Friday, February 23, 2007
I was young. I was a fool. Now, all I can do is ask for forgiveness.
I married my husband at the age of 16 and we had our first son, 9 months later. I went on to give him, two more sons. He was there for the birth of all three, in the delivery room, tears in his eyes. My husband loved me and I loved him. He was my best friend, you know, someone you could talk to for hours on end, go out and enjoy each others company. Yes, I was too young to know what love is but that statement in itself, is shallow. After all, what is love between a man and woman? I think it is something that evolves and multiplies and grows. Often times, a husband and wife can grow apart. I've seen it, so many times, after all, lust and falling in love with someone for their looks, will soon rear it's ugly head. Yes, it will rise up and smite you, showing you, what a fool you have been.
Love is so many things and I don't think there's a wedding manual in print that can tell you how to stay in love, except for one...The Bible. I don't know the statistics but I'd be willing to bet, that if a man and woman were married and followed the Word, down to the letter, well, the divorce rate would plummet.
Genesis 2:24: Becoming one flesh: The Bible discusses a man "cleaving unto his wife." "Cleave" is a translation of the Hebrew word "dabaq" which means to make a permanent alliance with (Joshua 23:12, Ruth 1:14, 2 Samuel 20:2). In its noun form, the word refers to soldering two pieces of metal together. Some theologians have suggested that this term refers to permanent actions -- those that cannot be undone. Thus, the passage implies that divorce is impossible. "Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh."
Simply stated, I do believe Satan carries a Cutting Torch, in his grimy tool belt. But if we read the Word and follow it, we can't go wrong.
I was warned by my parents, not to take my vows lightly. I was behaving worldly, you might say and showed a true lack of faith, when my parents told me to persevere with prayer for my husband. I prayed and then took it all back, all that I'd prayed for, by handling the situation on my own. We often, want what we want, when we want it, do we not? We have to have an instant fix for everything. We are not willing to wait and allow our heavenly Father, manage and heal the situation. A true test of faith, I failed this miserably. I may look back, in retrospect and see all this and more. I can see that I had a loving husband, who I'd lost respect for. I saw a man, lost in addiction and depression. Instead of praying fervently for the love of my life, I walked away. I left him to sit in his own mess and abandoned him. Not only did this man, no longer have a wife but I took his three sons from him. I saw them as mine, to do with, as I saw fit, never mind what he thought. Is opinion had lost ground with me, long ago.
I see this now, it is much like leaving a person, sick, on the side of the road. You wouldn't do it to a dog, would you? I did not understand addiction or depression and I had no compassion, much less empathy for our miserable situation. Since then, God has taught me all of this, empathy for addiction and depression as I became just as bad, if not worse than my husband. It started, not long after I left him and did my best to drown out all memory. At some point, I remember thinking I'd jumped from the frying pan into the fire, once I started a relationship with a very abusive man. My world began to really unravel as I lived every day in fear of being beat and down graded by a man who had basically taken me mentally hostage. I kept waiting for my husband to rescue me, to pull me from the flames of this hellish relationship, that I'd put myself in. It was not to be. My husband slipped further and further into his abyss, just as I did. He walked alone as he met deaths door, without a wife, not a single son, to here his last breath, hold his hand or tell him, that he was loved. It was too late but for the memories. For all this, I ask for forgiveness.
I learned from all this. It took me many years, to recover from my self-imposed hell. I'm still being healed, from it all. What did I learn?
I have to say, as I grew from a girl into a woman, I felt my husband treated me, like a daughter and not a wife. I had the mentality that "No man is gonna tell me what to do, I'm no little girl." But in a marriage, one which is a study in the Word, used as a wedding manual, I misunderstood many things. I twisted things in a contemptible fashion and told myself I would not be sub servant to any man. Now, I realize that every marriage, the woman must "submit" to her husband. There is a huge difference in those two words. I think we often confuse them and todays woman thinks they are intermingled. They most certainly are not and just as you submit to your husband, he must submit to the Father, he must answer to Him. It is clear to me now, that a man can not be without his wife and vise versa.
I now know, that faith is a factor, in all things. You must pray for your husband and your children, especially, if there is a problem. You must have unconditional love and pray fervently for answers. You must pray for wisdom to be a help, not a hindrance to your husband. If your husband is not behaving the way, you think as a Christian, he should behave, then you MUST pray for him. You must pray diligently, constantly and patiently. There is no marriage in which God did not bring you together. I think we take our vows less seriously than we should. When things don't go as we'd like them to, we just walk away. This is so wrong and it took me all these years and much heartbreak to realize this. If I had waited for God to heal our marriage, my life may have been so different. If I had prayed with a serious intent and with the faith that the heavenly Father would honor His promises, my marriage would have been healed, no if ands or buts, just fact based on faith. That Bible is your wedding manual. You must follow it to the letter and believe it applies to your life today. Hold on to the promises and cherish your vows. Take them to heart and if you find a rocky path in your walk together, don't run, don't bolt, don't give up. Simply pray, pray simply.
In Batya Ruth Woottens , book, "Mama's Torah," it explains the premise and approach, much better than I can. She has a wonderful approach, concerning submitting to and being a helper to your husband. You can find more about Batya and her, extremely informative book, here
Thursday, February 22, 2007
I would say, that slave trading is less than an honorable profession. Of course we've had slaves since the dawn of man. Remember, the Israelites were slave to Egypt, they built the pyramids with their own blood, sweat and tears. But if you disagree, with my first sentence, then just envision yourself, as a slave. It was not right then or even 100 years ago. But just as slavery has a part in the past, people have not always seen, eye to eye on this subject. I imagine, if they, themselves were or had been a slave, it might change their minds. Or maybe not...
Long ago, there was a man, by the name of John Newton, who was highly regarded in his trade. One dark and stormy night, as he sailed upon the open sea, the storm grew worse and an ever present threat to sink his ship, was evident and imminent. It was enough, to make him full of fear. It was enough to make him think.
Isn't it strange, how we justify doing things, things we know are wrong, by not thinking about them? We make excuses to lighten the true nature of it and show complete disregard and twist the laws of God and nature, do we not? I do believe Mr. Newton had regarded his position and behavior with mixed emotion. It was a matter of convenience, to do his job and show no real accountability, till this dark and stormy night.
As this storm slammed and ravaged his slave ship, John in fear for his very life, thought to pray. He cried out to God, "Save us and I'll quit this business and become your slave, forever."
John Newton, along with his ship, survived the storm. He went on to become a Minister, serving the Lord. His spirit was transformed. He was such joyful, in his celebration he wrote;
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now I'm found,
was blind but now I see."
Isn't it a wonderful thing to be forgiven? True repentance is when we are sorry for our actions, not because we are caught or in dire straights but when we see the err of our behavior. Once we are forgiven, it is time to celebrate. Do not take this forgiveness for granted. By giving true importance to the method of repentance we give it true meaning. It is then, not for naught, Christ/Yeshua's death/resurrection on the cross; for me and you.
Newton was born in London July 24, 1725, the son of a commander of a merchant ship which sailed the Mediterranean. When John was eleven, he went to sea with his father and made six voyages with him before the elder Newton retired. In 1744 John was impressed into service on a man-of-war, the H. M. S. Harwich. Finding conditions on board intolerable, he deserted but was soon recaptured and publicly flogged and demoted from midshipman to common seaman.
Finally at his own request he was exchanged into service on a slave ship, which took him to the coast of Sierra Leone. He then became the servant of a slave trader and was brutally abused. Early in 1748 he was rescued by a sea captain who had known John's father. John Newton ultimately became captain of his own ship, one which plied the slave trade.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
a charred and torn organ, this huge black hole,
For my very own sins, he would lay down and die,
Yes, for me he did this and I don't understand why?
But he heard when I cried and admitted my sin,
He smiled and asked me not to do it again.
He opened his, comforting arms so wide,
Hugged me, gave up his life and died.
Thank You Lord
Monday, February 19, 2007
I read a story about a Soldier, who had bought a monkey while in Indonesia. He immediately liked this monkey but noticed that the monkey was very sensitive around the waist, painfully sensitive. As he began to investigate, pulling back the hair, he found a raised welt, circling the monkeys midsection. Apparently, as a baby, someone had tied a wire around the monkeys waist and never took it off. How cruel this was, as the wire had become, deeply embedded, into the monkey's flesh. The Soldier set about removing this wire. He shaved the monkey's hair and carefully began to remove the wire. The little guy lay, calmly patiently, blinking his eyes and allowed him to work on him. As soon as the wire was removed, the monkey jumped up, happy as can be, freed from the entrapment of that painful wire. He jumped up and down, so joyful and then jumped on to the Soldier, hugging him for dear life, so very appreciative.He was so ecstatic, he didn't want to let go of the Soldier and just held on.
True confession of sin, even though it is extremely uncomfortable, does not pale or compare to the pain of being bound by that sin. Sin is much like the wire, on the monkey; embedded into our being, cutting into our very soul, choking off our very life. Every single day we carry it, it digs in deeper, threatening, to kill us. I do believe it can cause depression and an over all, negative outlook on life, in general.
Christ/Yeshua died for your sins, not just everybody else's. He promises, if you confess that sin and truly repent, he will take it away, he will remove that blemish from your soul.
Have you ever seen a cirrhotic liver, like that of an alcoholic? It is hard and scarred and has an all around charred look. I do believe my soul was charred black and cirrhotic. I do firmly believe that the weight of my sin was so heavy that I tried to drown out the pain with drugs and drinking. The pain and entrapment of that sin, nearly killed me. How great a day it was, when The Lord forgave me and reminded me that he loved me. He said, "Barbara, come closer to the foot of the cross. Let me show you how I have forgiven you." He then removed the wire, wrapped tightly, around my soul.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
I just had surgery, it was my 14th, to be exact. This time they moved two nerves in my right hand and in my elbow.
I was speaking with my Dad last night about it and he asked me if the surgery was a success? I stated that I did not know yet, as at that very moment, it hurt like the dickens and sure didn't feel like a success. He then, pointed out the obvious. Let me back up a second, so you may drive down this conversation with me...
My Dad is the chief at putting things into perspective, possibly where I gained my love for putting life in to perspective and terms for the layman. I'll call it Doctrine for Dummies. I'm not a new believer but my strong suit is not the Old Testament and I sure am not good at memorizing scripture. But my Dad and Mom both, are good teachers, planting seeds long ago for which fruition has taken hold, with my maturity. I must be honest, though. There were times, many times, where my Mom and Dad would tell me something or try to use example and teach me. I thought it, often, went in one ear and out the other. Thank God for ear wax. I do think a good portion of it stuck in my brain and was placed in my soul for future reference. Then, I went through crisis after crisis, trial and tribulation and that was all before Prison. Once I was safe, behind prison walls, no escape from myself, through drugs and drinking, I fell upon my knees and cried a soulful cry, a cry so deep and mournful, God heard it, all the way in heaven. I do believe he commanded my Word Garden, that spot in my soul, that the Word was placed in storage, to root and grow. As I prayed for the knowledge to get through such a horrific event and that part of my life, being in Prison, away from my children, our Lord allowed the Spirit to speak to, comfort me and cultivate the Word that had been sewn.
I am already healed, Praise the Father!
Thursday, February 08, 2007
One person who recently joined the group wrote, "This place is very gracious and polite and yet full of deep discussion and insight."
The people are polite because we do not approve disrespectful posts, but we do encourage respectful discussion of topics that are of interest to those of Messianic Israel. We are not into bashing people or organizations, but into searching out the word like good Bereans (Acts 17:11;
All posts are initially moderated and people are not taken off moderation until their posts indicate that they have a level of respect for the group. In this way we try to keep the group friendly and yet interesting.
We have been discussing my Feast book, so people can offer suggestions for an upcoming rewrite, and we have been having a lively discussion about the meaning behind
However, since I am convinced that laughter is good for the liver, and that we need clean livers in order to survive life in this world, to lighten things up a bit, I recently posted the following:
OK Guys, all this talk about Daniel and the end times makes me feel I have to present a real problem - and give its solution.
Angus and I had ants. I mean never- ending lines of them, one in the bathroom and one in the kitchen.
We tried everything to get rid of them. We would spray them every time we went out. (I can't stand the smell of spray and I know it is bad for us.) That didn't work so we bought ant traps. The little black traps only seemed to feed them. It was like every ant went and got every relative they had and invited them to the feast. ("They only seem to provide a feast!" is the way I began to complain about the ant traps.)
I would take tissues and wipe long lines of ants away and flush them down the toilet, only to find that in a matter of minutes another line was working in its place. They even added troops and formed new lines to get to the bait trap. My walls were crawling with them.
Angus said he had heard that the best way to get rid of ants was to catch one, dip him in flour, and let him go back to the camp. They would think they had seen a ghost and run. He would guffaw every time he told me the stupid story, and he seemed to tell it every time I complained about the never ending lines of ants.
I tried spraying the walls with a mint scented cleanser because ants supposedly do not like mint. I wiped the walls down with vinegar, which they also do not like, only to find that they would return in a matter of hours.
Ants apparently leave a sweet scent that their fellow ants follow, and sweet scented baby powder is 1) hard for them to walk in, and 2) leaves a scent that overpowers their scent.
That was it. Armed with my plastic container, I sprayed the white powder again and again, hoping some of it would stick to the walls. It did. It left strange patterns of white in the paths of the ants. The ones who lived through the attack seemed to be sluggish and wandered about as though they were lost.
I don't know if any of them made it back to the camp after that or not, but the one thing I do know is this: For the first time in weeks, I have not seen an ant for days!
I don't know if flour would have done the trick but I do know that baby powder did it. Also, I don't know if it was the tough trekking, the overpowering and thus confusing scent, or the ghost factor, but whatever, it was, baby powder got rid of the ants.
Now, if I can just get Angus to stop laughing...
Seriously, if you care to join us, if you are looking for a good, honest exchange of opinions, go to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Messianic_Israel_Talk/
See you on the Talk Group.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
On this Saturday, he wasn't Coach Gibbs, the man who led the Washington Redskins to three Super Bowl titles. He wasn't the NASCAR owner who celebrated Cup championships with Bobby Labonte and Tony Stewart. He was simply Pat's husband, J.D.'s dad and grandfather to Jackson, Miller, Jason and Taylor.
And on this Saturday, on the eve before the biggest game in football, the Super Bowl couldn't be farther from his mind. Gibbs and his family are facing a different kind of battle. Four weeks ago, his grandson Taylor, 2, was diagnosed with leukemia. Taylor, who recently started a three-year treatment plan, is the youngest son of Melissa and J.D., Gibbs' oldest son, who oversees Joe Gibbs Racing.
To read the rest