Two Men in One Bed? Luke 17:34

I have to tell you, I wish I had spotted this one for myself, but a more wiser friend pointed this out.

Scripture confuses me these days, seriously.

Somehow, it used to all make sense, even when it didn't- it didn't seem to matter.

I find myself wondering about scripture- about christian values- and ultimately about Jesus.

Is scripture the Perfect living word of God? without error? and if so, which translation? I am told that the King James version is the one without error.

There is so much in scripture that perplexes me.

What perplexes me more is what the CHURCH does in the name of scripture.

Take for example, homosexuality.

Talk to any fundamental christian and they know; it is sin. Talk to some, and they would have no problem yelling, screaming, condemning, and even arresting those who call themselves gay.

and yet, I come across this verse. Jesus is talking about the rapture...if one is so inclined to believe in the rapture. Look it up for yourselves, I give you the infallible KING JAMES VERSION.

....and it says,

"I tell you, in that night there shall be two men in one bed; the one shall be taken, and the other shall be left."

So I ask you, christians and non...gay and strait....jew or muslim,

"WHAT THE HELL WOULD TWO MEN BE DOING IN ONE BED" ?

and if they are doing anything remotely near to what I am doing with my husband, then "WHY IS ONE BEING TAKEN TO HEAVEN?"

could it be possible that homosexuality is not a sin?

Obama holds a press conference?

Were you all a little surprised?

I certainly was. I don't recall a president elect holding a press conference to address the state of the economy or well the state of anything

so his actions, leave me thinking.

What is his motive?

is he trying to show that he is a strong leader?

did he get a briefing from the white house that was worse than he expected?

is he taking power over the leadership, now, during a lame duck session?

is he trying to assure the consumer confidence so that things don't get worse going into christmas?

WHAT THEN?

Can I tell you a secret?

I fell in love with him. I loved his open candor, his smiles, his strength, his speech....his jokes. I wanted to run and buy him a hypoallergenic dog! I laughed when he called himself a mutt. I smiled when he spoke to the newsreporter with a hurt arm.

First time in a long time that this woman actually stayed paying attention to a briefing of any kind from the white house...I think September 11, a few years back was the last time.

Scares the shit out of me. Frankly, when someone is that engaging socially, I worry about them being sociopaths.

seriously.

maybe I work with too many of them?

Nah, I have followed too many engaging speakers to church. I have surrendered my money, my time, my values, my adoration....

to be spiritually raped.

kicked in my blood.

I have donated money for a needy family in my church and found out later it was for their salt filtered inground pool "PRAISE GOD"....when I needed beds for my littlest children but the pastor said he prayed, and a family was in "need" so I thought they needed more than me.

I have cooked, cleaned, prayed with, cryed with, babysat for free for, created ministries.....

and left to cry alone when I lost two babies while in my womb.

and left to worry alone when my teenager needed surgery.

and left lonely, when the mother's group that I formed, started meeting without me because I was crying too much about a very recent miscarriage.

So, I'll stay glued to this mesmerizing pastor- um I mean president elect.

But I'll watch from afar; and wait....and keep my money in my wallet; my hope in check; and my adoration hidden.

Spiritual abuse has far reaching tentacles....

Our children's friends. . . . .

As a parent we worry about so many things. Today I write about their friendships.

I worry about them having friends; having the right friends; being invited to parties; not being invited to the wrong parties when they are teenagers...and well, yes, you get the point if you're a parent.

One of the most difficult thing for me has been accepting that my son's peers when he was in kindgarten have out grown him socially. It is easy to forget the feelings of failure as a parent when he is tucked away across town at a school just for kids that have problems like him. My goal was to get him returned to our local school because the people there are like family.

How perplexed I felt just this week when I learned that he DOESN'T WANT TO RETURN to our local school.
I was dropping off his sister, when he got out of the car, walked to the front door of the school, starting spinning in circles and said, "WOW, THANK GOD I DON'T GO TO THIS CRAZY INSANE SCHOOL ANYMORE!"

wow, he has let go, so why can't I?

Last night we attended a Family Fun Event at our local school as my daughter is now in kindergarten there. I cringe inside and hurt when I see the kids that he went to kindergarten with. They are so happy to see him; and him they. I hurt inside wishing that there was something more I could do for him....but then they get to talking....and those other kids even in their love for him; are clearly much, much older socially. So I straddle the fence; wishing for him he was successful here at public school....but rejoicing in the growth that he has made and the joy he brings everyone.

austism sucks.

For us, this balance of him being in an appropriate school while visiting his old friends works for today. It reminds me of a song we sang as girl scouts; "make new friends, make new friends; but keep the old; one is silver and the other's gold".


On a completely different note; my daughter made a new friend. We have been hearing about "vivian" since the first day of school. Vivian, Hannah and Alice have been best friends and planning playdates.

Let me back up a minute to tell you that there was another girl attending school this year that we were glad did not get selected to be in Hannah's class. Joanna is a child of a family that attends a cultic christian church. We had been friends with her family off and on through the years. We were very worried that Joanna might be selected to be in our daughter's class as it would pose stress on our family for numerous reasons.

So last night, at the Family Fun Event, Hannah and Vivian found each other to play. Vivian introduces us to her family. She holds my hand and says, "come meet my moms." Her mothers were very nice and we planned to get the girls together for a play date.

On the way home, my husband, a recovering born again christian who sometimes is perplexed by the fact that he is not a conservative born again christian any more says, "did that girl have two moms as in LESBIANs?"

"I guess so," I said. After all, I didn't ask them if they were having sex.

"what do you think about that?" He said.

"well, things could be worse." I said.

"how?" He asked

"well, Joanna could have been in her class, and they could have become best friends"

We laughed for a while because sometimes we just need to put things in perspective.

Our kids will find their own way and we need to get out of the way. As long as no one is getting hurt or doing anything illegal; we've decided to let our children grow up as they're intended to. Hopefully as they embrace their life path, we as parents can grow ourselves.

Onward christian soldier

I am a prisoner of war survivor.

i was released from captivity on May 15, 2004.

on that day, i left the church.

i remember the day i was freed from the camp.

i remember it because when i was freed, my enemy had still not been over thrown.

in fact, they still have not been.

i remember the day i walked through the doors to freedom, i was not sure if i was walking into freedom or away from freedom.

i was not sure if i had really just been captured or if i was walking into a deception of darkness.

i don't know who opened the doors to freedom, my friend or foe.

i walked with my husband as we carried our children through those doors.

our escape wasn't so easy as walking through the door and being transported to allied tents for food, clothes, water and a debriefing.

no. in fact, the door had a labyrinth tunnel that hid our enemies in many corners and crevices waiting for ambush.

they laid waiting behind every corner to tease, "you're being decieved, Satan is going to devour you".

they ignored us when we shopped in local grocery stores. isolation was a powerful weapon of torture.

they taunted with chants of "you're decieved, you're unstable, you're bitter, you have hurts, after all that we have done for you? ."

they murdered our reputation so that we couldn't join other believers. shame, another weapon, actually kept us from other POW camps.


What kept us walking onward?

the knowledge somewhere deep inside that there was a living God who loved us beyond our imagination.

the memories of walking with such a God that any place without Him was hell.

a dark place where we pretended to be worshippers while we couldn't see His eyes, hear His heartbeat or feel His love.

a place where we no longer knew that we were chidren of God, created in His image.

a place where we played church.

a place of conformity.

a place where we were called to sacrifice our own lives and calling for a mere man's.


we walked onward.......

reaching out to others who walked the path before us. some were an encouragement, others were so broken that we had to leave them beside the road in their blood.

at one point we followed a path that led us into another POW camp. we thought that you needed to be planted in a POW camp in order to be free.

we thought we snuck out of that second dark place, taking prisoners with us, only to discover that one of the victims was infact a soldier of the enemy.

he stole from us, left us on the side of the road wondering if God and our dreams were real.

we picked ourselves up and started walking again. we found comfort in the writings on the wall from other survivors. we found comfort in our own writimgs and even in anger.

we continue to walk looking for the green pastures where the sheep graze.

knowing only one thing, that we will recognize His sheep that graze by His tent, by the fruit that they have.


it is four years later, we are still walking towards the light of freedom and i pause to contemplate the writing of a synchroblog.


I will attempt to answer questions posed to the public by another POW survivor.

What do they/you need?
What did/do you need as you as went/are going through this transitional phase?
How can a ministry or service help them/you?\


I can not pretend to answer these questions for others. Even speculating what other people need or want to me is a form of dysfunction that perpetuates abusive cycles. So many have felt that they know what I have needed without taking the time to get to know me or even ask.......

So my answers are very personal. They have frankly become very practical.

What do I need?

i do not need a ministry to fix me, to tell me how to heal, how to find jesus or how to do anything. as much as i would like a quick 4 step process on how to get over this the right way- it will not work.

futher i find the very idea of a ministery somewhat repeating the old way. it sets up relationships where one has the "answers" (ministering to) to things over the one who needs the answers. there is one mediator between man and God- if you are reading the new testament.

i do not need your pity, your judgements or your own quick answers for my life.

what i need is a friend.

someone who will listen to me without telling me how long i need to get over it, how i need to get over the pain, wounds or bitterness.

just listen.

a friend who will speak to me humbly and honestly.

how about someone to stand beside us and help us physcially?

seriously.

we need help. people who can stand side by side and help us with the simple mundane tasks of rebuilding our house, parenting a child with autism and every day stuff...without being judged. we'll reciprocate- honestly- we are not selfish idiots who want to be served; we are just tired of serving for so long without stopping to eat or drink ourselves.

what i need in regards to theology is consistency.

seriously.

why is it that the church follows new testament law when they talk about eating pork (for example) but old testament law in regards to tithing?

what i need is the ability to ask questions without being told to do so is rebellious.

what i need is to be able to agree to disagree with you sometimes.

what i need is to be able to make mistakes, be forgiven, hear "sorry" when you do, and a chance to offer forgiveness.

what i need in order to join another group is to know that the group is healthy and diversity is accepted. that they are focused on the empowerment of each member- helping each other find their true identity and calling- and standing side by side to see those things fulfilled as we are able; without judging the status of one's calling or giving value to some gifts over others. that if one can't walk, we carry him; that if one can cook; he cook and so forth, the building up of each other.

...a place where we let God do any needed convicting; that we spend our time encouaging relationships with God and each other.

what i need perhaps the most of all is love and being free to love.

without fear. without shame or condemnation.

and the return to the knowledge that we are all created in His image- wonderfully and beautifully; and loved just as we are.

with no exceptions.


hey, thanks for asking-

and to those who are reading- thanks for listening-

please feel free to respond.

in love;
Tera, his rose.....


*************************************************************
*this post is not intended to disrespect any soldier who has survived a real prisoner of war experience. symptoms of ptsd are often felt by persons having left any abusive/controlling situations and the comparison to fleeing a POW camp is for the purpose of expressing myself creatively.

Revolutionaires Synchroblog

OK I am going to try this:

Glenn Hager is coordinating a new synchroblog, which he is calling the Revolutionaries Synchroblog, set for Monday April 7th:



My personal journey, reading, blogging, and conversations with friends have led me to uncover the fringes of a huge group of people who operate under the radar of much of the world. They represent over 20 million people in the U.S. (This is the number of people who are already expressing their Christian faith in ways other than through a conventional church, according to the Barna organization.) who have lost (or, are losing) their faith in the institutional church system, yet have a deep love for Christ, his community and his mission.

I believe that the church is in the early stages of a dramatic shift, such as it has experienced only a few times in all of church history. For many of the pioneers and revolutionaries who are leading the way, it has been a journey filled with wonder, but also, pain, sacrifice, and loneliness.

My questions for you are:

What do they/you need?
What did/do you need as you as went/are going through this transitional phase?
How can a ministry or service help them/you?



This synchroblog is open to anyone. Be sure to let Glenn know if you plan to participate so he can compile a list of links. Thanks!
Here's the link: http://glennhager.wordpress.com/2008/03/31/revolutionaries-synchroblog/

Yankee Peddlers of today

Selling us wares, lies for a dime....

They have a cure for you........

They can fix any problem.........

They have a concoction for any ailment........

COME on up people, don't be shy, you can be healed from any disease; any thing......


They are........False prophets.


Jeremiah 23:16
This is what the LORD Almighty says: "Do not listen to what the prophets are prophesying to you; they fill you with false hopes. They speak visions from their own minds, not from the mouth of the LORD.


This post is about my friend, Sharon.

Sharon was a beautiful sister in the Lord, she was a deacon in our church. She was a foster parent who adopted her children of special needs.

She could sew.

She could craft.

She could love.

That was Sharon.

Sharon had a prophet- more than one tell her that she would give birth from her own womb. It was an ache in her heart.

She trusted in the Lord and waited......

for His timing, for her faith, for the birth of the seed that would give her a birth child.

Sharon began getting tumors on her uterus. They were benign. We prayed together in faith.

Sharon trusted in those prophets.......trusted God for HIS goodness.....and didn't have her uterus removed.

She had more benign tumors.

surgery would remove them.

More would come.

I was in charge of the meals ministry- I organized meals for people in our church after they returned from the hospital.

many meals I cooked myself.

It was my call and what I loved to do.

I loved to feed people and sit and listen to them in love.

in the good times and the bad.

Sharon waited.......

and one day, the tumor was cancerous.

Sharon had no anger at the Lord for not fulfilling His promises.....that came from His prophets.

She figured either she missed His timing or He would complete His promise in a way she didn't understand.

She died in peace with her Lord.

Me?

I stood stunned at the ceremony of her passing.

I had already left the church so it was hard for me to return.

BUT, it wasn't about ME. It was about a sister that passed, leaving 3 special needs adopted foster kids and her husband. We walked a path together, Sharon and I. Even after I left the church, she remained a friend.

I started to read about prophets......because prophets came to visit our church all the time. People from other churches would flock to our church desperate to hear one word from God.......desperate for an impartation into their lives.......desperate to know how to walk in His perfect way, all so that in the end they could hear, "my good and faithful servant, well done".

Oh and all kinds of prophets came. Prophets who knew scripture and prophets who didn't. Soft spoken ones that had such a heavenly peace when they spoke; fire and brimstone prophets who called out private sins in people's lives; prophets with oil and a touch that could make you fall out in the spirit.....prophets from the east, from the west......prophets from everywhere. The only two things they had in common was that they preached that THEY COULD HEAR FROM GOD in a way that we couldn't AND they passed a collection plate to remove the money from our pockets into theirs.

The new testament teaches us that the veil was torn, there is no longer a need for a priest to minister to the Lord.......we can go into the Holy of Holys FACE TO FACE.

The old testament has prophets. The old testament tells us to STONE THEM IF WHAT THEY SAY DOES NOT COME TO PASS.

SO to the prophets that told my friend Sharon to wait for her child.......

Shall I cast the first stone?

no. I can't. I am not even able.

Instead, I hold my head low, and cry inside at the death of a sister in the Lord who didn't need to die.

and I no longer wait for the prophecies in my life to come true.

We Had a Dream

HANNAH'S HAVEN

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

that is our question. do we build Hannah's Haven or not?

I believed with all my heart that I heard from God. I believed that He would take the very sword used against me and use it against my enemies. I believed that He would take all the suffering and broken-ness from my childhood and use them as strengths.

I believed that I was called to create Hannah's Haven.

Hannah's Haven was a dream of mine to take in special needs foster kids and give them a "forever family".

We bought a fixer upper of a home because it had 3 acres of land that was surrounded by forest and 6 bedrooms.

We bought it because we BELIEVED God himself called us to do so.

We bought it 7 years ago.................

We planned to plant organic gardens, raise small animals and lovingly embrace our arms around hurting children.

Hannah's Haven is a story of ours that is still unfolding. I want to share it with you all and welcome your opinions.

Did I hear from God?
Did the prophets that prophesied over me tell the truth?
Am I simply being attacked because the enemy knows my calling and wants to snuff it out?
Am I simply not patient enough?
Am I simply CRAZY?

Here is the list of what happened since we bought this home, each has it's own story which I will continue to share:

1)Our son Caleb's head stopped growing. He was about 1 years old. We entered a world of MRIs, Catscans, genetic testing and a place of absolute fear for his life and future.

2)My husband developed an infection in his leg that placed him in a hospital. It wouldn't respond to ANY treatment for over a month. They were watching the infection climb his thigh, worried that if it got into an organ; it would be fatal.

3)We experienced a horrific miscarriage.

4)The local power company decided that our land was their land- and without imminent domain began a plan to build on it.

5)We hired our pastor who was a cabinet maker by trade to redo our kitchen. Apparently that meant he could read from a "home depot how to" book...took our money, left the job unfinished and relocated to California because God told him to.

6)We hired a christian electrician who did what he was paid to; kinda.

7)A very close friend's betrayal nearly destroyed our family.

8)An attempt to leave our church of 9 years caused us to enter a cyclone of spiritual abuse that has left us wounded. Do you know the commercial, "I have fallen and can't get up" ?

9)Every time we dug an area of our land to plant organically, we dug out trash!

10)Every time we repair one room, it starts a domino effect of another room falling apart.

So now I bravely introduce to the world, my family and friends the innermost feelings of our struggles with Hannah's Haven....

hoping that in my monologues I find the strength to stand up and fight for my dream or the wisdom to walk away knowing that I did the best that I could and it's time to find a new dream!

My groin is bigger than your groin

It's an age old argument between men. no kidding. My husband and I found it in the old testament even. I'm thinking it was Solomon, he said something like, my little pinky is bigger than my father's loin.

Only now, pastors around here are too "HOLY" to say they pack a bigger one than the other pastor. It all comes down to "numbers" and whose new church building is bigger than the others.

It is sickening. Really revolting if you ask me.

When we left our church of almost 9 years, one of the motivating factor was that we were beginning to feel like a number and not a person.

I remember believing from my childhood that God had carved my name on the palm of His hand and knew my innermost parts while I was yet in my mother's womb.

Yet that kind of intimacy, that real relationship was lacking in our group by the end of our time there.

My husband and I walked in one day to worship; a leader standing at the door to greet everyone, quickly switched a "counter" from one pocket to his other. You know, the counters that we used to use when shopping at the grocery store. A hand held gadget that you click a button for the next item that you are counting.

I was being counted like an item!

I kept thinking about how there was a story in the old testament about how David was successful until he was enticed by Satan to count the numbers......

lack of trust.

But really, what is worse? The lack of trust or the competition in my town to build the next mega church? Here in New England of all places.

The constant race from pastors to grow in numbers, to build bigger buildings, to purchase new modern things in order to lure in new tithers......

It is heart wrenching and painful.

In a pressing economy where people are not paying utility bills in order to buy prescriptions; the church leaders are shouting from the pulpits to Press In and give more and trust God more!

Does God NEED a bigger building with comfortable seats, controlled temperatures, and modern technological equipment?

When I read Isaiah, I feel the need to feed the poor, clothe the naked, and to loosen the bonds that bind. No desire to build a building.

These pastors are placing such bondage on their sheep.

Bondage that my husband and I once wore. We were obedient, we were givers of our time, money and devotion.

We stood side by side with our church family and helped build the new building. We rejoiced the day of the first service. We had been told that if we helped build God's house, He would help build ours. We were exhausted, but we had arrived into the beautiful new building.

The year did not pass when our pastor made an announcement. He unveiled a new vision. He had a person stand with a diagram at the pulpit- it was (and I kid you not)-a new building!

We were exhausted physically, spiritually, emotionally and financially.

We knew we would not be joining this group on their new building project.

What an eye opener when you first realize that your service, money, and devotion was for a mere man that suffers from penis envy- ooops I mean bigger church envy.

*i took these pictures of a local church building that I know NOTHING about. they are probably very nice people. my only point in doing so was in the fact that they are relocating from a very small building into this new building project. they are not the only church group in town, there are several. now, they probably need more space, but my point is, well, couldn't anyone worship in the high school on sundays? It's already paid for by our taxes and it's FREE.

The fisherman from the Island came one day.

When I was a little girl about 4 years old, I lived with my mother and younger brother in a home that is like a town house. The neighbors were close together and the houses were in an association. When we walked into the front door, we immediately had to go up the stairs to the main floor. It was a small but open floor plan with the kitchen to the right of the living room. The bedrooms were behind the livingroom, down the hallway.

One day the doorbell rang. I ran down the stairs to see who was there. I was hoping it was AnneMarie, my best friend next door. It was a fisherman from the island. He was standing in the pouring rain when he asked me, "is your moth- ah home?". Knowing that I was not to let anyone in, I closed the door in his face, ran upstairs and told my mother that the fisherman from the island was here.

She looked confused, but I knew he was the fisherman from the island.

I knew it because he was wearing a yellow rain hat and raincoat. The kind of rainhat that is round on top with a large flap around it to keep water off of your face and a thin snap strap under your neck. The raincoat was long with the metal flip buttons down the front and sleeves that fall past your hand. I don't know why the color yellow was always so bright, I think it is in case you needed to see each other if you were fishing in the morning fog.

He stood solid and stocky like the fishermen on the island. He had a strong face that looked like it had been carved in wood. He had a familiar face with kind eyes and I knew he was one of the people from our island. I definitely knew he was from the island because he asked if my "moth-ah" was home. Those people on the island say things like that, "moth-ah". Here, we say "mother". We also say "car" but they say "cah". So you see, I knew that he was a fisherman from the island.

My mother went down the stairs and answered the door. She looked out, laughed and called up the stairs. "It is your grandfather".

"Yeah" I said. "from the island".

My grandfather moved in with us because my grandparents were divorcing. My mother was born on an island off of the cape called Martha's Vineyard. She met my dad at the Tisbury fair, his family long time descendents from up island; West Tisbury. The story goes that he was working the carousel at the county fair when she was riding it. He wouldn't let her off the ride until she promised him a date. That's how my parents met and planned their first date.

As a child, the island was simply; the island. We went every summer to see all of our grandparents and many relatives. Everyone on the island was related, it seemed. It didn't occur to me until I was older that the island even had a name as it was simply our island. I would be told, "we are going to the island to visit Ma and Grampy". Or, "Mikey caught some striped bass and is sending some up from the island". My favorite was when my great grandmother mailed us a care package from Oak Bluffs with popcorn bars, then I'd hear, "There's a package from the island!" Martha's Vineyard. That was "the island".

But this isn't a story about the island that calls to all of its descendents with a drawing that is super natural. I believe that even the saltiness of the water can be tasted in our blood.....and the seagulls cry out for us to return soon as we leave. Its a compelling relationship the island has on her children. But like I said, this story is about the day my grandfather came to live with us and the very beginings of spiritual abuse. The very early labor pains that would later in life prepare my personality to allow for abuse in the name of Jesus. See, abuse doesn't just "happen" but little things happen in our lives that slowly tear down our boundaries or teach us twisted messages about what is safe or "ok". It sets us up to be a person who allows for manipulative and controlling personalities to get a foothold in our lives.

I wouldn't know it at the time but my grandfather would marry a woman down the road. She had 4 children from her previous marriage and they attended the Assembly of God church in our town.

There was a lot more that came to my home that rainy day when a loving fisherman showed up from the island.

at the time I was too young and innocent to understand what would unfold. For me, that moment was simply marked as the day the fisherman came to live with us.