Tag Archive - love

Broken Sent

December 19, 2008 in Confessions of a Preacher's Wife with 4 Comments

I’ve got a very painful heartache this morning.

I’m broken for the broken.
Crying for those who no longer cry.
Hurting for those devalued, feeling unloved.
Empty Christian shells without joy.
Desperately needing love.
Little girls and boys behind grown-up eyes.
Drying up. Crying out. Is there hope?
I love them.
I want them to know the love I’ve found.
I . . .
I can’t do this alone.
I can’t fix the lack of love.
There are thousands, tens of thousands, millions of them.
They sit in Bible class with us.
They check our groceries.
They walk the streets, homeless.
They live in man-made mansions.
They’re everywhere.
They’re single.
They’re married.
They’ve got relationships galore, but remain alone.
They hide behind destructive behavior.
They mask the emptiness with productivity or success.
They just want to be loved!
Believers and unbelievers alike.
I feel so broken.
I weep.
Oh God, how can I do any good?
The need is so desperate and vast.
I am only one.
Shall I stay at home and cry in my robe?
What can I do or try?
Should I blog this heartache of mine?
Or is it way too personal?
“How can they hear without a preacher,” You say.
Oh God, give me a megaphone!!!
Help me love them.
Love them all.
 

Consumed

March 4, 2008 in Confessions of a Preacher's Wife with 2 Comments

Ever wanted something so bad you could taste it? No, I mean so bad it hurts? A longing that if left would eat you alive, a feeling that seems so right when a taste of the desired is given. A desire and consuming passion that remains foremost in your mind. One might even say head over heels possessed with love for it.

It sounds like I’m talking about some passionate romance, and in a way it might be. It is them. I love them. I want the best for them. I can’t stand not reaching out to them, offering friendship, relationship, and acceptance.The other night, Chuck (my husband) and I went to see a single man our age in the hospital then took his parents and another woman in her 60’s to dinner. We were in a college town, the home of a big college. Our friend said she had never seen so many young people in one place before. Chuck and I had a great conversation with our waitress all during the dinner. I felt at home and in near frenzy in such a target rich environment. We dropped our church members off at their car then went to Starbucks. The place was full, inviting, and very open.

Feelings stirred deep within, a desire to meet each one and offer friendship with them all. I really can’t explain this feeling any better than the feeling of that first love. (Remember the first crush on a guy and the desire that accompanied it.) I want to be around them and give them all I have. That is the best description I can come up with.

The Spirit moves both Chuck and I to love them. He’s wondering what, how, when, especially since he already holds two full time jobs. Pastoring is part time pay, but always full time job. And I’m a financial drain, in other words a well kept woman.

I know I must write, speak, and whatever, and this love is the reason I do it. I am going to Mt. Hermon with all the trappings, proposal, one sheet, yada yada, but . . . I feel all this is only a step to reach my real love. Am I so wrong to spend a thousand dollars on writing chances when it isn’t my first love? If I must do this writing to reach them, it is worth all I have and all any will give me. Writing is more of a discipline than a passion. Will this be understood by editors and agents? Does anyone in publishing want to link up with someone who is more passionate about something else besides writing? Oh, I pray to God that someone wants to.

Just call me Consumed.

Elvis and Romance Dead!?!

February 14, 2008 in Confessions of a Preacher's Wife with 0 Comments

Reasonable doubt? How can one have doubt when a Valentine’s gift arrives via Federal Express from Elvis? Both Elvis and romance are alive and well. Before you go calling the nice guys with the strait jackets, hear me out. I may be a little quirky to love a hopeless romantic like my man, but we have so much fun together. When we enter a restaurant and ask for a table, they want us to give them a name. My honey is Elvis. Not really, but he tells them that with an Elvis voice. It doesn’t matter anyway. They don’t check ID’s. It’s just fun.

My Elvis is living and thriving. He is full of romance too. He invited me for a walk around our acreage yesterday. Last night was a clear starlit one, and he gathered twigs and logs for a fire in the pit on the patio out back. Never mind that it was forty degrees out. He thought it would be fun to count the stars, share the moment, and freeze our tails.

Understand, I had to put off all the ‘to do’ list items to enjoy him and his romance. Maybe our significant others are more romantic than we give them credit for, especially if we don’t give them the time when they ask. If we have poopooed their attempts in the past, they may have stopped the wooing. I am guilty. Mentally slowing my mind to engage him in his romantic efforts takes discipline. The dishes will remain. The work can wait. It’s a wonder my Elvis still tries. I love him for his persistence.

This persistent love is characteristic of the love God has for us. He wants to spend time with us, not to be a burden to us, but to allow him to show us how much he cares for us. Romance isn’t dead! Thanks to my Elvis and my God.

For you, my man, I am grateful.

XXOO Robin

The Love Call

July 19, 2007 in Confessions of a Preacher's Wife with 0 Comments

I feel short of breath, like I can’t breathe deep. The weight of the world’s worries crashes in on me. The pain and suffering of others crushes my capacity to fill my lungs. Why did I ever say to Jesus, “Here am I, send me?” (Isaiah 6:8)

“Count the cost,” he says. (Luke 14:25-34)

How could I have known the cost of love? Do you or anyone else know what love costs? I didn’t ask for this, he called me to it. All I asked for was more of him.

“Lord Jesus, here am I…uhm, can I stay with you? Yeah, remain in you like your word says. (John 15) Can I have more of you, and stay with you? This sending thing hurts. It is a sacrifice and is very costly. My heart is crushed and broken for the many. Please let me stay with you. In you is safety and refuge”

God says, “Staying with me means going where I go. My heart is also filled with compassion for people. If you come with me, you will share in my suffering, but, my yoke is easy and my burden is light for I am with you and we bear the burden together. Breathe deep in me. I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28-30) Walk in my still waters and as you pass through this valley of the stench of death, (Psalm 23) I will fill your nostrils with the fragrance of deliverance. (2 Corinthians 2:14) I will give you hope. Lie in this boat and rest beside me. (Mathew 8:24) This storm will rage on, but you rest in me, breathe deep…”

“Come dear one. There’s another who needs love. Yes, it will be painful and costly. Come, share in my sufferings.” (Philippians 3:10, 1 Peter 4:13)

True love aches, sacrifices, and dies. Real love rejoices, triumphs, and lives. Are we willing to accept it? Are we willing to be it?
Can you say, “Here I am. . .” It’s worth considering.

Resolved,
Robin

My Only Son

May 29, 2007 in Confessions of a Preacher's Wife with 0 Comments

Look. Here is my only son. Today is his eighteenth birthday and he is a man, a head taller than most. Not physically speaking but as a matter of the heart. He has the heart of David and the loyalty of Jonathan, his names sake from the Old Testament. In him,
I am proud, if I can be that without sin.

Today, I was asked to send him out amongst the wolves of our world, many of which are dressed in sheep’s clothing. He has been requested as a counselor for a camp with troubled children from horribly disturbed home lives.

Lord, his heart? That is not a safe place. Please send me instead. . . . Yes, he is yours. I gave him to you as a baby even while nursing. You’ve done a splendid job keeping him safe thus far. What tenderness you have created in him. I trust you to keep that which is yours. I give my only son to you again. Please hold my heart as it breaks for my little one, now big, venturing out where the wolves are.

This can be only a fraction of what you felt as you sent your only son to die for my wrong doings. Forgive me.

I have no grounds to ask, but please make my son brave. Keep him tender towards you, a man after your heart.

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