The Scale of Honor

   

What's the opposite of unbelief?

Belief?

Maybe.

Ok. Yes, belief is the opposite of unbelief, but don't let that stop you from reading this post because there's more to it than that.

What if you aren't allowed to remove the pre-fix?

Now, what is the opposite of un-belief?

I find God's Spirit to be amazingly gentle, subtle and in-my-face all at once. When the earth was dark and formless it was His Spirit that hovered over the face of the waters and brought forth light. He separated the water from the land. Even now His Spirit-sword separates my soul and spirit. As He divides, He conquers. It is in this place of His continual welcomed conquest that I find myself with a new lens in which to view all of life.

So what is this newly discovered Truth?

HONOR.

Russell Evans, from Planetshakers City Church in Australia recently described honor as, "Something we place weight upon." Think of a set of scales where valuable coins or jewels are placed on one side. On the other side are feathers. The scale tips in favor of the weight. Honor is something you place value or weight on.

Whatever you place honor on your life follows.

I am learning to believe that I am a writer. As I honor the writer inside of me I find I am a better writer.

I used to believe I wasn't an artist, until God got in my face and hovered over my spirit. It was in that reflection where I realized I was not honoring HIM whenever I didn't honor what He created me to do.

What has He created you to do? What brings you joy in the doing? Can you begin to believe in the value of what you do? Why not place that thing you do on the scale of honor?

Honor fills the void where un-belief resided. When honor is honored beauty flows.

It's time for you to see your beautiful reflection upon the waters of honor.

Abide

One word can have huge impact. For example: Stop! That's a powerful word. Your toddler is running along and hears the shout from your heart - "STOP!" Immediately (hopefully) the child freezes and the car goes whizzing by. A tragedy averted though four simple letters strung together, birthed from the heart and amplified through the air.

 Recently, a five letter shout pierced my spirit as I heard my heavenly Daddy cry out - "ABIDE!" It caught me up short and I knew I had no place to run except to His Word. I found 1John 2:27. "Now as for you, the anointing that you received from him resides in you, and you have no need for anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things, it is true and is not a lie. Just as it has taught you, you reside in him."

 Through this passage Daddy reminded me that HIS Spirit dwells in me. HIS Spirit IS the anointing, therefore, He is continually guiding, leading, teaching, speaking, guarding and doing oh, so much more in me, for me, and through me.

 I looked up "abide" in the dictionary and the words that resonated with me were "Remain, stay, wait, endure and sustain." He then brought one line from the warrior passage in Ephesians 6 to mind, "...and after you have done everything to stand. Stand firm then..." That's when His power packed 5 letter shout allowed me to see the car whizzing by.

 Do you see it too?

When you don't know what else to do - ABIDE. STAND. STAND FIRM. REMAIN. STAY. WAIT. ENDURE. SUSTAIN. ABIDE.

Do you see it now? Sometimes when we are fighting a battle, we are not suppose to advance, but rather stop. Abide.

There's lots to do in abiding, like tightening up the buckle of Truth, repositioning righteousness (Hint: it's you that needs to be reminded of your position of righteousness cuz HIS righteousness doesn't shift), dusting off the sandals of peace, securing the helmet of salvation, believing your shield has got all that assaults you AND praying continually. unceasingly. Without stopping. Abidingly pray. Ultimately all He wants is for us to trust Him. Triumph happens when we pause and reposition our gaze on Him.

I believe a few of my "Sister's" needed to hear Daddy's heart today. He's shouting out, "ABIDE!" What amazes me is that your response will bring forth the victory! All you need to do is STOP.

Where Faith and Effort Flow

There's a balance between Faith and effort where the pendulum resides. I have lived on both sides. Faith without effort (at times) can be birthed from entitlement and effort without faith can be birthed from self reliance. Neither is Kingdom minded.

I have stood on the mountain of faith and believed grand things while my sight was on the horizon and my heart not set on heaven. Disappointed ensued. Frustration raised it's fist at a God that was silent. My heart was wounded from a God who doesn't care. What I didn't realize is that my heart was set on an idol. My heart gravitated to idols on the horizon. Idols don't care. Idols are silent. They were masked as life, hope and happiness. My heart learned that it's impossible for idols to give - they only take.

 I have stood in the tread-marks of effort. Deep wells of wheels spinning were created through daily striving. Forward progress was hampered while deeper ruts formed. Footprints of religion surrounded grand ideas. Handprints of sacrifice marked the territory but failure avalanched all around. Frustration raised it's fist at a God that had spoken and said, "Go!" A heart was wounded from a God who didn't help. I found out that idols are not only found on horizons. The truth is an idol camouflaged as God turns hearts away from believing.

The pendulum has a fixed point from which a hanging weight can swing freely. When my eyes remain heavenward I can move freely between faith and effort. There are times when more faith is needed and there are times when I am called to pull up my sleeves and put the shoulder to the plow. It's only when my heart is fixed on God that faith and effort flow freely. It is there that I have rest.

Wanna swing with me on His pendulum and experience freedom? "...fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith." Hebrews 12:2

Spiritual Leadership

For years I longed for my husband to be the spiritual leader of our home. I asked for it, demanded it, cried for it, waited for it and complained for it. But "it" never transpired. The church preached it, books eluded to it but no one explained it - well, unless you count the long list of do's and don'ts. "It" was elusive.

We were not raised in environments where spiritual leadership was demonstrated. Perhaps you weren't either. What I've learned through working with inmates is that context creates the environment for understanding. For example, I'm currently working with a former incarcerated youth who upon release had no understanding of career. Job, he understood. His family had jobs. Jobs pay money. Jobs are hard to find. Jobs don't pay enough money. Jobs are for a select few. He got out of jail and got his first job. However, when I stopped by his job and said, "What do you want to do for a career?" He stared at me blankly. His environment didn't create a place of understanding. It's the same for spiritual leadership. I knew our family needed it. My husband knew our family needed it. But what exactly did "it" look like? Funny how Satan can use a godly thing to make us run with exhaustion. We had no idea what we were running after, we just knew we needed to run and run hard.

We are less than four years away from an empty nest and I finally know what "it" looks like. Dad's do you want to know what it looks like to be the spiritual leader of your home? Husbands, do you want to stop your wife from pressuring you to rise up and lead? It can be summed up in one word- Listen. That's it.

Listening is the foundation of spiritual leadership within the home. You may say, "I've been listening to her for years and she's driving me crazy!" Sorry girls, you're the wrong source for this foundation.

Not too long ago I asked my husband to pray for me before I went into another jail facility. A long pause ensued as I settled in under his hand. It was so long that I had to ask him if he was still awake. He responded with, "I'm listening and I haven't heard anything yet." When he did pray what he heard God saying, I was moved, floored, surprised, encouraged, strengthened and felt greatly valued by God and my husband.

His ear to hear The Lord IS spiritual leadership. It sets the tone and course for all of us. Had we known then what we know now it would have saved us years of heart ache and pain. It would have saved our children years of heart ache and pain too. We did the best we could as we strived to capture an understanding of spiritual leadership but too often we came up short. However, we also know that it's NEVER too late to lead. It's NEVER too late to listen. It's NEVER too late to leave a legacy! And so he listens.

As my husband has learned to listen to The Lord he is listening better to me and to his kids. Isn't that what a wife wants anyway?

So Dad's here's your homework: Go home and lay a hand on your child and pray only what you hear The Lord say.

Husband's here's your homework: Go home and lay a hand on your wife and pray only what you hear The Lord say.

That's "IT"! Spiritual leadership in the home chiseled down to one word: Listen. I promise that you will see a transformation come about in your home as you do this one thing.

So throw out the stack of books that tell you everything you should "be" and "do" and implement this one thing of "listening. YOU will be transformed, and not because your wife has stopped pressuring you, although that will be the icing on the cake.

Santo, Santo!

We adopted a son from Mexico. Well, that's only partially true. He was born in America to a white mom and Mexican dad and we actually haven't gone through the court system to adopt him. He was 18 when he came to live with us and currently he is still 18. I know parts of his story and parts of his story I don't want to know.
He speaks both Spanish and English fluently. I, on the other hand, do not. As I sit next to Mi Hijo, I hear him carry on a conversation with his Dad. I long to understand what they are saying to each another.

Mi Hijo, is the one word he did teach me to speak. It came after much defeat in trying to articulate his name in Spanish. He finally said, "Mom, call me 'Mi Hijo.' My Son." So I have and he calls me Mom.

I've had many discussions with God about my lack of communicating with the Spanish speaking world. It would come in handy as I work inside prison walls with juveniles. For many, their native tongue is Spanish and they tend to use this language in my presence. I would like to know what they are saying. Thus far God has not miraculously given me ear nor tongue.

Grumbling about my lack (yet again) I turned on Spanish worship music. I tried to worship without understanding. That's when the breakthrough happened. I heard the words, "Santo, santo." being sung. The tune was one I knew from church. In an instant my Anglo world collided with a foreign culture. Santo, santo. Holy, holy. Holy, holy. Santo, santo!

As God parted heaven He spoke to my heart and said, "Daughter, It's fine to long to communicate with another culture, but don't forget that what I long for most is for you to communicate with me." This revelation caused my eyes to leak and my heart to soar.

Currently, my Spanish dictionary consists of just a few words: Mi Hijo and Santo. One is horizontal communication and the other is vertical. Perhaps as I spend more time pursuing the originator of language I shall add more words to my Spanish dictionary. In the meantime, what more do I need?

Staying in the Forest

He's 18.

He's been in prison.

Several times.

He's clean now. And straight. He makes money like you and I do. Honest money. He says it feels good to make money and not have to fear if the police will find him. He gives most of his money to his mom.

I drove him home from work. We had to travel the toll roads. Somehow he avoids these the days I don't take him. He had never heard of or seen a toll tag. He didn't know how it worked. He doesn't have a license.

He works for minimum wage in a low end restaurant chain. Promotion opportunities are limited. He's an artist at heart. One of those natural artists. He has God given artistic ability but limited opportunities for expression.

He asked how to hear God.

So, I demonstrated.

I asked God for an image for him.

God answered.

I told him I saw him in a forest. Big beautiful towering trees were all around him. He was inspecting the trees. He was enjoying the texture of the bark. He was happy. At peace. He didn't mind inspecting bark.

As I shared this image that God gave, I heard him gasp with understanding. I turned to look at him.

He said, "I get it. I'm stuck in the forest and not looking for a way through the forest to get out."

He heard God in that moment.

His forest is large. There are trees called poverty, victim, ex-inmate, gang member and others that block his view.

But with God there is a way through.

One of the Scriptures we looked at was that he "Can do all things through Christ who strengthens him." Philippians 4:13. 

Wanting to hear God is an awesome beginning to find the way through.

I'm praying he has ears to hear.

That's his art above.

I Am No Longer Safe

Since I started working with juvenile inmates I find that I am no longer safe. I've passed my phone number out. I've opened my home. I've driven former inmate’s places. I am surrounded by drug addicts, thieves, convicted felons, habitual liars, cheaters, manipulators, violent offenders, victims and perpetrators.

I am no longer safe.

I am fearful for my life.

Not my physical life.

I am fearful of losing my existence.

My existence has consisted of raising children in the suburbs. Sending them to private Christian education from preschool through high school and one is in a Christian college. My husband and I have spent years creating a safe environment. We are protectors. There's nothing wrong with that.

My safe life is colliding violently with a world I have been shielded from and have shielded my family from. As they rub up against each other friction creates tension.

What's the friction?

Learning that injured people are dealt with differently depending on their address. In my white suburbs if you are jumped by a pack of people you call the police and seek immediate medical attention. Which actually happened to my husband years ago in a different state. However, down the street, a beaten man calls his cousin to pick him up and goes on with life. His medical attention consists of a few shots of alcohol to take the pain away. There's no money. There are no questions. This is the way through.

I find that drug addicts are well...addicted. They give up children for the thing that gives them temporary relief. They call people and ask for money. They steal to get what they don't have. Yet, God loves them as deeply as He loves me.

There is a whole segment of society that are victims of the society.

And perpetrators of it as well.

I used to pass by the homeless man on the street corner when I drove through the city. Now I work with young men who have no where to go upon their release.

So why am I no longer safe?

My white suburban protected existence works only in a white suburban protected existence.

My ways are not their ways.

To reach them, I must operate in a new skin. Which means I choose to lay aside my judgments of how things are done "right" and pick up what looks completely barbaric and call that "good."

As I write, I see Jesus doing the same with us. For the first time I have a sliver of understanding about how His way is not our way! I see dimly how Jesus laid aside his rights to pick up mans barbaric ways.

I find that the safe existence I deliberately created day by day is no longer protected. In fact it is getting toppled over one brick at a time. I don't know what will be left once the fortress is completely demolished.

During the demolition I feel utterly raw and exposed. But THAT'S it! THAT'S the spot for "them" as well. As my world collides with the inmate’s world they too feel raw and exposed. They wrestle with the Truth that God loves them. He forgives them. He welcomes them. And wants to help them rebuild a new life based on a new foundation.

See there's no difference between me and the inmate. We both have the opportunity to lose our life.

Will we?

Will you?

Plowing Your Field

It's time. You have a field to plow. You have seeds to plant. You have a harvest to reap. Yes, all at the same time.

First, realize you have a field. God has given you a field and not only that you get to name it. Naming your field brings ownership. It brings dominion. And yes, stewardship too. However, women typically don't struggle with the stewardship part. We struggle more with the dominion part. But, girlfriend, YOU are a land owner. Stop for a minute and take a look around. What's on your land? What do you see? The land the Lord has given you is your sphere of influence. It's your area of ministry.

Second, acknowledge the seed you get to plant on your field. What's the "seed" God has planted in you? Is it artistic expression, writing, speaking, praying? You hold a powerful seed. It was birthed from heaven the moment you were created and you were meant to scatter that seed on your land. Name the seed while you cast it forth. It's ok to plant many fields. You've been given more than one field. You've been given more than one seed. Ecclesiates 11:6 tells us, "Sow your seed in the morning, and at evening let your hands not be idle, for you do not know which will succeed, whether this or that, or whether both will do equally well."

Keep believing for the harvest. Keep watering that field with words of love and life. Regularly stop and enjoy the fruit of your labor. Inspect the plants and rejoice over what's grown. Stoop down over the soil and believe new life will burst forth soon.

Your land is good because God has called it good. Your seed is good because God has deemed it so. Your harvest is good because God is the one who made it grow.


Go plow.

Stolen Fruit

It’s time to take the fruit back from the enemy! It’s what he used to lie to Eve and it’s what he uses to lie to us.
 
Raise your hand If you can say, “I don’t have any self-control.” Or, perhaps, “I lack peace.”  How about, “If I could only be gentle”?  OR, “GIVE ME PATIENCE….NOW!!!!”
 
Any hands going up?  
 
OK…how bout now? “If I can do good this once.”  “I am not reliable (faithful).”  “I just can’t be kind.” “I don’t have any love.”  “My joy is gone.”
 
Now?
 
I thought so.  We have all said a variation of the above.  
 
I used to say, “When God passed out gentleness He bypassed me.”  Oh, and I believed it to my very core.  Funny how what we believe expresses itself in how we act. You see, I believed I didn’t have gentleness therefore every time I didn’t act gentle I reminded myself of my truth, “There I go again…no gentleness” and so I lived out a vicious cycle of a lie.
 
What compounded the cycle was that I WAS bold.  VERY BOLD!  I believed boldness was bad.  I believed boldness was the opposite of gentleness.  Boldness had a hold on me that I couldn’t shake no matter how badly I beat myself.
 
You beat yourself too.  Have you ever replayed the stupid way you handled a situation? You remind yourself of your big mouth and then can’t stand the way your foot dangles off the corner.
 
Well, I would take a sledge hammer to my spirit and throw a blow to that bold place from where my foot would rise up.  Then I’d think about it from a different angle and throw another blow.  When I was done lashing myself, I’d start all over again to make sure I didn’t do stupid bold and “gentlelessness” things again. But I always did.
 
I still do.
 
However, I no longer beat myself up.  I’ve stolen the fruit back from the enemy!
 
Things changed when I came across Proverbs 28:1, “…but the righteous are as BOLD as a lion.” (Emphasis mine). Hmmm…boldness is not bad?  Boldness isn’t a stupid impulse I can’t control? I needed to hear that Truth.  I needed to eat it, digest it and allow it to flush out a lie.  
 
I recently ate Galatians 5 which has transformed me even more.
 
I had always been taught that I needed the fruit of the Spirit.  I was warned that my flesh was at war with the Spirit.  There never seemed to be a solution to the problem.
 
That’s when a big but of the Bible jumped off the pages. Galatians 5:17-18 says, “For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature (“yeah, I got that”). They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want (“Oh well, I give up”). BUT if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under law.” (Emphasis mine again).  
 
Wait a minute! Hold everything!  Let’s back up to Galatians 5:1 for more Truth, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Stand firm, then? I’ve heard that line before (see Ephesians 6).  This must be war!
 
You’d better believe it is!!!! The same war that was waged in the garden is the war still being waged. What are you going to believe? Who are you going to believe?  
 
There’s a very simple Truth about the fruit of the Spirit.
 
It is this:  YOU HAVE IT ALREADY!!!!  
 
IF you have accepted Christ as your Lord and Savior, YOU HAVE IT!  
 
You HAVE love!  You HAVE joy!  You HAVE peace and patience and goodness and gentleness and kindness and faithfulness AND YES, even self-control!!!!! YOU HAVE THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT because JESUS IS THE FRUIT!!!!  
 
The key to living in abundant fruit is found in Galatians 5:25b, “…let us keep in step with the Spirit.”
 
Let me say it another way, If Christ has set you free, then you have a new departure point.  
 
You crossed a line when you accepted Christ.  That line moved you from “I don’t have any self control” to “I HAVE self control.”  It removed “I don’t have any peace” to “I HAVE peace that surpasses understanding.”  HE moved you to a meadow of belief that proclaims boldly, “I AM as gentle as a lamb.” It allows you to cry out, “I HAVE rivers of patience!”
 
Are you with me?  I know, believing and agreeing with Truth can be daunting when lies seem so real.  
 
Look at it this way.
 
The lie is that Jesus’ death was not enough for me to be filled with ALL of the fruit of His Spirit!  It’s good enough for everyone else to be filled, but it’s not enough for me so I will continue to stay on the other side of The Cross. The place of lack.
 
The Truth Paul declares is, “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires.” Vs. 24.
 
That can’t possibly include you, right?
 
I’ll use Paul’s words again, “You were running a good race.  Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth?” Vs 7.
 
The truth is you HAVE the fruit of the Spirit!  Who’s stealing that truth from you? “That kind of persuasion does not come from the one who calls you.” Vs 8.  
 
Are you ready to embrace the Truth, the whole Truth and nothing but the Truth yet?
 
Start with, “I have joy!”  “I believe I have joy!”  You may not be able to see it yet, but it’s there! It can grow!  It just needs a new departure point!  One based on TRUTH not on lies!  
 
Rise up!  Take back the fruit from the enemy and cross over to Truth!  
 
Proclaim every day the fruit you thought you didn’t have.
 
Determine to stay in step with the Spirit of the living God as you walk in His ways. When He says, “You don’t need that now” obey Him.  When He says, “Walk away.” Do it!  
 
30 days from now you will see a transformation in your life!  
 
You will be a garden of lush fruit whose heart overflows with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.
 
Now that’s the kind of apple I want to eat.  Anyone hungry?

The Creation of an Artist by Michelle Bentham

Michelle Bentham is my guest blogger today. Leave her a comment!

I am a 41 year old Administrative Assistant in vocational ministry at a large church in the north Texas area. In my lifetime I have worn many hats. Unwed Teenage Mom, Stay at Home Mom, Wife, Daughter, Friend, Sister, Waitress, Cashier, Apprentice, Prodigal, Divorcee, Step-Mom, Aunt, Student, Administrative Assistant, Sunday School Teacher, Bible Study Facilitator, Beth Moore Junkie, Women’s Ministry Administrator, Bereaved Parent, Grief Expert, Child of God, Blogger and more… Much More.

I graduated from high school already a few months into motherhood and did not attend college. My only education in art and writing came at the hands of my Art I teacher and the wonderful English teachers from Granbury High.

I have dabbled in arts and crafts most of my grown life. Tweaking floral arrangements and creating trinkets, but these were not masterpiece works of art, just novelties. I attained a B average in my one year of high school art and determined that my technical skill did not merit further pursuit. Still, something in me begged to create.

Five years ago my family suffered the sudden and traumatic death of my eldest child, Justin, after he suffered injuries in a car accident. A year and a half later I set out to lead a ministry group and spent a whole week painting and decorating a room at our church for a group of bereaved parents I had never met. Though uncertain and, having never painted in this medium, the experience proved rewarding as I had three pieces to display on the walls.

You may say to yourself, “I am not talented.”

You don’t have to be.

The arts in their simplest forms come wrapped in a heart full of creative expression.

Maybe you read books full of poetic prose, narratives that paint pictures, or even sonnets and songs give your heart a boost. You might find yourself walking the halls of art galleries or scanning photographs and find the Lord speaking to your heart. Perhaps you craft or scrapbook… Places where your heart turns wistful in the throes of such beauty and grace that you say, I could never do that.


However creativity finds expression in your heart, God has a plan for it.


Hearing the voice of God is really the only prerequisite for creativity. Understanding His creative nature can lead us to open doors we might never consider in our own lives. Doors to creative expression and doors to beauty and grace we might never tap into but for the prompting of His Holy Spirit.

We are created in the very image of God, and on earth we reflect His image and glory. If we are in Christ, He is in us, and if He is in us then all of the nature of God fully resides in us. God in His very nature is creative. If His nature fully resides in us, and we reflect His image on the earth then our identity in Christ, our position in Him, is the only qualifying indicator for creative expression.

I'm beginning to learn this simple truth as I develop the ability to express creatively from my identity in Christ and the things I see and hear as I relate to Him.

God created you creative, too. Your creativity has the power to express His nature and glory on this earth. Technical skills are valuable and may be developed but without the creative nature of God at work in you - art would not be possible.

In you lies a Masterpiece of God's design. How long will you wait to fully express it?

Back From Captivity

I went to prison for the first time THIS year. I tend to find myself in and out of prisons, but this was the first time of the New Year. I was ushered to the back room with my team of One Heart volunteers where we met 6 youthful offenders. We were there to spend 4 hours with our hands in paint with them. I usually begin art camps with free form drawing. They can draw anything except gang related items and it has to be appropriate. This allows me to assess where their hearts are and to see if there is any artistic talent in the room. Usually there are always one or two gifted artists. "Jose" (Not his real name) was not one of the gifted artists. He was moderate, but not gifted like the boy next to him who was a "tagger"(graffiti artist). However, it wasn't his gift that drew me to him. It was his heart.

It was a heart at war. Death vs. Life.

Picture a 16"x20" blank canvas.

“Jose” used a black leaded pencil to draw an evil looking skeleton head smack dab in the center.

Out of the heart art flows, but so do dreams.

This is the same boy who told me he wants to have a car shop when he gets old enough. He wants a place for single moms to bring their cars to get fixed at a cheap rate because they need a lot of help and they don't have much money.

Death vs. life all wrapped up in a juvenile offender.

I was able to redirect his drawing by telling him that the skeleton symbolized death and he has a choice to continually keep his thoughts on death or he can choose to think about things that bring forth life.

So he covered it up with a drawing of a cross.

Interesting choice.

We were then able to talk about how religion leads to death and relationship with Jesus leads to life.

Not sure he got it.

So we progressed to pouring paint all over his canvas and spraying it with water all the while talking about Jesus being The Living Water.

Not sure he got it.

By the end of the camp he had the messiest, wettest, jumble of paint on his canvas.

It was a beautiful mess.

Life is messy.

"There's a way that seems right to man, but in the end it leads to death." Proverbs 14:12

I'm praying for "Jose" that he chooses the way that will lead to life. Abundant life.

He left camp filled with joy. He loved his painting. He loved more the Scripture I highlighted for him in a Bible I gave him. I don't think he had ever heard that God had a plan for his life. This is what I read to him:

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord, AND WILL BRING YOU BACK FROM CAPTIVITY." Jeremiah 29:11-14

“Jose” longs to be brought back from captivity. You could see the hunger in his eyes.

I don’t know what will happen to “Jose.”

I do know that in his heart rages a turf war. Death vs. life is continually before him.

I’m praying that somehow spraying water on his canvas will lead him to accept The One who is The Way, The Truth and The life.

Highway of Freedom

Landscapes are a funny thing. They can change depending upon time of day or season. They are altered as you move upon them or what is placed upon them. Landscapes can be painted, photographed, or imprinted upon our memories forever.

Not too far away construction crews are working tirelessly to transform traffic patterns to make it easier on morning and afternoon commutes. The landscape has been transformed to where I do not recognize a thing.

I feel the same way about entering into the landscape of 2012. My landscape is changing. God is creating opportunity. He's opening doors and inviting me to walk through them to go play in the meadow of His world. However, something tries to keep my feet planted in a landscape that looks and feels comfortable.

I have found that the biggest barrier to embracing new opportunities has been fear. Not just fear of the unknown, but fear of others thoughts towards me, or fear of my own motives. The common thread is that its fear based on a highway of lies.

For example, God revealed that the passenger in my car was impure motives. I believed my motives were always bad. I drove every where with that passenger. I didn't even know he was in my car until I asked God to show me wounds that defeated me. Somewhere I had picked up this hitchhiker. I had actually changed seats with him and given him the authority to drive my life. Not only that, somewhere I began to believe that God had impure motives. That's when I stopped the car and threw that lying hitch hiker out. I confessed to God that I had believed a lie about HIM. I asked for forgiveness. HE immediately comforted me. He spoke tenderly to me and said, "Anne, your motives are not bad either." THAT was the beginning of major road repair!

As I have faced the lies and replaced it with truth miraculously my landscape has changed. I've driven far away from living as if my motives are filth. HE has cleansed them! HE has put a new spirit in me! As I've been transformed I find I am able to welcome new opportunities. It's actually exciting to enter a new highway.

How about you? Do you walk in a roundabout of defeat? Ask God to show you if you’ve picked up any hitch hikers along your way. You may be surprised what you find in your trunk. God has places He wants to take you but you may be listening to the lies in your passenger seat. Or perhaps, like me, you crawled up into the back seat to take a nap while a stranger drove you to places not on Gods road map. It’s time to wake up and kick that bad boy out to the curb. There’s a city ahead with your name on it! It’s called Freedom!

All The Single Ladies

I love worship. I love worship at my church. I love how God speaks during worship. I love how He inhabits our praises.

Recently I was worshipping during worship (btw, there are other things you can do during worship besides worship). I was completely focused on God, offering my heart and voice to the one who hears and sees me. When all of a sudden God interrupted my worship. He began a conversation with me about one of the worship leaders. She has an AMAZING voice. But that's not what He was highlighting to me. He pointed out her age. He had me notice that she was in her thirties. Not only was she in her thirties she was single and in her thirties.

I wasn't quite sure where He was headed with this information. I stopped singing. My ear was now tuned to the object of my praise. My emotions were suspended between sorrow for this girl and intrigue as to why God would interrupt my worship to point out her age. I was certain she knew she was single and no longer in her twenties. That's when He said "Anne, there's a bunch of girls out there just like her." In my mind I saw a slew of single women walking around in their thirties with no prospect of marriage on the horizon. Women who have wondered why relationships keep slipping through their fingers. Women who long for marriage but are still searching for that special someone. Women who eat alone at night and struggle to find activities for the weekends only to fall asleep with their tears. I saw multitudes of good solid God fearing, Jesus loving, Holy Spirit walking 30 something women.

I was speechless. I had never given it any thought. At "approaching 50" that is not my world. Besides that, I was a bride at the tender age of 23. Before I could question the Lord about it, He questioned me: "Do you know why they are still single?"

"No, Lord. I don't have a clue as to why your girls are still single."

"I am using their single-hood for my purposes. Would you go tell them please?"

In an instant I was reminded of an old prayer journal I had found just that afternoon. It was written during a very difficult season in my thirties. I was raising four children alone most weeks. My knight in shining armor was traveling the world leaving me alone in my castle sometimes for weeks on end. It was a season of complete brokenness before the Lord. I realized I could either continue down a path of self pity or I could begin a 30-days of blessing list. Each day I made myself write down a blessing I had experienced. Many of those entries from that month said this, "Lord, thank you for so much alone time. I know I wouldn't have grown in my relationship with you if I didn't have so many nights free after putting the kids to bed."

It was then that I understood 1 Corinthians 7:32-35 "I want you to live as free of complications as possible. When you're unmarried, you're free to concentrate on simply pleasing the Master. Marriage involves you in all the nuts and bolts of domestic life and in wanting to please your spouse, leading to so many more demands on your attention. The time and energy that married people spend on caring for and nurturing each other, the unmarried can spend in becoming whole and holy instruments of God. I'm trying to be helpful and make it as easy as possible for you, not make things harder. All I want is for you to be able to develop a way of life in which you can spend plenty of time together with the Master without a lot of distractions." (The Message)

The reminder of my 30 days of blessings coupled with this Scripture caused me to reflect on my own stage in life. With two children far away at college and 2 rather self sufficient teenagers I am finding that I can spend more time concentrating simply on pleasing the Master. I can spend time pursuing The One I love to worship! I don't have as many nuts and bolts of domestic life to manage. Honestly, there's not as many dishes to wash, beds to make and laundry to fold. I can spend time writing a blog post to women in their thirties encouraging them with a message that I believe God wants them to know.

So here's the message in a nice neat 30 second sound bite.

Precious single women:

1) Your singleness has a God given purpose.
2) Discover what God has called you to do then do it with all your heart.
3) Your singleness is a gift to YOU.
4) God IS accomplishing something in you and through you for His greater purpose.
5) This season of life is foundational.
6) HE sees your labor and it is not in vain.
7) Singleness will fulfill it's purpose.
8) He is so proud of you.
9) You are investing The Kingdom into the current culture that surrounds you like no other group can.
10) You are also laying the foundation for the next generation.


So, to all the single ladies out there my charge to you is this: Rise up, link arms, and change the culture for Gods purposes! I may be too old, your married friends may be too busy, but you...you've got what it takes!

I stand and applaud you as I lean over to God and say, "I see what you mean. Those single girls are a powerful force!"

Art and Inmates. An Intersection.

Do you ever wonder how you ended up somewhere? Just the other day I drove across town and realized I had no recollection of how I had arrived at my destination. It happened again while on the phone. It was one of those first time phone conversations. It was an amazing conversation, but when I got off the phone I questioned how I had gotten there. How had I gotten to the place in dialogue where the person on the other end describes 13-17 year old-convicted as adult-lifers, and by the way will you please come to Florida and do art with them? How does that happen?

I never signed up for this. There was no GPS directing me. Yet, here I am. Part of me wants to turn around and run away. Part of me looks to the left and the right straining for a different view.

I wanted to run away when my son was diagnosed with cancer. I longed for a way out. Instead God provided a way through.

When I had four children all under the age of 8 there were days I begged for a different view. Within 24 hours the view would always change.

My baby who was diagnosed with cancer is now an amazing 13 year old.

Which brings me back to the intersection. 13-17 year olds. Convicted as adults. In for life! They're called "Youthful Offenders." 484 of them. In one facility. In Florida. Prison Fellowship wants me to come do an art camp. Or train the people there to do art camps. There's an elderly population in some of the prisons too. Think geriatrics. My brain is having to create files that never existed in my thoughts.

How did I get here? I wasn't even an artist until 7 years ago. Seriously.

I don't teach technique to the inmates. I bring freedom in the form of a brush. I've apologized to a boy who grew up in the midst of watching others shoot up heroin all because he drew hands with huge veins. I walked another through a funeral of sorts. He lost his grandpa when he was 10. His grandpa died of starvation crossing the border. He never got to say goodbye. His life of crime started soon after. He painted a picture of him fishing with his grandpa as a way to let go. He has 2 children. At 17 he is a child. Thankfully he's not in for life.

Art and inmates. An intersection. A journey. I didn't ask for it but I know I've been called to it. Now begins the process of gathering others who have been called to this road. I'm sounding the horn.

You don't have to be an artist.

You don't have to go to prisons.

If you have an ear to hear the Lord and if you believe God can speak through pictures you have all you need. Let me know if you want to enter the highway.

How you interact with God reveals what you think of Him

I found myself crying out to God recently. I was begging Him to "Just answer me and I will do it!" Have you ever done that?

I was backed into a corner and desperately needed an answer. I had little time to wait. I HAD to move forward.

"God, tell me what to do and I will do it!"

There was an urgency to my cry. I needed relief!

"God show me. I will follow."

I've prayed that prayer a million times. Half of the time meeting success. An answer comes. I get a revelation. I have a lightbulb moment. The solution seems clear. I say my thanks and move on in the way I should go.

Not this time though. I never expected the response I got from The Lord.

Me: "Just tell me what to do and I will do it!"
Him: "Anne, why don't you ask me what I think is best for you instead?"

Stunned silence(on my part). Frozen in my tracks. My world (of thinking) just got turned upside down.

That's how the exchange went in my head. BUT, here is how the exchange went in my heart.

Me: "Just tell me what to do(you intimidating dictator) and I will do it(I will obey your command!)"

When He asked me "Why don't you ask me what's best for you" it immediately threw me into the river of His grace. I splashed around in the understanding of the goodness of a God who is passionately for me! I allowed the stream of cleansing to wash away the debris of a polluted thought process of how I viewed God as demanding. As a dictator. As an intimidator. I washed away a part of my past.

I am free!

Would you like to jump in and join me? Just ask Daddy "What's best for me?" That's a question I know He will answer 100% of the time!

He is for you!

Summary:

 How you interact with God reveals what you think of Him. For example, do you say to Him: "God, what's best for me" meaning: you are for me and I get to step into Your flow of grace...or Do you say: "just tell me what to do and I will do it!" meaning: You're an intimidating dictator and I will obey your command. 

Lessons From My Cell

Words can pierce. Words can inspire. Words can empower.

May you allow the words coming up next in quotations pierce, inspire and empower you today.

“And here is a Scripture from the Bible I like, Jeremiah 29:11, because I know he has a plan for me, in my future to come Amen.”

No? Nothing? What’s so empowering about that? You’ve heard that verse a million times? You don’t really believe it anyway? Your present looks rather bleak so how in the world can your future look any brighter? They’re just words?

Let me wrap context around those words and see if it illuminates anything in your spirit.

“Pen Pal” has never been a burning passion of mine. In fact, I am grateful for the creation of Facebook just so I will connect with people I NEVER would have otherwise. Facebook is a “pen pal” program I can follow. But…actually taking out paper and pen and literally writing something, not to mention addressing, stamping and mailing the thing. So not gonna happen in my world! So not! …Or so I thought.

There is no Facebook in prison.

There are however, many teens in prison. Teens who never hear from another person outside the razor wire. Teens whose parents don’t contact them. Teens hungry for a word from anyone who cares.

I’ve meet several of those teens recently. I interacted with them through an art camp and then followed up with a visit. I couldn’t help myself - I wrote two of them. The old fashioned snail mail way. I sent them each a Scripture that I was praying for them. Then I waited. I waited to see if they would respond. I even gave them a self addressed stamped envelope so they could respond. I used One Heart’s address (www.oneheart.com to find out more) as a return address: not my own.

Within a week I had a response from one of the inmates. It chronicled his desire for prayer. Asking for prayers that he would “live a better positive life” and seeking prayers that “When I get out to knot fall back to my old ways, and to be a better man, and to hope they let me go back to high school.”

What really blew me away was that he sent me a Scripture that he had been thinking about. One he believes in. One that he clings to. Below is his quote:

“And here is a Scripture from the Bible I like, Jeremiah 29:11, because I know he has a plan for me, in my future to come Amen.”

Incarcerated youth saying, “I KNOW He has a plan for me, in my future to come AMEN.”

State issued clothes, institutional food, boundaries determined by razor wire prison inmate saying, “I KNOW He has a plan for me, in my future to come AMEN.”

Let that sink in.

This closet stuffed, gourmet food, plane, train and automobile boundary-less woman needs to let THOSE words pierce, inspire and empower her.

He is freer than many who have never seen a cell. He has hope. He is an inspiration.

How about you? Could you use a new view, a renewed perspective today about your life? Why not follow a future leader and begin with saying the same thing about your life;

“I KNOW He has a plan for me, in my future to come Amen.”

My Addiction

I have a confession. I have an addiction and I have to go back to prison to fix it. I will be fingerprinted within the week.

My addiction started innocently enough (don’t they all?). I just went into a youth prison to do an art camp. In and out baby! Simple. Done. One time. That’s all I told myself. "I will do this just one time. I can do this just once."

What I didn’t plan on was my friend inviting me to go back and check up on two of the boys that had stood out to me at the art camp. Note to self: Friends can lead you down twisted paths if you’re not careful.

So I went for a second time. One more time can’t hurt anything, right? I’ve got it under control. I can handle this heart of mine. Just one more innocent time. No one will get hooked. I’m fine.

I went.

One of Websters definitions for addiction is, “Compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance characterized by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal.”

I am having well-defined symptoms of withdrawal.

Like the image I can’t shake of leaving the dorm after spending hours sitting on a hard cement floor chatting about…anything…with the boys. The guard came and unlocked the door so we could leave. It locked tight behind us. We got maybe 10 yards away when there was a loud knock on the doors window. We turned around to see one of the boys smiling face waving goodbye.

How do I come clean from THAT?

Sorry, I had to go get a tissue.

I’m shaken… still. Haunted by an image and a very real sound that was directed at me. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK…WAVE…smile…KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK (I’m locked in and can’t get out)…

What do I do with that?

I tried a placebo. Because I like knowing what words really mean, here again is Websters definition. A placebo is “usually a pharmacologically inert preparation prescribed more for the mental relief of the patient than for its actual effect on a disorder.”

So, I wrote a letter. Actually, I wrote 2. If one is good for mental relief isn’t 2 better? I wrote the boys. I shared a Scripture with both. I told them I hoped to come back soon. I encouraged them not to lose hope. I hugged the letters, prayed over them and dropped them at the post office.

I included a self address stamped envelop. Not with my address, but with One Hearts address. I still have this under control. Losing control would be to get too personal, too involved. I can handle this! I’m good.

However, I found myself at training last night. Texas Youth Correctional Volunteer Training. I KNOW. I should have stayed away. I brought another friend with me; she’s willing to do it! It can’t be THAT bad if others are all doing it. I have to go get fingerprinted next. Then I get a badge. Then I can go whenever I want during visiting hours.

See….that’s the issue. I can choose to go alone now. When others join in it’s called social use. But there’s a whole other level when I choose to do this privately. That’s when I know I’ve crossed a line. That’s when I know I am fully addicted to a thing called mentoring.

I find myself mentally figuring out when I can get away for half a day and not be missed by my own family. I’m planning, preparing, devising and plotting.

“Oh God, Help me!!!! This is NOT what I asked for!!!!”

Ssshhhhh…honestly…between you and me, I don’t want to give it up. In fact, I want to dive in more.

The placebo didn’t work.

I’m bringing my addiction into the light.

Wanna join me friend? I’d be happy to show you the way down the twisted road.

Frank

I sat on the hard floor of a rectangular space the prison staff called a “group meeting room” with 4 boys and Cindy who works with One Heart. This “group meeting room” was more prison cell than meeting room. It was surrounded by windows on 3 sides, it was completely bare except for the 2 chairs brought in by the boys and a key was needed to let us into the room…and out of the room.

Cindy and I were privileged to return to the facility where only a week ago I had led an art camp. We went back to check on two of the boys who artistically stood out to me, however, by afternoon through divine appointment, 2 more boys desired to sit on laminate with us. Actually, every boy we saw was hungry to enter the small rectangular cell. You could see it in their eyes. You heard it in their questions when we were released to join them for lunch, although they were not allowed to talk much. You could feel it on their hearts. Hearts void of outside daily contact. Hearts void of hope. Hearts capable of receiving nourishment.

The word nourishment came up. “Frank” jumped on that word. I find that fascinating. Words had been linked together for the better part of the morning but when nourishment was mentioned. Frank immediately stopped the flow of conversation and said, “What’s that? Nourish whatever. What’s that mean?” I could put “The END” right now. THAT statement is powerful. A 17 year old prisoner asking about a word he had never heard and had no idea what it meant. “NOURISHMENT? What does it mean?” He asked. The End.

But I can’t end there. There’s so much more. Frank is an only child I found out. His dad was in prison (the first time or ONE of the times I couldn’t get straight) from Franks early years until he was 9. Somewhere throughout Frank’s life his mom was also in prison. Once or more, I don’t know that either. Are they currently in prison? I don’t know, although it sounded like they were out and still married to each other. I miss a lot in translation. I don’t talk street and he doesn’t talk white mom of the suburbs, not to mention the group meeting room was not created with acoustics in mind. Yet, we understand each other most of the time. The boys understand each other all of the time. There’s never a “What? Huh? Or questioning face during their conversations.” Where communication seems to break down the most between mom and prisoner is when words like “nourishment” are discussed.

Franks inquisitive mind was a bridge to his hungry heart. “Nourishment is like when a baby is born,” I told him, “And that baby needs milk to survive. It would die without nourishment.” I wonder how long Frank has been dead? The word “survival” seemed to bring up money talk. Actually it doesn’t take much to bring up discussions that revolve around money. Money they understand. Money is nourishment to them. Money is survival. It was money that got Frank into a life of drug dealing. He made good money. He nourished himself. He had to.

He looked out one of the windows in the midst of the dicussion and said, “Yeah, I want job that I can go to every day. I don’t know what I’d do, but I want that.” Here’s the moment God spoke to his heart. I replied, “Frank, the only job you’ve known is one where you live with fear every moment. Fear of getting found out. Fear of keeping it secret. Frank, you can have a job where you don’t have to live with fear every day. It may not pay as much but it will certainly be so much better than what you have known all your life.” Frank is riddled with fear. It consumes him. He gets out soon and he is fearful of that. He’s fearful of returning to the place that led him to prison. He acknowledged that it is going to be hard to turn people away that come looking for him. He’s afraid of standing up for himself and telling his “friends” that he doesn’t do that anymore. He doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to stay in prison either. He never wants to return.

What’s going to happen to Frank?

One of the boys that joined us in the afternoon was completely surprised when I said something to Frank. I started the statement with “Frank…” The boy had complete shock on his face and laughed. He turned his attention to Frank and shook his head. I was bewildered with the boy. I looked at him and said, “What? Is his name not Frank?” There was an awkward pause and Charlie, Who I wrote about last time, laughed and explained, “No, that’s his name. It’s just weird to hear you say it. We are only called by our last name.” Frank’s been in for almost a year. Charlie just got there not too long ago. The fourth boy who was with us has been there for THREE YEARS. Three years of not hearing his first name. The fourth boy will be coming to The One Heart Bowl at Grapevine Faith Christian School on Friday, September 9th at 7:30pm as long as he stays out of trouble between now and then. I told him I would be on his sideline looking for him. Cheering for him by his first name. I can’t share his name here, but it’s locked away in my memory. I don’t even know his last name!

I look back at yesterday and I see four infants chained to a cement floor crying out for milk. I honestly don’t know how to process that image. That fact. So instead, I will leave you with an image that Frank drew for me while I was there. I had worn my One Heart T-shirt. Right before we left he said, “Here. Here’s a new One Heart T-shrit design.” It is difficult to see the words ONE on his design. Actually it’s almost impossible especially with the image you have below. Frank wants to be a graphic designer. He’s got the talent. He can learn the skill. Frank has a heart ready for nourishment.

"Charlie"

"You may be behind bars but your imagination is free to go anywhere" was one of the statements that flew out of my mouth to the group of 7 inmates that had been chosen for the first One Heart Art Camp.

It's been a week since I was locked up. But it’s also been a week since my body's been free to roam. What I find is that my mind has chosen to return to a place of incarceration. My thoughts return to the boy pictured above. I'll call him "Charlie". His face is not free for viewing due to jailhouse rules. So, I will protect his name as well.

Charlie walked in with the other boys. All dressed the same. All had turned their clothes inside out in case paint got on them (good thing cuz it did). Their eyes delighted not at the art supplies, but at the food supplies we brought. Candy bars, beef jerky, crackers, ho ho's, granola bars, oatmeal pies and fruit were freely passed around. Surprisingly they loved the fruit. Food seemed to immediately break down a few barriers. I wonder if that's why Jesus ate with people.

As they settled in they were asked to doodle. "Draw anything," I said. My voice was immediately overpowered with a correctional officer boldly proclaiming "Except gang related stuff!" And so, I began again. "Draw anything as long as it's not gang related. That's not allowed here." Charlie started drawing diamonds in the corner of his paper. He never ventured off the corner of his paper for the first 30-45 minutes. It was apparent that he was bound. Not physically. Creatively. Bound. Afraid to move off the edge. Constrained to the outer limits. What was he afraid of?

He began to look at some of the magazines and books we brought with us. He was drawn to texture in the pictures. Color. Abstract objects. Those were my first clues that he might be the one. I asked him if he wanted to paint on one of the big wooden boards we brought with us as canvases. His eyes got big. He couldn't believe he had been given permission to do such a thing even though I had told the group at the beginning that they could choose boards to paint on. So began an exploration so vast that barbed wired melted away and freedom began.

This blog is not the place to describe the technical process of artistry between teacher and student. I really don't know which one of us was the teacher anyway. What I do want to share is the moment of transfiguration. The moment God broke through and radiated out of this boy/man/artist/prisoner.

He struggled with the paint. He had only chosen two colors to work with. Black and light green. He looked up and said, "I want the black to be more over the green, but the green keeps getting back on top more." That's where God broke through. "You know what, Charlie? I think YOU are the green paint. I believe God says 'YOU are a leader'. Charlie, there's no reason for you to be here in prison and I never want to see you here again. You've been given a second chance." Charlie hung his head and wiped his hand across his face. (If he weren't in front of 6 other inmates I believe he would have broken down and cried.) Then he looked back up at me nodding his head and said, "Yes, Ma'am.” I believe in that moment Charlie’s spirit rose up and drew a line in the sand that said, “I will no longer fear the leader in me.”

Some behavioral issues have been going on at the facility since we have left, but Charlie hasn't been involved in the uprising. The earliest he can be released is April. However, the leader in Charlie has already been released. In fact, his art work will be exhibited with great honor in my upcoming exhibit in Fort Worth, called "Bound To Breakthrough". There's even a miracle of a chance Charlie will be able to attend the artist reception with a correctional officer. Please pray he can join me there.

I don't know what all Charlie needs when he gets released but I do know that he needs artistic opportunities. He IS an artist!!!! HE IS!!!! He is raw in his art. He doesn't know he's an artist. He didn’t know he was a leader either. The challenge is hoping/praying he doesn't define who he is by the bars that surround him or the past that got him there.

If you would like to see his artwork and perhaps get a chance to talk to this amazing young man, come to the Fort Worth Community Arts Center 1300 Gendy Street Fort Worth, Texas 76107 for the artist reception Friday, October 7th 7pm-9pm. Even better, come buy his artwork. The money he receives will help him start a new life outside prison walls. Charlie is worth the investment.

The Prison Came To Me

This week I am going to prison. I never expected to end up there. It wasn't on my bucket list. It has never been a dream or desire in my heart. I never aspired to have bars close and lock behind me. Yet, in less than seven days the sound will be unmistakable.

Remarkably I have no fear.

My journey to prison started three years ago. It began when the prison came to me.

If you don’t know that part of the story, here’s a quick look back. Grapevine Faith Christian School’s football team was scheduled to play Gainesville State Correctional Facility, a maximum security youth prison in Texas. My two oldest boys were football players on the Grapevine Faith team. Their coach sent out an email asking parents to form a spirit line on the Gainesville side and then stay on that side and cheer, by name, for the boys from the prison. Faith families are a bit sold out when ideas like this come around, couple that with Texas football and you’ve got the makings of something revolutionary. Revolutionary it was.

That football game birthed the annual One Heart Bowl; a book, Remember Why You Play by David Thomas; a movie, www.oneheartmovie.com; a project, The One Heart Project; and for me, The One Heart Art Camp.

The first One Heart Art Camp is in less than five days. In less than a week, I will be in prison surrounded by teenage boys who no longer know freedom. Did they ever?

People have said that I am a remarkable person and that I am doing a good thing by going into the prison to offer this camp. I don’t know how to respond to those comments. You see, the spark that ignited me is “discovery”. As an artist, discovery is the bow which propels the arrow to hit its mark. Without the passion to discover, nothing would be created. Canvases would remain empty. Sculptures would be void of form. I am not approaching the prison camp due to a moral obligation to society or even from the place of thinking I have something to offer. I go because I get to discover.

My goal is clear. Search for the next One Heart Artist. Once found, display his artwork in my upcoming October exhibit in Fort Worth called “Bound to Breakthrough”. The End!

AAAHHHH, but the thing about discovery is it usually leads to more discoveries. The things that aren’t so clear propel me to the prison as well. Things such as, will the boys in the camp open themselves up as they progress from doodling with pencil to exploring with paint? Will they soften for a time so the Spirit of the living God can fall fresh upon them as I share how That Spirit has transformed me? Will they give their lives to a new Lord of their life named Jesus?

There are other things that await an unveiling. Such as, if I do find The One Heart Artist and I put his artwork in the exhibit and it sells, can I set up a fund for him as seed money for when he gets out of prison? Will I find more than ONE artist? Will one art camp and one exhibit really inspire him/them once he/they are out of prison to start a new canvas of life? Will others be inspired to start their own One Heart Art Camp for their local prison? Will I go back and do another camp?

There’s a tension in working with these boys- at least for me there is. During the One Heart Bowl last year at Grapevine Faith Christian School, I was priviledged to serve the boys a meal. There weren’t bars surrounding them although the guards were very present. The boys parents weren’t anywhere around nor would they be although there were parents surrounding them in the kitchen and would be cheering them on later on the field. I talked with the boys. I put my hand on their shoulders. I refreshed their drinks. I answered questions they asked about my son who they would be playing against shortly. I told them I would be cheering for them tonight. I realized they were just like any other boy in need of a loving mom and dad, but something happened the minute I let down MY guard. The iron bars of my heart went in lock down mode. It was so loud it jolted me to attention and I withdrew my presence from among them. I was reminded of THEIR prison. My internal turf war raged: Love vs remembering what they had done. I really didn’t know what they had done but I knew it was bad if they were in a maximum security prison. I lost the battle that night. I withdrew my love based on their past actions. I don’t want to lose again. I want love to win and so I go to prison to discover this about myself as well.

I know I would not have had the courage to go to prison if the prison hadn’t first come to me. I know I wouldn’t explore the inside of barbed wire fences if the fence wasn’t first removed by inmates playing football on my turf. The teenagers might live behind bars, but I have my own bars I bring with me. I want out of prison. That's one of the reasons why I choose to go to prison. Pray for me as I discover how to love unconditionally.

Stay Tuned.