Sunday, June 30, 2024

And the Demon Left Her


He was a good doctor, the kind who believed more than he had been told. He delivered them all, sick and sane and insane. No one says insane anymore. No one calls anything what it is anymore.

He was uncomfortable that day in his stone-cold, orderly office. He had read the book and put it away. Lunch was soon. Not soon enough. In staggered a helpless soul who needed his help. They exchanged pleasantries as they often did.

“In my life,” the man said, “Something is always holding me down.”

The doctor looked over his chart, noted the common medications, therapy, diagnoses. He nodded.

The man went on, “It’s like I can’t ever catch my breath.”

The doctor nodded again, though he did not agree, understand or anything associated with a nod.

“My spiritual breath,” the desperate patient clarified.

The hair stood up on the doctor’s neck.

He nodded, this time with understanding he wished he did not have.

“Something is with me. I can feel it. It doesn’t belong here.” The patient went on.

“It doesn’t belong here,” the good doctor repeated.

It was true. It didn’t belong. None of this belonged, the ailments, the issues, the longing for freedom, man was made for more. The doctor knew it. He just didn’t know how to get there.

In came the receptionist. She was an annoying woman at best, always going on and on about Jesus. Of course she had come in, of course she felt what was going on or knew it somehow deep in her churchy soul. She must have heard a cry, or the spirit sent her or something.

“Doctor,” she said, “There is a man here to see you.”

He nodded.

When she turned to leave, he stopped her.


She turned.

“Tell me again the story of your deliverance.”

She was taken aback. Almost everyone in the office had asked her to stop telling them about her deliverance. In fact, she thought it a miracle she still had a job.

She nodded.

“Well,” she began. “J…”

That’s it. All she got out was the beginning sound of the name of Jesus and the demon left him.

Thursday, June 27, 2024

Other Freedom


Look what you did to my bangs.

This is a terrible haircut!

I should have stopped you. Regret. I should have risen from this swiveling chair and struck you down. Maybe not. Maybe that’s crazy. Instead, I will think of you every time I look at my driver’s license photo and shudder at your ineptitude. How dare you make me look funny?

I really sound like this in my head, but read with sound it sounds… 

How does it sound? I’ll tell you.

To me it rolls back and forth like a tennis game. I should have. She shouldn’t have. But to the Lord? How does this sound to you, Lord? Like praise? No. Like forgiveness? Nope. 

Rage? Yes, rage.

But there’s more.

As I seek the Lord a great grief covers me. This bothers Him

The condition of my heart towards you hurts Him.

Take that, Unforgiveness. 

The gift of realizing how painful and heavy this is, was just what I needed to let it go.

Weird, the things that hold us down.

And yesterday I was in that salon again, except now it is a coffee shop. Its name? 

Restore. No kidding.

Monday, June 24, 2024

The Book of Stupid Things


To my great-great-great granddaughter, I will not leave this book to you. I pray you never flip through its pages, never draw its words in as a breath, that you live free, freer than me.

The Book of Stupid Things.

She held a book of stupid things.

It held her memories, all the bad ones.

It condemned her and others. It told lies, believe it or not. Some people believe lies as though they are the truth. Forty pages, chapters all, in teeny-tiny font so a million letters fill each verse. A million and one, then more, insisting she should not have done that. It was the heaviest book in all existence. It was a great tomb, uh, tome.

Chapter One: Foolish Words. Why did I say that?

Chapter Two: What Have I Done?


Wasted days.

If only I had done that instead.

If only. If only.

Do you have a well-read book like this?

I remember what you said! At least, I am not guilty like you. Oh, wait. I am too. All the chapters in this book are about me. Ad nauseam.

Condemnation is not the same as conviction. Not even close.

My great-great-great granddaughter, sweet one, holy one, do not confuse the two. Follow conviction and wisdom. Do not write for yourself a book of stupid things.

Wednesday, June 12, 2024

Who are Gog and Magog?


Starts at about 3:00- goes to 22:00 or so. 

(Warning: at 19:28 he talks a bit about some social issues that you may not want kids to hear.)

Tuesday, June 4, 2024

The Queen of Laundry


She found herself there in the laundry, in the folding of towels and tops and tiny socks. It taught her. She learned to pray in these quiet times, in this pause.

She asked the Lord what to do. He said this. Have you ever heard His voice? It is sweet. He said her real job was folding this laundry. Taking care of a family is important. It is essential. While doing that, pray, ask, seek, I hear you.

She folded everything in this grand house. Not a thing was out of her reach or distant from her effect. No whisper unheard, no cry for help disregarded. Each feather floating to the ground, another rainstorm or hushed quiet time, a meal lovingly prepared, a hope unnamed, each thing in this palace was her thing, all the things. Her eyes were on the sparrow and its eyes on her.

The War came suddenly, but she didn’t notice it. Outside the politicians howled like the wind. Inside the hearth was warm and set for bedtime. Outside the armies joined together in an evil embrace. Destruction led them. Inside her home was shalom, peace. Mercy and goodness followed her. The ground shook. The cage rattled. Did you know we are in a cage? She did not. Her bars were bent, her steps secure, her eyes ahead, only ahead. She lived free among prisoners. She sang among the deaf. She spoke and they heard, the people of silence, the people with no recollection of what had just occurred.

She stood at the ready, but no battle came near her home.

Two soldiers approached, each carrying the other. They were from the other side but needed her help. She recognized their flag, though to her it meant only Intercession. It meant triumph of the Spirit and calling out to God. Unknown to these fierce soldiers, this woman had been praying for their well-being for many years, and she welcomed them.

The war was over suddenly. The president shocked everyone, his closest, his farthest, the enemy and his friends. He said he was done, but wondered if he would ever be forgiven.

She forgave him.