Changing-my-focus-and-thinking of you...

Are we getters or givers?

Do we wake up to bless or be blessed?

What's sitting at our bottom line?

Are we going through the motions of just another day? Silently working to get, do, have, become what we think matters most. 

Is today and tomorrow about us and ours?

Or ------- is it about Him and them?

Long ago a friend told me, “donna when you are struggling (over hurts of the heart) the best solution is to turn it outward. Turn your eyes and your heart to look in front of you and SEE someone else. Don't look in the mirror. Don't look inside yourself. Just fix the eyes of your heart on the someone God brings in front of you ----- and then do something about what He lets you see.”

It might look like a plate of cookies or a note, it might be an invitation to dinner, it might be a text or a call. It might be a prayer. A real, heartfelt, changing-my-focus-and-thinking-of-you prayer. It might be that the simple act of praying for someone is the best thing you can do for them (and oddly enough for yourself too). It's one of those “double portion things”; your giving-out gives a good splash back.

But it all revolves around what we choose to do with “self”.

Do we think more about ourselves and our wants than we do of the other person and theirs?

Do we even pause to honestly assess this part of our lives?

Jesus said we should consider the interests of others, their needs, their pain. We should also care for ourselves, we are not told to ignore our own selves. (Philippians 2:4)

But the order is crucial.

If we “look to our own interests” first, we are compelled to linger at that level. “I” is too powerful, it demands much and is rarely fully satisfied.

The One who made us knows. We are selfish and self-centered by nature. So He asks us to consider others, look to the interests of others, care-----for------others.

So do we?

In the mornings when we open our eyes, what are our first thoughts? Do they go to others? Or do they begin with “I”? What I need to accomplish, what I want to get, where I need to go?

Or are our first thoughts “help them Lord, help me Lord”... remembering that He knows the plans HE has for us in the day ahead. He knows what opportunities will stand in front of us. He also knows what hindrances will come. 

And sometimes we are our own greatest hindrance.

Our insides are so bare in those sunrise moments. We haven't had time to cover them up yet.

And if we don't choose well at the beginning, how can we imagine a good end?

Recently i asked someone, “Do you wake up to be a blessing or do you wake up looking to be blessed?”

...and the question sat long in the air between us.

Blessed by God yes, but i wasn't talking about that.

Do we wake up wondering in the corners of our minds who might do what for me today?

The old phrase, “What's in it for me”, becomes the wake up revelry for the person whose self has become too important.

Self wakes up wanting more.

It's appetite is insatiable.

New carpet today only leads to new drapes that then must have new a couch and then certainly a rug.

The new fishing pole needs a better tackle box, and if I'm going to do this right, a new boat...

Taking better care of myself means a gym membership which requires new gym clothes and then who could bear to look at those spider veins on my legs, so I might as well get those fixed, and while I'm at it shouldn't I just go ahead and get that tummy tucked too.(Ignoring the fact that the money spent on self-image alone could make a life-difference for those who will never need a tummy tuck because their stomachs stay empty day in and day out --- oh GOD!)

After all, we work hard right? We've earned it. You only live once and someday we'll wonder why we didn't get it while the gettin' was good.

Oh Lord ---

what are we thinking?!!!!

We forget that someday we will wonder about the choices we will make today.

We will --- wonder...

What of the mother whose daughter is watching, silently ---- learning from what she sees more than what she's told.

A dear friend recently shared her heartbreak after chauffeuring a group of young teen girls around for a weekend of church activities. The car fairly vibrated with giggles and chatter. One topic led to another until all were in the air. And my friend was grieved to hear the jibber-jabber over the recent release of a movie that twists and contorts intimacy. i don't even want to type the title here, but sadly most readers will know of the movie the girls were talking of. They were curious, they had heard others talk about it. Their mothers had talked with friends about it, in ways that didn't turn the girls from it, but instead drew them towards the dark mystery. Mothers speaking openly of their own fantasized intrigue only spoon fed their daughters an invitation to darkness. Mothers, thinking of themselves and their dissatisfaction, but forgetting the beautiful young eyes watching them and listening to every word.

Mothers who have perhaps slept with a self-absorbed husband who cared more about himself than the one in his arms, have perhaps responded with their own self-absorbed desires, and would consider reading a book or watching a movie to spice up their bedroom moments (with their husband or...) have too carelessly guided their girls to become curious to see something that is hell's best shot at self-consumption. The destroying of another in order to feed the beast of self.

Careless words spoken by mothers who are teaching those watching.

Someday we will realize the impact our choices had on those around us,

and on ourselves,

and on the work of Heaven.

'Cause yes, the work of Heaven or the work of hell ----- they are both watchful for moments to flow through us to those in front of us.

But we forget.

Jesus said it clear ---- “Thy Kingdom come, they will be done.”

The Kingdom of Heaven is to come here, 

to be with us now, 

and that happens when the Father's will is being done ------- here ------- now.

I'm not speaking of the eternity we are promised in Heaven (for those of us who believe).

I'm speaking of the work of Heaven now ---- that opens hands/hearts towards the Heaven to come.

We are not actually wired to wake up thinking this way. If we were, it would be automatically accomplished in each of us, everyday, and life would be sweeter to drink.

Instead, it is a choice. It's something we are given the chance to do. We can open our eyes and choose to think of others, love God, live well, bring laughter, think with purpose on how to live today so that tomorrow is set up for beauty and goodness.

The enemy of our Lord knows this full well. Even if we choose to ignore or overlook it. He doesn't.

And his dark scheme is to distract us in any-every way possible. One of his favorite tools to distract us, is the “self” that we live with. If he can just keep us focused on ourselves, our wants, our “needs”, our desires, our image, our happiness, our sorrow, our emotions, our hurts... well then, he's got us beaten before we even get out of bed in the morning.

If we focus on self -------------------------- well then, Heaven won't be flowing through us that day.

But he knows we are clever enough to catch on to his dark plan eventually.

In those moments when we wonder why our friends (the real ones) aren't coming around anymore, or our kids don't linger once they're able to stand alone, or the one we are married to finds other places they need to be, or the earthly beauties around us seem lost and unfocused. Or when something is said or read or sung that gives us pause, and we begin to wonder... why do i feel so empty and alone?

It's then he will slide in the thoughts of “self” in another frame ----- “look at all you've done..., you're a good person, you do this and this and this..., you can't do 'that', don't feel badly, after all you can only do so much...”

-----and we are unknowingly pacified to not realize how self-absorbed we truly are and how much is being lost in that place of self-worship.

Erik Erikson speaks of the last stage of human development as being the time in life when we face either despair or ego-integrity. Ego-integrity means the acceptance of life at the approach of the winter of our lives. When we face the victories and the defeats and allow ourselves no excuses or explanations. We see the true value of what we have accomplished and the grave loss of what we have not. Those last days, those sunset years, when we no longer have the energy or time to blame others or give justification for what we did or did not do. Because in those last days, we know. We know what we've really lived for.

Those who have lived with integrity and life-giving ways, they can turn to the face of impending death and smile.

But those who have lived for “self”, know they've wasted the thousands of sunrises and overlooked the beautiful sunsets, and wrestled with life around them to give them what they wanted, and in the end, it wasn't enough and it only has left a shadow of failure. The money, the house, the clothes, the status ----- none of it matters when those last breathing moments come.

But what we've done for others ---- how we've loved others ---- why we've loved others ---- when and where and how often we've loved others ------ and the warmth of love-glow it showers back on us, those are the moments that will make us smile as we breathe our last earth-air.

If our outflow to others is rich from the Heaven-flow in us ----------- then God waters our garden so that others can have flowers aplenty on their tables. (and maybe food too)

Are we getters or givers?

Do we wake up to bless or be blessed?

What's sitting at our bottom line?

Are we living today in ways that will give us the ability to truly smile when our last words come and our last breath goes out of us?

We get to choose ---- today.

Self MUST decrease ----- He must increase ------ it's a choice ------

a choice that will bring more life, more satisfaction, more peace and good ---- 

than the self-inside could ever dream of.

Nevertheless, we must run aground...

Paul stood in the courts of the Sanhedrin, falsely accused.

They plotted to kill him and he was taken away in the night to Caesarea to stand trial before Felix the governor. Two years later, still being held, Felix was succeeded by Festus, and Paul stood trial again. Festus, not wanting trouble with the Jews asked Paul to travel to Jerusalem to be tried. Paul, pressed back by appealing to Caesar. Since he was a Roman citizen, this required he be taken to Caesar, in Rome, for trial.

The voyage from Caesarea to Rome is chronicled in Act. 27,28.

It reads like a novel. What a story.

But it's death-defyingly true and fascinating at every turn. Paul and God against chains and storms.

The events that transpired on that voyage could be cliff-noted in this way:

• sailed for Italy... slow headway for many days and had difficulty
• wind did not allow to hold on course
• moved along the coast with difficulty
• much time was lost
• sailing became dangerous (because of winds relative to the time of year)
• Paul warned others, “the voyage is going to be disastrous and bring great loss”
• the centurion, ship captain, and ship owner did not listen, pressed ahead
• hurricane force wind, “northeaster”, swept down
• ship caught in storm, driven along out of control
• hardly able to make the lifeboat secure
• passed ropes under the ship to hold it together in the storm
• let down the anchor, ship driven along by winds
• threw cargo overboard
• neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, storm continued raging
• gave up all hope of being saved
• many days without food
• Paul admonished those who had ignored his warning but then encouraged them to “keep up your courage, because not one of you will be lost, only the ship will be destroyed”
• “nevertheless, we must run aground”
• cut ropes that held lifeboat, let it fall away
• lightened the ship further by throwing all grain into the sea
• cut loose the anchors, left them in the sea, hoisted the foresail, made for the beach
• struck a sandbar, ran aground off shore
• 267 on board, most prisoners, some soldiers
• soldiers planned to kill prisoners to prevent their escape
• the centurion spared Paul's life, kept soldiers from killing prisoners
• finally ashore in Malta (still far from Rome), Paul gathered brushwood to build a fire
• viper crawled from the wood/fire and bit Paul's hand
• Paul shook the snake off into the fire, suffered no ill effects
• 3 months later sailed on another ship for Rome
• 3 days after arrival Paul preaches again (under guard)
• some believed, others did not – they disagreed among themselves and left
• Paul remained in Rome for two more years --- rented a house there --- and welcomed all who came to see him
• “Boldly and without hindrance he preached the kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Paul was busy obeying what God had commanded him to do. His transformational moments began on the road to Damascus when Jesus came to him with a bright light and spoke. Jesus said to Paul, “I am sending you to them to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God...and receive forgiveness...” In those moments everything changed in Paul's world.

He obeyed.

But Paul's obedience did not shield him from the ways of the world that had not been changed by the Light of Jesus.

The words came too harsh, too strong, too draining.

I was busy obeying what i had been commanded to do. Love --- care --- hear ---- speak Truth --- pray ---- decrease me, increase Him ---- doing the work of Holy with skin covered hands...

What the words were, who said the words --- it's irrelevant. Why? Because the liar is the one who wants attention in the moments when wrong words go deep and weak knees crumble under the load of them.

In those moments, the one tossing words carelessly is only being used by the one who uses and abuses and lies and deceives. (and afterwards that same liar will drown them in shame and guilt if he can)

We go down in those dark places.

We wonder ---- why has this come to me? This is only hindering me from obeying you Lord... why have you allowed this ravine to be washed out under my feet? We feel like Paul on the windswept seas...

For some, it's the moment they hear their daughter say, i'm pregnant... or their son say, i'm in jail... or the police say, there's been a accident... or their husband say, i'm not coming home, ever again. Ground gives way and we fall hard in the moments we hear words like, you're rent is 3 months overdue, you have 3 days to get out... or i failed my classes but i found cocaine... or the tests results show there is nothing more we can do... or bombs have gone off and we're not sure if there are any survivors...

Life on this rolling sphere is not designed to be easy.

After all --- we are literally on a dirt ball suspended in infinite space dangling the perfect distance from a flaming ball bigger than ours ---- and we have NO CONTROL over the mystery of the universe that surrounds us.

Most of my footprints have fallen on peace-filled, cared-for places. Some have not, but most have.

When i was a child sitting in Sunday School class and we'd read of Paul's perilous voyages and beatings and imprisonments... i wondered about that man on those pages.

For my experiences had not gone beyond the quiet farm on Union Hill Road. Our church was our neighbor with my grandparents between us. My voyages had been on a big yellow school bus, and while they were challenging, we always made port.

So how could i have understood of the thoughts of Paul or the reasons he would press ahead through hurricane winds and raging waters?

Live long enough ------

and the remembrance of Paul's courage and perseverance will feed in much needed ways when the plate on the table before us holds unexpected, scary, unfamiliar, strange, seemingly unhealthy servings.

How beautifully Elisabeth Elliot writes it when she reflects on Paul's shipwreck in Acts 27:26, “Nevertheless, we must run aground on some island”. (NIV)

She writes:

“Have you ever put heart and soul into something, prayed over it, worked at it with a good heart because you believe it to be what God wanted, and finally seen it 'run aground'?

The story of Paul's voyage as a prisoner across the Adriatic Sea tells how an angel stood beside him and told him not to be afraid, for God would spare his life and the lives of all with him on board ship. Paul cheered his guards and fellow passengers with that word, but added, 'Nevertheless, we must run aground...'

It would seem that the God who promises to spare all hands might have 'done the job right,' save the ship as well, and spare them the ignominy of having to make it to land on the flotsam and jetsam that was left. The fact is He did not, nor does He always spare us.

Heaven is not here, it's There. If we were given all we wanted here, our hearts would settle for this world rather than the next. God is forever luring us up and away from this one, wooing us to Himself and His still invisible Kingdom, where we will certainly find what we so keenly long for.

'Running aground,' then, is not the end of the world. But it helps to make the world a bit less appealing. It may even be God's answer to 'Lead us not into temptation' --- the temptation to complacently settle for visible things.'”

(“Keep a Quiet Heart”©1995 Elisabeth Elliot pg.28)

But it's too easily forgotten isn't it?

We think we are home. We think if we work hard enough and try and do all the “right” things, then we can create a heaven all our own around us where we are. It makes logical sense doesn't it? Work hard, obey, love God, and all will go well with you and yours... but it's not true, it is a falsely lit lying torch from the one who works to distort the plans of the One who loves us most.

We should not try and have Heaven here ---- it's not here ---- it's There.

But while we are here, we should live and love in ways that allow those who face hell, to actually hold the invitation of Heaven in their tired, trembling hands.

“Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.” Psalm 16:5

Ahhhhh, peace in the knowing...

Like Paul, we might end up on a ship that's certain to run aground, but God's still there.

We might hear those most painful words imaginable or walk in excrutiatingly hard places or face unbearable moments --- when the winds are too hard and we're trying to hold our ship together with ropes wrapped round it. But, GOD, the ONE who loves us most is the same One who has already assigned us our portion and our cup ---- and HE has already made our lot secure.

My portion, my cup, my lot ----- is what is in front of me ---- what will be, what will come, what i'm made for, what i will be strengthened by and sustained with, what will bring me to my knees, what will come, what will go, what will remain ------- and the One who made me has already assigned it all ----- and will keep it secure. Not me.

Not my plans.

Not what i think or feel or want.

But it's already been assigned, and it's already secure in His hands.

Peace... in the surrender... i don't have to MAKE IT work out ---- He already has.

“Make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.”

--Sara Teasdale (and then often said by Ruth Bell Graham)

Why call it Christmas???

Christmas... we call it Christmas... why?

It's a question we might not stop to ask. We might think we know. We might not care.
But for a lover of words-used-well, it's a normal wondering of my mind.

Turns out, there are quite a few answers, depending on who you ask.
Some say the word Christmas is a shortened representation of Christ's Mass, a practice of the Catholic church.
And what of those who shorten it completely and rather than write Christmas, they only put the energy forth to write Xmas? For years it has frustrated me to see this shortcut. For if we're going to cut anything short in the word it certainly should not be the "Christ" part. At 54 years of age, i've finally learned the reason behind this practice. The X in "Xmas" is the Greek letter chi, which is the first letter of the name "Christ" in that language.
For decades it's rubbed-my-fur-wrong when someone "left out Christ" in the writing of Christmas by shortening it to Xmas. Thank goodness for a quick internet search that has brought a digestible answer to that confusion.
Yesterday i sat in church and heard yet another sharing of the reason we celebrate the season. It's the same wonderful story ----- it does not change ----- it's worth celebrating.
But goodness knows without the Christ part, it would simple be a man-made-holiday.

Christmas is, as someone has said, when God came down the stairs of Heaven with a baby in his arms.
Could we just let that image settle in our minds, soften our souls, and set a right pace for the season?

Whether we know the true origin of the word, or write it in full (that's my camp) or shorten it with the Greek sign for Christ, X, there's so much more to ponder in the fullness of the word itself.

So i've played with it a bit, as i re-share a writing i posted two Christmas's ago.

In truth, we call it Christmas because -- when Christ was born so much happened.
How could that manger have held it all?

Christ  --- m _____  a ______  s _______

Christ ...meets all suffering

...masters all storms

...merges all saints

...mashes all stubbornness

...mends all sufferers

...makes all see

...meets all sinners

...magnifies all sanctity

...maintains all sanity

...maximizes all sacrifice

...memorizes all souls

...maneuvers all sciences

...matures all seasons

...materializes all sanctification

...merits all soldiers

...meanders among sinners

...manages all sheep

...mentors all shepherds

...models all scripture

...motivates all sunrises

...masters all sunsets

...mingles among survivors

...moans amidst sufferers

...mutilates all strongholds

...mocks all sorcery

...matures all seekers

...marinates all stonehearts

...manufactures all salvation

...matches all smiles

...maintains all stars

...mandates all salvation

...measures all sadness

...memorizes all souls

...mothers all sanctuaries

...molds all strength

...makes all sufficient

...models all submission

...melts all self-sufficiency

...mitigates all stings

...mocks all schemers

...moves all seas

...mystifies all skeptics

...motivates all simplicity

...maintains all shorelines

...monitors all secrets

...muddles all schemes
...makes a solution

Christmas, why call it Christmas ?
----- what better name could there be?

For it is the way God chose to show the world that

Christ – makes – a – Savior.

Merry CHRIST – m – a – s!!!!!


©2014 Donna Taylor/Reaching for the Robe

She's afraid of the truth today... but

She's too afraid to know, she's scared of the truth today.

We sat in the doctor's office and she shrank.

She's a thirty-two year old momma who's given birth to five and raised them without the man who should have been caring for them all.

In just 3 decades of living, she's seen too many battlefields where no medals are given for valor and no purple hearts awarded for bravery and courage. But the first day I met her the One who made her walked her right into my heart, and I knew, she was a much loved daughter.

Her name is Carol.

Tall and slim with round, soft eyes, I look at her and think, if you lived in another country, you'd be called beautiful. But here, she's just one of the many who have been wounded and are lost in the sea of dark skinned lovelies trying to care for their children.

She's sick... very sick.

Her cough would clear the room in more sterile, clean places. And she hurts each time one comes.

On her throat is a growth, bigger than it was when I met her, but small enough to cover with a scarf. And that's what she did in the beginning. Now she feels me as a sister and doesn't work so hard to hide what is less than perfect.

During my 42 day visit back home in America, she came to my mind each and every day, and so prayers for her came quickly each morning. The One who loves her most talked of her often.

After my return to Kitale, I went to visit her. Two of her beautiful daughters were outside, sitting on wooden stumps beside ash covered ground. It's their kitchen and dining room, under an old, scarred fig tree, where they cook and take ugali and githeri and kenyan tea. 

Eyes adjusted to darkness entering her one room hut. A twin bed, a wooden coffee table, the wooden frame of an old couch with cushions so old the 4 inch foam had shrunk to one inch. A big, old purse hung from the corner of her bed holding her treasures. No dresser or side table or chest of drawer, just that old purse and 3 bags slid neatly under her one bed. The mud walls had been smeared smooth and painted white. Now, red dust lay on the uneven places and it had a mysterious, enchanting sort of look to it and I thought to myself, “back home”, we work to age our furniture and weather our bricks and lumber to give it a used, mysteriously old look. Here, it's real------ oh what a strange world it is.

With eyes adjusted, I saw her smile and looked into her eyes, and I repented again for all my selfish ways as she shared of the weeks past while I had been away.

The growth on her throat had swelled and had temporarily taken her voice away, leaving her with a sore throat. Then the fever had come. A week later the cough began and the next week she was too weak to rise from her tiny bed.

Each night her two youngest daughters curl into the tiny twin bed beside their sick mum, while the oldest lays on the barely-there-cushioned-rock-hard couch. All together in this one room with dusty, dirt floors and two tiny window openings. To open the “window”, you swing the little wooden door open, there is no glass or even screen. But even in this little, dark room, there was a goodness found.

Kind greetings were followed by words that opened up the Heavens into this little dirt room.

She told me how very sick she had been and how very alone she had felt. How she had looked at her girls and knew she had no way to stop the death-beast walking towards her door. How she'd prayed and begged the only One who could save her, and wondered at why no Savior came. But instead the liar moved in and hope moved out ---- or so it had seemed.

She had become angry with God. Very angry. She had railed against him and wept in wails.

She felt fully abandoned and in the end could no longer even remember the promises she had clung to from His Word.

Then the ladies from our Bible study had come to visit her on her worst day. They had come with tea and love, prayers and hope. They had laid their work-worn hands on her exhausted shoulders and prayed long. And the liar shrank.

We prayed again on this visit, just four days after the others had prayed, her beautiful daughters joined us today.

The next day, oranges were delivered and taken. Strengthening the body and letting the mind and heart feel love flow in those Vitamin C filled juices. She needed a day of nutrition and Vitamins before even trying to rise from her bed.

By the next morning at 9:00 I found her dressed and sitting on her bed, she knew I was coming, we were going to the hospital. We moved slowly through the day as doctors examined her, gave shots, x-rays and ultrasounds completed, blood-work drawn, and finally the results. 

It was pneumonia, not TB (oh thank you God!). But still, it was serious.

She has a growth on her thyroid gland, a cyst, not thought to be cancerous, but it has to go, it must be removed.

Then the doctor spoke privately with me. Asking me to do what I could to encourage Carol to be tested for HIV. She had dropped her head when offered the test, fear had been thick in the air as she nodded and whispered, “Hapana”. (no in Swahili)

An abusive, unfaithful husband had abandoned her years ago, she had known it was possible, but she did not want to meet that unwanted intruder face to face, she knew he would bring words of death.

Meds were prescribed and given.

She would spend two weeks recovering and then return to the hospital for surgery to remove the cyst.

Carol was exhausted, helping her to the Lori-car, we sat and talked inside.

I explained everything to her slowly and carefully. She had not understood all that had been said. I was taken back to when my little ones had been sick and we'd gone to the doctor and we'd get to the car afterwards and i'd tell them, in children terms, what had just been said in doctor words. She was understanding now, and her shoulders were beginning to relax.

“You will have this surgery dear Carol, God has brought you this far. He has heard your prayers and you will be cared for so you can live and love your girls for many more days.” She dropped her head and wiped her eyes. “But Carol, I must ask you to pray long about something.”

We talked about HIV and the truth about the virus.

“The only way to fight it is to know if it is hiding inside.”

Just like the cyst, if we ignore it and look the other way, it will grow and damage the healthy body parts around it and eventually what could have been taken care of earlier will bring an early death if left unchecked.

She said, “i'm just too afraid to know the truth... if I have it shame will kill me before it does.”

We talked long. Tears laced with words, and prayers covered it all.

“Carol, God's Word says, 'the Truth will set you free'. It is the liar, the one who speaks lies to us that tells you to hide from the Truth -----the Truth of our Father's love and the truth of every other thing. Truth lives in the light, in the places where we can see. Lies lurk in the darkness, those places where we can't see and we're scared of what might be hidden in the corners.”

She began to hear.

“On this matter dear Carol, if you let the liar win, it could kill you. But the Truth will save your life.”

i've let my mind sit with it all --- since my time with Carol in the car ---

Knowing the Truth saves us ---- but if the liar wins, it kills us.

It's true in matters of health.

It's true in matters of the soul.

It's true in our marriages, our homes, our hearts, our minds, our friendships, our work.

In our day to day thoughts ---- the truth might be painful to hear, but it is the only way to life.

We might be more comfortable to wrap ourselves in the tattered blanket of familiarity, thinking, we'd rather hold on to what we have known, even if it is a lie, than lay it down and try and get comfortable in the scratchy, new, unsoftened blanket of truth. But the wrap of Truth has no holes, it's complete, and it can shield us from the hard winds of destruction that come at the end of the lie.

As i've prayed for Carol, it's settled so deeply inside, speak the truth in love ... the Truth will set you free ... surely you (God) desire truth in the inner parts... speak truth to each other... He will guide you into all truth...

Ephesians 4:15, John 8:32, Psalm 51:6, Zechariah 8:16, John 16:13

and what happens, really, when we do not cling to what is true?

“They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshipped and served created things, rather than the Creator --- ”

Romans 1:25

Exchanged the truth for a lie – and served created things rather than the Creator --- things like familiarity in what we can see and what we think is the right thing to do and who is around us (our children perhaps) and what we eat or where we sleep or … too many things can too silently slide into a place of importance ---- a place of “worship” in our lives. We push back and say, no, i'm not worshipping it --- but when it prevails over the Creator and what HE SAYS --- it has taken His place of worship in our lives. And He is clear on this point ---- He will not share His throne.

Oh God helps us understand where we have worshipped created things rather than You.

God's words here are speaking of the Truth of our souls, but it is also true for the truth of everything.

Sometimes we realize ----- we do not know the truth of a matter---- and we are too scared to face the light that will reveal that truth. (fear from the liar is winning in those moments)

Sometimes we don't even know we are being deceived. We think we are right and all is well. Only the Word of God will open our eyes to know if we are truly, really, honestly walking in the light.

If we don't sit with and in His Word ----- we are easily deceived.

And the greatest victory of the enemy is keeping eyes so accustomed to the darkness, they don't even realize what they are “seeing” is only shadows and shades of dark.

For Carol, there are medications that can help her fight the virus. Many who might have died years ago, have lived long, because of the meds (ARVs) now available. Years ago, an American president pressed to alot millions of dollars to pay for ARVs to be made available for FREE to Kenyans unable to pay for them. IF Carol is positive, she can receive the needed medications for free, at the district hospital just a mile from her one room home. (Thank you America!!!)

Fear is the barrier that wants to keep her in the dark ------ and make her daughters orphans.

I'm praying.

God is working.

The lamp of Truth is ready to shine.

What blessed, blessed, blessed kids we are ----- our Abba wants truth in our lives.

He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life... (John 14:6)

And the beauty of the Body of Christ (the children of the Father) came shining through so brightly I covered my face with my hands and tears rolled down...

Knowing the cost of the surgery was beyond what we readily had in hand, I sent an email message to over 400 dear ones --- asking for help for Carol.

I prayed over the words, asking the One, before I hit send to ask the many.

Then I went for a walk with my youngest son. As the sunset, we talked of his world and while listening closely to his every word, I also held my asking cup up to the Father on behalf of the email I knew many would be receiving.

Our walk ended (what a blessed momma I am to get to walk beside my son), and I went to my email just to confirm it had actually gone out. And within that short hour, 4 people had already responded... 1 saying they would cover the entire cost of the surgery... (my heart froze)... and 2 giving half of what was needed (tears gushed)... and 2 more giving $50 and $75 to be a part of what God was doing. I hit the floor and thanked the One who moves the hearts of His children.

Then quickly sent another email to let everyone know ---- IT WAS DONE!

I sent emails to try and stop others already trying to give as well (one willing to pay the full amount needed as well) ---- no more money was needed, but the beautiful generosity of love was flowing strong. More gifts came, another $15, then $200, then $100, like a strong flowing river the love would not be stopped quickly.
Oh my heart... how beautiful are His kids.

So now ----

Carol's surgery is funded not just with the amount needed -------

but it is funded for over double of what is needed!

And I remembered --- there is a verse about God giving a double portion --- grabbing my Bible, it was quickly found ----

“Instead of your shame you will receive a double portion, and instead of disgrace you will rejoice in your inheritance. And so you will inherit a double portion in your land, and everlasting joy will be yours.” Isaiah 61:7

Oh God ---

for the woman who lives on the dirt floor and sleeps in a tiny bed with children piled on top of her, for the one who shrinks from the shame that the truth might bring, but is praying and asking for courage to know, for the dark skinned beauty you see and love and have your eye on ---- your Holy Word speaks today just as it did through Isaiah in the 8^th century before your sent your son...

...instead of your shame Carol, you will receive a double portion...

and instead of disgrace Carol, you will rejoice in your inheritance... you will receive a double portion in your land... and Carol, I, God, will give you everlasting joy.

And “i delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God.”

Isaiah 61:10a

The One who calls us into the Light of Truth ----- is the God of a double portion.

Carol is in front of Maggie and Ray, wearing the black and white wrap (covering the cyst). Beside her is Eve (middle) and Matilda (left) -- this was taken August 22nd after Bible Study, we were headed back home and giving lifts to the ladies.

Thank you in advance for praying for Carol --- and thank you to those who shocked us all with your quick, beautiful response to the need of one who is surely among “the least of these”.

Oh --- thank you so!

I hope you feel His great smile over you – it is surely there.


©2014 Donna Taylor/Reaching for the Robe

Was she found with her hands wide open?...

I was alone, but not really.

All around me couples walked together or people walked their dogs or groups whizzed by on their bikes. But nothing was breathing beside me. We can feel alone when we are the only one using the air around us.

So I walked long. Sand shifted under my treads, but it held fast, no sinking today.

The greatness of the Atlantic to my left, a row of beach houses to my right, the setting sun before me, and all the air one girl could need around me. I talked to the One who is always in those silent, air-filled places and I listened more.

Just days before i'd shared this same stretch of sandy beach with girlfriends all around. We'd biked miles together, giggling like girls, nothing to do but ride. Laughing, lovely, vibrant ladies --- prayer warriors they are --- fierce on the battlefield when arrows are flying --- peaceful joys in my life. They represent a great army of others. But we women don't usually think of ourselves as warriors do we?

We give birth, nurse life, tend wounds, and love deep.

We cook dinner, read stories, cuddle cryers, and scrub away the dirt of life.

We teach others what we've learned, and then let go of them so they can enjoy all they know.

Our very bodies are allowed to produce life, feed it, hold it, and grow it.

Then release it … and we do.

Any woman who can rise to that order ------ is a lovely, soft, effective warrior – she can cook dinner while she's sharpening her sword.

Her arsenal is found tucked between thin pages.

She doesn't need guns or knives, bullets or arrows.

She clings to the sword her Father said she could use.

These were my thoughts as I walked the shoreline.

Lost in thought and prayer --- and positioning myself to be “still” and listen for His more, I meandered alone between the incoming tide and the ribbon of water still lingering from morning's high tide. A visual of my aloneness with my Lord, water shielded me on both sides, the world could not come too near.

All that surrounded me had been authored by the One who was with me.

One can feel like royalty in those places.

Trees blocked the view of houses in the distance. No boats could be found on the water.

I was truly alone in the middle of His Stuff.

And the waters rolled in slowly, closing more and more off from me.

Ahead the tide had finally broken over the sandy belt I walked on, and the fresh ocean waters began renewing the stale waters of the trapped tide pools. My pathway closed.

A perfect visual of our lives.

I pressed on until my toe could touch the last dry ripple of sandy beach before the incoming tide covered it over. Turning quickly then I changed course, heading back where I had just come from.

Where I had been walking, the place I had thought was my way, closed before me and would no longer allow me safe passage.

Increasing my pace, I walked with purpose, not wanting the waters to catch me. But I looked behind me just in time to see the waves sweep over the place where I had been.

If I had stubbornly remained there ---- I would have been in trouble.

The waters came rushing in as if they were on assignment and they brought rip tides with them, their current was fierce.

What a picture of my life...

My path had seemed right for all those years, and for all those years it had been. Then, the tide changed, the path began to close, God was insistent on showing me the purpose He created me for, He would not let me miss the clarity of His call.

Many have asked me, “How do you know for sure when God is calling you?”

This walk on the beach is a visual picture of the answer to that question.

God doesn't carelessly let us “miss” what HE is calling us to do.

He doesn't play charades with us. He doesn't give us clues and hope we can guess what He's saying. He makes it clear. Undeniably clear. Moses couldn't say the bush was not burning. Jonah couldn't say the fish was not real. God makes it clear.

There are great mysteries that surround God's ways ---- His ways are not our ways and they never will be. He is God, we are not. We never will be, never could be, never should try to be. It's a big movement in this broken world now, people thinking they are their own god... but they aren't. They'll realize it too, when the only faithful One remains, and He reaches out His great hand to them. Oh He is good...

God's clarity in our lives is not a mystery. I use to think it was, I was wrong.

He opened the Red Sea for the Israelites to pass through, and He closed it on those who pursued them.

He put a pillar of fire by night and a cloud by day to guide them through the desert.

God is clear in His communications to His kids. But He does sometimes wait until we are ready to actually listen before He will speak. He chooses when He speaks, and we must wait until He does. Patience, it grows in those waiting fields.

So how can we know when God is guiding us this way or that way?

How can we make sense of it when the course of our life seems to change right before our eyes?

We must be willing to pause...

pause long enough for the dust to settle, be still, ask Him, and wait...

We must be willing to wait on the Lord. Just as He has been willing to wait on us.

The problem is not that God no longer speaks ------ the problem is that we don't take the needed time to listen.

When we don't pause and respect that God is God and He will speak when He knows we are ready, we try and press the matter, we want to move ahead and make something happen. Then we find ourselves in the middle of swirling tidal waters pressing all around us with swift currents. We thought... but then... and now... and we are forced to a place of stillness that doesn't feel good. And we cry out, “Where are you God?!”

We blame Him for where we are, when where we are was not His doing.

My feet were set on a good path back on Mockingbird Road. I loved that path, it was sweet and simple and all I had dreamed of for our growing old days. The front porch swing was set in place for our old age years.

But slowly, ever so slowly, like advancing tide waters, that life seemed to close off from me.

My eyes could see that the way ahead was no longer ahead of me if I remained where I had always been.

So I stopped. We paused long. We asked. All the while the waters kept closing in on our plans for our future.

And He answered.

Then we knew.

We could ignore His answer and press ahead with our plans or we could change our course and obey.

The former would have brought tide waters swirling around us, for the Creator of the universe will not be ignored easily.

The latter would break us of ourselves and fill us with more of Him.

And there's a sweetness in that filling. ----- Perhaps it's what we are actually trying to get when we over buy, over eat, over plan, over control, over build, over work, over speak, over perform...

We know there is “more” --- but we get confused when trying to face the reality --- that the MORE we crave is found in the laying down of ourselves and the taking up of HIM. “He must increase, I must decrease” is how John puts it. (3:30)

But as for me and my Steve, we turned and obeyed and a new path opened before us.

Wisdom says, “don't look back, keep pressing on toward the goal you are called to”. But, I confess, i've looked back in my nostalgia. Just as I looked back to see the tidal waters swirling over the sandy shore. This trip home has forced me to walk the same pathways I use to walk before... but the tidal waters have changed the way they feel under my feet. And if I linger too long, my feet will get wet.

How frightening it would be to try and force my feet back on the old familiar pathway.

His mighty waters would surely wash me completely away.

Walking back on the shore line, the air around me seemed electric. There was an eagerness to walk in the way that had opened up for me. A silent pressing came from behind. And joy, real joy was present. She whispered, “Just look how much your Father loves you, He gives you a place to walk where the waters can not come near you.” There is joy and peace in obeying.

But as we obey, we can not fool ourselves into thinking we can have it our way.

We can't author a spec of it.

And that's the wall where too many children fall.

We want to have at least a degree of what we want.

We might be willing to give up some of what we want --- our plans, our dreams, our goals, our desires.

But when it comes to laying it ALL down, we shrink at the thought of having no control, no say, no input, no power.

But the definition of surrender is ---- “to abandon oneself entirely”, “to give in to”, “to give up or hand over”.

And when Jesus died on that cross, his hand was open ---- HE SURRENDERED ALL.

When God calls us to the MORE He created us for, we must surrender before we can fully obey.

That's the wall.

The waves come in on our plans, they wash away the space we would have filled if we had controlled them. They clear the way for another to walk there, as they also change the course of our safe passage.

Coming home has shown me much.

My old pathway has washed away. But there is a new one in its place. And I know I didn't build it.

My family is still my family. And they still love me sweetly. But they don't need me the way I use to think they did. God provides.

My friends are still my friends --- the ones that remained faithful still walk beside me even though the course of the pathway has changed completely. It's not the path that holds us steady, it's the heart.

My Father is still here too, and there, and everywhere. He's bigger and better and stronger and more faithful than my old path could have ever completely seen.

I reveled in the realization of it all as the waters closed in behind me and the waves sang steadily beside me.

I was alone... but not really.

Then as I watched the sun fading and turned to leave the beach, an old horse-shoe-crab shell caught my eye. Something whispered in my soul, calling me to pause and listen.

I knelt down beside the old shell and it came flooding into my heart... “someday you'll be just like me, you'll die too. All you do now will be added to the great efforts of the many who have obeyed the One who made us all. There will come a day when you won't be able to walk any path, not even the path He made you for. So choose carefully now, walk the right path while you can. Your days are numbered, they were before you were born. So your last one is already known in the Heavenlies. It will come and you'll be done. Your ride will end, you will come to the day when you'll have your last chance to obey, and it will be then that you'll be more thankful than ever, that you did. You chose the right path. And then, you'll be still... and wait... to go home. And whether you walked perfectly won't matter a smidgen. If you pleased others or disappointed them, won't matter a mite. The topic of conversation when you open your eyes above will be --- where was she found walking... did she stay true to the course... did she surrender and obey... was she found in the place He made her for... were her hands open??”

I sat by the old shell of the silent horse-shoe crab and heard the laughter of my girlfriends from the day before. I imagined the chubby feet of the three little ones I have loved and released running on sandy beaches between their daddy and me. I longed for the man my soul fits perfectly beside. And I looked at my feet.

Oh Lord... do what you must... but don't let my skin covered bones get in the way... place me soundly where You choose... use me up just like this old shell here... let's get the most out of this little vapor that I am... thank you for grace... thank you for your patient mercies every morning... may I be found walking and loving and serving and living on the path of your choosing... when you give me that last chance at obedience... leaving it all on the path... i'll finally come home with hands well practiced in being ---- open.

©2014 Donna Taylor/Reaching for the Robe

I know this looks dangerous... but... it's really not.

Still laughing over that man of mine's words...

We're headed down one of Kenya's many treacherous roads when the black fumes boiling out the tailpipe of the slow moving truck in front of us presses us to either pass or suffocate. Then out of no where an eighteen wheeler moving far too fast for the weight it's carrying passes the car headed in our direction. And within seconds, we find ourselves barreling head-on towards the mass of metal surely 10 times our size. My favorite fella' then calmly says, “Honey, I know this looks dangerous... (as I hold my breath and grab the handgrip in front of me)... but... it's really not.”

Cool and calm ---- he smiles and maneuvers our Lori-car masterfully, tucking us securely in the safety of our lane with seconds to spare.

The intensity of the moment followed by the desired result ( safe passage) caused us both to erupt into boisterous laughter. That nervous kind of JOY laughter that comes when air flows back into previously emptied lungs.

And I repeated his words back to him over and over again as the madness of the drive on these unruly, hole-filled, donkey/sheep/goat/cow framed roads continued.

We've learned to laugh.

We've also learned to drive in new ways. (Very careful, defensive ways.)

You have to.

And, we pray more than ever before.

Truthfully, it is dangerous to drive on these raucous, unruly Kenyan roads.

But when he said, “I know this looks dangerous... but... it's really not,” it sent my mind on a journey of its own.

We waited at the bottom of the escalator, behind the two ladies and three little girls. Unsure of why they were hesitating, we inched closer. The ladies were talking in swift swahili trying to encourage the little ones to step onto the moving stairs, but the girls were terrified. And I thought to myself ---- “Honeys, I know this looks dangerous... but... it's not.”

We smiled with a look of reassurance as we slowly stepped around them and showed them what it looked like after taking that first daunting step. With big eyes, they watched us ascend, and then slowly brought their round eyes back down to the unnaturalness of moving stairs.

Making our safe passage up to the next level, we looked over the high railing to encourage them on. And they did it, they took that first step. We cheered, they cheered, fear had been beaten and the ride was underway.

After Bible study time with the ladies in the slum, the rains were threatening and the thunder rolled. We knew the ladies would get soaked through and through as they walked back to their huts so far from the place where we gather each Friday, so we offered to carry them home instead. It's comical really, how many Kenyan ladies you can pack into one vehicle, especially when trying to beat the rains. As they filed into the car, it left no room for our son, Peter. But he soon found a solid solution, he would ride on the back of a friend's motorcycle who planned to follow us home to borrow a book. We looked at the looming clouds, listened to the angry rumbles, and prayed. There was no other option really. We couldn't strand the ladies as they carried babies on their backs and little ones in their arms. And our mostly grown son was all up for the quick ride through rushing traffic under threatening skies. Letting go and trusting the One who loves most, it's a must, not an option. And it came to me later, “donna, I know that looked dangerous... but... really it wasn't”. Not because of the logical conclusion or measured risks involved, but only because of the nearness of God and His great care. 1 Peter 5:7 in the Message translation sings to me in those moments, “Live carefree before GOD, HE is most careful with you.”

(note: the Word does not say we should live carelessly ---- but rather “carefree” AND before God)

 Can you find the mzungu?

These words are being typed while sitting in the Amsterdam airport. Just days prior we'd received another warning was sent out to Americans living in Kenya, a warning from the US Embassy, cautioning Americans to be alert and aware, terrorist threats had increased.

Eleven hours ago I let go of my Steve's hand, hugged Peter tight and stepped through the security gates of the Nairobi airport. And I whispered to myself those same words, “i know this looks dangerous... but... it's not.” Even though the Embassy had warned of the potential danger, I reminded myself of the Truth (live “carefree” before God --- He is most careful with you).

Things around us can look treacherous and ominous. Our Lord even tells us straight up --- “in this world you will have trouble...” We shouldn't be surprised when it comes. It's not a matter of “if” it's soundly a matter of “when”.

But we people, we try to control the percentages very closely. I've lived most all my life trying to manage the possibilities carefully --- to try and keep the opportunities for trouble slim and manageable (if at all possible).

And i've learned that I can stay inside controlled parameters and minimize risk, but then i'm rarely in the places where God wants to touch and speak and share and love and help and be – through me.

Stepping into places of intense, known danger on our own, without God's cover and guard ---- well, that's NOT what i'm talking about here at all.

There are places we are simply not suppose to be, things we are not suppose to do.

For each of us, those lines are defined differently ---- and they should be, according to why we are here, what God has purposed in us.

But we should never, ever forget ---- “we are fearfully and wonderfully made” – and there's a reason for that gift.

There's a wide swing here between scared and hiding --------------to looking for danger and running full speed into it.

And somewhere in the middle of that God-held swing is a sweet spot where we breathe air designed for our lungs to inhale.

It's not the stale, stagnant air found in boxes that hold us in. Likewise it's not the treacherous, oxygen-void air found in the heat of the fire or heights of the atmosphere we were not designed to endure.

But instead, it's the aroma filled air in the wide open spaces of obeying and being exactly where the One who made us has called us to be.

In the eyes of the world, it could often be said, “That looks too dangerous...”

But if God is with us ----- doesn't His Word say ----- “who can be against us”.

Do we believe that? Or is it just one of those verses we use when it fits with what we might be trying to convey at the time? Is it a verse of convenience? Or His Word for our daily bread?

These words don't flow out of me with some sideways agenda to try and get people to step into dangerous, adventurous places. No. These words come out of me as I daily reach for His Robe and say, “Oh Lord, I feel too weak. It might be easy-peasy for other people to fly all over the world alone and drive on crazy roads so far from home. But you know me, i'm Your little girl, and you know it feels a little odd (and dare I say a bit crazy) for me to be found in these sort of places. So, I have to be honest Lord, with you, and say, i'm holding on to you with everything i've got. Cause you know Lord, to my eyes, this looks like it might be dangerous... but i'm hearing your still, small voice whispering in my soul ----- 'Yes donna, I know this looks dangerous... but... with me... it's not.'”

And so, like the little girl at the bottom of the escalator, i've watched others step into the unnaturalness of places that seemed wildly dangerous to me. And i've seen them move to new places, higher places, with smiles on their faces and peace in their eyes. And i've heard you calling from above, looking over High rails in the Heavenlies and encouraging me on. So day after day, i'll keep stepping where you tell me to ------- thankful beyond words that ------ I always find you there in those illogical, unnatural places (where stairs should be still, but they are moving instead) ---- doing the things that can only be done by You.

… and “in my weakness, you are oh, so strong.”

Thank you Lord.


©2014 Donna Taylor/Reaching for the Robe

Fishing for Life

He said, “They are fishing for life” and...

It felt profound. It had the ring of remarkable. It was the way he said it mixed with the look on his face. He was acquainted with living, we could sense it by the way he did it in front of us.

Our boat had glided across the waters of Lake Baringo pausing to catch glimpses of Kingfishers, Fish Eagles, Hornbills, and rainbow Malachites. We met Susan, the Nile crocodile that would come to his whistle but not linger as a pet would. We left the 6 foot croc as he said, “We'll go buy fish and return to feed her. She'll love it.” We road a distance further on the beautifully wild lake as he explained to us the names and characteristics of the mountain ranges on either side of us. We were riding through the deeper parts of the Great Rift Valley in this part of Kenya. And he said, “Millions of years from now, this great valley will open itself up and separate these mountains from those and the sea will flow through it.” Pointing to the peaks on either side of us. He lived in one of the most spectacular places in the world... and he knew it. We were quiet as he spoke of what he knew so well. Teaching us what we did not know, his eyes glimmered, as he shared pieces of his world with us.

The boat driver slowed our speed as we approached the fishermen sitting on reed grass-beds floating in the deep aqua water. As we drew nearer we could see they sat on partially submerged boat-like floats made from balsa trees. Poles of spongy, lightweight wood lashed together. Their paddles were made from tire treads cut into small, oval shaped pieces they would hold in their hands and use like flippers. All day these fishermen would sit on the floating wood boat with legs dangling in the water. A simple pole made from a long thin stick held the line that held one hook tied to its end. A large African termite met its end on the hook being dipped into the water where the grass-bed was separated a bit. Like Huckleberry Fin on the mighty Mississippi, these fishermen sat patiently dipping their hooks into the water. There was a peace around them. Three men and a young boy, they fished in silence, each movement slow. And it was here, he said, “They are fishing for life.”

For us, we felt the gift of being allowed into their “world”. These fishermen knew the water, the fish, and the flow of life around this lake in the Rift Valley. But they knew nothing of the world we came from... and most likely, they would not have been intrigued by it at all. When you spend your days peacefully asking the lake to surrender “life” to you so you can feed your family and provide for needs, what other world would woo them.

Daily, they fish for LIFE.

It's been their way for decades.

It's been the way on the shores of this lake for centuries.

They would have had much to talk about with Peter and Andrew and James and John. The older man was a 21st century Zebedee, fishing with his son. As we bought 3 fish from them to give to Susan, they returned to their work... fishing for life. They were busy and content. Much could be learned in the solid simpleness around them.

Our guide was their friend. They spoke in a tongue known well to them, but still foreign to us. We couldn't grasp all they were saying to one another, but we could read their gestures and understand their eyes. They knew one another well, and they liked what they knew in each other. The boy caught a tilipia and held it up proudly to show his father, and our guide, and we were blessed by the joy in his face over his success. His father had taught him the work of fishing for life, and he was getting it.

And I wondered to myself... are you one of my Father's treasures... living an obscure life, doing the next right thing, and blessing the world around you in ways that won't show loudly but will run deeply.

Years ago when I first came to this continent, I had been jaded by the cruelness happening to countless women and children. And that warping in my mind had caused me to wrongfully assume most men here were users and abusers. Now after living here, and hearing the many more stories, my eyes see more, and my heart is no longer dark towards them. So many good men work to care for their families in the same place where some men do not. But the good ones always rise to the top. That's one way God works. He conquers evil by growing men who persevere in the ways of Light ---- and some of those men, fish for life.

As we left the fishermen, my husband and I let our minds settle into those words. We spoke quietly to one another realizing the three simple words had gone deep in us both --- “Fishing for life”.

Riding back to feed Susan, the corner of my eye caught the movements of our guide as he quickly, but silently killed each of the 3 fish. He noticed my awareness of his actions and slowly said, “So sorry mom, but it's what I must do for their life to pass to the croc, if I do not they will swim away too quickly and keep it for themselves.” And while it was a bit disturbing to realize the fish were dying beside me, it was another chance for wisdom to teach me a fuller meaning in his words.

“It's what I must do for life to pass... if I do not they will keep it for themselves...”

And in the oddest way, I felt the common ground between the fish and I.

Dying to self is not pleasant. In fact it's an ugly, painful process. To lay down our own life, our plans, our goals, our everything... so that it can become LIFE in other places and for others.

For the fish beside me, their life would pass on to the crocodile.

For me, for you, where is our life passing on to?

Christ did it first.

He gave up His life and passed Life on to those who will receive it.

And in the holy process, He then calls us to lay our lives down (even while we are still breathing), so that Life can flow through us to others.

It's the way of the One who spoke of being born twice.

Two births, two deaths, the Holy rhythm of truly having LIVED.

But, we people, we work so desperately to keep our lives for ourselves don't we? Just as the fish lying in the boat bottom on Baringo. It flopped frantically trying to find a way to get back to its business of swimming. It would have kept its life for itself and swam away at the first chance offered. But the one who held it knew, the only way life could pass on was for the fish to lay its own life down.

The fish did not willingly do this.

It had no choice.

But we...

We are given the choice by the One who holds us.

We can keep it all for ourselves, or...

we can choose to lay down our life, even as we live, so that the One who knows best can freely flow true Life through us to a dying world.

Beside the dying fish, the Word was whispering.

“seek, and you will find...”

Later, we returned to the shores and plans were made for our guide to take us on a hike at the base of the escarpment not far from our campsite. The time was set for 4 in the afternoon, when the heat of the day would begin to pass. Two hours of walking was the plan. He overflowed with passionate words talking of scorpions, snakes, bugs, and small animals living in the crevices of the desert terrain. “I began watching birds when I was nine years old and have now become an ornithologist. I am most at home with what lives in the wild and especially with what lives on the wing.” While scorpions and snakes had not been on our list for the day, the enthusiasm in our guide drew us, and we were eager for what he wanted to share. After completing the plans for our evening hike, my husband shook hands with our guide, with a tip of gratitude passing from his hand to the one who had blessed us. He could have pocketed that 500 shillings with no one knowing the exchange had taken place. But instead, he immediately turned and handed the tip he had received to the young man who had driven the boat. He received... he passed it on. And there was a brotherly love in their eyes towards one another. It's what happens when we freely give what we have freely received. Love flows.

We looked forward to walking in the wild with this good man.

But sadly, that walk never took place.

Our guide had taken another couple out for a tour shortly after our return. They had wanted to explore another section of the lake where great cliffs hung over the shore. Was it planned or impulse that caused him to offer to climb and dive from the cliff to the waters? We'll never know. But, while diving from a cliff, something he had likely done hundreds of times since his childhood, the one who had spoken just hours earlier of “fishing for life”, dove in, never to surface again.

His name, was Cliff.

And it was from a cliff he breathed his last.

We don't know details of his life, we were only privy to the way he lived beside us for 60 minutes.

He left a family behind when he left this world. We were told his fishermen friends stopped fishing and his fellow guides shut down their businesses for the day. It hit the lake community hard when they learned of the loss of their friend. That night as we slept in our tent on the shores of the lake, with hippos passing nearby eating the grass to fill their massive stomachs, drums beat through the darkness. It was a mourning coming from the village where he had been born and had lived. The beating of the drum went long into the night. And then it stopped... just has the beating of the heart had that day.

To know we had been with him when he bought his last fish from his life-long friends and shared his last portion of life with Susan, it's not something to view lightly. There's a respect that is right when the lasts are witnessed. There will be no more “fishing for life” for our guide on the lake. It was harsh and sobering to realize a man so full of life had breathed some of his last air with us just hours before.

But, it was a defining moment for us, to realize, this man was speaking words of a life-giving legacy when he shared his life-giving words at the beginning of the day that would be his last.

“they are fishing for life...”

Life will end.

One day we will all wake up, and not know, that day will be our last.

And will we be found living and speaking and acting in a way, that when we take in that last lung-full of air, those who came near us will breathe in better ways because of the way we lived beside them.

Are we purposeful in the ways we “fish for life”?

Do we each realize we are fishing for something?

Without a pole in our hands, each and every day, we will catch something and we will pass something on to others.

Will it be LIFE?

Or will it be “death” that's been seasoned with negativity and sarcasm or selfishness or greed?

Or are we likened to a fish that's found it's way back out of the boat, flopping under protest until we finally found the waters again. And swimming away as quickly as we could, have we refused to “die to ourselves so that others might live.”?

There's no hook in these words. Just a sharing of the right questions that rolled through my mind as wisdom whispered on the shores that day.

The men on lake Baringo are literally fishing for fish. But even in that common task, they view it differently. They are not simply looking for a fish at the end of their lines. They are more accurately looking for life.

The thing they “catch” will give “life”.

And what of us...?


©2014 Donna Taylor/Reaching for the Robe