Dependent on Inspiration.

My son Ashti is a passionate fighter, not unlike the Kurdish people we lived among and from whence his name came. When he senses the tiniest bit of injustice done to him, he blows up in a rage. Someday he will have enough self-control that this character trait will give him strength to fight things worth fighting. Last night, however, the explosion was over my refusal to let him take a Playmobil catalogue to peruse before bedtime. I felt my reason was sound: I prefer to focus on eternal things at bedtime, not material things. He exploded. It landed him on the couch it was such a blast. This meant I had the time to reflect before I responded, which is less common than I would like to have it. The Spirit’s answer was in my head immediately, a simple question is all it was (He won’t give me permission to share it). It was an amazing response! He picked himself off the couch, stopped yelling, answered the question, and then quietly expressed his complete disapproval of my answer.... but received the same answer. I was proud of him, and I am thankful for inspiration. The same question worked quite well again this morning, but experience leads me to expect that I will again be asking for ‘new’ inspiration soon. Father likes me dependent.

Sharing Thoughts

Pre-church prayer usually happens across the hall. Today as I worshiped and prayed in my classroom in preparation, I felt I should ask my fellow intercessors to change rooms. I told one of them of my impression to pray in our huge classroom; she agreed immediately, telling me that she had had the same thought. So prayer happened in our room: worship with dance, intercession, proclamation, petitions, declarations..... I so appreciate how the Spirit shares His knowledge with more than one person at a time, it strengthens my trust. The class was extra good too.

The gift of dance

I have always danced. It is part of who I am. I remember watching my older sister whirl and jump to her music in the basement and I had to join in. Then it became my thing, I would retreat to the basement and delight myself in the music and the moving of my body. Nightclubs followed and I would invariably show off, because I knew I was worth watching. When I began to trust that Father had something more for me and left that lifestyle, the gift of dancing became private. I had a large, hardwood floor in a suite where I would spin and twirl to worship music. I have since referred to this time as my honeymoon with Jesus, it was divine.  I did not understand it at the time, but there was power within the dance that transformed the atmosphere and me. Twenty some years later dance continues to transform me. It is in the worship dance that I continue to learn the subtle leading of the Spirit. When I dance I often just follow the flow of what my body is doing, not knowing what I will do, just doing it. But more and more I am receiving impressions that might say: ‘spin’, ‘be graceful’, or even ‘go wild’. Or the impression may direct me to kneel, lay down or wave fabric over a certain person.  All of this is wonderful by itself; I enjoy it and others are blessed. But Father has more gifts for me. My day to day life of parenting, keeping house and serving others has been slowly transformed; I am being led by the Spirit in a new way. I am more confident and more reckless in my obedience to such ‘vague’ impressions and words. It is a source of joy to me because years ago I longed for such communication and did not trust it. The Lord of the dance has transformed our intimacy and taught me simple trust and faith in His leading.  I could not have dreamed up a better use for the gift He gave me.

What my heart looks like

"What does my heart look like? That was the question that began a continuous conversation between Holy Spirit and I. It was beautiful... but it was vacant. The picture I received was of a single room; a ballroom in an European castle. It had ornate, gilded pillars with carvings at the top surrounding an immense hardwood floor. On two sides I could see the surrounding woods and distant ocean through massive windows; but the other walls were naked and it was vacant of furnishings or warmth. This is my heart.... As I pondered this I remembered that nothing is unchangeable, perhaps I could move in a couch to make it more welcoming. I asked permission and brought in a green velvet, overstuffed couch with old wooden carvings on the armrests. It was far too small for the room, but it was my start. I then invited Jesus to sit with me and thus began our conversations in my heart.

Sleep with a Purpose

I have been setting my heart and affections on Jesus as I go to sleep and welcoming Him to teach me while I sleep. The past two mornings I have awoken with ideas for my class rushing through my head. I needed a pen and paper, but since I hadn't prayed this prayer before I was unprepared for the quantity of ideas that He sent me in the night. I had to ask Him to help me remember my thoughts. Note to self: glasses, pen and paper must be next to my bed tonight.