Stepping Stones

 At the end of this week, my dear friend will stop by my home and together we will navigate the path to Jackson, MI for our ACFW-GLC writers' conference. I've partnered with another friend in prayer for this weekend, and while doing so, I began to see some things our chapter has been facing. Tragedies abound, heartaches, heartbreaks, goodbyes, financial devastation, health crises, and issues I've neglected to list have plagued the members of this group. Many are planning to attend the conference. Some won't be able to, and we'll miss them. 

                                                              

                                                           ###

As I’ve prayed for the conference, you, and each member of the GLC, I thought about the opposition everyone faces. I find it as no coincidence that many are facing health, family, or financial trials. AND this week it seems to be at its worst with you given that pain you’ve been in.

While considering these struggles, two words came up: Stepping Stones. I’ve pondered those words. Jesus is the Chief Cornerstone. The Israelite leaders were to choose 12 stones from the Jordan and carry them out of the river when they crossed into Canaan. Stones were either used as a memorial to what God had done, or to punish sin.

Here’s what my take is: the Jordan represents opposition. It was at flood stage when the Israelite people crossed. The priests were directed to step into the river, AND THEN God pushed the waters back for the nation to cross. For me, this means we are to (at times) take a step into that thing we think will overwhelm us and send us sputtering for air—and perhaps drown us—before we see God’s provision. BUT AS WE DO, He’ll make a way for our crossing into the promise. We are to take those stones to be memorials concerning God’s faithfulness. Those stones might (to me) look like certain devastation financially -->but God provided; health disaster --> but God came through; discouragement --> but God sent His word …

See where I’m going?

We should NEVER forget the struggle (those are the stones). Those stones are (if put in proper perspective) to remind us of God’s faithfulness. They’re set in our lives so we can tell those who come after us of God’s wondrous love, mercy, and steadfast provision in our lives. That when the enemy comes to destroy us, we called unto God and He came to our rescue. Whatever that rescue looks like to each of us is God-designed, specifically for our personality and purpose.

These stones might not bleed into our stories, BUT THEY ARE PART of our story—who we are, how compassion, passion, and love seep into every letter, every word, every chapter, between every cover of our stories.

These stones then become stepping stones, aiding our climb up into God’s arms, so we can rest our cheek against His chest and listen to His heartbeat. 

Runner ... Breathe!

I hope you're having a beautiful weekend. I've been absent for several weeks, but have come back to bring you something out of a dream. A recurring dream, actually. Since this particular dream, I've not had trouble with waking feeling as though I'd been running all night.

Runner… Breathe!

By Karlene A. Jacobsen

There I was—again—running. Every muscle in my body, weakened with each step. Inhaling for needed oxygen only served to sear my lungs with the heated air passing through my trachea. 

How many times did I have to find myself in this chase before they finished their task? I've hidden to escape them, and succeeded. But I could never return to those places. They’ve noted every one of them.

Freedigitalphotos.net

My face burned with fear. I should've just stopped and let them have their way. It would have been much easier. Their boss would be pleased and I’d finally find rest. Wouldn’t I?

I shot a quick glance over my shoulder. It was definitely the same ones who’ve been there every other time. Cloaked in black coats, covering their knees, hats with brims to shade their eyes, and a black cloth—or something—draped over their faces. Why? To hide their identity? I promised, once they finished their job, I’d not be able to identify them.

I told my feet to quit. I was tired. I couldn’t take another step. There was no one who could hear my cries. I was alone.

But my feet wouldn’t listen. My heart beat a wild rhythm behind my ribs. My ears pounded in sync with my heart. Nothing cooperated with me.

Everything in front of me blurred. I’m sure it was from the tears and sweat pouring due to exhaustion and an obnoxiously raised body temperature.

 Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.

(Psalm 50:15)

 “Please. Someone. Hear. Me.” It burned my throat to speak. “Help.” The words sounded to me like they were being dragged across a washboard. “Jesus. Please.” At last, my throat was completely sealed off. Breathing would be an effort beyond my ability, but somehow, my feet continued to carry me into what looked like a parking garage.

Freedigitalphotos.net

We—my feet and I—raced up each ramp, leading me to the roof. I was fairly certain I’d suffocate if air didn’t begin to flow soon. At the very least, I’d suffer brain damage. All I wanted to do was fall on my face and wait for the inevitable. But my feet refused to listen.

They carried me up. Up. Up. Another level. I must've been hallucinating, because I felt, rather than saw, light permeating my body. It pierced me through. I didn’t understand it, but allowed it to push me forward. Energy I’ve never known before propelled me another level upward.

Maybe this is how I would arrive in heaven. I wanted to close my eyes and fly into that place I’ve been told is glorious. But I wanted to keep them open too, and watch myself step across the threshold from here to eternity.

Instead, I was keenly aware that the footsteps I heard barreling down upon me stopped. Curious, I wanted to know why and my feet obeyed. I stopped and turned around.

I could see my assailants. They cowered on the edge of the concrete landing where we stopped. Their masks had been removed and they’re images, hideous, eyes wide—fearful.

My head turned enough to see him. The man must've been twelve feet tall. His head seemed to push through the floor above us. His arms crossed over his chest and he glared at the men, his eyes appeared to have the ability to burn my pursuers as their hideous faces reddened under his captivity. He was dressed in layers, his weapons strapped to his side, flashing light in my face.

My assailants leaped from their place by the concrete wall, screaming and wailing to their doom. I couldn’t think what they said as they disappeared. I was captivated by the man. I felt as though I knew him. He looked my way and my heart burned, but not in a way that created fear. Breathing was restored. I was safe. He’d rescued me.

I studied his face. “Who are you?”

His grin and the way he looked at me, so tender and loving, told me the answer.

I should have known ...

For whoever calls upon the name of the LORD shall be saved. (Romans 10:13)

Until Then...

 I'm so glad you stopped by. It's Memorial Day weekend, and I thought it would be a great time to launch my new blog. Over the past week I attended a writers' conference where one of the workshop instructors encouraged us to write down our dream and what we believed to be our purpose. In so doing, I found myself nailing down my target audience. You.

Browse around, but please excuse the dust. I'm still constructing and applying bits of color to the site. I hope you'll find this a place where fiction short stories will bless you, devotionals will encourage or challenge, and testimonies will spur you on with hope that God never changes and He doesn't play favorites.

While you're here, I hope you'll enjoy this story. A tribute to all our veterans and comrades in arms--both on the battlefield and on their knees (in the prayer closet).

Until Then . . .

He stood; a man—yet a boy—ready as any eager youth, to join the fray of battle, defending his country and ideals. To his right and the left, others flanked him, chanting, “To the end, we’ll never bend.”

 Like a thousand volts of electricity, energy ran through his body, intensifying with each repetition. It mattered little that his station held him squarely in the center of the sun’s scorching rays. Nor did it bother him to know once training was complete he would brave the untamed land surrounding him.

From the corner of his eye he noted his commander approaching. Quick checking: his body straightened, shoulders back, chin parallel to the ground, eyes forward. It was an honor to serve in this Commander’s army—the most notorious known to history. Soon, he was there, toe to toe, eye to eye. The intensity of the Commander’s gaze electrified the soldier to greater degrees than he thought possible. “Soldier, this is not going to be easy.”

“Sir. No sir.”

“This could kill you.”

 Death? He didn’t like that. Who did? His heart tripped over his lungs. “Sir. Yes sir.”

Soldier’s weapon slipped as his arms tired of their position. He fought to maintain his stance; his muscles quivered and quaked inside his uniform. Prayers sped through his mind, Please God, don’t let me fail now. Beads of sweat gathered around the inside of his helmet, waiting for the opportune time to splash over his goggles, blurring his vision.

“Sir. I will fight, sir.”

The Commander scanned Soldier’s appearance. Soldier ran through the checklist silently: Belt—check. Boots—check. Weapon—check. Helmet—check. What am I forgetting?

Commander stepped back a pace or two. Looked right—then left. “I will be with you always. Don’t forget.” He pointed to the radios each soldier possessed. “Never forget.”

Right. Always with me. Don’t forget. Don’t forget. There was much to remember. Soldier comforted himself. Commander would send him with his comrades. They’ll help each other along. None will be left to himself. Ever. They were a unit now. Right?

Together they marched. Taking the land given to them would end in victory. Commander promised it. “You’ll never regret fighting to the finish. Stand your ground until you see me coming with relief.”

“Sir. Yes sir.” Each soldier acknowledged Commander’s direction. Soldier wondered whether he was the only one turning to jelly inside.

 ### 

On the field, battles raged.

Soldier won, grew in confidence and strength. "What was I afraid of? They run from my weapons." He laughed with his comrades when back at camp. Nothing would stop him.

That is until his buddy to the left fell, a fatal wound to the chest. Then on his right—amputation by mortar fire.

 His radio crackled to life. “Remember Soldier. I’m here. Don’t quit. Fight.”

“Sir. Right sir.”

“Stand your ground.”

“Sir. Yes sir.” He stood. Holding his weapon at the ready. Helmet secure. This was no time to entertain fear.

 Firing ceased.

“Soldier. This is not the time. Stand alert.”

How Commander knew Soldier had thought to relax, Soldier didn’t know. “Sir. Yes sir.”

He stood.

The sun’s heat burned through Soldier’s helmet. Sweat poured from his face into his uniform.

He waited.

Minutes blurred into hours. Hours ticked into days. Days flipped weeks into months.

Soldier stood.

Winds blew through his uniform. Frostbite threatened to steal his fingers. He remained steadfast, waiting for Commander’s release.

Voices echoed from behind him. “Soldier, stand down. It’s over. Can’t you see? It’s peace time. No one’s firing on us.”

“Where’s Commander?”

“He sent us.”

“No. I’ll wait for Him.” They mocked him.

Soon, he knew there was no one to trust. None would stand with him. But he stood, ready.

Rains fell. His weapon slipped. He readjusted his grip.

“Hold your ground, Soldier. Don’t quit when you’re so close.”

It had been a while since hearing Commander’s voice. How’d he know I thought of sitting; let someone else fight a while? He said I’m close, though, right? “Sir. Yes sir. To the end, for You I’ll bend.”

Alone he would fight. Commander would soon come and rescue him. Bullets whistled past his face once again. He stood. Ready. Night fell. The land, lit by the moon, shone with silver halos over the horizon.

Soon. A breath of hope filled his lungs. The war would end. In that moment he could lay his weapon down. Until then, he must stand and fight.

###

Have a wonderful and safe Memorial Day weekend. 

Faithful?

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, 

for He who promised is faithful.

Hebrews 10: 23 NKJV

Faithful? Faithful.

Finances have been anorexic in my home for several years and unless God turns it around, we will be seeing the rib cage soon. This in large part has played a role in my previous post about trust. I was doing all I could to bring in the income we were receiving. Jeff’s disability is still in “review” with the appeals panel in Washington D.C. and our insurance has taken a vacation due to error in the system. We have had to choose whether to scream and kick our feet—I’ve made this choice too often—or cry out to God for His intervention.

Then the day came when I had to put gas in the van and pray I could make it to work and back over the next several days until I was paid again. I had carefully planned the direction of every penny. Then something unexpected happened and I was short. Thankfully, my tithe check was already deducted from my ledger, so I was not concerned.

That is until I slid in behind the steering wheel and saw that fuel needle hover too low on the gauge. I did the only thing I could do. I dipped into my overdraft fund so that I could make it to church and work. Shaken and choking down despair I drove to church and watched my hand tremble as I dropped that tithe check into the offering. It IS God’s money, after all, right?

My heart screamed. All reason told me, “Listen, God will understand.”
Perhaps He would, but then again, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to be faithful in giving to God what’s His. I knew I had to do it . . . and I cried the rest of the day.

That was March 28.

The next night, my daughter came home from a class and gave me a card. I opened it and saw it was from a woman at my church. It read, “Karlene, I’ve been asking God how I can bless you, and I felt I you might enjoy a couple hours of pampering.” There was a gift certificate to a salon.

Photobucket.com

This woman had no idea that the following Saturday, April 2, was my birthday. She had no idea that in the quiet of my room, in the middle of the night, I asked my Father how I was going to manage to cut my hair again without totally creating a mess. What she knew was God asked her to send me that gift.

I feared returning to church the following Sunday. Several knew of my overdraft situation and worried about me. How in the world would I explain a new hair style?

The first person I saw that day commented on my hair and my first words, without thinking were, “It was a birthday gift from God.”

He is faithful to us. He will delight in giving us the desires of our hearts when we delight in Him.


It's been a pleasure to visit with you.

STRONGER

God's faithfulness is never-ending. It doesn't matter how bad the storms get in our lives, He is stronger. My favorite verse this week has been in 1 Samuel when Jonathan takes his armor-bearer up against the Philistines.

"Jonathan said to his young armor-bearer, 'Come, let's go over to the outpost of those uncircumcised fellows. Perhaps the LORD will act in our behalf. Nothing can hinder the LORD from saving, whether by many or by few.'" 

 (1 Samuel 14:6 NIV)

This weekend I heard disturbing news that if given a chance would love to generate worry and doubt in my heart. So I cling to this:

If God be for me, who can stand against?

It's been a pleasure to visit with you.

Never Give Up On Me

God in His faithfulness is relentless of His pursuit for our hearts. He will never, NEVER, give up on us. Don't think I will either, then.



It's been a pleasure to visit with you.