The Beauty in the Spark

Songs can capture exactly how you feel at that given moment and when they do it's quite poignant. . . and sometimes they catch you completely by surprise.

This happened to me about a month ago. The song was Joy by British singer Tracey Thorn. I had just gone to see about a job and even though I had, for all intents and purposes, gotten the position, I was more discouraged than I had been in awhile. When you get disappointed so many times, you get so tired of that feeling you truly feel like nothing will EVER work out for you!

My spirit was crushed with sadness and I didn't really even know why. What I did know was I needed God to meet me in that place of deep hurt and just hold me. . . and He did so through this song. There were two lines that struck me with all the subtlety of a tornado.

You loved it as a kid/now, you need it more than you ever did/ and it's because of the dark/you see the beauty in the spark. Those words touched my soul and gave my spirit, bruised and beaten up, a much-needed hug.

See I needed that same type of joy and wonderment I had as a child and I was asking God to restore those feelings in my heart. . . a pure heart that has been broken many times over and let cynicism slowly begin to seap in. When you are going through adverse times, in the midst of the intense heat of the Refiner's fire, any good thing is amplified a million times over. For me, the prospects of full-time employment and this song were two sparks in an extremely dark time.

I listened to Thorn's song over and over and over and sobbed, uncontrollably at times, pouring my heart out to God. On my knees, pounding the ground and shouting out begging Him to come through for me! I just told Him what I needed and, although He already knew it, how I felt. When I calmed down and regained my composure, I decided I would try to find her on Twitter. I did and I wrote her. Although she has over 40,000 followers, I wrote her. Strangely enough, to some, I had no doubt she would write me back.

I told her how God has truly touched her voice and how deeply her song Joy had touched me and what it now means to me, making sure she knew few songs had ever had that strong of an effect on me. I let her know I was praying for her and hoped she had a blessed Christmas. I did hear back from her and she informed me she is a complete atheist. While some people would've been discouraged hearing such news . . . it only made me praise God that much more!

Only He could use someone, who doesn't even believe in Him, to reach and encourage one of His followers! That was really profound to me. God is SO BIG and filled with wisdom He may even show this talented singer, one day, how He was with her even when she had no faith-- who knows!

The Lord heard my cries. He caught every single tear I cried that night and over the past few months. I worshiped Him, sometimes reluctantly, but I worshiped nonetheless. I talked to Him and I listened to what He was teaching me. He rewarded my obedience. He rewarded my heart, because He is ALWAYS faithful! Just when I had gotten to the point I couldn't take ANY more . . . He delivered!

Was the tunnel dark? Was it scary? Yes it was, but on the other side I'm experiencing a brilliant Light that makes me forget just how dark it was and that . . . that's a BEAUTIFUL feeling! My big sister, who is like a second Mom to me, said, "I'm just so happy to have my Bubbi back." My response was, "Me too."

When you've survived a crushing blow, one the devil hoped would destroy you, you bounce back stronger, wiser and more resilient than ever. The flames did not consume you~ they forged you! And since the fourth man in the flames protected you and guided you through the Valley of the Shadow of the Death, you emerge not only victorious, but more appreciative of His provision as well! After the dark comes the morning . . . remember that. The storm may be FIERCE, but I assure you God can, and will, in His timing calm it.

What does this glorious light consists of? A new place of employment, my first full-time job in over four years (that wasn't seasonal and that was at least 40 hours) with benefits and an amazing woman . . . one that I never would've believed our paths would've crossed again. Twenty one years after being boyfriend and girlfriend in middle school (7th grade). Here we are again, except this time pruned and prepared. What a faithful God! Beauty beyond measure-- both outwardly and more importantly inwardly. The wildest part is the VERY LAST thing I was looking for was a girlfriend, or any type of relationship, due to my wounded heart and mistrust I suddenly had in women.

But when it's a God thing you just KNOW and I will never turn down His bread (manna). When He's the Orchestrator of it . . . it's just right and there is no doubt! We are trying a new approach than we've ever taken-- we are letting Him build the relationship brick and brick with us putting our tools down. He was a carpenter 2000 years ago and though it sometimes doesn't feel like it . . . He is continually building in our lives!

So I encourage you mighty man, mighty woman of God~ HOLD ON!! Help is on its way . . . things are going to get better for you! Keep in mind the Teacher is always quiet during the tests. When you get tired of holding on, hold on through His strength. He desires to bless you and sometimes that blessing is an unanswered prayer. . . one that feels like a denial. He desires to grow and mature you and that most effectively happens through pain and brokenness.

In the face of the paralyzing fear, and sadness, Satan tries to place in your path, throw JOY-- he hates it when whatever schemes he tries to execute don't succeed in stopping our worship of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords!

The cavalry may not come to your rescue when you want it to, but I can assure you with every breath in my lungs . . . it will come! The One who died for us on Cavalry, Jesus Christ, will once again be your ever-present Help, but I encourage you to before, during and after give Him the glory and know He is working ALL things together for your good! Know your worth as a precious, and beloved, child of God and praise His glorious name in the hallway until He opens up a door for you!

It's in the hallway He teaches us, molds us and matures us the most. Don't miss some of His greatest miracles in the hallway because you are too busy praying for the miracle on the other side of the door.

The Pho3nix

He made beauty from ashes from the flames I rise
That's what grace is, creating truth from a heap of lies

See, I was deserving of death and not a single thing more
Yet, You loved me so much, as You cried and Your blood started to pour

In the flames and burning that's where I was destined, and bound, to go
You pursued me, bathed me, then washed me white as the purest snow

Out of the ashes You called me by name, "Come forth" You are my hand's very best
Father don't you know my dirt, my shame, how can You let me ride Your wave like a crest?

Know what I've done-- been a hypocrite, a sinner, an addict, served two masters, I was fake
Posed as a sheep when I was a wolf, a tender bunny when I was closer to a snake

Still I rise, still I rise . . . the Phoenix undeserving and so beautiful-- makes Barbie blush
You Raise Me Up like I'm Josh Grobin~ you quiet my spirit, in the storm, oh what a hush

You made a way for me Jesus, the army was closing in then you parted the Red Sea
Of Your grace I can't contend, Your love, your mercy, your power has set me free!

Out of the grave, out of the inferno into these clouds I fly like an eagle~ I soar
I chased the wind, but you were patient, until I found I wanted You more

Rise me up above the hills, be my Strength, put a crown on my head
I only want it, so I can cast it at Your feet, in worship, when I'm dead

JMB

Go Fly a Kite Part 3

As soon as they pulled in driveway, Timmy unbuckled himself and jumped out excitedly.

"Dad, Dad," he called out before the front door had even closed.

"Back here, son."

Timmy ran down the hallway to his Dad's office.

"I got a kite Dad. You know how you always tell me to go fly a kite," Timmy naively asked.

"Mamaw took me to Walmart and bought me one."

As if he didn't even hear his son at all, he told Timmy to go get his glove. Timmy cowered.

"But I wanted to fly my new kite."

"Boy, if you want me to spend some time with you you'll go get your glove."

Those words crushed Timmy, but he ran to his room and put his kite on the bed and grabbed his glove out of his toy box. He ran outside and started tossing the baseball up in the air and trying to catch it. He was out there 15 minutes before his Dad came outside. With him only six years old, he spent far more time chasing the ball as it rolled than catching it.

When his Dad came outside he was on the phone, leaving the boy instantly disappointed. He tossed the ball to his Dad and his Dad threw it back. Drop, a bounced ball, throw, drop . . . the cycle repeated itself over and over.

It didn't take long Justin started. It wasn't malicious. It wasn't even purposely mean-spirited. He was just being him. As parents, it's easy to become hung up on performance instead of just being IN the moment and down on their level, which is all kids really want in the first place. . . a sentiment shared by every kid throughout the world no matter what their background.

"You're not keeping your eye on the ball Timmy," Justin, who was an All-State performer in high school, said.

"Talking to my son, we're playing catch," Justin quickly followed up.

"Who are you talking to Daddy," the son said ignoring his Father's pleas to 'do better.'

Justin ignored him before starting off a soapbox sermon with an audience of zero.

"Second place is the first loser. No point playing the game just for fun." Justin said, hoping to live his own dreams through Timmy of making it to the majors. "Your know your Daddy was All-State," he proudly proclaimed.

"Yep, if I wouldn't have thrown out my arm there is no doubt I would've made it to the pros."

"What's All-Steak," Timmy innocently asked. "Is that what Mommy fixes for dinner sometimes?"

The same cycle happened like clockwork. Only something strange happened . . . Timmy did catch the ball. His eyes got big like flying saucers when he realized his achievement. He quickly looked at his Dad, hoping and just knowing he saw the monumental moment. And he would've if he hadn't been so busy, on Facebook, drowning himself in everyone else's lives to even notice his own life just got wet with one of those irreplaceable instants!

Timmy threw down his glove and kicked the grass mad his Dad didn't even see what he did. He Ran over to the swing and threw himself on it belly-first as the pendulum sent him flying into the air, arms extended, like he was Superman. After another 10 minutes passed, of which Justin didn't even notice, he called Timmy back over to him. Come play catch again was the request.

Timmy walked back over and picked up his glove in happy-go-lucky fashion.

Throw, drop, chase. Throw, drop, chase. . . until lightning struck twice. Timmy closed his eyes and viola he caught another throw.

"Did you see that. Huh did you Daddy? Did you see," his eagerness bubbling over.

With the phone glued to his ear, Justin didn't miss a beat.

"Yeah I did. Good job, but next time keep your eyes open." As soon as the words hit the atmosphere, Timmy felt that all too familiar feeling . . . he was crushed!

His little spirit had soared to the heavens only to have them nosedive, crash and burst into a fiery inferno. Justin tried to think fast . . . after all, he was used to using his smoothness, his charm to get exactly what he wanted no matter the situation.

"Put it here son," he said as he reached his hand down to his son, initiating a high-five. But the damage had been. Sure Timmy halfway, and with the enthusiasm of watching paint dry, extended his hand up to his Dad, but he was just ready to get in the house.

As tears dripped down his cheeks, he tried to open the door, but his blurry eyes just wouldn't allow him. Justin, feeling terrible, raced up the five steps and pulled the handle down for his son.

He felt defeated, his spirit was crushed-- it was an all too familiar feeling. Maybe he would always be a screw-up . . . a failure. His Dad's words sounded like piercing screams in the middle of a slumber. They ate at him, consumed him and wilted any chance of life before it could bloom.

"Baby, what's wrong," Timmy's Mom Kailey asked.

"Dad," he shot back more hurt than angry.

Timmy started to walk off then turned back around, facing the kitchen, almost as quickly as he had started down the hall.

"Mom, wanna help me fly my new kite with me before it gets night-time?"

"I would love to," she started to walking to his room. Timmy smile was so big it could've covered up the sun.

"Oh shoot, I forgot. Baby, I can't play with you right now. I have spaghetti cooking for your Dad. Maybe next time. I promise."

It's always next time.