I cried out. God!

God. God! If you called me, if I heard you correctly, then stand by me! Show yourself strong on my behalf. Justify me. I’ll go. But you have to make the way.

I had been in church all my life. I had been in ministry all my life. My grandmother had been superintendent of the Sunday School and her life was as that of a minister. She trained me in the same way. So by eight, I was playing for the church. By nine I was teaching a Sunday School class. I had been a junior usher at six and a member of the junior choir. Our life was church ministry. I didn’t understand that then. But when the church needed to be cleaned, my grandmother would send me to do it. I wasn’t bothered by that because I knew it needed to be done.

But by 24, I was having serious conversations with the Lord and the yearning, pulling was urging me into a direction of which I wasn’t sure. I sought counsel. I prayed. I cried. I yielded to who I believed was doing the calling. And we communed in new and brilliant ways.

Jumping over many years and tears, when I applied for seminary I only needed one more thing; a letter of recommendation from my pastor. He said No. Well, not no, but offered the opportunity to convince him of my side of the story. But the bottom line was that if it hadn’t been spoken to him, it surely hadn’t been spoken to me. Not by God.

Everything else was in and on time. The admissions officer gave me a deadline to get that letter in, as most seminary students were not admitted at that time without the recommendation of their home church. It was then that I cried out to the Lord. I was certain that I’d heard what I heard. I was certain because I kept putting myself in position to hear. And to see. And to be formed and informed.

And I needed God to be on my side. In that moment. Because the deadline was quickly approaching. And I was ready to go. I was ready to begin. I was more than ready to sit at the feet of teachers who would prepare me for the journey ahead. Teachers I hadn’t met. But I felt sure they were the ones who would pour into me and help me become a teacher.

And. God. Heard. My. Cry.

The semester was to begin on Monday. I received a call on Friday morning. From the admissions officer. I was fearful when I heard her voice. But I hadn’t needed fear. Not in that moment. What I needed was dancing feet and a joyful heart. Because God had heard my cry. She told me she would see me on Monday. She wouldn’t let one thing stop me, in the light of the other things that had been highly supportive.

I cried out to God. And he heard my cry. And the journey began.

Photo by Michael Zittel on Pexels.com

And another thing…

I wrote this book for you. I know. It’s filled with my stories, but mine is the only story I can really tell. It’s my witness. It’s my testimony. And I tell it to shout my own victory and to assist others in overcoming and realizing their own.

Sometimes we focus so much on the trials and tribulations, we miss the eternal outcome…the realization of the marvelous work God has done in each of us before the foundation of the world. Wonderfully and marvelously made. Created. Designed.

Custom design. Divine design. From head to toe. Inside out. Made to function excellently as a child of God. Made to walk worthy of the divine calling in our lives. Made to weather the life to which we’re assigned.

It is in the worst moments of our lives, we find the hinds feet with which we are equipped to walk in high places. In the worst moments, we discover finely honed gifts that operate with power under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

It is often in the worst moments of our lives, we find if we keep our eyes on Jesus, if we maintain our place in spite of the fear; if we manage to breathe in places so tight there seems to be no air, we will simultaneously discover that we are created to walk on water.

I’m thankful to God.

How about you!

Excerpted from Created to Walk on Water

Created for relationship

The “love” thing is big with me. Anyone who knows me, follows me, has read my books or heard me preach knows that. My starting point with everyone, saint or sinner, is that God loves you. You should know that God loves you. God loves you for no reason other than that he loves you. He loves you with no strings attached. He loves you in spite of what we call “behavior.” He loves you before the foundation of the world and he loves you for an eternity. 

That means there is no beginning or end to his love. That means no top. No bottom. No left side. No right side. His love cannot be contained by anything because it escapes our wildest imagination and our capacity to comprehend.

His love is indescribable. His love is matchless. His love is unconditional, which trips us up because we’re unfamiliar with any emotion that has no conditions attached. We’re acquainted with love that comes with its own stipulations. Required behavior. Required reciprocation. Required submission. Required subjugation. 

Not so with the love of God. And his love must be the standard because he is the very definition of love.

When Jesus looked at Peter, the first time, his heart was filled with love for Peter. Because he’s Jesus he could see the ulterior motives that drove Peter in his zealous political direction; he could see the skewed world view that threatened to block Peter’s conception of Jesus’ mission on earth. He could see the strong willed and muscled disciple with the ability to lead the others away if he’d really tried. He could see the furor that would lead him to sever the ear of an arresting soldier when Jesus was finally apprehended. He could see Peter uttering the phrase that would illicit a prophesied crow from the nearest rooster, declaring unfamiliarity with the Savior himself.

None of this could prevent the love that flowed from the heart of Jesus to the heart of the hard headed, stubborn fisherman, who would become a celebrated apostle in his own right and spread the gospel of heaven with keen acumen.

Because Peter had been created to walk on water.

The love thing is important because I believe the salvation thing has no place to rest if not in the lap of the love thing. It’s basic to our relationship with God through Jesus as it is to every relationship we enjoy, even that with ourselves. Salvation becomes a call to duty if there is no authentic realization that we are actually called to be who we were created to be…the object of God’s affection. 

If we don’t get the love thing, then the call is simply an enlistment to serve in the army of an exacting commander who wields rods of correction at every misstep. It’s nothing more than another way to expend energy and emotion, the reality of which we don’t even own; haven’t even experienced. Don’t even know. 

God worshiped

And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.
Exodus 34:6

And the Lord spoke with Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend. And as a friend, Moses asked the Lord for assurance that he would never leave him on his own to command this people. God assured Moses that his presence would go with them and God would give him rest. Moses said good. Don’t send us unless you go with us. Your presence is our only distinction among the people on the earth.

Then Moses asks to see the Lord’s glory. God’s response is that Moses could not see his face, but he would hide Moses in a cleft of a rock and cover him with his hand as he passed by so Moses could only see God’s hinder parts. After performing all the ritual necessary to ascend into the presence of God, when the requested encounter actually happened, when God showed up as promised…God was so full of his “Godness” that he overflowed in proclamation of his own glory. Imagine the experience Moses had.

While Moses’ eyes couldn’t see, his heart must have almost burst with the overwhelming presence of God in its fullness. And the love of God had to rise within Moses as God worshiped himself out of the overflow of joy.

“The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long suffering, and abounding in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children and the children’s children to the third and the fourth generation.”


Silence is the central place of faith, where we give the Word back to the God from whom we first received it. Surrendering the Word, we surrender the medium of our creation. We unsay ourselves, voluntarily returning to the source of our being, where we must trust God to say us once again.

In silence, we travel back in time to the day before the first day of creation, when all being was still part of God’s body. It had not yet been said, and silence was the womb in which it slept.

I wish I’d written this. But I didn’t. This is from “The World of Silence” by French philosopher, Max Picard.

In Christ

“In Christ.” Some folks have difficulty with that phase. I find great peace in it. “In Christ.” It’s where I’ve always longed to be. I just didn’t know it. It’s where I find the legitimacy I’ve always yearned for.

In Christ. It’s not always an easy place because it demands of me a kind of honesty and transparency that is most times uncomfortable. It’s not always an easy place because it relieves me of the mask I wear in many places. It’s also uncomfortable because when I’m really drawn, I can’t pull myself away.

Actually I don’t want to pull myself away. I find myself enjoying heaven in a way that sometimes threatens to hold me.
In Christ. That place I’ve yearned for. In Christ I find identity.

In Christ.


Ever been “churtched?” The word is in quotes because it’s not mine. It was coined by the Rev. Lenora Howze when she created a blog and now a podcast of the same name to help the healing process of people who have been wounded in their church. If it hasn’t happened to you, be grateful. If it has happened to you, ask God to heal you in whatever way is best. If you have to take a break from church, take one. If you have to find a new church, find one. If you need to find a listening heart, find one. Do what you need to so you can be healed. There’s no hurt like that experienced in the place that’s supposed to provide love and safety.

Many years ago when I was churtched, my heart was so wounded I couldn’t hear a sermon, or maybe it was the loudness of it. I’m not sure. I only know I couldn’t bear it. It was as if my heart had become an open wound and words were like razor blades. Preached words. I was led by the Holy Spirit to listen to the scripture on tape. That’s what I did. I bought tapes. Didn’t have the Bible app like we do now. And every moment that I could think of it, I had those earphones in my ears. Every moment. When I wasn’t engaged in conversation or a meeting at work, my ears were filled with the word of God. That’s how he restored order to my belly. I didn’t fight. I had no fight in me. I knew the source of the pain but had no idea what to do about it. That’s why I’m offended when people say a churtched person who leaves the church wasn’t serving God in the first place. Seriously. It’s the worst pain one can experience. It comes from an unexpected place with unexpected accuracy at an unexpected time and wields unexpected power to destroy. But God knew exactly what I needed. And if I’d ignored it because it didn’t sound spiritual enough, I might have been destroyed.

If it has happened to you, take care of yourself and let the Lord heal you. If it has happened to someone you know, be kind and assist them in getting the healing they need.

Jesus knows your name

If we could interview the donkey on which Jesus took his triumphal ride into Jerusalem, we might ask questions such as:

How did you feel? Dumbest question in journalism. But not in this case. How did you feel?

Why were you chosen?

How did your master treat you?

What was it like carrying Jesus?

Were you returned to your master?

The donkey belonged to this certain man to whom Jesus sent his disciples.

A certain man.

This certain man didn’t need a name or a public reputation. Jesus knew he was just the right person to let such a precious piece of property go without stipulations or regrets. But cheerfully and without hesitation.

Jesus didn’t need any negatives surrounding his ride, nothing selfish, nothing doubtful…

And he could only have gotten that thing from that certain man at that time.

Sometimes we’re raising our hands like we did in third grade…ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh…call on me over here. And we’re volunteering for something that looks like something we want to do, not realizing that we are not the person for the task in that moment.

God is so good, so smart, so genius in fact that he knows in every second who is ordained to fulfill whatever task is needed in the moment. Imagine that.

No other donkey would have sufficed. No other donkey from any other owner could have sufficed. That donkey had been fed the exact feed that strengthened his muscles to the exact degree that allowed him to carry the Savior with the exact gait producing the exact triumphal stance that exacted the perfect amount of attention from the waiting crowd to signal to them that the rider on this donkey was different  from riders on other donkeys, to signal to them that the rider on this donkey was indeed the king they’d been waiting for to push their praise buttons to let go with the hosannas and the waving of the palm leaves.

No other donkey. No other donkey owner.

When you operate in your gifting, it should be as if you’re the only donkey in the world at that moment and no other donkey could suffice.

Wouldn’t you rather …rather than toot your own horn, build your own kingdom, create your own press buzz, assemble your own entourage…

Wouldn’t you rather be the unnamed person Jesus can depend on?

I would.

Hold the door for a soldier

The first soldier I remember was my uncle, Melvin Scott, who went into the army when he was 16. The next was Bobby Johnson, my friend Elsie’s brother. They were both men short in physical stature. But they both looked like giants when they put on those official uniforms. To me they even stood taller and grander. I think I didn’t learn much about honoring these guys when I was younger, but when I think of what they and their families, and millions like them, have had to endure while keeping our country safe, I want to find ways to help them. And celebrate them. Especially now that I have Sam, my son-in-love and Arlen, my grandson-in-love.

Merchants apparently have the same idea. There’s almost no place a veteran can’t go for a free meal on Veterans Day. There are food discounts and clothing discounts. Neighbors fly flags. Little people salute if they see a uniform. Wreaths are laid at selective graves to honor those who’ve made the ultimate sacrifice. But what about the other days? The 364 other day veterans have to live in this country? What about the rest of the year?

The sacrifices they’ve made are unbelievable. For some, physical injury or lack of mobility. For others, loss of relationships because of the lack of re-entry counseling and care. Still others are suffering from the ongoing shock of the trauma they encountering during service. And some are homeless!!! In this country!!!

It is ungracious of us to forget the sacrifices they’ve made on our behalf. God is not unrighteous to forget our work and labor of love that we have shown in his name, in that we have ministered to his saints. My paraphrase of Hebrews 6:10. Seems forgetfulness is unrighteous and unjust when it leads us to be neglectful of the very ones who have kept us safe.

Look around in the community and see if adequate medical and social care is available for the veterans. Whether or not there is affordable, suitable housing in the area. Whether or not there are veterans on the street begging for bread.

Veterans should have the best quality of life available. Just. Because.

The One Thing

I’ll bet there is something in your life that constitutes the “one” thing or person that made all the difference. It’s important to pause and remember…remembering enlarges our space for receiving and fuels the gratitude bug that keeps us alive.

The flat tire that caused you to miss the beginning of the party that erupted in gun fire before you arrived.

The impetus to try out for the job that seemed a little beyond your credentials. Nevertheless you got it.

The teacher who saw you hanging with the wrong crowd and took you aside to remind you of your own good stuff.

The counselor who saw in you some talent you couldn’t even see and urged you to go a different way than you’d planned.

The friend’s parent who explained to you the wisdom of following your own choices rather than deferring to crowd mentality.

The police officer who lectured you strongly, but let you go because she felt you deserved another chance.

The boss who saw a spark in you and exposed you to every opportunity for expanding your horizons.

And each of these people and each of their singular acts made all the difference in your life. Made all the difference in my life.

I love to remember Mrs. Charlotte Flowers, a retired teacher who nurtured me grandly, but also paid for my books when I was in college. They were no where near as expensive as books today, but they would have been a gigantic expenditure for my family.

I love to remember Mrs. Hattie Childs, also retired, who made her way to every, and I do mean every, little program and project we put on as young people in our church.

I love to remember Mrs. Barbara Powell who never turned me away when I came to her with my teenage worries and woes. She never minimized them or me, and she always loved me through them. And she still does.

I could go on and on. And I know you have your own.

On a day like today, it’s a good time to take a minute and remember the “one thing,” the one person in your life who made it happen.

And to thank God that they made all the difference in your life.

And then there’s the ultimate one thing…the One Thing that made the ultimate difference.

Not on one day, but on many, I was introduced to Jesus, the Son of God, who gave his life on Calvary’s cross so that I could have a right to eternal life on earth and in the hereafter. His supreme sacrifice made me his little sister and dressed me in his righteous clothes, so I can stand with authority before the throne of God as joint heir to the kingdom.

And it has made all the difference in my life. Every day I’m privy to fresh mercies as a reminder of the amazing grace he poured into my life before the foundation of the world.

And it has made all the difference.