Author: bonniejeancarr

     Post dinner, Joyce, my self-adopted sister, and I meet up to enjoy the routine of our social distancing walk.   The best of jaunts serves up the finest of dessert for both of us.   This special treat is not filled with calories but the core value of “care-by-he’s” – namely the he’s, Mr. BoGo and Master Mark.

     Yesteryear’s musical was “Stop The World, I Want To Get Off”.   Today’s lament is “Start The World, I Want To Get On With My Life”.   Mr. BoGo and Master Mark are the combining refrain of both – “Whatever The World Starts, I Want To Resound That Nothing Stops My Life”!!!

     Joyce and I always meet this duo along the same stretch of road.   Before even hitting the spot, we wonder if we’ll be blessed with the delicacy of their spirit.   In this, often, woe is me, grumpy world, Mr. Bogo and Master Mark are the rare chorus of “Give Thanks and Praise”.

     Mr. BoGo and Master Mark always pause their evening excursion to inquire how we are doing.   It’s not a “how’s life treating you” chat.   It’s a “isn’t life a beautiful bestowal of blessings, even if they’re sprinkled amongst some weeds” conversation.   Each and every meeting, Mr. BoGo’s tail and Master Mark’s joyous eyes relay the message that they are sincerely excited to cross our path and lives.  

     Appreciation, gratitude and thanksgiving are meant to be shared, not hoarded; and during each brief encounter, Mr. BoGo and Master Mark somehow sow these seeds.   Wisdom delivered, they run and ride full steam ahead.   Never do they longingly look behind at who (or what) is past.   Rather, with glorious expectation they look forward to the blessing of who (or what) tomorrow will bring.

     Oh, in case you haven’t guessed, Mr. BoGo is a four pawed chocolate labradoodle.   Master Mark, with his two prosthetic legs, is the champion of life who races his scooter by Mr. BoGo’s side.     

     Three almost finished blogs linger in my legal pad.   Each falls short of originating from a “talk time” with God.   Thus, each lacks what I sense as a “call to post” message.   As I’ve declared before, this blog is not about me or anything I have to say.   On the contrary, its purpose and substance is sharing the “God incidence” messages which cross my life’s journey.   I do so with the repeated disclaimer:  I am not chosen above any of us, possess any ability beyond the least of us, and definitely am as human and sinful as every one of us.   I, simply stated, am just a child of God who sees and hears what I call “God’s sign language”.   My choice is to be tone deaf to much of the world’s sighs, and tune in to what I hear as God’s cries.   This morning, amidst the mist of sprinkling rain drops, “God’s sign language” once more spoke to me.

     My course was, as usual, walking the lake path outside my door.   Yes, my ear buds were echoing the praise and power of God, His faith, His Hope and His Love.  In the distance, a bicycle was headed my direction.  I knew the rider, my neighbor Bill, would hit the brakes to comment on the CD I had given back to Joyce, his wife, last night.   I also instinctively sensed that maybe not a simple “Good morning, how’s your day?” conversation was heading my way.  

     A few days ago, Bill had, also, crossed my lake path and handed me a CD of his past church choir performing “One Set of Footprints”.   Excitement immediately energized my walk as treasured memories filled my heart.   I knew this music well, and a rush of inspiration swells within me whenever I re-live its choruses.  “One Set of Footprints” is the story of God carrying us when we are too fearful, weary or worldly defeated to even crawl forward.

      I couldn’t wait to transfer the CD to my phone playlists; but as technologically impaired as I am, I knew I had to wait till my, states away, daughter could, over the phone, guide her incompetent mother through the process.   Yesterday, Britt played preschool teacher to her mom.   My daughter’s clear and basic instructions were understood much easier than I had anticipated.   Hanging up, I actually felt semi confident for the task at hand.   Having loaded the CD into the external hard drive, I awaited the prompt asking if I wanted  to import the disc.   It never appeared.   My confidence was waning.   I started over.   Again, no recognition of a CD in place to be imported.   Had I somehow ruined the CD?   I grabbed one of my own CDs and placed it in the external hard drive.   As Britt had indicated, my computer responded with the “do you want to import” prompt.  

     With trepidation, I decided to try playing the disc in an old portable CD player.   Took me a while to even find my out of date listening device.   However, the minute my mitts were on it, I placed “One Set of Footprints” into it.   I waited with bated breath.   Nothing, not even one note, sang forth.   The CD was empty – completely blank.   How could this be?  Even worse, was my stupidity to blame?  

     Last night, as Joyce and I finished our social distancing walk, I handed her back Bill’s CD and told her it was blank.   I had no explanation or understanding of what caused this, but it was most certainly as silent as a bell without a clapper.   Having given Joyce the blank CD 13 hours ago, I knew Bill was not only heading my way, but also, stopping!!!   In his “always put others’ needs first and foremost” manner, I was expecting him to tell me that it was perfectly fine I had somehow totally managed to wipe out the saved memory of his choir performing the awe inspiring “One Set of Footprints”.   That was not at all what happened.

     Bill did stop, and that was all that I had correctly surmised.   With a quizzical expression on his face, he inquired into what device I had put the disc.   To which I explained both the external drive plugged into my computer and a totally separate old portable CD player.   I continued that nope, nada, nothing was heard.   The CD was blank.   How that happened, I hadn’t a clue.   Calm, compassionate Bill looked me straight in the eye and spoke, “Bonnie, there’s nothing wrong with the CD.   I listened to it this morning”.  

     Knowing me, Bill wasn’t surprised by my automatic response that God must, once more, be speaking to me in “sign language”.   At that moment, I admitted I was taken aback and clueless; but I knew by the end of my walk I’d understand God’s exact message.   Smiling, Bill rode off.   Before he’d gotten ten feet away, I understood “God’s sign language”.   As my neighbor had started pedaling, I placed my sound buds back into my ears.   A chorus of inspiration sang loud and clear.   Bingo!!!   In my usual manner when I hear God’s message, I tilted my head up to the heavens, and with a smiling face and head shaking, I uttered, “Got it, Lord!!!”

    My playlists of inspirational music are, so to speak, the petro in this CARR.   No matter what challenges await me, my music uplifts me.   I’ve even been known to tailor a playlist for specific challenges.  

     Music makes me 100% know God’s presence and power.  However, in 100% knowledge, trust can become inconsequential or forgotten.   For me to be reminded how my (and your) life needs to be seeded and rooted in trust, not knowledge, God, literally, silenced the music.  

     Life is a chronicle of times when evil surrounds us – like COVID19.  God will carry us, each and every one of us, through all evil.   God calls us to trust, not knowledge, for Him to do this.  

     For me, listening to inspirational music celebrates my knowledge of God.   Times of silence percolate my trust in God.   Indeed, the silence of a CD album, permeated in trust, was not a co-incidence but a God incidence.   It was a Godsend reminder of the trust we all need to survive the evils of our world.      

     So, after a couple weeks of blog silence, I deliver this message.   Trust is what we need to rely on when we don’t know what is, or will, happen.   Trust is not heard fact but silent conviction.   With ear buds in and inspirational music filling our souls, God’s uplifting power is so easy to know and believe.   However, when isolated in silence, only trust assures us that God is carrying us.      Bottom line and God’s current wake up call for me: My God, whom I know, uplifts me.   My God, whom I trust, carries me. Praying you proclaim the same.

     The family of man, fearfully, awaits being able to avoid the death of a present day pandemic.   Their “tomorrow solution” hangs around blood with antibodies being transferred from an earthly stranger, who was infected with the virus and physically lived.

     The family of God, filled full of Hope, never needs to wait to avoid a timeless pandemic death.   Their “today SOULution” hangs in blood, infused with forgiveness, from Christ their heavenly Brother.  This Life Saver suffered physical death so that we, each and every one of us, could be transfused, and transformed, with the spiritual blood of eternal life.

     Today dawns Good Friday.   Will we, as the family of man, choose to tremble under the cloud of no current transfusion to thwart the worldly executioner of COVID19 death?   Or, will we, as the family of God, choose to live in the SONlight of Christ’s blood, already transfused and curing us from the deadliest disease of all – sin?

     Either way, as the solemnity of today embraces us, may we take shelter in the healing arms of Christ.   God’s mercy to us all !!!

     Zachariah was hopping like a bunny round his Grammy’s kitchen.   Full of energy and excitement, he could hardly wait for Grammy to finish boiling the Easter eggs.   Like Zachariah, the table had been ready and waiting to have fun for what seemed like hours.   Newspaper protected the wooden top.   Cups were spaced across last week’s comics.   A teapot, ready to turn colorful tablets into magic dye, was whistling on a burner next to the cooking eggs, signaling it, too, was not patiently waiting for the Easter egg adventure to begin.

     Finally, Grammy lifted the pot of eggs from the stove and set it down under the kitchen faucet.   As cold water replaced the bubbling hot liquid in the pot, Grammy carefully lifted each egg out of its swimming pool, paper toweled it off and placed it in an egg crate holder.   Kneeling on a chair, Zachariah watched each and every move his Grammy made.

     As Grammy lifted one egg up from the water, she sorrowfully sighed and placed this egg not with the others but on an isolated, corner counter spot.   Zachariah noticed what Grammy had done and nodded approval while stating, matter-of-factly, “That egg cannot be brightly colored”.   Grammy was surprised young Zachariah already understood that dye penetrating through the cracks and into the egg was not healthy for humans to eat.   Zachariah took for granted his Grammy comprehended why this egg was not to be colored like all the others.   Truth be told, Grammy didn’t.

     Time was not to be clocked, but enjoyed, as Grammy and Zachariah sank each egg into the deeply colored waters.   Grammy, thinking she was the teacher, explained to Zachariah the “message” of each egg color.   In retrospect, Grammy would discover it was she who needed to be the learner of Zachariah’s Easter “meaning”.   

     Shouts of glee rang out round the kitchen table as Grammy told her Easter tale.   Bright green was the color of Hope.   Easter delivered Hope to all mankind.   Golden yellow was the color of spring’s warm Easter sun.   Easter brought the warmth of God’s light, once more, shining upon His earthly children.   Neon pink best symbolized the glowing color of God’s radiating Love.   Easter was, and still is today, born out of the greatest Love of all.

     Grammy’s lesson on Easter’s “message” was complete; or so she thought, as Zachariah placed the last brightly colored egg into the Easter basket.   However, Zachariah was anything but finished.   Springing off his table chair, he pushed it over to the counter, then perched upon its cushion.   With his tiny arms, and half his body, sliding cross the counter, he stretched to reach inside the shadowed corner where Grammy had isolated that one imperfect egg.   Gently, his petite fingers wrapped round its shell, as if it were a cherished treasure.   Being very careful, Zachariah wiggled, tummy down, off the four legged chair.   Then, oh so proudly, he cautiously, one slow step at a time, returned to the table.   Grinning from ear to ear, and head to toe, Zachariah gently placed the undyed, shell broken egg on top of all the brightly colored others.  

     Grammy sensed, within Zachariahs’s endeavor, there had, not just, to be a “message”, but also, a “meaning”.   And so, now adult teacher turned novice student, Grammy asked Zachariah to be the wisdom sharer.  

     “Oh, Grammy,” counseled Zachariah, “have you forgotten what Easter really means?   Easter is decorated with the ‘message’ of brightly colored eggs, just like you said.   But, that’s not Easter’s ‘meaning’.   Easter really means the discoloring stain of our sins was, once and for all, removed.   We are white as snow again!!!   And, Grammy, all of us are broken.   Sin has made us so.   Broken or not, though, Easter brings us baskets full of forgiveness.   The broken white egg, on top of all the decorated others, is us, Grammy – not perfect but broken people, yet washed clean in God’s forgiveness.   Grammy, cause of Easter, we all, though still broken, once more are white as snow!!!”

     To all the Mommies, Daddies, Grammys and Grampys this posting might reach, know the hope and prayer of this story rests in your hands and hearts.   Please, take the time to purpose your Easter egg coloring into the “meaning” of Jesus Christ loving us broken people enough to turn us, each and every  one, white as snow   In fact, how about we take our cue from Zachariah and start a new tradition.   That broken, uncolored egg we, up to now, have excluded from the exquisite setting of our brightly colored Easter eggs, let’s put it (and its “meaning”) in a place of honor atop our baskets full of perfectly decorated eggs.  

     “At the time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’   And calling to Him a child, He put him in the midst of them and said, ‘Truly, I say to you unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven’.”   Matthew 18: 1-3 (ESV)

     As mentioned before, God endowed me with the gift to gab.   Not His shortcoming but mine, I have not so readily accepted His gift of listening.   This week proved this lack on my part.   Most every thought I write comes from my conversations with God.   My solo walks around my backdoor lake provide many hours of God and me talking time.

     Three days ago, while rounding the lake path and wondering what my next “God think” might be, the answer crossed my path.   In most situations, I would have smiled, cocked my head up to heaven and uttered, “Got it God!!!”   Not this time.  

     Those who know me, generally speaking, see me as a pig headed, strong-willed, up to any challenge lady.   Those who intricately know me would, also, tell you while my head, heart and soul are strong, my gut is crumbling putty when it comes to my Achilles heel – snakes.   My Mother is to credit, or rather blame, for this.   I thank my Mom for all the dreams she helped instill in me.  However, I lack appreciation for the fear her sharing her childhood snake nightmare cemented in me.

     Let’s travel back to my walk three days ago.   As I rounded a curve in the lake path, a good ten feet ahead of me, my eyes caught hold of a small snake slithering out of the tall grasses, across the path, down the slope of the shoreline and into the water.   I saw the entire serpent journey only because I, literally, froze in place.   Miracle of all, my vocal cords were iced solid in silence, too.    Of course, soon as the snake disappeared under the surface, my vanity began peering around making sure no fellow walker observed my wimpy panic.  Nope, I was the sole person witnessing the scene.  My next thought was another shocking statistic.  I’d walked this path for five years and never seen a snake.  What happened to the safety of my home environment?   My overly optimistic brain responded that this had to be a once in five year happening.   I sighed with non-convincing relief. 

     From fear filled imagination to reality, I next ventured.   No one around meant I had to be the first set of feet to cross the path the snake had contaminated.   Seriously, for me, this was a huge challenge.   That was the moment I felt God’s nudge to write about the serpent, Satan.    My automatic knee jerk reaction was, “Nope, no way, not a chance.”   So shaken by the physical encounter with the object of my greatest fear, I couldn’t (more honestly, wouldn’t) hear or heed the Lord’s confrontation of both my fear and His message.   As I RAN across the spot the serpent had slithered over, I closed the book on both my physical fear and any chance of a spiritual message rising from this happenstance.   That was until this morn’s lake walk, when God’s message went from a nudging whisper to a rip-roaring, whacking proclamation.  

     My usual six lap workout was two thirds done, and I was totally in the zone.   My ear buds were echoing “YOU Raise Me Up”.   Feeling the inspiration of skating to this piece years ago, my arms and legs could have been skimming the ice.   Oblivious to all people, places and THINGS, I had floated back to the past when a sheet of ice provided my deepest source for praising God.

     Then the tsunami hit.   Not ten feet away, but not even ten inches away, the object of my being’s irrational fear was slithering.   Worse yet, not a baby like three days ago, this moment’s nemesis was huge, fat, full grown and dead set in collision path with me.   My momentum was too fast to brake.   Both my unreasonable fear and natural instinct took over.   My unreasonable fear produced blood curling screams emitting from my mouth.   My natural instinct catapulted my body high into the air and a jump that surpassed even the best distance I ever completed in my old professional days.  

    As if my total panic performance needed any more embarrassment, this time I was not alone on the path.   Don’t know what shocked the spectators of my fiasco more – my over the top screaming fear of a snake or my somehow managing a standing up, safe landing.   Truth be told, I surprised myself, too.   A total knee and two total hips later, I didn’t think I had it me either!!! 

     Once more, I felt God’s calling direction.   This time I didn’t turn away.   Nope.   Instead, with clear vision I saw not my life’s fear of a physical worldly snake but the blame owed the serpent of physical and spiritual death.   I was brought back to an incident I shared in a manuscript I wrote dealing with grief and Jim’s (my hubby’s) death.   I feel it is this writing, not newly scripted words, I am called to share.   Doesn’t matter if it is COVID19 or my husband’s death, the slithering snake must take the spotlight of blame.   From my manuscript, “NOT A MANUAL BUT EMMANUEL”, I share…..

     “Months before even thinking seriously about putting our home on the market, something happened that made me realize grief’s journey has an additional player whom I had overlooked.   It had been so natural for me to narrow grief down to six players: Hubby, me, our 3B’s and God.   I had completely forgotten the snake!!!   That all changed the night I came home from my church small group, and Granddaddy (my father who lives with me) summoned me to his room.

     In a serious and authoritative voice, Granddaddy ordered me to take a seat.  Next he informed me it was a good thing I had been gone for a couple of hours, because if I had been home, there would be a FOR SALE sign in our yard.   Granddaddy continued that since Hubby’s death, I had learned out of necessity to handle spiders and even did a pathetic, but somewhat trying, attempt in regards to the field mouse that found my pantry.   However, the three foot snake he discovered in my kitchen earlier that night would have done me in. 

     Trying to drown my spontaneous hysteria, Granddaddy blared, “It’s gone.”   Our neighbor had taken care of it.   Staring Granddaddy straight in the eyes, I declared he was only half right.   Had I been home, indeed, there would be a FOR SALE sign in our yard, but it also would read VACANT!!!

     Actually in the time it took our neighbor to get to our home and Granddaddy to get our dogs outside, that three foot snake had slithered downstairs.   Our neighbor found it at the threshold of the room where Hubby died.

   As the petrifying picture flashed through my mind, an even bigger reality registered with me.  I had failed to realize Satan, the snake, was a significant villain player in grief’s journey.   Till that moment, I had failed to associate him as death’s perpetrator.   As long as Satan goes unidentified and unbeknown as death’s true cause, one deadly enemy needing to be recognized, and defeated, will continue to wield his sword, striking down the hope of heaven and replacing it with the hell of despair.

     Grief is definitely one of the weapons the devil uses to turn us from God and toward him.   Satan’s goal is wrongfully putting the responsibility for death in God’s hands, not under his own slithering body, where it truly belongs.   Man was not created to die.   Man’s first sin in the Garden of Eden introduced death, and Satan choreographed the event.   ‘By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.’ (Genesis 3:19)

     After Hubby died, I was so caught up in not laying the blame at anyone’s door that I overlooked the devil who hides in the shadow of every threshold of death.   I believe it is wrong to allow Satan to hide in the shadow.   Quite the opposite, a high powered spotlight needs to illuminate not only his responsibility for all deaths but also his delight in influencing our looking toward God with unsettling questions instead of glaring down him, the evil one, as the ultimate answer of why everyone, including our loved ones, must die.  

     The devil takes aim and targets a loved one’s death attempting to turn it into a weapon inflicting deep wounds on family left behind.   He celebrates when he succeeds in bringing the spiritual and emotional lives of those grieving into a death of their own.   Bingo!!!   He has killed many birds with one stone, so to speak.

     The night that snake tried to slither his way into Hubby’s and my bedroom, I realized my laying the blame for Hubby’s death at no one’s door was a band aid not a cure.   From that moment on, I understood one vital phase of the journey through grief is not so much as letting God (and humans too) off the hook but rather as putting the devil on the hook.   Blaming no one is a passive band aid.   It helps cover the wound but not much more.   Blaming Satan is more of an antibiotic leading to a cure.   Just as it takes a high powered microscope to discover and pinpoint the cause of many deadly viruses; I repeat, it takes getting Satan out his veiled shadow and into the spotlight to truly fathom that we must lay death’s blame at his belly, not in God’s hands.

     Satan slithered in Hubby’s and my bedroom suite the morning Hubby was physically taken from our family, but no way would he take up residence again in my midst.   He would not halt my journey through grief.   He was the cause the 3B’s and I were forced to begin grief’s journey; but he would not keep me caught in death’s hell-filled snare.   Satan is now out of the shadow, revealed and illuminated for the player he is in death.”….

     From the then of my grief manuscript to the now of COVID19, not God, but the serpent devil is to blame.   My walk three days ago found me too afraid and wanting to blot out my fears to share this message.   But God’s call today was, for both me and you, a “not to be silenced” reminder of from where true evil comes and under whose belly rests the blame.  When people wonder why God would let such fear and death of this pandemic befall us, may we answer back.   The powers of evil might surround us, but God stands ready to uplift and carry us either safely through this worldly virus or beyond it to the reward of our heavenly home.  

     Two boats beckon us to jump aboard and travel through this deadly storm.   One’s captain is a serpent and its sails are set for the death of hades.   The other’s Captain is our Savior and His sails are set for either continual life on earth or eternal life in heaven.   Which boat will you choose as the Captain of your soul???

As years turn us from growing children into adolescents lauding how grown up we are, one scene is often forgotten. I speak of the tangible, and symbolic, process of learning how to ride our two wheeler bikes. Join me in a flashback to that precarious experience; and, together, let’s unwrap a deeper lesson than riding around the block. Be it eons ago or present day, to everyone, but those involved in this learning process, the scene is actually almost humorous.

The training wheels have been raised. The child is timid, yet yearning to master this longed for rite of passage. Mom stands in the grass beside the sidewalk with panic on her face and shouting cries of encouragement and confidence. Dad, with pride and certainty, grasps the back of the bike and runs behind to help balance his child and prevent a crash. Over and over, the scene repeats until practice makes not perfect, but sustainable, and the child, on their own, zooms off to complete their solo round the block venture.

In a nutshell, that’s the tangible. What about the symbolic? Its midst revolves around the message of control. Mankind, plain and simple, is fearful when sensing inability to control any force that might result in harm to them, their loved ones or the backyard of the world in which they live. For things to be well, we feel we must control any, and all, that brings the opposite. This might be human nature, but God calls us to rest in His Divine Nature. Every way you slice it, man can’t control anything. Only God has this power. Man was not created to control but to be able to handle, through God’s grace, what is out of our control. This is God’s powerful gift to mankind, if only we recognize and use it.

Every year, humans face flu season. We don’t panic. Why? Largely, because we have vaccines and medicines. How many of us have ever given thought to the fact that this is not controlling the yearly disease but, at best, only handling it? Our flu season security has falsely propped up the myth that within our hands lies the power of control. However, if we could control, then man would eliminate the flu. Instead, mankind handles this health disease relying on tools of medical science, overlooking the blessing, and necessity, of leaning on God to control assailants to our health — both physical and spiritual.

Total panic engulfs our Nation as we endure COVID-19. Why? Largely, because we have no vaccines or medicines to stop its deadly path. Tragically, we are fast running out of protective gear and machines to protect and keep our bodies breathing. I wish it were in my power to humanly produce these physical, life saving needs for everyone facing down this urgency. It isn’t. It is, none the less, within the power of my pencil to sound the reminder that the protective armor of God is at no shortage and waits for each and every one of us to put it on.

“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.” Ephesians 6:11-13 (ESV)

What we cannot control, the armor of God will enable us to handle. The way towards handling is to release the need to control into the Hands of God. Like the father who ran behind his child’s bike to keep it from going out of control until his child could handle the bike, God’s hands are on us and won’t let go whenever life’s challenges threaten to topple us. Continually, and no matter our specific needs, God clothes us in His protective care. Thus, as we search for, and ultimately discover, the ability to handle this pandemic, my prayer is that we each don our own personal protective gear — the armor of God.

“Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints.” Ephesians 6:14-18 (ESV)

It bears keeping in mind that the best way to keep God’s armor around us is to take time to center ourselves in the Word of God, the Bible. When anxiety and fear encircles us, our strongest weapon is a straight line to the Bible and concentrated focus not on life’s triangles but on the Triangle of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

As a last, but not least, reflection, I leave you with this thought to always remember. When I, and you, handled our bicycles for that very first time, our Dads let go as we rode away and stood behind us with great pride and love. Before, during and after we learn to handle our ride through our earthly journey, (from childhood through Senior Citizen) God, our Father, steadfastly stands with the greatest of pride and love for us. However, God does not let go and stay behind. His hand remains on us, even when we ride away.

     Being the eternal optimist God created me to be, I firmly believe a phoenix rising from the ashes is materializing from the current pandemic.   What’s more, every single one of us Christians has to help give this phoenix flight.   We owe this to God, and my hope is we don’t let God down.

     Our earthly Commander in Chief consistently calls COVID 19 the “INVISIBLE” enemy.   His continual verbiage of “INVISIBLE” enemy has even become a common term many other officials and ordinary citizens now use.   So be it intentional or unintentional by our President, I see God’s hand intentionally using this virus to prove to all 21^st Century, doubting Thomas strugglers that the “INVISIBLE” does exist.   “INVISIBLE” is not only possible, it is real.  We cannot see the COVID 19 “INVISIBLE” enemy, but its presence is undeniably proven. 

     The number of people who, before this virus, rejected, and even scorned, the presence of the “INVISIBLE” is massive.   To this multitude, the thought of anything “INVISIBLE” actually living was absurd.   Well, maybe now their minds might not be so closed and their souls might open.    

     Since COVID 19 has proven there is an “INVISIBLE” enemy, it is equally dependable to proclaim that there is an “INVISIBLE” God.   Currently, we are seeing that the world’s population doesn’t have to see its deadly enemy to believe it exists.   This being so, it is parallel to proclaim that neither does all of creation have to see their life giving God for Him to exist.

     To the argument that the virus can be visibly captured in a petri dish under a microscope, I counter that God’s presence can be observed without the containment of a petri dish or magnification of a microscope.   For, even amidst the death brought by the “INVISIBLE” enemy bursts forth the spring time life created by our “INVISIBLE” God. Every being can look and visibly see this.

     God never allows a disaster to strike to drive us away from Him.   The wake-up calls He allows are always to bring us back to Him.   From Old Testament to present day, mankind can be stiff necked and back turning to both God and our neighbor.   Over and over, we currently see the best of humanity reaching out to help each other through this pandemic.   We also need to, more directly and more universally, bring ourselves and our fellow mankind back to God.   A society now believing the reality of the “INVISIBLE” cracks open the door for Christians to share the reality of not just our, but also their, “INVISIBLE” God.      

At the onset of my first post, I expressed this blog is yours and my side by side stroll to the destination of being UPLIFTED IN A BROKEN DOWN WORLD.   My pencil may have brought this thought to you, but my prayer is that your voice will bring this message to those who cross your path and are also in need of the Cross of Christianity.   The door to belief in the “INVISIBLE” has been unlocked.   Let us, as Christians, open it wide.

     Christians, and non-Christians, are attributing our Country’s closed churches to a deadly virus.   My personal, and preferred, choice is to spread a different way of viewing this.   Most declare our brick and mortar worship structures were closed to combat a health enemy.    I discern the closure of our houses of collective worship as a reminder that not church architecture, but each member of the congregation, is meant to be the home where God reigns and is praised.   Our lives, not a building, need to be the open door where God, and all humanity, can peak in and see the gift of God’s blessings and sustaining strength.

     Too many Christians trust that showing up in a building for a Sabbath day church service not only labels them eternally saved but, also, fulfills their payback to God for His payrolling their happy ever after.   God doesn’t call us to a weekly church schedule.   He created us, and commands us, to continually praise Him throughout each and every one of both our good days and our bad nights.    We were given breath to praise God not just in a building but in our every breathing moment – even if we are fearfully panting our way through a life suffocating pandemic.   “The people whom I formed for Myself that they might declare My praise.”  Isaiah 43:21 (ESV)

     Now, by no means am I implying God sent this deadly disaster.   What my “always find a positive message” pencil is trying to write is I view our church buildings being put to sleep as a wake-up call for all us Christians.  

     Great community, inspiration and deep hope grow from us coming together as ecclesiastical family in churches around our Nation.   Unquestionably, yes, this is great praise to our sovereign Lord.   However, in a time when many falsely think Sunday church is the percentage of praise God calls us to, then churches being shuttered is a way for us to have the blinds raised and realize we owe God more – in  fact, ALL.

     Thus, on the bright side of this dark time, since sitting in a straight row of pews is temporarily off the calendar, let’s welcome God back into the family circle of our everyday lives.   While barred from the buildings where the Cross of Christ triumphantly hangs, may we all be upheld by the hope-filled armor of Christ’s arms, once more, stretched out for us and carrying the cross of this deadly coronavirus.  

     Yesterday, from within the walls of our churches, our voices joined in choruses to praise our Almighty Father.  Today, each of us stands outside the closed doors of America’s churches.   However, we cannot feel excused from praising God because the choruses have fallen silent.   Instead, we must stand solo and raise our voices in praise and petition, knowing God hears and embraces our every word.   Herein, lies the way to the tomorrow that will re-open all our churches.

     “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow” – so the lyrics go…   But what about today???   Fear, panic and worst case scenarios are the fodder of much of our go to media information sources.   Twenty-four hours a day, it seems like we are being “press”ed into anxiety, hysteria and a sense of helplessness and hopelessness.   Medical experts, our president, vice president and even both sides of the aisle are (to the best of human ability) working, advising, and guiding us to what’s in all our best interest.   However, maybe our way through this journey, minus the paralyzing fear, is not found in who is guiding us but in WHO is guarding us.   “But the Lord is faithful.   He will establish you and guard you against the evil one.”  2 Thessalonians 3:3 (ESV)

     The current tendency is to feel powerless.   This can change.   We, being children of a guarding God, can choose not to panic but to place our fears into our Lord’s hands.   We can even find peace by rephrasing the emphasis of “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow” to BE, cause He lives.   I CAN face tomorrow.

     Be is a verb meaning exist, breathe, endure, prevail and survive.   Most assuredly, we can BE, exist, breathe, endure, prevail and survive cause Christ defied human death and lives.   And yes, even in the midst of a pandemic, we CAN face tomorrow with faith and hope because Christ lives.

     The very core of our faith is to know and believe God carries us not just on our sunny days but also through our storms.   No matter what outcomes we are handed, the Hand of God carries all of us and never abandons any of us.   “…I will not forget you!   See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands…” Isaiah 49: 15-16 (NIV).   In God’s hands, we are cradled in inner peace on earth and eternal peace in heaven.

     How we, as Christians, personify our faith in the virus of a storm might best testify the truth and power of our preaching pulpits.   Do we, Christians, truly find peace in God’s promise to uphold and  carry us; or when the pedal hits the metal, so to speak, do we fear we are crashing?   One way or the other, our actions in the current storm will answer this questions for all the world to see – God, too!!!

     Not just for others, but for our own inner need, may we take time to find, claim and rest upon the calming peace of God’s own reassuring words.   “Be strong and courageous.   Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you.   He will not leave you or forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6 (ESV)

     For weeks now, residual side effects from a Eustachian Tube infection have clogged my life with diminished hearing and amplified frustration.   My go to phrase has become, “what did you say?”   This, less than embraced, condition never crossed my mind to possibly be, like so many other instances I’ve interpreted as, a loud and clear Godly message for me.   However, I finally heard it as a twofold God vibrating alert!!

     Our two ears are meant to hear as one.  Both ears perceive and blend together vibrations into one resonating sound.   Talk about a jarring experience.   Have your ears ever heard the same thing individually?   Mine did.   It was as if two people with identical, but separate, voices were talking at the same time, saying the same thing and heard simultaneously, but independently, of the other.  My immediate reaction was not only surprise but also fear that my auditory sensors were not only malfunctioning but, even worse, possibly beyond repair!!

     Even after a couple of days, when my bilateral ears began to once more function in unison, I continued to wonder about what I conceived then as complete malfunction.   Finally, the lightbulb   dawned and a smile lit my newly illuminated understanding.   Looking unto heaven, I uttered, “Got it, Lord!”

     How does God hear prayer?   Think about it.   Billions and billions of prayers are offered each day to our Heavenly Father’s ears.   Many, if not most, rise from dire need.   So, are our prayers heard in unison or individually?   Many voices express the exact same plea.   Are these longings heard as a chorus or a solo?   I choose to let my weird hearing occurrence remind, and reassure, me that God hears each and every one of our prayers not as a chorus but individually as a one on one communication.   What’s more, the Bible confirms God hears our individual voice.   “Then you will call on Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you.” Jeremiah 29:12 (NIV)

     Having earlier stated my Eustachian Tube symbolic message was twofold, I’ll proceed to my second aha moment.   Days turned into weeks of sounds around me often being muffled, at best, and completely muted, at worst.   Both frustration and irritation took over my personality as inaudibility captured much of my hearing.   “What did you say”, became my refrain.   Believe me, that’s disastrous for a lady as verbally attentive and responsive as I am!!!   At times, I, literally, felt shut out from conversing with population planet Earth.  

     At the height of my exasperation, once more, I sensed God nudge my plight towards His enlightenment.   There I was, angrily annoyed because I couldn’t hear all the noise and chit chat gabfests of the outside world.   Could it be God’s engineering wisdom was shouting not outside babble but His inner voice and direction was what I needed to get an earful of and heed?   I was hell bent on hearing the world, loud and clear.   However, what my life (yours, too) most needs is to mute the outside world and, in silence, listen to the word of God that often speaks quietly from within my heart and soul.   I had forgotten that, so often, God speaks inaudibly from inside out and not blaringly from outside in.      

  My fight to hear what was coming from external voices turned to God’s peace and understanding, internally, speaking to me.   Maybe, God’s message to all of us clearly articulates that not the world’s chatter but His voice needs to be sought, heard and followed.     “And if you faithfully obey the voice of the Lord your God, being careful to do all His commandments that I command you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations of the earth.   And all these blessings shall come upon you and overtake you, if you obey the voice of the Lord your God.” Deuteronomy 28:1-2 (ESV)