*To log onto livestream, just click this link. Or type: www.livestream.com/livingproofministries into your web browser. Reminder: If you log on too early, it may be password protected. We’ll lift that password in plenty of time for you to join in! See you tomorrow!

RED ALERT! PLEASE NOTE THAT THE TIME HAS CHANGED TO 10:30 AM RATHER THAN 11:00 AM SO THAT WE CAN CLOSE DOWN BEFORE THE NEHEMIAH FACEBOOK LAUNCH PARTY FOR KELLY MINTER’S NEW SERIES. It is so fabulous and I don’t want you to miss a single word about it if you can help it. I’m not going to miss it either.  (I thought it began at 11:30 but I was mistaken!) Those of us who can make it will gather at 10:30 for our Siesta livestream then, as many as possible, jump on Kelly’s at 11:00. If you need to make an understandable choice between the two, attend Kelly’s! Mine is just a chat time and we’ll have many opportunities just like it. The launch party for Nehemiah is a one-time-only skype. Thank you for your cooperation! The following post has now been edited and corrected:

 

Hey, Sweet Things! Let’s get together live again! Want to?? I have a window of opportunity this coming Wednesday, February 1st at 10:30 AM Central Standard Time for half an hour. Would that work for any of you? I know many more would be available if we’d do the livestreams in the evenings and I hope to schedule some of them accordingly but our little studio and set up for streaming is here on campus at LPM. Since these tapings require a substantial amount of staff on hand, I hate to ask them to work after hours. As it is, they work every Tuesday night this time of year. I so appreciate your patience until we can schedule one after work hours. Until then, those of you who are pretty certain you’ll be able to tune in, consider doing something that might make our time together richer. In a comment to this post, please very succinctly (so that I can read many of them!) tell me ONE of your biggest cares or concerns right now. The devotional we’ll share has to do with that theme – unless God changes the direction – and I’d love to work in some of your own examples. Please, JUST ONE and within a few sentences please. Oh, man, I don’t ever want to play “tick tock, the game’s locked” but it would work most effectively if only the ones who plan to participate in the livestream leave comments to this particular post. If you’re unable to attend, please refrain from writing a reply BUT here’s how you can participate: let these comments morph into prayer requests and pray for some of your Siestas in their areas of greatest concern!

Since I’m posting this after closing and our hard-working Lindsee has already gone home for the day, don’t look for these comments to get moderated and published until well into the morning tomorrow (Tuesday). Thank you so much for contributing!

I hope to “see” many of you Wednesday at 10:30! Oh, and by the way, this one is open to any woman and not just our community so you’re welcome to get word out. As I promised, I’ll let you know when a gathering is really just intended for our active blog community.

You are huge to me.

May Jesus be blatant to you this week! He loves you so.

 

For the first installment of Gay’s story, click here.

My beloved Sisters, it is my great honor to bring you my sister, Gay’s, second installment in her mind-blowing, God-glorifying story of redemption. By all means, let your friends and relatives know to watch for these installments if they could really use this hope. Boy, have I ever been desperate for it in my own wrestling matches with the enemy. You do not need to worry that I am going to vacate the blog until her series reaches its conclusion. No such luck! I’ll still be right here in the middle of things. I also want you to know that her story in many ways is part of mine and my story in many ways is part of hers. As God would have it, our stories grow from the same roots and braid their ways like vines up the same tree. Before I send you forward to read this wonderful second portion of her story, many of you are requesting another livestream and I’m in the mood for another one myself! Aren’t they a blast?? We’ll do one next week – perhaps Wednesday so that I can give my solid attentions to Tuesday night Bible study. I’ll let you know the day and time several days in advance so we can plan.  OK, my beloved fellow sojourners, I’ll turn this over now to Gay! I love you so much, my dearest older sister. God’s glory radiates all over you. Thank you for sowing into this blog community. They are so dear to me.

I sat on the side of our bed in 1986 and said to my husband, Tut, “I think I’ve got a drinking problem.”

Ladies, before I move on I want you to re-read that sentence and let the weight of the year 1986 sink in all the way down to your toes.  I finally quit drinking, after profound suffering, in 2009, TWENTY-THREE YEARS after God gave me the first word of warning.

The single most significant event in my life to that date had occurred just six short months before:  the birth of our first born son, our sweet, red-haired, smart as a whip Zachary.  I was 31 years old.  Mind you, I had not drunk a drop of alcohol during the entire pregnancy, not one.  Yet a few months later I was beginning the most difficult conversation of my life.  One that I would continue to have for the rest of my life, even in sobriety.  I had an urgency inside of me once Zach was born to be responsible.  Now, I have an inkling that most people, especially women, decide to be responsible before 31 years of age.  But not me.  To this day, I don’t know why I had a wild streak down my back that wouldn’t quit.  I was a rebel from the time I can remember and wild as a March hare.  I either didn’t think I would get caught or gave no consideration whatsoever to the consequences.  I wasn’t scared of the devil himself and I sure wasn’t scared of my parents!  Then.

Tut and I had been married 2-1/2 years at that time and we had a good marriage although not devoid of problems, mostly growing pains.  Neither one of us had been raised in terribly functional homes and we were simply doing what we knew to do.  We were partners, “teamies,” crazy about each other and we were drinking buddies.  We drank every single night if we needed to or not and that was just the way we lived for most of our married life.  I heard the words “drinking problem” come out of my mouth and I feared they were true but Tut casually disagreed and I was looking for any reason to believe otherwise.  So I shut up and kept drinking, beer and wine thankfully, which wreaked little havoc in our lives other than the war that was beginning inside my head.  Am I alcoholic, like those OTHER people who have to go to meetings or am I making a big deal over nothing?  Surely I am overreacting.  I should be able to control my drinking.  After all, I’m me!  I’m smart and fairly attractive and married and daughter of Al and Aletha Green who raised me in church where I gave my heart to Jesus, was baptized at 9 years old, sang in the choir and went to G.A.’s (a young girls’ mission organization).  I know right from wrong and drinking excessively is wrong, especially when I have a child to raise.  So there.  Problem solved.  I’ll cut down.  I will control.

Five years later, age 36, I was sitting at my computer at the Fortune 500 company I had been employed by for many years, where I was well respected and performed with excellence.  My head was spinning and fuzzy.  I was accustomed to working with a hangover, it didn’t even phase me, but this particular morning I couldn’t think of ANYTHING except for the fact that I was baffled at this dad blasted drinking problem and the fact that it would not go away!  I picked up the phone, dialed Charter Hospital of Sugar Land and made an appointment to be assessed by a substance abuse counselor.  It was a radical move!  After being accepted into the first of a long string of out-patient programs that I would not finish, I walked into my first AA meeting and received my first AA book which we most affectionately call the Big Book, not to be confused with the Good Book.  I was scared to death to walk into my first meeting, afraid that I might see someone I knew or they would see me and think that I was alcoholic.  I didn’t hear a word in that meeting but took the book home and began to read in the privacy of my own home, with a tall glass of vodka and cranberry juice.  The Big Book was written in 1939 and sounded, well, hokey to me.  In fact, it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever read in my life!  I slammed it shut, gulped down the last of my drink, felt the love (the love it had for me, the love I had for it, and the love I had for myself), the elusive warm and fuzzy “everything is right with the world” magic of the first drink and I put that dang book out for my next garage sale.

The “functioning years” rocked on through elementary school, middle school, the birth of Zach’s brother, Joshua, my parents’ move to Sugar Land, membership at a prominent neighborhood church, teaching preschool Sunday School, PTO, Cub Scouts, basketball, soccer, the Houston Rockets winning the NBA championship two years in a row (I had to put that in!), 9/11, etc.  I stopped at the liquor store right after work every day, never missed even one day and never repeated the same liquor store in one week.  I bought a pint of vodka, never more than that because I knew I would finish the bottle no matter what size it was.  I either poured myself a drink in the car or simply twisted off the cap and drank it straight from the bottle.  I couldn’t wait to get home which was only about 2 miles.  I floated in and out of AA meetings yet never ever thought any of that stuff applied to ME.  I was living my life right (except for this pesky drinking problem which I was trying my best to HIDE).  I was doing the right things.  I came from a good family.  I went to work every day and never drank before or at work.  I kept the laundry done, family fed and got the kids to school.  I taught Sunday School, for Pete’s sake.  I prayed to God many times to take away my desire to drink alcohol but, for reasons I know NOW but did not know THEN, He didn’t.  I would arise hopeful each morning only to make the decision to quit tomorrow over and over and over again until tomorrow never came.

On August 7, 1998, my mother died right in front of our eyes.  She had been diagnosed with breast cancer three years prior to that and somehow I thought I was prepared.  I was a little, ok a LOT, mad at God because I had gotten on my knees many times and prayed that He would spare my mother’s life yet … He didn’t.  We didn’t only lose our mother that dreaded day but we lost our glue.  All five of us scattered to the wind and dealt with her loss in our own way.  I drank.  It worked.  It took away the pain and if your mother had just died, you would drink too!!!  I gave up trying to control my drinking the day my mother died.  It seemed acceptable under those circumstances.  I was too sad, too lonely and, frankly, too broken without her.  I had talked to her 6 times a day on the phone and seen her daily for 8 years.  She had raised Zachary while I was working and had come back to life herself at the news of our expecting another baby.  Josh’s middle name is Cage after Micajah Rountree, my mother’s father, because I wanted to name him after HER.  She wasn’t perfect but she was Mom and we adored her.  She was the Queen of Everything.  I still feel her loss deeply and I’m fighting back an all-out cry as I write this — but I’m not drinking (ha!).  Praise Jesus of Heaven and Earth!!

That was the beginning of the end.  It was when I stopped caring if I controlled or not.  I am quite sure that the devil was jumping for joy on that day!  He’d gotten me and he was about to carry me away.  That was August of 1998 and I finally put down my last drink on April 19, 2009, more than ten full years later.  Ten years of dwelling in the pit, ten years of spiraling out of control, ten years of the descent into the maelstrom.  Hell.

Fast forward to August, 2009.  I was sitting on a park bench outside a Methodist Church in Pasadena, Texas in the early warmth of a beautiful summer morning.  It was beautiful instead of South Texas hot because I was grateful to be alive.  As I let the sun shine down on my face, I thanked God for my life and four months of sobriety.  It was a miracle!  A dark car with tinted windows drove up slowly in front of me and the window lowered only halfway.  The woman inside spoke quietly, “I’m looking for an AA meeting.”  I said, “This is it.  Don’t be scared.  I’ll go in with you.”  She parked and joined me on that bench for a good five minutes before we walked inside.  Her name was Diane and she shared with me that she had come to realize she had a serious drinking problem.  She was married to a man she loved like crazy and had a son about twelve years old.  She said, “I know the stories of some alcoholics, the losses they suffer and the bottoms they have to reach.  I love my husband and son so much and I don’t want that to happen to me, to our family.  I know I’m alcoholic and I want to stop now.”  I was able to tell her in a nutshell what God had done in my life and was continuing to do through the program of Alcoholics Anonymous.  We walked into that meeting together and I introduced her to my sponsor.  She was no longer quiet but felt welcomed and accepted.  I had breakfast with Diane and our mutual sponsor on New Years Eve Day 2011, just a month ago.  She’s been sober 2-1/2 years now and her family is stronger than ever before.  She never picked up another drink after she walked with me through those doors.  She found God in that room and never looked back.  He’s so good, isn’t He?  Everyone doesn’t have to pound the hot concrete with bare feet, somehow they are able to listen to the early warnings and learn from the journeys of others.  They are able to humble themselves enough to listen and apply.  They are able to see God intersect their lives long before the madness begins.  And have life, and have it to the full.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” John 10:10 New International Version (NIV)

My hands have been frozen on the computer keyboard while I took in the pure profundity of this moment in my personal life and family life and, Lord, have mercy, my spiritual life. When I say that I am about to share something gigantic to me, I am not kidding. I am bug-eyed that this is really happening and it is everything I can do not to type these words to you from face down on the floor. My dear Siestas, it is my great honor to introduce you to my blood sister, with whom I was raised and with whom I shared a room for many years and many secrets. Some crippling. We have known much pain together and much devastation apart and were so close growing up that one of us could hardly be okay if the other were not. Today – and for this moment – we are both okay. And blessed. Redeemed. Forgiven. And, in staggering ways, restored. Only because of Jesus.

Years ago in a speaker/teacher workshop, the consummate Christian communicator, Florence Littauer, taught us to ask ourselves two questions before standing in front of an audience: “Do I have anything to say?” And, “Do people need to hear it?” I can confidently say today that, if Florence Littauer knew my sister and her story, she’d tell her to open her mouth and rarely shut it till God took her Home. Oh, Sisters, does she ever have something to say and do people ever need to hear it!

Please meet my older sister by three years, Gay Tuttle. She and I are two of five siblings who we love as much as we love each other. I do not know anyone well who has a more powerful and genuine testimony than Gay. Her rescue and revival flooded over into mine. God used her healing to add to mine. It is with the hope that God could use it to somehow impact you that I make this introduction.  My heart is pounding with awe and reverence as we release her story – and at times our story – to the public. In her words. I have not edited a single sentence. Here you will find the first of several installments of this story of redemption that, God willing, we hope to share with you over the weeks to come. I don’t want to put her into a time crunch but you could reasonably expect them about 1 to 2 weeks apart. Pray for her as she writes to you. Sometimes we have to relive to RE-LIVE.

As I put her out here for the eyes of multiple thousands, I beg you from the deepest part of my heart to take good care of my sister. This is huge for her and huge for me. Allow her the freedom to talk in the language that she presently speaks and with the terms she presently uses. I believe you will be so blessed. Very few of you Siestas need me to say this but, because I do not want to throw her to even two wolves, I ask you to please refrain from preaching to her. Instead, receive from her. Just let her share with you a vivid flesh-and-blood illustration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. These won’t be articles for legalists. These will be articles for people who do believe or who want to believe with all their hearts that “it is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” (Galatians 5:1)  If I didn’t believe you were the kind of people to embrace her with lavish affection, I’d never take this chance. But I know you, Siestas. I know she will be well cared-for here. By the way, she knows you a bit, too. She’s been reading the blog and many of your comments now for a year. So, without further introduction, my beloved Siestas, please meet my beloved Sister, Gay. I am now full-on crying.

 

Hi Siestas!  My name is Gay and I’m an alcoholic.  I’m not just any alcoholic.  I am a serious, hardcore, dedicated, classic, textbook alcoholic.  I drank just like that for thirty-seven years, all of my adult life, with the exception of the last two and three-quarter years.  Today I have 1000 days of sobriety, nights included, weekends too, consecutive, all in a row, no breaks, no slips and no sneaks.  Now, that might not sound like much of an accomplishment to those who have stayed sober all of their lives or for those who drink responsibly, but for ME, it is a flatout miracle from God!!

To be honest, Sweet Siestas, I have grappled with how to introduce myself on this most-esteemed blog until I almost didn’t come out here at all.  Because I have been “raised up” in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous and in our beloved Mercy Street, a church that ministers to many in recovery, the word “alcoholic” just rolls off my tongue.  I don’t even think about it.  It feels right, it sounds right, IT IS RIGHT!!  It is a huge part of who I am and I own that.  My God-given, God-planned deliverance from it is my testimony and I believe with all my heart that there are those of you who have, at the very least, people in your lives who have struggled or are strugging with some similar experiences and need some hope.  That’s about as simple as it gets.  I am quick to blurt it out for another reason as well, possibly the most important one:  I do not want to forget.  I believe that in order to LIVE what I have been delivered to I must REMEMBER what I have been delivered from.

What it was like:

I started drinking at seventeen years old as a rebellious teenager (loved it), continued to do it through the “functioning” years (tolerated it) and moved on to radical self-medicating simply to kill the pain, much of which I caused myself (hated it).  I was given countless opportunities to recover and refused.  By the time I got serious and very scared, it was too late.  I was hopelessly addicted to alcohol, both mentally and physically, and I had lost the power of choice.  So I threw in the towel and proceeded to try to drink myself out of my misery and miserable existence, to death.  And I almost did, many times, but for the radical grace of God.  I lost my husband, my children, my job, the trust of my family, my home, my car, my driving privileges, my self-respect, my dignity, my values, my freedom and the list goes on and on.  I was confined to jails and institutions more times than I can count.  I thought I was a certifiable lunatic because WHO would drink after all that???  And that wasn’t the bottom for me; I ended up homeless and on the street (yes, outside!) for approximately eighteen months.

What happened:

God intersected into my life like a burning bolt of lightning and in the blink of an eye my story took an abrupt about-face and became His Story.

What it is like now:

A thousand days of sobriety and a God bigger than life Who requires a lot of WORK from me, have molded and chiseled me into far more than an alcoholic.  I am a loving and responsible mother, sister and friend.  I am a dedicated employee and member of Mercy Street who believes in its mission and lives it OUT LOUD.  I am a driver with a valid Texas drivers license and insurance, a car owner, townhouse dweller, volunteer, law-abiding citizen, taxpayer (ugh), sponsor, sponsee and recovery coach.  I sit on three committees that are a part of the Houston Area Recovery Initiative for the fourth largest city in the country.  I am a Servant and Lover of God who is fully dedicated to following His will for my life which is to share my experiences, both there and back, and offer hope of God’s deliverance for all who suffer from a similar seemingly hopeless state of mind and body.

I hope to offer a unique perspective, possibly even tilting the axis a bit (in a good way), of an intimate relationship with this most Mysterious Jesus God who never leaves us or forsakes us no matter how far down the scale we have gone.  I love Him because He loves me, all of me.  He first loved me!  I had been taught that as a child and had sung Jesus Loves Me since I could form words.  Yet I had forgotten that while I was out there in the wilderness, pounding the hot concrete with bare feet.  I didn’t know the love, grace and mercy of God until I walked off of that concrete and began the journey out of the pit, to hope and a future, to FREEDOM.

“The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners,”  Isaiah 61:1-3

I am going to tell you my story, Sweet Siestas, if you care or dare to listen.  I promise I will be honest and candid, direct and to the point.  I will try my best not to ramble on about the problem without moving quickly to the solution.  For me, not just any alcoholic, there is but One Solution.  Not just any God.  It takes a God the size of the universe, bigger and badder than them all, to accomplish for us and through us what we cannot do for ourselves.  It takes the all powerful, all consuming, all merciful Crazy Love of Jesus and our full acceptance of who we are in and to Him.  It takes a willingness to do WHAT HE ASKS, which is A LOT.  It takes honesty and authenticity.  This is Who I Am and it only matters what God thinks because of Who He Is.  Then its Katie bar the door!  Here am I, send me, all of me, scars, limps and all.  And He will and He does because He loves us with a love that transcends all barriers and which is, well … indescribable.  Brennan Manning, my second favorite author, wrote these words in The Furious Longing of God:  “Employing adjectives such as furious, passionate, vehement, and aching to describe the longing of God are my mumbling and fumbling to express the Inexpressible.  Yet, I plod on.” Please bear with me, my Siestas, while I mumble and fumble to express the Inexpressible.

 

Dear Jesus God, You know that the absolute best prayer I ever prayed in my life was the simplest of all prayers:  God, Please Help Me!  I’m praying it again now, Dear Jesus.  Please help me to be effective in Your world and for Your glory and honor alone.  Please help me to shine the light of Jesus in the darkest night, to the wounded and broken who need a shred of hope because everyone needs some, Lord.  I love you with all my heart and soul.  I am Yours, all of me.  Amen.

IMPORTANT PIECE OF INFORMATION FOR FUTURE LIVESTREAMS: I just saw some of you in the blog comments mentioning that you got on the site and it asked for a password and you didn’t have one. Prior to the broadcasts, there is a set up and test-run process involved. The password is so that, during the hours prior to us airing, only the ones testing the set up can get on. Otherwise, you’ll just watch Lindsee or several others on staff getting the set ready and volume adjusted. While the sanguine in me would think that’s kind of fun, it’s not the best way to do it. Grin. The password-only access gets lifted at least 15 minutes prior to going on the air. I’m so sorry if that caused you to miss our time together today. I didn’t know of the process myself or I would have given you a heads up. We’re all just learning here! Thank you, Lindsee and Sabrina for your hard work in helping to make this media possible!

What a blast, girls! If you joined us for our livestream chat this morning, our topic was prayer. Sabrina told Lindsee and I that the number of viewers spiked from 700 to 1400 during the course of our time together. Oh, how I pray that God found joy in it and will use our discussions today to build up this segment of the Body of Christ. Just one person’s effectiveness in prayer touches the lives of countless others.

As I promised you in the livestream, this blog post is for you to share with one another what “works” for you in your prayer practices. We defined “what works” as what produces fruit. We talked about the principle Christ gave us in John 15:2 – “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit He takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” The beginning of a new year is a great time let God cut away some things in our lives that are simply not bearing fruit and seeking Him for things that will.

So, have at it, Sweet Things! Share with one another what has been effective for you in your pursuit of God through prayer and in your practice of intercession. (By all means, share even if you weren’t part of the livestream.) I especially hope to see some of you moms of young children sharing practical approaches. You are also welcome to share what challenges you and where you could use some help in hopes that some of your sisters might offer practical advice. If there are more challenges than effective approaches and no one replies to you, don’t be discouraged. It’s not personal. People just run out of time and can’t get to all of the entries. Be sure and read through the other replies and comments to see if someone lends some insight to you.

I am so honored to serve you. May the pursuit of Christ be (or become!) the joy of your very valuable life.

With so much love,

Beth

Hey, you guys! On our introductory (and impromptu!) live stream last week, I told you that I thought we might focus on prayer during our next one. The beginning of a new year is a great time to get strengthened and encouraged in our prayer lives! If you’re like me, you could always use some cheering on in that vital spiritual discipline. It’s fairly safe to say that, in day-to-day practical living, we are only as strong in our walk as we are in our prayers. A healthy prayer life is essential to abiding in Christ. I also love to hear the approaches others are finding effective. So, what do you say we hit this topic tomorrow??? (God willing, thank you, Book of James)

For all who are able, hop on this link tomorrow from 10:30 – 11:00 AM Central Standard Time and let’s talk about prayer.

Last week we intentionally limited the invitation to our blog community because we were doing a trial run for live stream and because sometimes we’d like to seize the moment to just be together as a community. This one (tomorrow), however, is wide open for anybody so you’re welcome to get word out. It doesn’t matter if they’ve never been on a blog. Anyone is invited to join us.

OK, then! We’ll talk tomorrow! And, while you’re at it, pray for me as I prepare to talk to you about this subject. Let’s even pray about prayer.

God’s riches in Christ Jesus to you today, Sweet Things.

 

Oh, Sisters, I longed for you to see these 1000 darling women that God allowed us the privilege to host at Passion 2012. Meeting with them was a huge highlight for our staff. We greeted them, heard from several of them regarding how we could pray for them, had a very brief Q&A, then prayed over them. Oh, and then I hugged as many as time would allow and I am not kidding when I say that it was at least a hundred. I wish so much I could have gotten my arms around all 1000. I hope some of them will find their way to this post and leave a comment to let us know specifically how God revealed Himself to them and what major truth they took home with them. Please don’t stop praying for them. By now, they have already been tremendously challenged by their worlds and by the enemy of their souls. Pray for them to stand firm. Let’s be good big sisters to them.

Behold the fruit of your prayers:

 

 

This is a quick picture from the very opening of Passion Monday night. My heart felt like it was beating as loud as the dozen drums on that stage. I didn’t take many pictures during the sessions because I didn’t want to be distracted and miss God. I wanted to worship and to receive a word myself! I know you get that.

 

Last one in case you’re totally over it. Grin. This is my first encounter with Christine Caine (from Australia, look into her organization “A21.”). She was so hilarious and so full of life as we met and chatted together back in the Green Room. I liked her instantly. She told me that she bought this hat for $10 at the airport because her hair was dirty. Yep. I loved her.

 

Then her session just about blew a hole through my chest. She called all of us to DO SOMETHING NOW about the biggest epidemic of slavery to ever hit the globe: 27 million slaves around the world right this minute. And many of our cities are housing them. Mine included, God help and forgive us.  It’s deplorable and as Passion 2012 voiced over and over again: indifference is not an option. Those kids raised over 3 million dollars to fight this epidemic. Astounding. CNN even told the story. Google it and watch it. The Name of Jesus comes up blatantly in it. If you get the chance, also watch Christine’s session on the official Passion 2012 website as soon as they’re airing it.

I was so ruined by the session that I already have a meeting set in stone, God willing, so that I can see what God would have me do here in Houston. Not coincidentally, on January 1st of this year (prior to the Passion event or ever meeting Christine or hearing about these shocking statistics) God gave me Micah 6:8 to claim for 2012 through that morning’s sermon at my church. I even wrote it on the very front of my journal (all still before I ever got to Passion) and instead of it writing it word-for-word as it is stated in my Bible, I personalized it on the front of my journal like this:

“He has told you, Beth, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness (or mercy in many of your translations) and to walk humbly with your God?”

When I was so stricken by the statistics and then the session, I got out my new journal in my hotel room to start asking God in ink what He wanted me to do. And there I saw the verse I’d written on the front of it. I was taken aback. I knew it was no accident. SO, I am open to His leadership and, as I know more, I will share more. One thing is for sure. I’m not going to sit back and do nothing.

I took all of you with me to Passion 2012 on my heart. Louie announced before closing the event that it will be back in the Georgia Dome next January. PASSION 2013!!!!! Look for us to start talking about it again mid-Fall of this year.

After asking for so much involvement from you, I didn’t want to leave you without an update! Thank you so much for all your prayers and for such support. Here’s the last thing I have to say. Anybody who thinks that the horizon looks terribly bleak for the church has not been to Passion. I do not know what the future holds for our nations and our governments but, even out of ashes, God can raise up a gorgeous Bride. She looked stunning on the faces of 44,000 young people this week.

I love you.

Update: THAT WAS SUCH A BLAST, SIESTAS!!!! YOU ARE THE MOST FUN!!! After we went off line, I ran downstairs into Sabrina’s office and we watched you guys chat with one another for the next little while. We laughed and laughed. God made you the biggest blessing to us today! We will do it again very soon and will let you know a little bit earlier. Next time we’re going to do an emphasis on our prayer lives and some approaches to intercession that maybe we’ll find helpful as we start this new year. Lindsee snapped this picture a few minutes ago of us watching you. YOU ARE SO LOVED HERE!

 

 

The following is the original message which is obsolete now but at least you’ll know how it went down. Join us next time!!!

 

I woke up with you guys on my mind this morning and was so in the mood to talk to you. At first I thought I’d just get to work and write a post then it occurred to me that we’ve been working on a MUCH better way to communicate. I shot Sabrina a quick text saying something like, “Any chance we could give that live stream a test run this afternoon?” She responded with a big fat YES and we were on like Donkey Kong.

SO, how about it? I know it’s a work day and that many of you will be unable to drop what you’re doing and climb on with us but at 2:00 Central Standard Time this afternoon, I’m going to hop on live stream for about a half an hour max and talk to any of you who can participate. I don’t have some imperative announcement to make or profound lesson to give. Just an impromptu (real time) hello. The kind that I hope we’ll be able to do fairly frequently in the months to come.This is for anybody. No one’s left out. Except boys. Laughing. It won’t be all centered on the SSMT celebration coming up. It’s just a general shout out to all of you Siestas.

Here’s all you do! It’s so easy. A few minutes before 2:00 CST, just click this link

(You will see that the live stream link gives the Eastern Standard Time – 3:00 PM. That is 2:00 CST.)

Participation is free of charge and the instructions on the link will tell you how to get on and chat if you want to. You don’t have to chat in order to view it, of course. Now, mind you, I’m not sure how much actual chatting is possible in those few minutes when you consider the fairly large population of Siestaville but at least we’ll be together in real time! AND I would get to know that many of you were on and participating!

I can’t wait! If anything breaks down and we’re unable to do it, I’ll let you know immediately on Twitter and as soon as possible here on the blog. I know a lot of us are reluctant to add one more form of social media to our over-extended lives but, if you can stand it, the best way to keep up with Siestaville (when we want to connect but can’t get to a blog post) is on Twitter @Siestaville. We have so much fun on there and we don’t have to keep explaining over and over again why we refer to one another as Siestas. Grin.

You girls are a priority around here. I’m so thankful for you! I love all of you and will talk to some of you at 2:00. Meet with us, Jesus!

 

Hey, most beloved blog community! As I finished my quiet time this morning, God moved you sweet things on my heart so strongly. I felt like the Lord was impressing on me to invite you along into a time of reflection before our faithful God today. If you’re like me, you take new beginnings pretty seriously. I’ve always needed them so badly. January 1st rarely rolls around that I am not sober before God about the next year and, because of His unfathomable grace, also hopeful. But as I closed up my journal for 2011 this morning, I thought about the profound significance of the final day of any given year. I turned back to the beginning of it and read the letter I wrote Him last January 1st and reflected on my state of mind and circumstances on that day. I sat with Jesus this morning for the next little while and deliberately looked back over 2011 and recalled the ups and downs of it and, oh Lord in Heaven, the CHANGES. Saying goodbye to my church of nearly 30 years and hello to a brand new church plant. Saying goodbye to my home of 27 years and embracing a new life out on a country road 6 miles from a town (and I don’t mean a city). And those are just the big things. Those are just the things I can tell in public. Grin.

I thought about how He had led me to accept something this year that, for years, I’d just found totally unacceptable. And how some strange measure of peace had come as a result. I hate to admit that this sanguine has, in her heart of hearts, always thought earthly peace was a little overrated. I was an idiot. I sometimes get tempted to negativity over that area of acceptance again (in human terms, it is worthy of negativity) but I sense the Lord saying something like this to my heart: “Do you really want to go back there?? Do you really want to have that particular thing then all that goes with it?” And the answer is no. It’s odd to me how God can use something that is so contrary to our desires to supply a different desire of our heart that maybe – just maybe – we wanted or needed even more. His ways are so far beyond ours. He is always right, however. And always faithful.

If any of you would like to participate, spend a little while today with Jesus being very intentional about your last year. The changes. The ups. The downs. The hopes. The disappointments. The inconceivable grace of God. Something He brought you through that you were sure you couldn’t survive. Or something that has yet to come to resolution and what He has done even in the midst of the wait. Philippians 1:6 says that God will complete the work He started in us when He first saved us. That means for our whole lives long, change will be part of the agenda. Are we still changing? Are we still growing? Is there any evidence of growth over our last year? These are important questions to ask ourselves before we get up tomorrow morning, put 2011 behind us (which is appropriate!) and embrace God’s goodness and grace toward 2012.

If you’re game, after spending those moments with God in reflection, write a comment to this post today using 3 words that have characterized 2011 for you. Tell us something that happened in your heart this year. I know that some of you have had a grueling 12 months and I don’t want you to have to fake it for our sakes but please consider and express ways God has also shown His faithfulness to you. He’s good even when a season has been anything but. Let’s be honest and authentic but let’s also try not to put a pall over the comments. There is so much to be depressed about out there. Let’s not let this community become just another place to feel discouraged. Our God has blessed us all in one way or another if we were willing to receive.

SO, this is an invitation to reflection. I’m going to let you go a little longer this time around in your comments because expression can be so incredibly therapeutic but still try to limit your writing to, let’s say, a maximum of three average-length paragraphs. Since you’re choosing three words that describe your year, maybe a paragraph a word is the best way to approach it. And don’t get too distracted in offering your 3 words in order of importance. Just throw them out there. If you get too fastidious and analytical, you probably won’t end up writing it.

I’ve already expressed most of the reasons for these choices, but in summation, I’ll go ahead and give my three words:

1. CHANGE. (I’m convinced to some degree that change is necessary to keep us from growing old and brittle inside. Flexibility and adaptability are subtle elements of youthfulness – not to the body that ages day by day  but – to the soul that’s being transformed from glory to glory. 2 Corinthians 3)

2. Acceptance. (Just in one basic area but it was a big one to me. I have a long way to go in acceptance as a general life rule!)

3. Surprise. (I just flat-out can’t figure Him out. And, most of the time, I’m glad.)

And what about you, my beloved Sister? What are three words that have characterized your year?

As we close 2011, please allow me to tell you again how deeply grateful I am for your faithful companionship. I love Jesus more as a direct result of this community. I am more in touch with people – astonishingly so! – because of this blog. And there is no doubt that I memorize Scripture more. You, ladies, are a GOOD FORCE in my pursuit of the Lord Jesus Christ. You bear fruit in my personal walk with Him and that is the highest measure of an earthly relationship. Thank you.

I love you dearly.

 

Twenty-eight years ago, Keith and I were renting a home in the northwest part of Houston hoping to buy something we could raise our family in. Neither of us had sophisticated taste nor did we particularly trust those who did. I write those words with a grin. My grandmother never trusted people of means. She had endured the Great Depression and was just certain (inaccurately, of course) that anyone who lived this side of it with money most assuredly possessed ill-gotten gain. A permanent, living fixture in my home of origin throughout my childhood, you can imagine that my beloved grandmother, Minnie Ola Rountree, had a great influence on me and, bless God, in so many positive ways. She did, however, leave my thinking somewhat distorted regarding possessions. It has taken most of my adulthood to shake the bone-deep belief that having anything beyond the merest essentials roused the terrible displeasure of God. And, since we Westerners all have more than the merest essentials, I’ve spent much of my life confessing what I possessed as sinful (and, make no mistake, appropriately at times). Of course, there’s balance in all of that and few of us would argue that the prosperity gospel so prevalent among us in this era isn’t cause for earnest repentance.  But that’s a discussion for another time and another post and, come to think of it, one we have in fair depth in James: Mercy Triumphs.

In 1983, Keith and I were mostly a one-income family unless you call the pocket change I made teaching aerobics at my church a viable profession. My man was a residential plumber and a pretty new one at that. We had a four year-old and a one year-old that I utterly adored and so desired to stay home with that, prior to my hire at the church gym, I took on a paper route for a whole day. We very much liked the house we were renting but it wasn’t for sale. One day driving around a suburban neighborhood, we passed a French Provincial up for sale that nearly put us in a spell. It was beyond our means and well beyond our personalities. Still, we were mesmerized. Keith said, “Baby, I can get this house for you but only by the skin of my teeth. We won’t be able to buy a single new piece of furniture for it. Are you good with that?” I promised that I was and we put money down on it. We were beside ourselves. A few weeks later, just before we were to close on it, Keith walked in our rent house and sat me down at our kitchen table. “Honey, I withdrew our offer on the house.”

“What?? But we put money down on it!”

“Yep, we did. Money we couldn’t spare and won’t get back but we’d have had to spend nearly that same amount of money every single month on a house payment. It’s beyond us. It’s not our house.”

I cried for about 45 seconds and then was so relieved I could have done a freedom dance. I knew he was right and I was pained but so very thankful he pulled the plug. A number of months later as the bottom dropped out of the oil industry, leaving Houston in one of the biggest buyer’s markets of its history, we came upon a house going into foreclosure. It was still a lot for us to spend but we bought it.

And lived in it, fought in it, made up in it, prayed in it, swore in it, ate in it, sobbed in it, laughed in it and tucked children into bed in it for the next 27 years. We were deliriously happy in it. We were woefully miserable in it. You don’t live that long anywhere just one way. Long life happened there, meaning that those walls saw all manner of good, bad, and really ugly. But it snuggled us and hid us and harbored us for nearly thirty years. I hung my children’s baby pictures on those walls, then their school pictures with no front teeth. Then pictures with mouths full of braces, then pictures in their volleyball uniforms, then, be still my heart, their wedding portraits. Then I hung frames on those brittle walls with grandbabies’ pictures captured within.

For years I planted petunias in the flowerbeds in late Spring and, when I needed an emotional outlet, pulled up weeds with a fiery vengeance. Keith or I one dragged big ugly trashcans to the end of the driveway every Monday and Thursday then back to the garage when they were empty.

I parked a brown and beige station wagon on the broken concrete beside that house when we moved in and didn’t replace it until the wheels and doors threatened to come off.

And I loved it. It was home. As one who has nursed a lifelong aversion to change, I declared over and over again that I would never leave that house and that, when I died, Keith would have to dig a hole in the small back yard and bury me in it. At that very front curb, I waited for the school bus to pick up my girls in the morning and bring them home in the afternoon. At that very curb, my daughters’ boyfriends drove up to get them and a few hours later kissed them goodnight with me peeking through the mini-blinds. At that very curb, the postman dropped decades of utility bills – many overdue – and credit card bills that Keith Moore insisted we pay off in full every month no matter how little we had left. And now I’m so glad but then it seemed a tad restrictive for a mom who loved to take her girls to the mall.

That same house could tell terrible tales on me. Oh, what grace God has lavished on us. What mercy and forgiveness! But, amid the roller coaster that has always been Keith and me, and the tears and regrets, oh my word, the prayers that have been prayed in that house are too many to estimate. And certainly not just my own. Many of my girlfriends remember the years when we had monthly prayer breakfasts in that simple home. We’d all meet first in the den where I’d share a devotional then we’d break up in small groups and invade every room in the house and intercede for our loved ones and pray for our own needy hearts, all too often crushed by this or that hurt. I am convinced down to my marrow that God used prayer to spare my marriage and family. Keith believes it, too. I was a wreck in so many ways – still am in certain respects – but Jesus had convinced me early on in my adulthood that I’d have to have Him to survive with any sanity or life satisfaction. Any victim of early childhood abuse at the hand of a trusted family member will either have copious doses of Jesus or defeat. Plain and simple. No gray for folks like me.

I held stacks of journals in my lap two weeks ago and flipped through some of them and found a number of entries so painful that I could not even read them. I tore out numerous pages and wept before the Lord and thanked Him for His faithfulness and repented again, but wouldn’t have needed to, for such waves of stupidity and faithlessness. I also reminded myself to buy a shredder. Grin. Tucked into many of those journals were pages that also made me smile. Sometimes even laugh out loud. And then I’d cry again for the pure joy of Him.

Jesus has carried me in His own two everlasting arms. Me. Keith Moore. Amanda Moore Jones. Melissa Moore Fitzpatrick. He has carried us and His rock-solid biceps often took the form of brick, mortar and wood there on Blazey Drive in Houston, Texas. We’d think we’d come against something we couldn’t overcome, then He’d scoop us up and carry us kicking and screaming to the next season. Not fast enough to suit us, mind you, but eventually. Keith and I would look up and another year had come and gone and we were still married. Only once can I remember us coming to an anniversary where we did not so much as speak. And it was such a short time ago that you’d find it shocking. But, once again, Jesus took a needle and thread and sewed us loop by painful loop back together again. We’re so glad He did.

Then three years ago, I asked Keith if I could tell him something just once and he’d never remind me of it again because I was sure I’d change my mind. He said yes but he lied and we both knew it.

“I might someday consider moving.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he grinned ear to ear. He’d wanted to get off that busy highway near us for years.

“I said I might. But probably not.”

There were a number of things that brought me to that willingness. Keith had retired from the plumbing business and the ministry had moved to the very north edge of Houston. Our house was no longer close to our places of work. Our center had shifted. The biggest thing that changed was something unexplainable and almost irrational that finally just unraveled. The less sappy of you will need to skip to the next paragraph. Or maybe just end your reading right here. Goodness knows it’s gone on long enough. For those of you enduring this epitaph, I had this thing deep inside of me that insisted we stay in the same house so that the boy we’d had for seven years could find his way home and we’d all live happily ever after and all that confusion would be explained. Please understand that I knew it was unrealistic at the time but I couldn’t shake the idealism that it had to all work out some way – my way – and that we’d have to get a second chance so we could do a better job.

I’m so happy to tell you that I am in touch with that young man. He is darling just like he was the first time I laid eyes on him. But the fog began to clear several years ago and I was finally able to accept that the picture I had in my head was pretend. It was from a storybook etched in the mind of a romantic. Not real life. He was an adult and God had different plans for him and for us. Plans that I have to believe are for the good. We see him on occasion and I’m so thankful for the open door but we seem not to be meant to reestablish those same exact bonds.

Keith took that one tiny confession – “I might someday consider moving” – and jumped on it with both size 13 wides. It would be several years before we’d get his parents settled in the country and make arrangements to join them.

On December 14^th – just 12 days ago – a moving van pulled up to my house of 27 years. Amanda, Annabeth, Melissa and I watched them empty those busy, busy rooms one box at a time. By the time that abode was back to the hollow shell we’d seen all those years ago when we first walked through it, Amanda had gone home to pick up Jackson from school and only Melissa and I were left. It was the breakfast room that got us. We stared at the spot where our dining table used to be and both burst into tears. Then each of us (crying audibly, mind you) went around the house and closed the shutters one by one and then we turned out the lights. Melissa walked on out the front door and I lagged behind for just a moment and got on that floor one last time. Face down. For the 15 thousandth time.

And I thanked God.

He did not abandon us there. Not for one minute.

We are happy out here in the country. This morning two deer were in our back yard…and lived to boast about it. Keith has promised not to kill anything here but roaches and rodents and I intend to hold him to it even though we did find wild hog tracks not far from our front door. That husband of mine has labored with all his might for months on end to make this a home for his wife. He is not a man who finds it easy to express his love with words. He expresses his love through works. And I receive this new season of our lives together with joy and with tears drying. But the thing is, I didn’t want to rush right in and start jabbering to you about the new. Not until I paid proper tribute to the old. It wouldn’t have been fitting. It deserves the dignity of a decent good-bye. It cradled a half-crazy family for nearly thirty years like it was happy to have us. Thank you for offering me the space and patience to pen so long a so long. I needed it in the worst way.

By the way, I’ve already told Keith that this is the last time I’m ever moving and that he might as well dig his boots in this dirt. After all, I’m no math-wizard, but in 27 more years I’ll be, let’s see, 81 years old. That is, if the Lord has withheld me a glimpse of His face.

And I’ll let you know how I feel about moving then.

By way of benediction, and just in case somebody’s heart needs to hear it, this place doesn’t completely do it for me any more than the one I drove away from on December 14^th. One of my new appliances is already broken and the dogs get ticks out here. It’s so wonderful out in these sticks but it’s a long shot from perfect. I have a longing for something I still haven’t found. My guess is that you do, too.

 

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared for them a city.

 

Hebrews 11:13-16

 

 

 

[tminus t=”20-01-2012 19:00:00″ style=”carbonite”/] **Siesta Celebration is January 20-21, 2012**

WE MADE IT!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!! To the glory of God, we made it, Siestas! If I could hug your neck, I’d purely squeeze you in two! Please picture me (in a long skirt) doing copious cheerleader jumps! I cannot wait to celebrate with as many of you as possible in January. I wish with all my heart that every single one of you were coming. This girl right here is ready to party. Even one of you missing is too many but I know that it’s hard to manage the time away and the travel expenses are also just too high for many. I’d pay every one of your ways if I could.

Okay, you darling things. I didn’t even have to think twice about the verse I wanted to memorize this last time around in 2011 because it’s about you. With your understanding, I’ll use “sister” instead of “brother.” Here goes:

Beth, Houston. For I have derived much joy and comfort from your love, my [sister], because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you.” Philemon 7 ESV

Oh, gracious. That is the truth.

Now, since this is a very special occasion, we’re going to break protocol. This time I’m not going to limit you to your usual 1st and 15th Scripture-only entries. As we wrap up our year, you are welcome to also write a brief paragraph about what this journey with Christ has meant to you and why.  No pressure. The invitation is simply there is you want to testify.

You are so incredibly dear to me, Siestas. I am at a loss for words. What a ride.

Lord Jesus, thank You, thank You, thank You, thank You! We cannot do anything to Your good pleasure that You do not first initiate and then enable. To You be all credit, honor, and praise. Please cause us to retain “the implanted word, which is able to save [our] souls.” (James 1:21) Make us wiser and make our hearts larger. You are our delight. We want so much to be Yours, too. You are our everything.