Many of you know that I had surgery last week, and yes, thank you I am finally feeling better.  I had been in quite a bit of pain since January and come to find out that I not only needed my gallbladder removed, I also have a large kidney stone that is too big to pass.  So a relief to find out what was wrong but now new anxiety about having surgery which I have never had before and the anesthesia that goes with it.  And of course everyone has to tell you their own gruesome story.  Of course sutures over staples; yes, I got staples.  Your surgeon will be curt and all business; no I was blessed with an amazing surgeon, liked him from the first moment I met him.  They take you in and have you count down from 100; nope, my anesthesiologist knew it was my first surgery and said she would give me a little cocktail to take nerves away, that's the last thing I remember.  
Trying to remember what happened before the surgery, I remember walking into that surgical suite and saying, oh I've seen this on tv before, lying down on the little gurney and having the nurse tuck my left arm into a blanket, and next thing I'm waking up in another room sitting in a chair.  In a flash, two hours had passed and I had no knowledge of it.  Two hours!  It was so strange, one moment I had just gotten settled on that gurney and the next thing I know they are bringing Jim in to help me get up and go home.
When I first got saved in the 80's, everyone was saying Jesus is coming back soon.  Like, any moment now He will be here and we will go to be with Him.  So you lived your life awaiting that moment and time was wasted.  I know people who didn't go to the doctor because they thought, well Jesus is coming anyway, why bother.  Hey Jesus is coming, I don't need to get anything done, here on this earth or for the kingdom, why waste my time.  I remember having a dream of all these people sitting in lawn chairs just looking at the sky.  Like hey come on, get here already.  And that is all they did, sit and watch.  And being a new Christian, unlearned in the word, I acted that same way.  And yes, Jesus' coming is closer today than any other time in history, but there are still things to be done, there is still life to be lived; in Him and through Him and for Him.  
I don't know if I will experience that second coming here, or if I will have already passed to be with Him in heaven.  All I know is the day will come when all that is in this world will no longer seem to be only pain and suffering.  Our bodies will no longer hurt.  Our hearts will no longer be broken.  Our minds will no longer be confused and tormented.  As it says in 1 Corinthians 15:52, "But let me tell you something wonderful, a mystery I’ll probably never fully understand. We’re not all going to die—but we are all going to be changed. You hear a blast to end all blasts from a trumpet, and in the time that you look up and blink your eyes—it’s over. On signal from that trumpet from heaven, the dead will be up and out of their graves, beyond the reach of death, never to die again. At the same moment and in the same way, we’ll all be changed." (MSG)  How beautiful that will be.  
I had the honor of being with both my dad and my mom when they passed away.  Or more truly, when they entered in; entered into the presence of their heavenly Father.  Into the presence of their Lord and Saviour, Jesus.  I was there when they metaphorically lay on that gurney and then woke up again in a more glorious home.  I still weep when I think of them leaving pain and death behind and becoming truly awake for the very first time.  I remember so clearly hearing the Holy Spirit tell me to run and get a certain cd out of my truck and play it for my dad.  That soon he would be singing that song along with the angels in heaven.  Holy, holy, holy.  I put that cd in and my dad, who had not moved in days lifted his arms and was gone.  In the twinkling of an eye.  He was home.  
As scripture says, our life is but a vapor.  A mist that is one moment there, the next burned off by the heat of the sun.  And yes, there is sickness and misery, hurt and anguish.  There is struggle and conflict and doubt and fear.  That is all part of life.  But He overcame all that for us.  He gives us peace in the midst of all that.  He gives us hope when all looks hopeless.  He gives us joy when all seems black.  
My whole life I have been a worry wart.  I don't know if it was my upbringing and the uncertainty that came with it.  Maybe that's just how I was made, but I always seem to worry about everything.  But when push comes to shove, I know who is in control.  I know that my Father has all in hand and I can rest.  I never really had any fear when I first went to the doctor.  I was in pain, sure, but I honestly knew that the worst that could happen would be I'd be going home.  I would shuffle off this mortal coil as Shakespeare so eloquently wrote.  I would leave behind the troubles of this daily life and awake with Jesus taking my hand and leading me into my new home.  
That being said, there is work to be done here, now.  The hope I have, the peace I have others need also.  The salvation I celebrate, the joy I have in knowing my heavenly Father loves me is something I don't want to take to the grave with me.  I want to expend all of that.  I want to share it freely and with abandon.  I want to love fully and give everything I have knowing it pleases my Father.  
You may feel you are in a prison today.  Whether it is physical or financial or mental or emotional.  You may feel trapped and locked in an endless repeat of the day before.  You may feel that nothing you do matters and nothing can change.  That is a lie from the enemy.  Everything you do matters and all that has to change is your attitude.  Take a lesson from Paul when he wrote to the Philippians while imprisoned.  Read what he writes in Philippians 1:18-21 (MSG), "​So how am I to respond? I’ve decided that I really don’t care about their motives, whether mixed, bad, or indifferent. Every time one of them opens his mouth, Christ is proclaimed, so I just cheer them on!  And I’m going to keep that celebration going because I know how it’s going to turn out. Through your faithful prayers and the generous response of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, everything he wants to do in and through me will be done. I can hardly wait to continue on my course. I don’t expect to be embarrassed in the least. On the contrary, everything happening to me in this jail only serves to make Christ more accurately known, regardless of whether I live or die. They didn’t shut me up; they gave me a pulpit! Alive, I’m Christ’s messenger; dead, I’m his bounty. Life versus even more life! I can’t lose."
Dear friend, you can't lose.  And one day, in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye you will look into the face of the One who gave all for you and that is all that will matter.

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Do you ever have days where you feel like you don't matter.  Where nothing that you do matters.  Large or small, all that you do is done by rote.  Hour after hour, day after day all that you do is what you did yesterday, what you will do again tomorrow.  In the grand scheme of things what does it matter?  What do you matter?
I think we all go through this at some time in our lives.  Hopefully it is just a transitory feeling.  The mundane seems to take over.  The color scheme for your life is beige.  The temperature is tepid.  And you are just tired of doing 'you'.  Honestly I am having one of those days today.  I am tired, and tired of being sick and wishing for a long vacation that I know I will never get.  A trip to Ireland or Italy will most likely never be in the cards for me.  Some days this seems like this is all there is.  Work and feeling exhausted and wanting more than anything not to feel like I am taken for granted.
I want you to hear something.  You matter.  What you do matter.  Who, and whose you are matter.  You may feel today like you are some meaningless blob of existence.  No worth, no prospects, no hope of a future that looks anything different than today and yesterday and the day before.   But there is more, because YOU are more.  You are more than your job, you are more than your mistakes, you are more that what people say you are.  You are the Lord's and He says in Jeremiah 29:11, "​I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for." (MSG)  God has plans for you, plans that He preordained before you were ever conceived by your parents.  Plans prepared before the beginning of time.  You are not a mistake, you are not an 'uh-oh', you are not some bothersome piece of junk just here by accident.  
I love to write; I guess you can tell that by now.  What I really enjoy is writing poems.  Putting words together in a specific and well-crafted way to convey something of beauty.  I think poems are harder than writing my regular posts just for that very reason.  I love words, the sound of words, the way they work together to bring a picture in my mind to life.  You really can't just throw together a poem.  It takes a knowledge of words, and sounds and skill to complete what hopefully will stand the test of time.  Poems written hundreds of years ago still have a lasting impact on us.  They can be beautiful and thought-provoking and cause you to experience a gamut of emotion.  They are created through time and effort.
Read Ephesians 2:10 in the Message, "For we are His workmanship [His own master work, a work of art], created in Christ Jesus [reborn from above—spiritually transformed, renewed, ready to be used] for good works, which God prepared [for us] beforehand [taking paths which He set], so that we would walk in them [living the good life which He prearranged and made ready for us]."  We are hand-crafted.  We are lovingly and thoughtfully created.  We are His workmanship.  We are not some slipshod thing thrown together.  We are not 'seconds' bound for the Dollar Store.  We are His workmanship; He had a specific blueprint in mind for each one of us.  Unique, distinct, cherished, adored.  When we look at that word for workmanship, in the Greek it is poiēma, which comes from the same word that we get 'poem' from.
​You are a poem written by the God of the universe.  Written by the One who formed the stars, created the Milky Way, designed something as beautiful as a rose, as delicate as a butterfly and something as majestic as a stallion.  You are His poem, written to be shown to the world.  Written as a love sonnet, filled with words and syllables conveying how much He treasures you.
Truthfully, today I don't feel like a poem.  I feel like something scribbled on a scrap of brown paper bag that has made it's way into the trash can with the wet coffee grounds and banana peels.  Nothing to treasure there.  But, I am more than my feelings.  I am more that what I perceive.  My feelings and my perceptions have failed me before and they will fail me again.  I am only human.  No, wait.  I am more than that.  I am a blood bought child of the Most High God.  I am kin to Jesus.  I am filled with the Holy Spirit.  I am me, but I am more.  I don't have to trust my feelings; I trust the God who said His thoughts for me are good.  I trust the God who said in Psalms 139:16,17 “Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them. How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them!”  I am a poem written in His book!  And I am not your average roses are red poem.  I am an epic poem.  A poem filled with love and adventure.  Life and death, trials and triumphs.  Soaring highs and lows like as Death Valley's elevation.  Laughter and tears, joy and sorrow.  I am a poem written by God because He loves me.  
He loves me when I am lovable.  He loves me when I am a stinking jerk.  He loves me when I feel great and He loves me when I feel less than.  He loves me, so that means I matter.  I matter because I have said yes to salvation through His Son and I have been adopted into the family of God.  I matter, no matter what I do for a living, no matter how educated I am, no matter how much or how little money I have.  I matter because I am His and He says I matter.  As I write that I think of when I was a little kid and someone would brag about their dad.  "Well my dad does such and such".  And I always said, "well my dad is better than your dad, he is a Detective!!".  Ha, well, my Father says I matter and He is the greatest, so take that stupid sub-par thoughts and lack of self-esteem.  I may never be famous.  I may never go on that trip to Ireland I so want to go on.  I may never get a good night's sleep.  I may never write a poem that is published.  But that doesn't matter.  I AM a poem that has been published; in fact my name is written in the Lamb's book of Life and that is better than any publishing company that I know.  And it can never be lost or stolen or erased.  After all, He wrote it in bright red, indelible ink.

I watched the movie "Risen" this weekend.  One of a list of movies I had recorded when there was free premium channels available.  It had been on my dvr for months, and as I was lying in bed not feeling well I thought I would see if it was any good.  Especially considering it was Easter weekend I had hopes that it would be biblical and true.  I went into it with a nit-picking attitude, but came out of it in tears and my heart filled.  I hope if you have not seen it that you will do so.
The movie follows a Roman tribute Clavius who is tasked with the job of finding Jesus' missing body.  Pilate is panicked that this will cause trouble with Rome, the Pharisees are angry thinking that the disciples have pulled one over on them.  Of course Clavius does not believe.  He begins his search with much zeal, he will find that body or he will find one that will work as a substitute so that the unrest will end.  Little does he know that he is embarking on a quest that will change his life.
He finally comes to believe after having witnessed Jesus on the cross dead he sees him alive in the upper room with the disciples.  He cannot reconcile what he has seen.  He follows after the disciples who are headed to Galilee to meet with Jesus.  They meet up with Jesus and are eating a meal with him.  As they eat a leper is run out of the village by angry people.  They are afraid of him and they kick him and hit him and spit on him.  Jesus sees all of this and picks up a fish and offers it to the leper.  The leper is on the ground, curled up in a ball; afraid, hungry, broken.  As Jesus sits next to him, he says "No one touches me".  Jesus disregards this, draws him close, embraces him.
The leper is historically depicted as an outcast, a criminal, and most certainly someone to be avoided. He is reviled as the physical incarnation of God’s wrath and a sinner deserving of punishment. In truth, this victimized individual is merely one of the unfortunate few susceptible to the Bacillus leprae, the bacterial agent that causes the dreaded disease leprosy.  ​From biblical times to the Middle Ages, lepers were outcasts, regarded as already dead and completely shunned from the rest of society. Strict regulations governing their movements forced many to live as beggars and vagrants. They scrounged the streets, announcing their approach with the ring of a bell and cries of “Unclean!” while always hiding their deformities beneath a black cowl. (1)  Feared, hated, despised.  All because of a disease.  I watched that movie twice that day.  Jim wasn't home, so I watched it alone and then when he came home I asked him to watch it again with me.  Both times that scene came on and I wept so hard I almost made myself sick.  You see, I was once like that leper.  I was afflicted with a disease and felt that no one could touch me.  That disease was sin.  I lived a life where my heart was dead.  My parents had a difficult time showing love to me and provide me with a safe, stable home because of their own hurts, their own pain.  Because I was so alone, and because I was a social outcast, being overweight and awkward, not wanted by anyone as a friend I gave myself away to the first person who was somewhat kind to me.  I thought oh, someone will love me!  No, not love, I was just a convenient amusement for a time.  Then I became pregnant and had an abortion.  Another piece of my heart lost all feeling, like a leper who loses sensitivity in his extremities.  More numbness, more pain.  More awful solitude.  
That all changed when I grew a little older, lost weight, suddenly became 'attractive'.  I wasn't alone anymore, but I was still lonely.  I was still just a convenient amusement, but as long as I drank enough or took enough drugs it didn't seem to matter so much.  After all I was dead inside.  No one touched me.
Then one day I met the Saviour.  I met the One who would love me unconditionally.  I didn't have a true revelation of that until I had a dream or a vision, I cannot tell you what it was.  But it was more real than my hand in front of my face.  I know I have shared this before, but this is important.  I was in a little town, dirt roads, dust everywhere.  I hear that Jesus is coming, but I know that I will never get to see Him.  There are too many people and I am insignificant.  I want to just be resigned to this, after all this has been my life, but I finally crumple into a ball on the ground.  I don't know how long I huddled there, but it seems forever.  Then a shadow crosses over me.  I feel someone get down next to me and take me in His arms and just hold me.  Oh my God, the feelings that washed over me.  Love.  Hope.  Peace.  Wave after wave washing over me, bathing me in His tenderness and affection.  Someone had touched me.  The Son of God had touched me, held me, loved me.  
For someone who had never felt true love before this was monumental.  I felt too dirty, too filled with shame to think that anyone, let alone God could feel that way about me.  I felt worthless and inconsequential.  Untouchable and lost.  But oh, He is the God who comes after the lost.  He is the God of the parable of the lost sheep, the God of the parable of the lost coin.  The One who left the ninety nine sheep to go and search high and low for the one that was astray.  The One who scoured the house for the lost coin, turning on all the lights and seeking diligently for that one coin that got away.  These are not pictures of someone just halfheartedly hoping, oh well, I hope I chance upon that sheep, that coin.  No this is Someone who leaves everything else behind to scour the countryside to find that little lamb.  This is Someone who leaves no rug unturned, no dust bunny unmoved in order to discover where that coin rolled off to.
This is the God of the parable of the Prodigal son.  The father who was rejected by his son; the son who only wanted his father's inheritance.  You know the story.  The son goes off, spends all in a wanton lifestyle and finally, broken and hungry realizes that his father's servants have it better than he does.  He has sinned against his father and thinks he will just come home, beg forgiveness and work for his father so he can have food to eat, a place to sleep.  But his father, himself brokenhearted sees his son from afar and runs to him.  He does not say I told you so.  He does not lord it over his spendthrift sinner of a son.  He throws his arms around his son and welcomes his back home.  Jared C. Wilson in his book "The Storytelling God" says this, "And here is something peculiar about the parable of the lost son, which is very often called the parable of the 'prodigal son'.  The word prodigal is an adjective referring to profuse expenditures, reckless abundance, a sense of 'wastefulness'.  This applies of course to the lost son as he 
'squandered his property in reckless living'.  But as Thomas Keller has helpfully shown us, it is the father in the story who is the most prominent prodigal.  He is 'wasting' his affection on his disgraced son, lavishing his goodness upon the one deserving of his condemnation.  So Keller says the image of the gospel we receive in the parable of the prodigal son is actually of the prodigal God who loves us with reckless abundance, who, zealous for his own joy, is jealous for us, and who, with his Son, generously gives us all things." (2)
This is the God who loves me and who loves you.  The God who says you can never be too bad, you can never be too sinful.  This is the God who goes to the ends of the earth to seek you and who will not stop until you are found.  This is the God who recklessly loves you; who gave His only Son for you.  This is the God who holds you close, no matter how dirty, how diseased.  This is the God who whispers in your ear, "I have been waiting for you, I love you."  This is the God, who in Hosea 2:23 said, "I will also have compassion on her who had not obtained compassion, And I will say to those who were not My people, 'You are My people!' And they will say, 'You are my God!'" (NASB)
This is the God who held me close.  Who embraced me in my sin and filth.  He lovingly cradled me in His arms and made me whole again.  This is the God who gave His all for me and I will not only forever be grateful for that, but I will seek to return that love until my dying day.  Which will be the first day of the greatest part of my life, my life in His presence worshiping Him always.
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(1) http://www.healthmap.org/site/diseasedaily/article/spotlight-leprosy-two-thousand-years-solitude8812
(2)  The Storytelling God by Jared C. Wilson, page 72
If you get a chance, watch the scene from "Risen" showing the healing of the leper...copy and paste this link
https://youtu.be/OoU_tv7xB2o 

​What a marvel, too wondrous to comprehend
A mystery, foretold from the genesis of time
By grace, my heart You did so divinely apprehend
With a love so powerful, so true and sublime

An abhorrent death subsumed by glorious life
The man Jesus, died a most horrendous death
The disciples confounded and confused, their doubt was rife
But oh, that was not to be His final breath

The Son, the Messiah, their Master and Lord
Gone, buried, moldering in the grave
But hadn't He promised them, He'd given His word
Who now would be the One to save

On that third morn, oh glorious day
He burst forth from that tomb, arising just as He said
The grave had lost and death did not have it's way
He is alive, He is risen, He is not dead

The greatest story ever told, the gospel, forsooth
That He died for our sins, Himself sin free
All we must do is acknowledge the truth
​That He is our Saviour and God's child we will be

A new creation, in Christ alive and dead to sin
This is His most gracious and wonderful gift
We are no longer strangers, but now His beloved kin
Oh how it causes my lips to sing and my heart it doth lift

Not only my Saviour, but also my Lord
I give you my life, my love, my feet, my hands
It is my joy, my desire to give others the good Word
To take Your gospel, the good news throughout the lands

Lord let me never forget, let the thought always linger
How you died on that cursed tree, of Your own free will
When all you had to do was lift a finger
But then who would have been left to pay the bill

The price for our sin, for which we could never atone
Even if we were good, kind and generous
This was a debt that could be paid by You and You alone
For man's heart is certainly evil and treacherous

But by Your love, that love so astounding
Rich and deep, free and without end
I am filled with hope, joy and a peace that is abounding
To no other master will my knees ever bend



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