Journel of a PK (Preacher's Kid)

If I had to say what were one or two of the most loved memories I have about being a southern preacher's daughter I would say foremost I loved and still cherish being the "apple of his eye." His only daughter, not in a princess-y way at all but just a light in his eye, a sparkle, an honor in his life that I did not deserve nor earn. Never once was there any hint or lack of favor toward me. One learns young in a "fish bowl" that people will believe what they choose and they will misunderstand a man and his heart and they will take it out on him and his family but they can never touch the "apple of his eye". The second treasure I carry with me as a southern preacher's daughter is the peace and stillness of the iconic "Sunday afternoon Nap." We didn't really have to go to sleep at all but it was a private safe haven when the world stopped turning and my two brothers, my beautiful mother, my dad, and I all took off our Sunday outfits and each lay between our washed cotton bedsheets and rested our heads on sweet southern smelling pillows and Rested. It was a Sabbath Rest that I did not yet understand at an early age. It was a sturdy parson's home and all was right with the world. I never knew what lie ahead for us nor that life would not always taste as sweet as those Sunday afternoons. I didn't know yet that daddy couldn't fix everything and that my sweet, sweet brothers weren't men yet. I didn't know that my mother's southern beauty hid pain that I had not yet heard of and had no inkling of the hard things that were expected of her. I memorized each one of them and I tasted the ripened rays of childhood and it has stayed on my tongue forever! I love them.

To be alone

To be alone and quiet in my mind seems harder these days. I find ways to fill up the quiet with noise. I find it difficult just to sit. I am compelled to turn to books, writing, Facebook, t.v., sleep, and if that doesn't work perhaps family or a friend. This cannot be I think to myself...My life has more substance than this doesn't it? Pondering...

Thoughts

Thoughts from Me on Jesus…

Every relationship Jesus enters, every attack he encounters, every question asked him
all serve to affirm and reaffirm his absolute authority over the world of man. He doesn’t just have authority, He IS authority.

Jesus defied all boundaries and shatters perceptions about the true nature of God and of devotion to God. Prior to Grace the call of the devout is clear: Learn the system and keep it faithfully but no one could or can! However, Jesus knew no system and was not part of a system. Jesus weaved unafraid in and out of established religious customs abiding by some of the customs while exposing others to the “farce” they were (are).

So many of my distortions had to be reworked within me and some even on the “outside” of me…accepting The truth of the fact that Jesus knows how to bring distortions and formulas out into the open so that we can see them in the light of Himself!

The instant Jesus touches you-Hope brings reality. Jesus’ power is not something he possesses it is who He is. Redemption, healing, creating…these are the fibers of Jesus’ being. Jesus chose to accept the limitations that came with his existence as a human being but never negates the fact that this person Jesus is Creator and God.

Peter walked on water. Jesus did not condemn Peter or the other disciples for their fear or doubt he only asked them to consider their lack of faith. Why to you doubt, fear, or have little faith? My answer is because I take my eyes off THE ONE, Jesus and instead focus on where I am coming from or going to. I dwell on the storm not really seeing and knowing THE ONE who is standing beside me, living with me, interceding for me. When we allow our fear or wounds or failures to define us this is a red flag that we are not seeing our Lord correctly! What is the correct view of Jesus? That he is the only source of hope, security, healing and peace in this world or any world regardless of what awaits us.I know this for sure, religious or spiritual pride is the lie that says we are somehow elevated above others. That we have somehow DONE something or achieved a “skill” or “formula” in the ways of God…no we (I) have not. I am so thankful for Grace for that is the only way I qualify to be called a daughter of The King. Let it be done unto me as you have spoken Lord God.
Like

War


I heard a history teacher once say that what made Alexander the Great so great was his giftedness as a strategist. I have spent the summer reading about the Wars of this world in the last two hundred years. I guess one would call them the “big” wars of America mostly. “Theaters of Battles” strike me as a strange label for the carnage, heartache, slaughter, and courage of millions of human beings…I am an educated woman and I can see there were “attempts” at strategy in these wars but the end result is the one who kept killing the enemy with the best weapons,and the side with the most food and supplies until the land in question was overtaken was the victor.
Besides reading I have watched documentaries and movies that portray man’s capacity for destruction as well as man’s capacity for hope. I have been astounded and really left speechless but mostly humbled by the unspeakable cost for my freedom to live, worship, and love as I please. Oh my audacity to think anything is for free! Words of thanks seem trite. Pockets of grief for those who lived and died through these wars stir deep within my soul…the pillaging, the rapes, the slit throats, the barbaric torture, the starvation, the rivers and seas of spilt blood, and the endless mountains of bodies left in war’s wake is more than I can attain.

I wonder if war began when Cain killed Abel? It seems that since that murder man has been at war with each other. I hear some say that war can never be the right thing to do but then others, as well as I, say some things are worth fighting and dying for…

I will repeat the well worn adage, "getting old is not for sissies" HOWEVER...

I have had glasses since I was in the third grade. I wear them for distance...that distance gets closer and closer but somehow I have been spared at the age of 58 needing reading glasses as well as glasses for near-sightedness. Anyway, as I sit here typing I realize I am tilting my head up a little to read...OH man...not bifocals too! Oh well let me tell you the trade off for aging is worth it. While my eyes may grow dimmer my sight has never been more clear and crystal! I see that the truth is what truly sets people free. I have seen it with my own eyes. I am an eyewitness to what seems to be a problem for all humanity. Many people believe the struggles in this life are regarding power. The power between good and evil. The power between money and poverty. The power between black and white. The power between weak and strong. This is not so. The issue is and always has been about truth. It is the truth that a three year old can see. It is the truth that a young woman kidnapped from her family into torture can see. It is the truth that a brand new mother can see and know and hear in her newborn baby girl's voice. It is the truth that a soldier will see on the battlefield or the sweet black slave see even though she is weary and worn. It is the truth that somewhere someone is cold. It is the truth that somewhere while you are young and strong someone just as valuable is weak and old. It is truth that money cannot buy you love and that the vast wealth that this world loves is nothing but empty wood, hay, and stubble.
Oh yes, I see this all clearer than I use too. I am much more keen and aware that everything is not what it seems and these moments of pearls I have strung together and called my life must be based on, redeemed by, and sanctified by Truth. So, getting old may be hard in the physical realm but in the spiritual realm it is new life and new vision everyday. It is running to the Truth...
John 8:31

A Letter to the Church

A Letter to the Church

I beg you friend, do not contrive for me
yet another design of how to be…
Holy

When I do wrong and am severed from
His Joy
Your penal guilt cannot restore…
my wounded soul.

My God is full of light and grace
His eyes see where my failures…
Lie

Do not promote for me more alters
that do not lead to…
Transformation

Dilute not His New Wine
with the dredges of obligation
It is His very own mystery that eradicates
My guilt

The only righteous judgment is in the blood
He spilt...
Jesus saves me

Jill Autrey Dorman

I have always known that my enemy is more of a coward than I but then I am less of a hero than he.

I have always known that my enemy is more of a coward than I but then I am less of a hero than he. It is a high and narrow wall and one misstep and I go tumbling into the putrid abyss of bitterness and hatred. So who is the coward? The one who will not walk on the wall or the one who falls into the stench of hate and ungforgiveness thus learning in that stench to love and forgive? I think the latter.