One the first places in the bible cinnamon is found is in Exodus 30:22 “Then the Lord said to Moses, “Take the following fine spices: 500 shekels of liquid myrrh, half as much (that is, 250 shekels) of fragrant cinnamon, 250 shekels of fragrant calamus,  500 shekels of cassia —all according to the sanctuary shekel—and a hin of olive oil.  Make these into a sacred anointing oil, a fragrant blend, the work of a perfumer. It will be the sacred anointing oil”. 

There are several references to cinnamon specifically in the bedroom which also caught my eye, written mostly by King Solomon himself.

Proverbs 7:17 says “I have perfumed my bed with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon.” The bed is being treated in an ornate fashion for one he loves.

Song of Solomon 4:12-14. Cinnamon is growing in a locked garden – its meaning here is being set apart with the garden

I also looked at how Cinnamon is made – basically – ripped from the bark, scrapped, boiled and pressed. The best cinnamon is from the younger shoots.  I am the youngest of four children and I’m pretty sure that I went through the whole process of being ripped, scrapped, boiled and pressed these past two years!

    With the help of God’s word and just experiencing what I had, I knew two things:  I was immensely loved by my Maker and I had been given some sort of gift, although I didn’t know quite know what.  I decided to put on my walking shoes and go for my morning stroll.  As I rambled by a concrete driveway connected to the blacktop area, I began to smell Honeysuckle and Jasmine – these are two very distant fragrances.  I looked around for the bushes and checked the headwind to see where it might be coming from.  (Now this is understandable that I’d be looking because of what had happened earlier in the morning)  Guess what?  No bushes in sight just two distinct and intense fragrances!  It was happening AGAIN!  I continued on my walk praising God for my extraordinary day and listened for God to speak to me. Even though I felt special, it humbled me.  When I returned from my walk, I had to pass the same spot.  There was no odor in the air, when I pass that time.

    As weeks went by, I received more clarity because I began to process what had happened. (As if that was even possible- because as the word says, “I see only through my dimly lit window into the other side”),   Here’s what I came up with:

1) I was anointed for a purpose:  I think I had smelled Anointing Oil! I was anointed!   I was being   set apart.
2)  Increased Creativity:   Three days after this strange encounter, I sat down to work on my book.  I started writing and the entire outline of the book fell into place from start to finish.  I have been working on it for a couple years, not knowing how to present my thoughts.  I would just write, but nothing fit together.  It was just scattered pieces of a story.   
3) God deeply loves me:  It is not that God loves me more than any other; He just wanted me to know it in a larger individual way.

   I have since talked to spiritual leaders in my life and scoured the internet to see if I was the only weirdo or blessed person that this has happened to.  I’m not. You’d be surprised!  I found one lady in Australia with a ministry called Heaven Scents and she created it because it happened so frequently to her.  She has even culminated a list of scents and the usual gifts that follow:
 I was dumfounded, get this:

 Cinnamon – the gift – creativity,
 Honeysuckle – the gift- praise,
 Jasmine – the gift – deep love.  

Here is her website. http://www.heavenscentministries.org/ if you want check it out.
I don’t know anything about her; however in reading through her site, she appears to be a deep seeker of the Lord with a special gift. I think I may understand her now better than most!   Her name is Karen Elengikal and is quite an author, photographer with incredible prophetic gifts.

I have not since had any more unusual fragrances since that day, but just thinking about it, takes me instantly back to July 10th in my spirit.  As I end this crazy blog, I rest in the fact that something creative was birthed or should I say exploded, my book is an expression of praise birthed out of struggle, but most of all wouldn’t you just know it… it’s about deep love!  

So you won’t see many blogs here for awhile, but I will drop in for an occasional chat.  Right now, I am busy typing for a higher calling.

Song of Solomon – Verse 4: 16

"Awake, O north wind,
    and come, O south wind!
Blow upon my garden,
    let its spices flow."

My Peace got Spikes!

There he was, a giddy boy of 7 or 8 leaping out the front doors of Payless shoe store.  His tired father trotted slowly behind him and watched as his son did a round house kick. A first glance, it was obvious that this kid was not built for these maneuvers, due to his chubby little self.  It didn’t matter.  He was an Olympian.  Give him a tall building, he was ready to climb.  However upon deeper inspection, it became clear why he was so empowered. New Shoes! - Made me giggle.

 Don’t you just love new shoes? I do and especially when I was a kid.  Heck, you could jump higher, run faster.  They were so clean and fit just perfect!  If I could have only had new shoes during the auditions for Wonder Woman or Bionic Woman.  I would have secured the role myself! And yes, for you older readers – I wore Kedds! - A brand specifically designed to morph any kid into a superhero.

 As the sweet memories of childhood washed over my mind, I thought about another pair of new shoes given to me that should be just as empowering.  It’s part of the armor of God that I am supposed to put on each day. “Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;” Eph. 16:14-15

  It is listed third behind the belt of truth and breastplate of righteousness, but I don’t think it’s in order of how to put your attire on. It seems to me that common sense would tell you when putting on armor, you have to put your shoes on first – this is in reverse order than putting on ordinary clothes.  Think about it, the belt and the breastplate wouldn’t make it very easy to bend.  You’d have to start with the shoes if you wanted to get dressed properly or in my case- at least not fall over.

This idea got me thinking a little deeper so I did a little study on biblical shoes/sandals.   As a woman, of course I wanted to see what they looked like.  They were made of leather with straps that wrapped around your ankles up to your calf.  These straps were attached to the sturdy sole. This made me pause for a moment -something had to die to get this material. Thank you Lord for provision by the cost of your earthly life!   The straps held the sole in place. Also interesting was, what was on the bottom. Roman soldier’s shoes had spikes!  It provided balance, grip and traction and a weapon all rolled into one!  I can only imagine how heavy it would have been.  It would have looked like a pair of golf shoes on steroids.

So at this point, we know what they look like and what they are made of, but let’s get back to their purpose.  One of the strategies of warfare in Biblical times was to sharpen sticks and place them underground.  The sharpened points would barely be visible.  It was a strategy much like modern day land mines.  In fact in Isaiah 5:27 it talks about a strong army, “Not one of them grows tired or stumbles, not one slumbers or sleeps; not a belt is loosened at the waist, not a sandal thong is broken.”  Can you imagine if your shoe straps were not holding your shoe in place with spikes in the ground?   The shoes provided a great deal of protection which is quite a understatement!  They saved your life!

With all the weight of the armor that a solider carried, it seems like one could fall over.  When our daughter when she was about 9, she decided she wanted to be the goalie for a roller hockey team. We laughed since she was the size of a flea on a diet.  She put on the oversized heavy protective gear, but she was on roller skates!  It was hilarious; she couldn’t even stand, let alone guard the cage.  Roller skates are a sharp contrast to the spiked shoes that fixed you in one spot. Sometimes the job of a solider was to position their body to the ground while holding a sharpened pole pointed at the oncoming enemy.  The spiked shoes would have provided an adherence to ground if you really dug in.

The traction and grip the shoes had, also yielded a purposed walk. You could walk anywhere you were directed.  The shoes allowed you to walk on rough soil and not slip.  I’ve been on hikes and questioned going down or up certain trails because the soil was so unstable.  With these the shoes, if your commander told you to go to the right or to the left you could do it and not worry about your safety!

Spiritually, according to the word of God – these shoes are made of “the preparation of the gospel of peace!”  Does this mean no struggle or battle is inferred?  Absolutely not!  There is peace in the midst of it!  I love this!  A chiropractor said me a few days ago – “You must have really been shocked to find out you had cancer- like your world had fallen apart.” I had some news to share with him. It didn’t, not even close!  The same God that has blessed me over and over again in my life is not going to abandon me in times of trouble.  I admit I knew cancer was going to be a doozy, but I also knew I was never alone.  I had peace no matter how things turned out.  I reflected on the good things happening in the midst of hard times.  Another example of this was watching my incredible husband learn to live with one hand.  He focused on what he COULD do or it would have driven him nuts.  For those of you that know him, you’d agree with my bias - he can do just about anything and better than most.

Today, I put these shoes on FIRST everyday. A better translation of Eph 6:15 might be “and your feet shod with the readiness to preach the gospel of peace!”   In Romans 10:15 “…as it is written, how beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things.”  We are commanded to put good news on our feet and spread it everywhere! It is easy words to share because it’s a message of love and hope, not fire and brimstone. 

In ending, this long study, please know this: As you put on your shoes this morning, put on God’s shoes of peace.  Put on good news!  They will give you traction and grip to get through each day and a balance of grace from the weight of world.  You have spikes, so you are not a victim, but an Overcomer! Wow! - Don’t you just love new shoes?