Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Light the Match That Burns the Bridge

In spite of all you've said
it's never been in your hands
So let us speak a farewell eulogy
over all our plans

Light the match that burns the bridge
that doesn't lead to Grace
Now I clearly recognize
I am a stranger in this place

Every street I've walked upon
had to be redeemed
The places where I lay my head
never felt like home it seems

Light the match that burns the bridge
that doesn't lead to Grace
Light the match that burns
the alters we have made

It is a Lover's dream we all have to tell
It is a Ship of Dreams that never did set sail
I wander in and out of a sleepless fog
Hearing peaceful songs
that draw me to the Throne of God

Monday, September 22, 2014

Product of My Raising

I am a product or I should say a recovering product of well meaning but so often damaging Southern Bible belt of the 1960’s-1970’s. I was born on the last day of the year in 1955. I am privileged to have been born into the heritage of Jesus loving, Bible believing parents and grandparents. They however could not protect me from what I call “being a Church kid” which simply means, as many of you are, one who was at church every time the door was open. One who knew all the right things to say and prayers to pray in order to “appear” to be “all right with my eternal destiny, in other words NOT going to hell.”

The legalism of the Church that distorts truth has always been around. I believe the first distortion presented itself almost immediately after The Church begin. (that will be another subject but is well documented in the book of Acts).

Forwarding my life to about the age of thirty I found that my “sight” and “belief” of GOODNESS was incorrect and empty. My definition of goodness was a distorted view. I thought of goodness in terms of “being” good. Goodness was nice kind people who never got into trouble or had angry or evil thoughts. I thought Goodness was people who didn’t sin a lot, at least not the BIG sins! I did not know after all that time of being a Christian and loving Jesus that his goodness was and is supernatural. His goodness is intimate. HIs goodness is a “way” that He is. It is not just his character it is God’s being.

I saw with the help of my husband, Bob and mentor, Dr. Hud McWilliams, and my best friend Dr. Denise Gilliam that God is good because of His “rightness” His “righteous Holiness” and because of His goodness then HE can NOT be against me. He cannot be fear based, in the way that I had come to believe.

I finally saw that God is good in his being, he is good in his Word, he is good in his knowledge, he is good in his judgement, he is good in his works, actions and deeds. He is severely good in mercy and kind in grace. I finally know that only His goodness can satisfy my soul.

For any out there who do not know God fully in his goodness I pray today that the Spirit of God will give you eyes to see and ears to hear and a heart to be intimate with Him…as for this girl…

girl upon Mercy
riding away
girl upon mercy singing

girl upon mercy
safe from all lies
riding to live
a new day
singing…

a merciful hallelujah
singing good are you my Lord
sining mercy, hallelujah
riding on
to sing evermore.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Fear is a Wilderness


Fear is a wilderness
where the devil runs around
he tempted Jesus there
now he wants to take me down

Fear is a wilderness
where death creeps up on trust
the water is polluted
hope turns into dust

fear is a wilderness
where Jesus walked alone
oh but the King of Ages
left the wilderness undone!

sjad

Cobwebs

I suppose I'm just writing words on paper
that someone else has already said
like cobwebs draped upon a barbed wire fence
just a blown' in the wind

of what's been written here
most will matter very little
just a vapor of a dream
like cobwebs draped upon a barbed wire fence
just a blown' in the breeze

jill autrey dorman

Friday, September 5, 2014

Alpha Girl Suicides…have you heard this term?

Alpha Girl Suicides…have you heard this term?

There is a lot of wordage out there in the world and cyberspace and movies about the Alpha Male but lately my attention has been drawn to the Alpha Female. The Alpha Girl is the whole package. She is strong, she is a winner, she is pretty, she excels in academics, she comes from a good solid family who love her, she is confident, and she is successful. The Alpha Girl is on the honor roll or has only made a “few” B’s in her lifeThe Alpha Girl is not necessarily a cheerleader or a homecoming queen but she is most likely a “star” at what she pursues whether it is debate or basketball she will probably get a scholarship for it or an academic scholarship to boot. This female will have lots of friends, go to a good college, and have a dream of becoming a doctor, a journalist, a good mother and wife.
This female has a daddy who loves her well and a Mama she can talk to and is her biggest fan. She may have sisters or brothers that she adores and they adore her. This female will be cute in whatever she wears. She will have cute boyfriends and be invited to all the parties there are to be invited to. She is NOT a mean girl and she is not necessarily a rich girl. She is a very nice and pleasant girl. She is a joy to all who know her. She is Alpha because of all the things mentioned above. She moves and navigates her life with sense and humor. She leads. Leadership is natural to her. Leadership does not require large effort on her part. She is gifted. She is Alpha Female.
So why are the Alpha Females killing themselves? This is the puzzling question in a world where suicide is becoming more and more common and I cannot help noticing that the one, who by nature lives and survives well, is now taking her own life. I am not a scientist and I haven’t studied wildlife but I believe when alpha males and females die it is usually because of disease or warfare with a predator.
None of us can know another person’s inner self so suicide and the reason for it cannot ever really be explained nor would I have the audacity to presume or judge anyone else on this earth but this issue saddens me and compels me to questions. Not questions of why this happens so much as where was the hope?
the joy of life? Where did it go for this lovely young woman who seemingly had it all?
I cannot answer these questions I can only examine myself. I can only encourage the young woman in my path that while they are gifted as an Alpha Girl they must see it all, all of life as just that, a gift. We who love them, nurture them, and follow them must remind them just like everyone else wants to be reminded, “you are loved just for yourself and NOT your giftedness.”

A sober subject perhaps but I see the validity of discussing these things. These are wonderful women’s lives at stake. This essay is left open ended in a way but I will end here with the following poem from the Psalms of David…


In you, Lord my God; I put my trust.
I trust in you: do not let me be put to shame,
nor let my enemies triumph over me.
No one who hopes in you
 will ever be put to shame,
but shame will come on those
 who are treacherous without cause.
Show me your ways, Lord,
teach me your paths.
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
 for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long.
Remember, Lord, your great mercy and love,
 for they are from of old.
Do not remember the sins of my youth
 and my rebellious ways;
according to your love remember me,
 for you, Lord, are good.
I am a daughter of the Gulf Coast
it’s deep inside me like the Holy Ghost
from Texas oil to Pensacola Isle
calling me softly to come and sit a while…




Night Swim

Have you ever been in the Gulf of Mexico at night? Ever tipped back your head and felt your body rise and sway with the motion of the sea? Looking up into a star filled black sky ions above you. In between that vastness of The Milky Way and all the water below there is a connection. There is the sweet melodious song of God, the Creator that astounds you into an unspeakable romance with Him. You feel you are in a dimension of awareness between antiquity and eternity. There is no fear. There is no dread of this power that you know can take your life in an instant…There is just the sea, the sky, and the smell of brine, and God singing over you…
The surf faithfully sweeps toward the sand dunes that line the shore. You cannot see them in the night but you are sure they are there holding the island together and budding with beautiful golden oats. There is a rhythm to the beach where the days and the nights of your life seem easy and make sense. At least for me it does. There is a canopy of fluid above and below. A heady cup of wine and that cup indeed runneth over…



Loving someone isn't the completion of what love is, it's just the entrance of the relationship. You can't love for yourself. It must be for the other person. If you feel like you have the "upper hand" in a relationship with your husband, wife, friend, child you better take a long hard look because you are not in love nor are you loving...just think about this...

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.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

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

Monday, August 11, 2014

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…

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

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

Monday, February 24, 2014

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

Sunday, February 9, 2014

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.

Monday, January 27, 2014

A PK's Journel

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.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Seconds' post dawn...

It is early in the morning a few seconds post dawn. The melted butterscotch sky is streaked with baby blue and left over indigo. A nice squall blew up last night and the sand has no footprints in it. I cross the dunes: they are pregnant with sea oats. The oats sway so charmingly in the breeze and quietly support the island. As I come over the last dune I see something amazing. The biggest cat paw prints I've ever seen. I fit both of my feet and both hands into one paw print. After sixty seconds of sheer panic attack I think about turning and running but then I see him. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement: it is a quiet movement, like a ballet dancer. His mane reminds me of thick gold honey. His eyes command and pierce my heart. I am petrified. I cannot catch my breath. He is possibly eight or nine feet long, not counting his tail.
Somehow I feel he bids me, "come." I gently inch forward in awe and reverent fear. This lion could kill me with one swipe of his paw. I know somehow that he will not. After what seems to me like eons the lion waves his head up and down sending his mane like halo around him just like you would imagine it would. His unspoken message seems to be for me to come even closer so I do. His fur is rich like silk. I can feel the drum of his heartbeat. He lies down extending one pan and then another. I feel like he want me to get on his back. I have always wanted to do this (I am a big fan of the Chronicles of Narnia and Aslan). I have no doubt in my mind that this must be him. This is my time.
The sun has risen in the sky toward mid-morning. The cool breeze from day break in now warm. I walk back to my little cottage feeling rested and sated although I have not slept nor eaten. Everything I see is pristine. Just as I reach the sand dunes the earth quakes as if a terrifying lion has released his loud roar...I cannot help but smile.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

It Might Be Better Left Unsaid (but that’s not how we do it around here)

Pages of snapshots in my dreams
I reflect on all the wonders I've seen.
Pulling off I-45 into Houston's city lights
I consider all the miles I've been.
And I'm glad to be here tonight.

I will always know
I can always see
You're still here
And you think of me

Sims Bayou fields is where I played
I went to church and studied life's game
I had to go without regret
I lived and loved and lost some bets
But that South Texas wind sings me home again.

It all might be better left unsaid
But that’s not how we do it around here
Those Houston city lights shine bright up ahead
And everything seems so clear.


sjad