Tessa and the lion’s den
My finicky and beloved cat Tessa lived for 17 years. She inspired this post one night in 2004 – the year I first found myself in a den with lions that tear people apart.
My finicky and beloved cat Tessa lived for 17 years. She inspired this post one night in 2004 – the year I first found myself in a den with lions that tear people apart.
Maybe the church has become bewildering to you. Leaders you trusted and people you respected are acting in ways that do not reflect who Jesus is, nor what they profess to believe. They have turned on anyone among them who appears to threaten the status quo. What is going on?
Any number of motives can prompt leaders in our church systems to create an illusion that refuge for the abused exists, where it does not. “They say, ‘All is well, all is well,’ when it is not.” So how can we know?
Wilderness strips life bare. It knocks all the supports out from under us. Circumstances may scream at us - and we may scream at God - that he has brought us there to kill us. And yet, it's in the wilderness that we may hear him say, “I have carried you on eagles’ wings to bring you to myself.”
Darkness can increase disorientation. It can increase anxiety and depression. Can something similar be true spiritually? Can spiritual sundowner’s be a thing?
Since childhood, I’ve treasured Jesus’ words, “the truth will set you free.” Now I see this diamond in its setting. I hear the urgency in his cry to us all.
Thank you, Mary Magdalene, for coming to Jesus. Your story shows: REST is humbly serving the One who always treats me with high respect, entrusts me with significant responsibility and involves me in things of first importance.
In the church, those obsessed with manipulating, intimidating and dominating can pose as those serving God. And we can be very fooled for a very long time.
Any group that shuns is withholding your deepest needs in order to control you. That’s the opposite of loving you. It’s people you trusted, trying to erase you.
Sitting in my car at that gas station on that winter afternoon, staring at Isaiah 58:1, I began to cry ... Oh. Lord. Not. This. Assignment.