Lighting the Fire

One recent Friday night, I went out with a group of friends for a "ladies night out".Those who know me well will know that I'm not a late-night party girl. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been clubbing, and for the most part, I'd rather be at home, curled up next to my husband reading a book or writing a blog. Nevertheless, ladies night was most enjoyable, and we had fun. 

On the Saturday morning after Ladies Night, having downed a strong cup of coffee, I had the pleasure of meeting up with someone to discuss a combination of future plans: a concoction of entrepreneurship, ministry, charities, initiatives, business... We talked for hours about what seemed like endless opportunities to reach the world, and I was astounded by the ideas and inspirations that was just pouring out of this person. I couldn’t help but walk away from this meeting with my head swimming in renewed passion for the dreams that God places in His childrens’ hearts, and had to spend that Sunday recovering from it all. And so it was, that I was struck by the enormous contrast between that Friday night and that Saturday.

Friday night was a night of self-indulgence, self-satisfaction, making ourselves feel happy with dancing and laughter. This self-indulgence was... well, just fun. But it left no lasting impression on my soul, no desire to change the world, and it rendered me more than a little bit tired the next day.

Now, I’m not saying that there's no time in life for fun – there definitely should be. But Saturday… Wow, Saturday lit a fire in my soul. I felt so uplifted, inspired, and hungry for more of that. Hungry to spend more time in the presence of people who share this love, this passion, this desperate desire to seek God and His Kingdom.  I felt as though I had been to the most anointed fellowship service, the kind that leaves a permanent mark on your heart. It made me feel alive.

What is this blaze inside me, that when it’s fueled, it threatens to all but consume me?

A fire for the lost.

For the broken and desperate.

For the sick.

And a fire for even those who seem to have it all together, yet deep down, they too wrestle with their own inner demons of discouragement and weariness.

How can I possibly live my life and ignore this burning?

  

Jeremiah 20:9 

But if I say, “I will not mention his word, or speak anymore in his name,” His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.

My pastor recently shared the parable that Jesus tells of 10 virgins with oil lamps. (Matthew 25). In those days, the virgins were like the "bridesmaids". They were to help the bride prepare herself for marriage, and would also watch for the Groom's arrival. In this parable, it is said that the Groom was "a long time in coming" - he was delayed. And so the virgins lit their lamps, and waited for him. 

Inevitably, they fell asleep, and in verse 7, when a cry rang out that the Groom was nearby, we are told that "all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps." 

There is so much more that can be said from this parable, but in essence, I feel like I am waking up from a deep slumber. I'm a bit dazed and confused. I don't really know where the Groom is coming from, or where He wants me to be. I only know that He is coming for His Bride - and He wants me to help prepare Her for Him. What a humbling realization. In my heart, I am searching for kindred spirits who are also awakening to the Groom's call on their lives, people like me who long to serve Him. 

That Saturday that I spent in the presence of a fellow visionary, was like a voice ringing in my soul: He is coming! I must rub the sleep from my eyes, and light my lamp. Look for Him, seek His face, and receive His guidance. I don't know where we are going, and if I must be honest, that's an intimidating thought. 

But I have decided to go with Him. 

Will you? Will you allow the flame of God's love for His bride to ignite your insides, and burn so bright and so hot that you can't sleep anymore? 

I thought it fit to share this rocking-awesome track that kinda hit me between the eyes the other day. The words are so fitting, from start to finish, but one part really stands out: 

Come, spark the parts in me that all but died,

Jumpstart my heart, and wake the sleeper inside.

And here is the song for all you rockers out there, hope it inspires you. It's also a seriously awesome video, Fellow Inhabitants...

Ignition - by tobyMac

This article, and many others like it, can be found on the Above The Flame Blog page or Facebook page. Be Blessed. x

Steve Turner (who may or may not have been stoned) #3

Yes.
It is time for another moment of literary genius.
We are due for another Steve Turner gem.
Overdue, in fact.

SO. Here is a little something for a glorious Sunday like today...


Untitled - by Steve Turner

We say there is no God
   (quite easily)
when amongst the curving
steel and glass of our own
   proud creations.

They will not argue.

Once we were told of a
   heaven
but the last time we strained
   to look up
we could see only skyscrapers
shaking their heads
   and smiling no.

The pavement is reality.

We say there is no God
   (quite easily)
when walking back through
Man's concreted achievements
but on reaching the park
our attention is distracted
by anthems of birds coming
from the greenery.
We find ourselves shouting
a little louder now because
   of the rushing streams.
Our voices are rained upon by
   the falling of leaves.

We should not take our arguments
   for walks like this.
The park has absolutely no manners.


Peace out, Fellow Inhabitants of this Planet; may your ears be filled with the sounds of birds and falling leaves.

The Glass Half Full: Winter

These are my Winter pajamas...

I'm sharing this with you because I'm a glass-half-full kinda girl. (Most times.) We are now in July, more-or-less the heart of South African Winter. I despise the cold. Truly. But there are some things that I can bring myself to love about Winter. 

My pajamas, for one. Here, have a closer look - I took this so you could see just how soft they are...

Every night, I pull these out from under my pillow, I scrunch them up into my fists, and bury my face in them. It's like Winter therapy. 

There is always something to be grateful for. Always!

Stay warm Fellow Inhabitants! xxx

Rant of the Day: Existence Itself

Mundane. Mundane. It is all so mundane. 


We work to survive, only to survive so that we can work to survive. Fingers to the bone, we work, when do we get to live?
Fight, fight, we fight to have a place on this earth. Fight to pay our bonds, fight to pay for fuel to get to work to survive. Fight to eat, and fight to breathe, fight to wake up every morning. Fight, fight, I'm so tired of fighting. I just want to have the strength to help someone else for a change. 


There must be more than this.
There must be more! 


Ecclesiastes 1 vs 2
'Meaningless! Meaningless!' says the Teacher. 
'Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.'


So I dream. I dream of more. 
More time. 
More people. 
More ministry.
More peace.
More dreams. 


I dream of making dreams happen. I dream of leaving a footprint on this planet. Not a carbon footprint, a good footprint. 


Exodus 14 vs 14
The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.


And then, when my dreams seem so far away, so unreachable, almost implausible... I feel frustrated, and I write depressing blogs that rant about the meaninglessness of every day existence. 


Existence, not life. 


Life is beautiful. 


Psalm 23 vs 5-6
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil; 
My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me (pursue, chase, hunt me down)
all the days of my life (until the very last day, the day I die).
Forever. (Forever. And ever. Even after I die. Yes, even then.)


Where am I going? 
I don't know. 
But don't count me out yet fellow inhabitants of this planet, because I have a dream.

The Plans He Has For Me

I sat in church the other night, and I must have suddenly become tired or hungry or something. You see, when I'm tired or hungry, I become a very nasty person - anyone who knows me will testify to this. And as I sat in church, during the minister's sermon, I was just suddenly attacked by a seriously bad attitude.

The minister was giving a message on seeds, good soil, bad soil, birds and weeds - you may be familiar with the parable. But at one point, the minister asked the question, "Do you know what God wants you to do with your life? And are you doing it!?" 

Enter the Bad Attitude: "How should I know?! I don't know what He wants me to do, and I've been asking Him for years!!? How can you ask me that?!" 

Wow. My inner thoughts were like a slap in my own face. I'm quite sure that the Lord didn't fall off His throne in shock - He knows my heart better than I do - but I sure nearly fell off my own chair. Did I just think that?! Why haven't I been struck by lightning yet? 

Having recovered somewhat, I couldn't quite get my mind back on the pastor's sermon, and so I sat and chewed on the question for the remainder of the evening.

I have been feeling for quite some time now that something *B*I*G* is about to happen. In my mind, I see the Lord opening a door that I've dreamed of walking through, a door that I never thought would open for me. A door that I never even knew existed for me! I have no idea what is beyond this elusive door, but when I think of it, I'm filled with anticipation, excitement and gratitude. I can't wait to see how He's going to use me! But then... I get back into my reality, my daily life, and it all seems so... well... mundane. Frustrating. 

For a few months now, I keep being reminded of Joseph and his multi-coloured cloak. He was his father's favourite, and a dreamer. He dreamed of his brothers bowing before him. Then he dreamed of his brothers and his parents bowing before him. He dreamed of being a saviour and a ruler of the people. He knew that, despite being the youngest of 12 brothers, which already made him less significant as far as birthright goes, God had something huge for Him. He dreamed *B*I*G*. 

Ultimately, Joseph's brothers grew to hate him, and his parents rebuked him for his seemingly foolish dreams. He was abused and sold into slavery, and spent the next thirteen years of his life waiting for his dreams to materialize. Thirteen years! I'm quite certain that during those thirteen years of slavery, false accusations and imprisonment, Joseph must have grumbled about his destiny from time to time. Just the same way my heart did in church the other night. 

You see, I think that deep down I'm just afraid that my dreams are just that: dreams. And that I really will just live an insignificant life, leaving no legacy, making no footprint on this planet, having touched no lives, and perhaps scraping into Heaven by the skin of my teeth at the end of a very mundane existence. And that is why the pastor's question hit such a nerve last night: Do you know what God wants you to do, and are you doing it? 

Jeremiah 29v 11-14

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 YOU WILL SEEK ME and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”

People usually stop reading at verse 11, because all on it's own, that is such a "feel-good" verse. You don't really want to risk spoiling it by reading anything further. And yet, the first time that I read verses 12 and 13, I was absolutely floored. And then verse 14: "I will be found by you". WOW.

The minister's question made me uncomfortable, because I don't know what the Lord has planned for me, and until He chooses to reveal it to me, I am to wait, as Joseph waited. Thirteen years? Who knows. But what I do know is that the only way I will ever see my dreams come to pass is to look into His Face. It's extraordinary that He asks nothing more from us. No rituals. No demands. No animal sacrifices. Just for us to get to know Him. 

Seek My face. I will set you free. 

Seek My face. I will restore you.

Seek My face. I will make you a conqueror. 

Seek My face. I will unfold plans that you can only dream of. 

Seek Me. I will be found by you. 

And this is where it hit me: DO I know what God wants me to do? YES! Could it be that my ultimate calling in this life is to simply seek Father's face, and get to know Him? Everything else is secondary, and any *B*I*G* plans that come to pass are only the by-product of my relationship with the Almighty. That really simplifies things and takes the pressure off me, trying so hard to figure out what the Lord has in mind for me... as if I could dare read the mind of God.

It probably isn't the kind of answer that our minister was looking for, when he asked that thought-provoking question, but if I think about it: what an honour. If I spent the next thirteen years looking into His Face, getting to know Him, it could be the most adventurous, wonderful thirteen years of my life

Psalm 20v5:

Many, O LORD my God, are the wonders you have done. The things you planned for us no one can recount to you; were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare.

This article, and many others like it, can be found on the Above The Flame Blog page or Facebook page. Be Blessed. x

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

I just curled up on the couch for two hours and became a teenage girl again. 


As a young girl, I used to believe that somehow, by some irrational misfortune, I was born into the wrong era. Because I have grown up with the love of music deeply intertwined into my soul, and such a great part of this love was for the likes of the Righteous Brothers and the Beatles, surely I was supposed to be born into the 1950's and 60's? What went wrong? How on earth on did I land up being born in 1984?


Anyway, I've learned to embrace my era, the late 80's rock, the crazy 90's and now the ultra-cool 00's. But still... sometimes I still think about those golden years, at the birth of rock and roll. The greased back hair.. the puffy skirts... the dance halls alive with swing... Girls waiting to be asked to dance... Boys learning to be gentlemen... And I still wish, with a tiny part of me, that I'd been born thirty years earlier. 


Tonight I watched "Dirty Dancing" again. Admittedly, it's an 80's movie, but so well-set in the 60's era - it really made me smile. Now I'd never watched Dirty Dancing until I was around 23 years old, so you must know, it's still a novelty for me, even now after watching it a few times since then. You see, beforehand, even just the phrase "dirty dancing" might have made me blush, never mind the actual dancing itself. But from the first moment that I watched it, I fell in love with it, as have so many women before me. 

The idea that an innocent young lamb of a girl could fall so deeply in love with a troubled bad-boy, and with her wonder-filled, soulful eyes and unscathed ideals, pull him out of the pit of nothingness that has become his life. 
And likewise, the idea of this dangerously sexy man becoming obsessed with a naive, timid girl, to the point where he can do nothing but leave all his foolishness behind in order to dote on her, protect her, and teach her to dance. And to "let go".


You see, every girl wants to be Baby. And the thing that makes me love this movie so much is that I have always felt a lot like Baby did. As a teenager, I was always such a good girl. So well behaved, so well-meaning. So afraid of letting people down. I was geeky, nerdy, incredibly clumsy, awkward, hopeless at socializing, and I couldn't dance. I was nice, and people liked me. But I wasn't ever popular, and that's made me feel... forgettable. 


And that's what I've come to love so much about Baby, is that she changes from the girl that I've always felt like, into all the things a girl wants to be...


Brave.
The apple of someone's eye.
Someone worth fighting for.
Bold.
Sexy.
Self-assured.
Willing to stick up for others even at her own cost.
Loved intensely.
Desired. 
Someone who can dance without abandon.




Yes, every girl wants to be Baby. And it's got nothing to do with dancing with a ripped 1980's Patrick Swayze, although that wouldn't hurt. 


Just sayin. 


So anyways, I'm feeling all fuzzy inside, and thought I'd share two of my favourite scenes:


Of course the one is the legendary "Last Dance" of the movie, which is fun and heart-warming... and what a timeless song!


But even more so, I'm just crazy about the "Lover Boy" scene, which is simply adorable to watch. Over and over. And over. 


Anyways, wouldn't it be nice if we all had someone to be our Johnny or our Baby, someone who helps brings out the best in us? Someone who opens your eyes to all that you have to offer this world... and them. And that at the end of each day you could say... or sing...


I've had the time of my life...

Green Stuff and Grown-ups

  

I think I have officially grown up, as of today.

Strange things happen when you grow up. You stop colouring your hair outlandish colours, and you realize that goth punk is not suitable work attire. You stop mumbling and start speaking clearly.

Grown-up’s smile at people that they don’t even like, because that’s the civil thing to do.

Grown-up’s always announce their name when answering the phone, instead of just saying “Hello”, “Yo” or “’Sup”.

Grown-up’s cross their legs and sit up straight.

I’ve been showing signs of growing up for some time now. I’ve even shown symptoms of growing old.

But today, it finally happened. At the age of 27, I finally grew up.

You see, I have always had a desperate, deep-seated hatred of baby marrows. As a child, I even refused to learn the name of this repulsive vegetable, and only ever called it “green stuff”. It would literally make me gag at a dinner table, and my skin would crawl as I attempted to swallow it. In my mind, baby marrows were something that parents and grown-ups ate, for reasons unknown and unfathomable to me.

In fact, as a child I found it most fitting that my beloved, favourite book, Roald Dahl’s The Big Friendly Giant, had aptly captured a similarly despicable veggie in the form of the BFG’s most reviled food, the abhorrent “Snozzcumber”, which was shaped conspicuously like a marrow, and must have tasted much the same too. BFG had nothing else to eat, but Snozzcumbers, poor chap.

But today, I ate not only one, but a generous portion of mushy baby marrows, the loathsome “green stuff”… and enjoyed it. Savoured it. I think I even went “Mmmm!”.

A moment of silence for my childhood.

Yes.  I’m a grown-up now, for sure.