tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-149350732024-03-13T01:59:23.752-05:00Annie Peterson"for me, it is good to be near God..." ~Psalm 73Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.comBlogger597125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-22695903459624031652013-01-20T11:54:00.001-06:002013-01-21T00:29:40.203-06:00Not Forsaken<span style="color: #444444;">I hear my heart in raw emotion, ask in desperation a question that sounds almost brash, a question I know the answer to. But I just need to hear - hear with my ears, with my heart, the answer to it once again. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">"God," I say, forgetting for a minute what a privilege it is to even come this close, to address the King.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">"God, do you <i>know</i>? Do you know what it is to feel alone?"</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">And then I see a Man on a cross.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">Arms are wide open.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">The dirt around is a mess. I sit in it, next to a crude hole they carved to put wood in.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">Wood that holds my Savior.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">And I hear Him. His voice is an invitation. It is tender.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">Yes.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">"Yes."</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">He does. "I do."</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">"I felt what it is to be completely..."</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">ELI, ELI</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">My tears turn in an instant to tears of awe. From the same eyes, but flowing to a different dry dirt bed of my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">ELI, ELI, LAMA SABACHTHANI?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">"I did feel it. Once.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">So that you never, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">ever, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">have to experience what it is </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">to be truly alone."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">And I am the woman in the dirt of the street, the Rabbi's dusty feet before me, finally - finally - giving me a reason to raise my eyes. "Where are your accusers?" They have left, but I am not alone.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">And I am Jacob, pleading with everything in me, weeping with cries that the Angel not leave me bereft, not leave me alone without His touch. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">And I am Esther, surrounded by foreign people, without a clue in the world what will happen next, a faithful Friend pacing watchfully outside my window.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">So if you, like me, only know the next step, remind your heart not to fear, because He cares for you. The whole road is not your job to plot. It is so tempting to grumble that you are the only one - the only one walking this particular way. But it's not true - you do not walk alone. Obey Him, walk with Him, and trust Him. He knows the rest, and tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Remember? He told you not to worry.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Think of how many, the great cloud, who have gotten to the end and sung: "Jesus led me all the way."</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">I will too.</span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Xx4vME0d1w8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
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[Mahalia Jackson, singing 'You'll Never Walk Alone.' One of my Dad's favorites.]</div>
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Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-27454361594030819942012-01-19T23:31:00.003-06:002012-01-19T23:52:35.259-06:00Philos SophieI guess you might say I went back to college today.<br /><br />Does a night class and a weekend class at a local community college count? I suppose it does.<br /><br />On a fairly last minute whim (and as a result of my other class option getting canceled), I decided to take a Philosophy course that is required for graduation at the school where I plan on receiving my degree.<br /><br />Philosophy. The word itself means "love of wisdom." How awesome is that?<br /><br />I preached to my windshield the whole drive home. When I look at the class, I'm excited for myself. I take it as a personal challenge to search the Scriptures and learn from the Lord. When I look at my classmates, I'm burdened to pray. I can't imagine being presented <span style="font-style: italic;">this </span>material without a firm believe in the God of all truth.<br /><br />Back to "love of wisdom." I have to admit, I'm just a little giddy over thinking about how by that definition, Solomon, and Paul, and David in his pursuit of the love of the Lord were philosophers.<br /><br />My professor told us today that the point of studying philosophy was to find out what we think, to find out who we are.<br /><br />How very empty.<br /><br />I want to go the way the men of old - my <span style="font-style: italic;">heritage </span>in Christ - went. They had a revelation of truth, and loved that wisdom of God. They met a Man, in whom was hidden all the riches of wisdom and knowledge, and they loved <span style="font-style: italic;">Him. </span><br /><br />I am so very thankful tonight for that which <span style="font-weight: bold;">is. </span>With Him is no variation or shadow due to change. His truth is just that - <span style="font-weight: bold;">truth. </span>It will not change. Man's puny opinions don't affect it or change it. A class puts a label of "ethics" or "morals" on something and misses the reality of it:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;">The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul;<br />The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple;<br />The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes...<br />{Psalm 19}<br /></div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-7969762185076962612012-01-10T21:18:00.003-06:002012-01-10T21:39:21.313-06:00MeasuringTomorrow I wake up to a new decade.<br /><br />Most birthdays cause you to separate your life into years. The year I graduated high school, the year I went to college, the year I'll get married, and so on and so forth. But this time, this 2012, I can't get <span style="font-style: italic;">decade</span> off my mind.<br /><br />In a week I'm ducking back into school with a long-term goal that I expect to take up most of this next ten years. Perhaps this is what is making tomorrow feel so <span style="font-style: italic;">big. </span>Or maybe 2 is just better than 1.<br /><br />I feel as if I'm standing on a wide cliff, overlooking the largest expanse, wind whipping my hair back, with noise around and the quiet of God within. I couldn't tell you exactly what sits on that expanse, or which place I'll be one year...ten years from now.<br /><br />The Lord has massaged my heart into this dreaming. Gently, bit by bit, he's drawn me a little farther, and a little farther, like a sheep learning a new path. Six months ago, ten years sounded like my whole life. Today, I see Jesus in a carpenter shop, spending his "twenties" in a small town with rough hands.<br /><br />I imagine Him abiding. Working hard. Having the hope. Filled with joy, knowing that His Father works all things together for the good of the one He has called to His purpose.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Vingt. </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Viente. Venti. Twenty.<br /><br /></span>Good<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>morning, Twenties. May you be filled with the zeal of the Lord, the knowledge of His will, the love of God, and the patience of Christ.Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-49520558493223327052011-05-31T19:37:00.004-05:002011-05-31T22:18:18.565-05:00Consider the LiliesAlright, this is going to sound strange, so I'm going to come right out and say it.<br /><br />I realized yesterday morning that I have been envious of flowers.<br /><br />Goodness gracious me. You'll only read that sort of thing here.<br /><br />Yesterday was a holiday, in case you forgot to celebrate. I celebrated by sleeping in (woohoo), drinking Kona Vanilla Macadamia Nut coffee (woohoo), and sitting in a sunny kitchen with my Bible and my journal. I think I've explained this phenomenon before, but it's quite a special occasion when I simply sit with my journal and write down my thoughts. I have a need for speed (goodness gracious me - that's my new saying, can you tell? - if that isn't the truth) and the fact that my brain goes faster than my hand can scroll frustrates me. Thus the plight of a journal that contains about 10% of the material it's meant to.<br /><br />I sat, captured by Psalm 63.<br /><blockquote>My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,<br />And my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,<br />When I remember you upon my bed,<br />And meditate on you in the watches of the night;<br />For you have been my help,<br />And in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.<br />My soul clings to you;<br />Your right hand upholds me.</blockquote>"My soul will be satisfied." There it was, plain and simple. Satisfaction. In the midst of work, and swirl, and fatigue, and a special Get-Better diet, and friends moving away, and "What is my destiny?" questions: my soul will be satisfied. That was worth pulling out the journal.<br /><br />Then, when I pulled out the journal, I wrote more than that. I started jotting down the little things about my morning, things to notice, things to remember and be thankful for. Cream in my coffee, and the prospect of a quiet afternoon at a coffee shop, and a small victory over offense. Then, out of nowhere:<br /><blockquote>"Why do I not have the patience for gardening?" </blockquote>Gardening? Through the French doors to our back deck, I could see our neighbor-boy, who helps us plant and take care of the beauty we have little-to-no knowledge of what to do with. He was planting a row of garden, and I realized that I don't envy him at all. In fact, I have absolutely no idea how he enjoys doing that.<br /><br /><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://christinastyles.wordpress.com">{Christina </a><span style="font-style: italic;">is staring at her computer right now in disbelief. For the record, Christina, I love your roses.}</span><br /><br />What a horrid thing to say: "I dislike gardening." Literally, stand me next to a patch of ground and ask me about it, and I want nothing more than to go for a run, a sprint even, right then and there. See, I told you this was going to sound strange. But it was real, oh so real.<br /><br />How could a girl possibly find herself sitting in a sunny kitchen, looking out at petite impatiens, and overflowing pots of white gold, and the crown of them all: orange, trumpeting calla lilies, and think to herself that she is <span style="font-weight: bold;">envious of flowers</span>? <br /><br />Flowers do nothing. Maybe this is not news to you. They get to be beautiful, and adored, and enjoyed, and they put not even a miniscule amount of effort into it. Completely and totally, they are cared <span style="font-style: italic;">for</span>. Whether by your watering hand, or by the Lord pouring sweet drops of life on them, they are <span style="font-style: italic;">given </span>life and they display it beautifully.<br /><br />I felt the whisper: "Consider the lilies." The pages fell to Matthew 6, and the brims of my eyes had liquid company.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;">"And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?" {ESV - Matthew 6}<br /></span></blockquote>In the past week, I have been feeling the pull to sit and love, and be loved. One of the most frustrating parts of being sick is that I want to <span style="font-style: italic;">go </span>so very badly. We've discussed this, I have a need for speed. I want to move to Southeast Asia, and travel to Vermont, and drive down the street to play with my nephews, but some nights I just <span style="font-style: italic;">can't.</span> It is hard for me to sit, and believe that Jesus loves me, this I know, because the Bible tells me so. Not because I earned it. He just loves me. And if I spend this season recovering, and enjoying the love of the Lord, and loving Him back, that is successful.<br /><br />Back to the flowers and my kitchen: I hope I'm not the only one who seems to get revelation <span style="font-style: italic;">while </span>writing. Having had such experience, I did what any slightly-tech-connected 21st century young adult would do. I pulled up twitter. Out typed: "Consider the lilies, how He takes great care for them." Next? What comes next? Still sitting in my bright red chair, a bit of coffee left to get cold: "Consider the lilies of His heart, how He takes great care of them."<br /><br />Then I thought to myself: <span style="font-style: italic;">Wait a minute, is that even Biblical?</span><br /><br />Hallelujah for Tim Reimherr, because my next thought was a song: "I am the rose, I am the lily..." <span style="font-style: italic;">Well, it must be Biblical.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />Sure enough, "He grazes among the lilies." Me. You. We have a caretaker, an overseer, a provider.<br /><br />As sentimental as it sounds, you and I are "lilies" before the eyes of the Lord. Delicate creations that He takes personal responsibility for "clothing." Think the clothes of joy, the clothes of salvation, the clothes of strength...<br /><br />So if you're like me, struggling to simply <span style="font-style: italic;">live</span> the truth that the greatest of these is love...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">consider the lilies. </span>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-88443099810314074842011-05-18T18:41:00.002-05:002011-05-18T18:57:36.315-05:00Blessed is He whose Help is the Lord.What a journey this is. What a journey.<br /><br />Yesterday, I drove up and down my favorite Kansas City street, one lined with overhanging trees and not guarded by quite so fierce a speed limit. Suddenly in a different world, my thoughts wander to a conclusion: "Pain doesn't kill you. When you lean upon the Lord..."<br /><br /><a href="http://christinastyles.wordpress.com">Christina </a>and I text back and forth through our week, finding comfort that we're not the only one learning what it means to press on toward the goal, through underbrush of trials, and despite the pain, and past the bog of doubt. <span style="font-style: italic;">He who promised is faithful...</span><br /><br />And I sometimes sit in a room full of people and feel like I'm the only one, until the whisper of the Holy Spirit: "I am here. I am here, and I know."<br /><br />Then suddenly, there's a phone call and I hear that a dear friend's world has been ripped in two, and my pain seems so small, but I still believe it's true for the both of us: "Pain doesn't kill you. When you lean upon the Lord..."<br /><br />Sometimes there's a shame in admitting to being in pain. It's easy to believe the lie that you're a failure at victorious living, simply for the fighting to keep your eyes wide open, turned toward the Bright and Morning Star.<br /><br />But the fight...the fight does not make you a failure. The trial is a learning process, the trial cannot be wished away, the existence of trial is thoroughly Biblical.<br /><br />"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you face trials of various kinds."<br />"Though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials..."<br />"For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. <span style="font-weight: bold;">But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.</span>"<br /><br />It is not about the pain, but it is about the hope. The Hope who is alive. The Hope to whom I lift my eyes, my Help. Always a Rock, strong on my behalf. He nevers fails, He is ever strong.<br /><br />I am thankful. Thankful, for He is teaching me to lean upon Him. Lean hard, friends. Lean completely.Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-90633126714101735772011-04-30T16:49:00.005-05:002011-04-30T17:53:37.542-05:00Hope.***I was thinking this morning about how writing in my journal could possibly be the best way to chronicle what the Lord has taught me through this time; what if lovely blog-readers don't want to hear all about being sick? But alas, I was made for speed, and while I love keeping a journal - the look of pages filled with writing and memories of the sweet touch of the Lord - the fact that my hand can't loop letters as fast as my brain thinks of words constantly frustrates me. Typing lets my fingers fly. I suppose a balance between the two is not so bad, eh?***<br /><br />Imagine floating with ocean on every side. You know you want to get to the far-off island, the sandy shore, but you have no paddle, and you know you can't swim all that way. All you can see is water, all around you. The temptation is to succumb to hopelessness, to the fear that because you cannot pull yourself, you shall never arrive. Wind is beginning to blow the blanket around you into hills then mountains of rushing energy.<br /><br />And then, in a moment, you realize that you are not on the flimsy raft you thought was your seat. All of a sudden, you don't need a paddle. No, no. You're on a sturdy craft, with sureness in its path, leaving loneliness in its wake. There is a Man in the stern, with His arms outstretched, and you hear Him say, "Peace, be still..." and you know. You <span style="font-style: italic;">know. </span>This is not only your journey, it is His, and He is the great Navigator.<br /><br />I remember the moment, laying in my bed, and all of a sudden knowing I had a choice about what to believe. I am made to tell the ends of the earth about the glory of the Son of God, but right now it's hard to walk down the stairs - how will I get to the nations?<br /><br />In the midst of sickness, it is so tempting to believe that maybe this is what you are, this will define you. I have had so many conversations with people who have been through chronic illness; to be perfectly honest, that theme of "One day, I just couldn't get out of bed" is my worst fear, even though over the past week or two I have noticed a significant difference in the way I feel. The past few days, I've rolled out of bed, walked to the bathroom, and breathed a sigh of thankfulness that I was able to get up. When my days began being defined by how out of breath I get walking up the stairs, tunnel vision started to set in.<br /><br />Praise God, His light breaks through. In my heart, these five months have turned from a battle with illness to a battle for my calling, my destiny. Will I be like Abraham, who did not consider his body, which was good as dead (and my goodness, that's a worse situation than I'm in!) but held fast to the promise of God? Do I truly believe that it is God, the KING, who has declared me to be a healer in His power and a messenger? And if God is truly the one who has said it, is it not unchangeable, firm, an unwavering promise? It is impossible for God to lie. What measly little virus can get in the way of the everlasting word of God?<br /><br />As it turned out, this battle with unbelief began before I got sick, but the physical struggle brought the internal one into the light. I had begun to believe I was "just" a girl, "just" an employee, "just" a story. In the swirl of busyness, I forgot the goal I was working towards, the high calling being spoken from heaven. God has been lifting my eyes to see that I cannot forget, I cannot be satisfied with something less than His fullness.<br /><br />So I stand, and I know that I don't have to swim to my calling, but I have to believe. <span style="font-style: italic;">Belief. </span>Oh, my friends, unbelief is a liar, a thief. Do not let it steal from you - whatever it is whispering to you, do not put your trust in anything other than the faithfulness of God. If He has said you are Esther, or Abraham, or Joseph, then you are. No matter what the sickness, what the past, what the brokenness.<br /><br />No sickness can change the unchangeable word of God. No hardship can separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus, my Lord.Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-60984297488431766822011-04-20T22:51:00.005-05:002011-04-20T23:41:36.620-05:00CompanionshipI've mulled over, written and re-written in my head, and tried to make a verbal outline of this post to my sister. At this point I say: let's just jump in and see what happens.<br /><br />God is close.<br /><br />One of the most poignant struggles of being physically sick is that of loneliness, at least for me. The simple fact that you are the <span style="font-style: italic;">only </span>person experiencing what is going on in your body is hard enough. I mean, it's obvious, but think about it: you're the only one who knows how you feel. Other people have experienced the same virus and have a similar experience, but day in-day out, I am the only one who knows exactly how I feel.<br /><br />Actually, that's not true. Herein lies the beauty.<br /><br />There is no one closer to you than the Holy Spirit. I don't understand, how is it He can be in and through and around me? He fills the spaces in my heart I didn't even know were there and soaks the places I did. He knows my thoughts before I think them, my words before I speak them, and He knows. He <span style="font-style: italic;">knows</span>. He actually knows how I feel.<br /><br />There is this deep desire in us to walk <span style="font-style: italic;">with </span>someone. Through excitement, through adventures, through pain, through sickness...we want a companion. I'll be honest: now would be an awesome time for a knight in shining armor. I have friends where that is part of their story - in sickness, even specifically with Mono, the Lord used the experience to create an opening for someone to be strong on their behalf, or just sit with them in the long days of fatigue.<br /><br />There were days I wish I could be carried downstairs because it was hard to walk, but do you know what? I have noticed in this season that the fire of physical trial strips a sort of veil from the Scriptures you didn't even realize was there. All of a sudden you realize: they are very, very practical. One of the most beautiful parts of the Word is how there can be so many layers to one sentence, one passage. Try reading this verse practically:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Have you not known? Have you not heard?<br />The Lord is the everlasting God,<br />The Creator of the ends of the earth.<br />He does not faint or grow weary;<br />his understanding is unsearchable.<br />He <span style="font-style: italic;">gives power to the faint</span>,<br />and <span style="font-weight: bold;">to him who has no might he increases strength</span>.<br />Even youths shall faint and be weary,<br />and young men shall fall exhausted;<br />but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;<br />they shall mount up with wings like eagles;<br />they shall run and not be weary;<br />they shall walk and not faint.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">There may not have been physical hands lifting me or a tangible arm to lean on, but I tell you: there have been moments where the presence of the Lord physically making my body move has been so real that He may as well have been standing right there.<br /><br />No matter how close a friend, or a man, could get; no matter how much they care, how much they <span style="font-style: italic;">want </span>to know how I'm doing, they could not come this close. A husband could see me wake in the morning and kneel next to my bed begging for strength for that day, but he could not provide it.<br /><br />The Most Faithful, the Most High, the Creator of the ends of the earth and of the intricate cells of my body, He has given power to this faint one and increased strength when I literally have no might. I still look for the day when I will run and not be weary, or take a walk and not be faint, but that day is coming, for it is written.<br /><br />God desires to walk with us. Immanuel, God with us, that is who Jesus is.<br /><br />Come and walk with me, Jesus.<br /></div></div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-51632495379129205602011-04-19T22:18:00.004-05:002011-04-19T22:41:24.859-05:00The SchoolroomI never, ever expected to find myself in the classroom of illness.<br /><br />I've always been resilient. Always. It seems that maybe part of this whole journey has been to free me from an overabundance of self-confidence of the prideful sort. Maybe, I'm meant to sing a song like Paul's:<br /><blockquote>For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself...But that was <span style="font-style: italic;">to make us rely not on ourselves but on God</span> who raises the dead.<br /><br />But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the surpassing power belongs to God</span> and not to us.<br /></blockquote>This classroom has held many varied lessons.<br /><br />Like the arithmetic dividend that Me minus Great Works for God still equals His unfailing, unequivocal love.<br /><br />Like the vocabulary list, where the meaning of "So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day" is learned through daily, practical prayer.<br /><br />Like the history books, where you can read of Abraham and Paul and Esther and the myriads of others - all those great men and women of faith - who have done this before. Every one, they have all done this.<br /><br />And the most vibrant lesson? The one that happens moment by moment, whispered prayer by whispered prayer? That of the Teacher. That He is more than a teacher, that these are more than lessons on a page. That He is life to my bones, and companion in my sufferings. Or, more accurately, I am a companion in His, and He has already bought the victory.Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-26881947157699223372011-02-25T17:46:00.002-06:002011-02-25T18:16:43.480-06:00DreamingRiding.<br /><br /> Fields with Jesus. Forever.<br /><br />Red telephone booths in Trafalgar Square.<br /><br /> Une conversation entière en Français, dans la France du sud.<br /><br />Visit an underground church.<br /> <br /> Picking those babies up out of their Romanian cribs and holding them, just holding them.<br /><br />Tell those Sudanese babies that His Name is Jesus, and He loves them with everything He has.<br /><br /> See someone raised from the dead.<br /><br />Singing my newborn a song for the very first time.<br /><br /> Play Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu.<br /><br />Medical school. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Lord directs the steps of the godly.<br />He delights in every detail of their lives.<br />Psalm 37:23<br /></span></div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-72175812461639930152011-02-02T22:11:00.008-06:002011-02-03T15:45:18.925-06:00Fold that ThrowI was about to start this post by saying that it is 10:10pm, but then the clock turned to 10:11pm. 10:11 is a whole level of cool lower, but I suppose I'm telling you anyways, aren't I?<br /><br />This reminds me of the fact that my darling niece's clock is broken. BROKEN. It was with great heartbreak that we found this fact out today. Glorie is one of those good kids, the ones who stay in their bed until "seven zero zero." Today her quiet rest was under command to last until "three one five." When she didn't come down at 3:15, my sister went up to check on her and found a teary-eyed punkin' laying on her tummy, little pink alarm clock pulled to just in front of her face, staring. She looked up and moaned: "It's taking <span style="font-style: italic;">so <span style="font-weight: bold;">long</span>.</span>" The time read 12:33, and had read that same thing for what I assume was the longest quiet rest in the history of forever to that little brain. One Two Three Three! Oh, the injustice of it all.<br /><br />I didn't make my bed today, and when it was time to get back in it, I found that it just wouldn't do. I quickly assessed the [messy] situation and decided that if I pulled the covers up, then turned them down properly, I would feel<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>much more relaxed upon entry. As I tossed the excess throw aside and moved the computer, a thought came to me: I will never be able to do this to a man once I'm married.<br /><br />"Honey, can you get up? I need to make the bed."<br /><br />I just have this feeling he'd say no. Just plain no. And then I have to submit, because that's what wives do, right?<br /><br />Sigh. This is neither bad news nor good news, I'm just saying that I probably won't be able to do ridiculous things like make a bed at bedtime for no apparent reason at all, because...well, because it's ridiculous.<br /><br />But I did it anyways, and I'm much more comfortable, thank you very much.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">*****<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">On a health note, things are looking up! I've been waiting for a feeling, the one where it feels like spring deep on the inside, like things are coming alive after a long sleep, and it started yesterday. Actually, Mr. Falkner* prayed for me on Saturday and Sunday I woke up with a definite change in the way I felt. The overarching heavy feeling in my muscles had faded, so I suppose the healing process has been happening for a while! The Lord's touch is so sweet.<br /><br />I spent the first part of the week completely content sitting in bed, getting up very minimally - such as when my stomach was about to eat itself for need of a cheese stick, that sort of thing. It wasn't even that I felt so overwhelmingly tired or unable to move, but just that I had no need to move, which is strange for me. But yesterday I sat up, downstairs, out of my pajamas (for they needed a wash) and watched a dreamy white landscape form outside. The light pouring through the windows felt like just a sign of what was beginning to go on inside. Yesterday it felt like the Lord was tenderly knitting me back together.<br /><br />This morning I actually left the house (to go to my sister's house for there were warm cookies awaiting me), wearing jeans. I deserve a trophy. Nevermind I got tired putting on the jeans and laid back on the bed for half an hour waiting for a ride around the corner. It was a success all the same! Tomorrow, I may get visitors. And <a href="http://www.jacksonmania.com/">Jackson</a>'s chocolate chip cookies. Yay for me!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*edited to add: I have to name-drop, because everyone who knows Mr. Falkner read that, sat back, let out a deep sigh of joy and had this sort of wonderful calm feeling that happens when one meets a real-deal father in the Lord. :)</span><br /></div></div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-58307244407438130782011-02-01T09:00:00.002-06:002011-02-01T09:00:06.276-06:00Giving It AllI've been reading a novel by Randy Alcorn called <span style="font-style: italic;">Safely Home</span>. To say it's a page turner is an understatement - I think I read 200 pages in 36 hours. It's set mostly in China, with many of the main characters being part of the underground church there. <br /><br />Reading this book has moved my heart so much to pray for the persecuted church. <br /><blockquote>"Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body." ~Hebrews 13:3 (ESV)<br /></blockquote>I really think we are called to practically pray for the persecuted church, and to pray for them often.<br /><br />This morning Dave Sliker tweeted a question: If you could only take 6 chapters of the Bible with you to prison, which six would you take? This question caught my heart, my attention. It is wonderful to love, and by the grace of God, I <span style="font-style: italic;">love </span>these words of life. It took me a few minutes to figure out my answer, but as I picked my supposed six (Ephesians 1&2, 2 Corinthians 4&5, John 15&16), I began to agree with my sister's response to the question: "I just couldn't do it, I think I would die." It feels traumatizing to even think of only having such a small portion of the living Word of God, but I couldn't help but think of our brothers and sisters all across the world who have never had a Bible, who have ever only read a few chapters of it. Lord, break in.<br /><br />Amy wrote a book about a 3rd century martyr, <a href="http://saintperpetua.com/Groups/1000004961/Saint_Perpetua.aspx">Perpetua</a>, and every time I have read it (because, oh yes, I have read it several times :) I am forced to ask myself the question: "Am I ready for that? Am I ready to die for the sake of my King?" The answer is usually a peace, the reality that should the Lord ask that of me, He will be there to help my feet walk the road, help my heart sing in the process, there to welcome me home.<br /><br />The fact that we live in a free country in February of 2011 does not exempt us from preparing our hearts, or asking ourselves: where is my home, who is my King, and do I long for him above anything and everything else?Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-84800152670437705962011-01-31T13:40:00.004-06:002011-01-31T14:10:33.798-06:00CozyThe whole world is bracing for the storm of the century. I read an NPR...<br /><br /><blockquote>Hold it right there. I have a question, concerning the use of "a" and "an." I was a good little 3rd grader; I learned that "a" goes before a consonant and "an" goes before a vowel, but what about when you are writing letters, such an "NPR" or "LOL" or "AYKM" (AreYouKiddingMe was very present in our recent holiday celebrations, thanks to my ever-articulate sister-in-law Dorothy)? "NPR" <span style="font-style: italic;">sounds</span> like it begins with a vowel, so it seems like sacrilege to leave a naked "a" in front of it. Oh help. Sister-in-law Dorothy would probably advise me to consult <a href="http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/">Grammar Girl</a> on the subject. If reading Grammar Girl could make my vocabulary as effervescent as Dorothy's, I would read it all day long, but alas, I fear that it is a gift straight from heaven. I digress.</blockquote>So I was reading <a href="http://www.npr.org/2011/01/31/133375046/monster-storm-prediction-has-midwest-freaking-out?ft=1&f=1001&sc=tw&utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter">an article on NPR</a> (haha, outsmarted it!) about the fear of the storm, and called down to Amy from snug in my bed:<br /><br />"Amy, they are really saying we should get ready for the storm! Do we need to do anything?"<br /><br />A fascinating conversation followed about whether we have enough matches and why our water heater will work but our furnace won't, should our electricity go out. I doubt, but Amy's usually right, so I submit.<br /><br />Oh please, let our electricity be preserved.<br /><br />Amy suggested we pull a "Bear Grylls" by making a fire. I introduced her to <a href="http://www.beargrylls.com/">Man vs. Wild</a> yesterday via Netflix, and I think she's hooked.<br /><br />Speaking of Netflix, with two weeks of laying in bed and laying on the couch and laying in the chair in front of the fire looming before me, I signed up for the free trial of Netflix. One of the great triumphs in my search of the Netflix vaults was finding that Man vs. Wild is indeed available for viewing. WIN! Watch out, though. Any mention of a movie, and I go to look it up on Netflix. "The Way Back" which a random facebook friend referenced last night, is not able to be watched instantly. I have no idea what that movie's about, and I probably won't ever find out now.<br /><br />To sum up this post, I will say: there is one thing that a blizzard does not adversely affect, nay perhaps even enhances. That one thing is bedrest. Selah.Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-59730466269935764462011-01-26T11:40:00.002-06:002011-01-26T12:57:35.589-06:00ReturnsI thought about doing a return post full of bullet points and "What Has Happened Since My Last Blog," but that would be extremely unartsy and unfeeling, wouldn't you say? Onward and upward.<br /><br />It's no secret that <a href="http://christinastyles.wordpress.com">Christina </a>stays up later than I do, so her texts have been coming when my slumber restricts me from answering.<br /><blockquote>psst...you haven't blogged since September.</blockquote>Dear God, thank you for text messages. Christina and her late night adventures recently followed the call of the Lord to the East Coast. I miss her, but one of the things I have learned in my short life is that when the Lord says to go, it is <span style="font-style: italic;">always </span>worth it to follow. I am honestly so excited for her to experience the fruit and joy of obedience in this time. Go, Christina, go. :) :)<br /><br />In other news, I'm sorry to announce that I find myself fully qualified to advise you and what to do and what not to do if you should ever (and I hope that you don't) find yourself to have mononucleosis.<br /><br />DO take time off work. Today I am laying in bed, taking a full sick day for the first time since my diagnosis 6 weeks ago and I should have done this a long time ago. <br /><br />DO sleep. Obviously.<br /><br />If you're bored of just laying around, DO listen to a sermon. It's perfect, because you can lay there with your eyes closed, but you don't feel like you're wasting your time should you not be able to fall asleep. An added bonus is that you don't need your eyes. What I mean is, I wear glasses. I want to lie down, because my muscles are tired. Everyone knows that if you lie down with glasses on, the glasses smush into your face, and relaxation is a difficult thing to accomplish when one has something smushing into one's face. If I do something (i.e. listen to a sermon) that let's me lie down AND doesn't require my eyesight, it's a win.<br /><br />DO have hope. You won't always feel this way.Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-13873322299314289542010-09-26T12:00:00.001-05:002010-09-26T12:01:53.523-05:00Just Believe, Part 2.<div>My brother, in my opinion, is all kinds of awesome. An electrical engineer, a helicopter pilot, a bold evangelist, an amazing father, and a singer-songwriter. Some of my sweetest memories as a little girl are of how Sam would come home at holidays and the house would be filled with music, him and his guitar singing. I treated him like a jukebox sometimes, putting in my requests for songs. Topping the list? Garth Brooks' "Belleau Wood" and Sam's very own "Just 'Cause He said So." <br /><blockquote>And we have faith that He'll never forsake us, just 'cause He said so<br />And we have hope that He'll take us home, just 'cause He said so<br />And we know that our very souls are loved, just 'cause He said so<br />And we know that someday pain will be no more, just 'cause He said so<br />And I believe it's true, just 'cause He said so</blockquote>He said it, and that's enough for me. It's a child's faith that counts on a Father's honesty and on Daddy doing what child can't. I want to believe just because He said so.<br /><br />You and I, we are weak human beings. We can't do it. We can't do it, folks! We want to change the world, but we have no power. (But boy oh boy, do we think we do. Pride is nastier than strep throat. On a side note, Jesus heal me!) We may be weak, but those weak folks are the ones God uses. All the glory is His!</div><div><br /></div><div>So see...the way it works is: We have nothing. He wants to use us. We believe Him. He puts His power in us. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I see in that passage from Mark is a declaration from Peter to Jesus: "I really believe You. I've decided: You are who You say You are, and I <i>really</i> believe You." Then, <i>then</i>, Jesus had an open door to start telling Peter and the rest of the motley crew the reality of what redemption would look like. Notice that word "plainly." I want to hear from God that way! I want the invitation of belief in my heart that says: "Tell me anything, Jesus...I want to know and I believe what You say."</div><div><br /></div><div>See, Peter still had some struggles [like me]. Jesus had to set him straight and boil it down: "STOP thinking like man. Believe the things of God." Then, <i>then</i>, came the answer to Peter's (and our) question of how to give everything for Jesus. Friends, I want to give everything. I want to believe, I want to trust, I want to live totally and completely for Jesus, I want to hold nothing back. I want to spend everything. "Take up your cross and follow me" is the handbook for that style of living, and I want the heart of belief that welcomes the teaching of the Lord on this. I want the seal of approval from the Lord that says "I see Your heart and that You really want me, and I am going to teach You how to give it all."</div><div><br /></div><div>Belief, trust, faith...as faith is cultivated in your heart, God has a larger and larger blank canvas to work with. Seeing as my desire it be painted by the Great Artist's hand, I want to offer as big a canvas to Him as I can. There needs to be lots of room for His signature in that corner, because it's all about Him.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to walk with Him, like all those folks in Hebrews 11. There are moments, though, where I tell the Lord honestly: "I don't know how! I know I need to trust You more, but I don't know<b>how!" </b>Well, faith without works is dead, so I am asking the Lord for specifics of actions I can take to walk in faith and belief and trust. I don't have it, and I need more from the Lord. He gives, though. Oh, He gives generously.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to receive. He will walk with me and talk with me like He did with the disciples, and many, many great men and women of faith have walked before me. I pray that I will see the fruit of faith in my life, and if you ask, you will see it in yours. Oh that the glory of the Lord would shine from our lives.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let me leave you with this quote from Oswald Chambers in his writings on the Sermon on the Mount:</div><div></div><blockquote><div>Faith is our personal confidence in a Being whose character we know, but whose ways we cannot trace by common sense. By the reasonings of faith is meant the practical outworking in our lives of implicit, determined confidence in God. Common sense is mathematical; faith is not mathematical, faith works on illogical lines. Jesus Christ places the strongest emphasis on faith and especially on the faith that has been tried. To have faith tests us for all we are worth; we have to stand in the commonsense universe in the midst of things that conflict with our faith, and place our confidence in the God whose character is revealed in Jesus Christ...most of us are pagans in a crisis; we think and act like pagans. Only one out of a hundred is daring enough to bank his or her faith in the character of God. </div><div><br /></div><div>The golden rule for understanding in spiritual matters is not intellect, but obedience.</div></blockquote>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-11946159671801852492010-09-25T17:53:00.004-05:002010-09-25T21:29:46.104-05:00Just Believe, Part 1<i>Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to Him as righteousness.</i><div><br /></div><div>After going to bed quite late last night with battle wounds from a late night "Rolfball" game, I woke up at 5:40 to an invitation from the Lord, saying He wanted to tell me something. To be perfectly honest, I was tired. I laid there awake for a few minutes, until a specific Scripture dropped into my heart. The first time I pulled it out and read over it, I didn't get. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div>Mark 8:29-36</div><div>And he asked them, "<i>But who do you say that I am?</i>"</div><div> Peter answered him, "You are the Christ." And he strictly charged them to tell no one about him.</div><div>And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things...And he said this <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">plainly</span>. </div><div>And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and seeing his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! <b>For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.</b>"</div><div> And he called to him the crowd with his disciples and said to them, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;">"If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me...For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?"</span></span></div></blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"></span></span></div><div>Over the course of the day, this passage has steeped a bit in my heart like a good cup of tea, and I think I know a bit of what the Lord wanted to show.</div><div><br /></div><div>A while ago I was praying for a friend of mine and the Lord showed a picture of multiple doors standing in front of her, with keys to unlock them. I asked the Lord what she needed to do to be able to unlock the doors and His answer surprised me that night and has surprised me almost every time I've thought of it since: <i>Just believe Me. That's enough.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>There is part of my heart that is still absolutely convinced that good Christians are equatable to chemical engineers. There must be an incredibly complex formula to pleasing God and doing His work, and to understand it I am obviously going to need a Master's Degree in being a Christian. "Just believe" sometimes just sounds too simplistic.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enter Keith Green.</div><div><br /></div><div>About mid-week last week, I was sitting in a undeniably funky funk. I had a feeling my own sin was the source of it, but was having trouble jumping over the "I'm a failure" hurdle into King David's "Man, I messed up but God sure loves me!" field.</div><div><br /></div><div>My sister had to go into work for a few minutes, and after asking the Lord what I was supposed to do, I went with her for the sake of the piano. My sister's job is my only piano source at this point; there is a lovely grand that is open for me to play any time I am there. We walked in and I ran straight for the piano room. With little-to-no plan of what I was going to play, my eye caught the "Keith Green Ministry Years" music books and I dived for them. Over the next few minutes, I played that piano louder than I have in a long time and sang my heart out. </div><div><br /></div><div>Create in me a clean heart, O God...Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation...I wanna die and let you give Your life to me so I might live...I want to take Your Word and shine it all around...When Your eyes are on this child, Your grace abounds to me...</div><div><br /></div><div>The Holy Spirit did something, right there at that piano. I just sat and my heart felt as if it would burst from thankfulness for lives like Keith Green's and King David's. I take great encouragement from the fact that men who walked in power doing the Lord's calling on their life went through five million plus moments of "is it just me, or am I a complete and total failure?" and "I can't do this at all...it's got to be all You, God."</div><div><br /></div><div>If you haven't heard Keith's music I highly recommend jumping onto Grooveshark.com and listening. (<a href="http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/search/songs/?query=keith%20green%20ministry%20years">mash down HERE to go straight there</a>). I read No Compromise a few weeks ago and it absolutely gripped me. I think I got through the whole thing in 2 or 3 days; I just could not shake the feeling that what God did in Keith's life is significant to understanding what He wants to do in mine. Maybe it was something about the fact that He was just some passionate kid who played the piano...that sounds familiar. :) </div><div><br /></div><div>Before I read the book, I only listened to Keith's happy, upbeat, "Go Preach the Gospel!" songs. His heart-wrenchingly honest songs didn't catch my ear. Until, that is, I found myself in a desperate place where my pride had gotten cracked enough to say "Oh boy, this is going to have to be all God." Read the book, folks. I see Keith as someone who walked radically and boldly as who God made him to be and affected thousands upon millions of people because he obeyed, but he reminds me so much of David of the Psalms, because this radical man had struggles and had to repent and messed up and saw his own weakness.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today, with the passage from Mark, these sorts of thoughts began to feel full-circle. (Bear with me, I know this is getting long! All this blogging's been pent up for months. ;)</div><div><br /></div><div>Keith Green and King David, they were messed up.</div><div><br /></div><div>BUT! They changed the world.</div><div><br /></div><div>They believed God.</div><div><br /></div><div>Belief. It's enough.</div><div><br /></div><div>Part 2 tomorrow on how that Mark passage has anything to do with all of this and how setting your heart to believe is like sending heaven an invitation to invade your life.</div><div></div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-67025596631166539282010-08-25T20:01:00.003-05:002010-08-25T20:28:51.454-05:00Lub DubLaura and I grew up together. I wasn't allowed to have Barbies, but I was allowed to play with them, and Laura's house was where I did just that. Hours upon hours in her backyard pretending to be princesses; probably days worth of time hiding in her basement pretending we were fugitives. I remember Polly Pocket (the <i>real</i> kind...not that rubber doll they sell now), and Nintendo 64 (her dad would rent Mario Kart...always a fave). Music school together, bagels with cream cheese together (her mom made the best snacks). Hey, once we even made our own salad dressing!<div><br /></div><div>This is all off topic. But sweet! Laura, I love you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Laura, if you were to sit her down and interrogate her, could tell you easily how much we played doctor as little girls. "Lots" or "Too much" or "OHMYWORD Anna was obsessed" would probably be her answer. Let's just call Laura my first patient.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I have real patients.</div><div><br /></div><div>No, I'm not a doctor. No, I'm not a nurse. Lemme 'splain. No, lemme sum up.</div><div><br /></div><div>The reason I moved back to Kansas City was to get my Nurse Assistant certification and work as a Medical Assistant to see if I want to keep going in a medical career.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Lord has been good to me. (Oh, SO good!) I got the job at the practice I was hoping for, and today was my third day of training.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am in love. I love wearing a stethoscope around my neck. I love learning fancy words for things. Tomorrow, I bet I will love pulling medicine into syringes (INJECTION CLASS...duh duh duh). I love (<i>love <b>love LOVE) </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">listening to a baby's heart. I cannot even describe the preciousness of this tiny one, her chest smaller than my hand, rising and falling more quickly than I ever breathe. It was so absolutely and completely surreal to put a stethoscope in my ears, the other end on her chest, and listen to that piece of the Lord's artwork going strong inside.</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></i></div><div>When I moved to Tacoma, I was astounded at the way the Lord answered my prayers. I had long dreamed of living there, but had somewhat forgotten and stopped asking Jesus for it. Even when I had forgotten, He hadn't, and, quite literally, my dreams came true. That is how this feels. I gave up on my medical dreams, thought they would never fit with the Lord's calling on my life. Instead, here I am...walking in His will and doing what my heart dreamed of as a little girl.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jesus knows us, and He doesn't forget. Thank you, Lord, for You have overwhelmed me with kindness yet again.</div><div><br /></div><div>And thank you, Laura, for being my guinea pig. :)</div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-61775450895296270172010-07-21T00:05:00.003-05:002010-07-21T00:50:59.170-05:00The Small ThingsMy phone has a trick that, apparently, it thinks is quite funny. Sometimes I'll wake up two hours past when I was expecting to, only to find that trusty LG decided to turn off during the night. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he just took a mini vacation to Africa. I don't know...whatever it is, it makes me sleep in, which aggravates every bit of control in me.<div><br /></div><div>Oh, did I say control? Oops.</div><div><br /></div><div>This seemingly small and insignificant situation presses the huge red button marked "ANXIETY" for me. It's obviously something small, but sometimes I hardly sleep the night before something big happens. I mean, if I oversleep, the world might end! Or internally combust! Or externally explode! Who knows what could happen?!</div><div><br /></div><div>This morning I woke up to a phone turned off. At first, the disappointment. Then, an interesting prompting: "You need to trust Me that I'm going to make your alarm go off in the morning."</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, if I were to walk up to some random person on the street and said, "Excuse me, God just told me He wants you to trust Him to make your alarm go off in the morning," they would look at me like I was crazy and tell me to go home. But as we have already established, this line means something to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I understand I am supposed to trust the Lord for the job that I need. I understand I am supposed to trust Him to provide for the car I need. And the friends, and the money, and the husband, and the children, and so on and so forth. I'm not saying this trusting process is easy, but it's easy to at least answer "Well, I'm going to trust the Lord" when someone asks "How is that [huge, massive, life-changing thing] going to happen?" </div><div><br /></div><div>This morning, it became about the small things. After the alarm fail, it was the invite to that wedding. Then it was getting to Olathe to get my tuberculosis test read. Then it was how to get to my job tonight on time. And so on and so forth.</div><div><br /></div><div>The small things. That verse in Philippians about not being anxious? It says to not be anxious about <i>anything.</i> So I found myself in the car, the rain pouring down, the clock ticking, and I threw my hands in the air (then re-grabbed the steering wheel quick) and said "Okay, I <i>trust </i>You!"</div><div><br /></div><div>I am absolutely and totally convinced that Jesus cares about the small things. We take His command to not worry about what we're going to eat and what we're going to wear as protection against starvation and homelessness, but when I read that verse I'm struck by the fact that food and clothes are our most basic needs. We put on clothes every day, we eat food every day. Jesus is intricately involved in our every day.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to spend my days putting everything into His hands. Every single little thing. It's not okay to separate my "big trust issues" from my "small life circumstances." It's all His. I want to refuse anxiety any small crevice in my heart. If I leave it the small places, how am I going to tell it to get out of the big places?</div><div><br /></div><div>There is no room for anxiety in Jesus' heart, and there is no room for it in my days. The little things, they are His too. I'm talking practicals here, folks. That you will have time to eat lunch between your meetings. That if the printer isn't working, it's all going to be okay anyways. That if you have to pay for that TB test again, so what? It's the Lord's money anyways.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have known for a while that Jesus is taking me through another trust intensive course. Honestly, I have been stumped. How do I trust? What does it look like? I know the words, but my heart wants to know the movements! Oh, HELP! I think this morning may have been a part of the key - refuse anxiety any place. Give worry no thought, no space. My inheritance is peace - about my time, about my money, about my phone calls, about my texts, about my calendar, about the cake I want to bake. PEACE. If there's not peace, something is wrong.</div><div><blockquote>Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. </blockquote><blockquote>-2 Thessalonians 3:16</blockquote></div><div>Let me close with some quotes from <i>Practicing the Presence of God</i> by Brother Lawrence. Walking with Jesus is an every day, every moment relationship. Don't put it in a box, let Him be part of everything.</div><div></div><blockquote><div>Brother Lawrence pointed out that he spoke very simply and frankly to God. He asked for help with the things as he needed it, and his experience had been that God never failed to respond.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the beginning, Brother Lawrence declared that a little effort was needed to form the habit of continuously conversing with God, telling Him everything that was happening. But after a little careful practice, God's love refreshed him, and it all became quite easy.</div></blockquote><div></div><div>Nothing is too small.</div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-24611013148109797452010-07-16T12:49:00.007-05:002010-07-16T13:01:13.095-05:00BFSThis week, I became an employed human being. It really is a wonderful thing, you know, this working thing. I get to spend my days with a family I have long hailed as one of my favorites - the <a href="http://www.randybohlender.com">Bohlender</a> tribe. <div><br /></div><div>One of the things that I have come away with, after mornings of dancing with little girls and lunchtimes of sweeping, cleaning, feeding, and cleaning again is this tidbit of information:<div><br /></div><div>One day, when I have seven to twelve children, I will have to make extremely large batches of macaroni and cheese if I ever hope to have any myself. There has been a running theme through lunchtimes the past couple days, and it has been that of the food I was about to put on a plate for myself instead getting eaten by another child showing up in the kitchen. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm happy that said child then has food satisfying their ravenous hunger, but at some point this girl's gotta eat.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's something we who come from large families call "BFS." That's Big Family Syndrome, to those unacquainted with the acronym. It involves eating everything in sight very quickly, because chances are it will disappear into one of the mouths of the many other house dwellers in less than...oh look, it's gone.</div><div><br /></div><div>Moral of the story: eat quick. And make lots of food. Nom. </div></div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-49147896005735056522010-07-15T22:39:00.002-05:002010-07-15T23:01:13.139-05:00Being SeenA window, looking out on a sunny Paris day. A massive bed with a fluffy white comforter and 15 fluffy white pillows. Me, melting into said pillows.<div><br /></div><div>I think I'm really tired and should just go upstairs to my own bed which will probably feel more wonderful than any Paris comforter.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This morning, I poured the coffee, sliced the strawberries, lit the candles, and cuddled under the blanket with the book of John.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I melted into tears at this: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote>Then Jesus said to him, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk." At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked...The man who was healed had no idea who it was, for Jesus had slipped away into the crowd that was there. Later Jesus found him at the temple and said to him, "See, you are well again..." John 5:8-9, 13-14</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: left;">By 'melted into tears,' I mean that I was reading the story, got to the end of "Jesus found him at the temple," felt wet hot drops on my cheek and thought: "I'm crying! I'm crying? OH, JESUS!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I hardly know how, I didn't even have time to think about the verse. It just hit my heart. He's not a miracle-machine. He really and truly cares. Jesus knew this man, He went and found him. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>He went and found him.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have no idea how I could ever write anything that would make those words more beautiful than they are.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He came and found me. He picked me up, brushed me off. He cares.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This afternoon, when I laid on the floor crying for reasons I hardly knew except that I miss Carly and I was home alone and I need that job and I'm tired and the dishes are dirty and and and, He was there. He came and found me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thank you for finding me, Jesus. "Here's my cup, fill it up, fill it up."</div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-35765668179009322382010-07-06T23:23:00.004-05:002010-07-06T23:51:48.217-05:0062.It's in the hazy moment, between finishing a dream and fully opening my eyes to the morning sunshine.<br /><br />Sometimes I think it's the Holy Spirit's favorite moment to speak. It's as if He has a minute all to Himself, before my mind is concerned with anything else. No schedules to fuel my brain, no mirrors to catch my eye. Only Him, and His welcome into a new day.<br /><br />It's one of my favorite times to hear Him speak. Something about the way it reminds me that His eye is on me, His thoughts are towards me, without me doing anything to gain them. Psalm 139 in action, I suppose:<br /><blockquote>How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!<br />How vast is the sum of them!<br />If I would count them, they are more than the sand.<br />I awake, and I am still with you. [ESV]</blockquote>Sometimes it's a song, sometimes it's just a line. Whatever it is He says, it sets the tone for the day, clues me in to what His theme for the hour is. This morning it wasn't there right away when I woke up, so I asked: "Jesus, what's the line for today?"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You are wanted.<br /><br /></span>Wanted<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">.</span></span></span></span> What a fantastic theme for today.<br /><br />I pulled myself out of bed, made my way to the coffee pot, then settled into a chair in the bright dining room. My Bible fell easily open to the page my heart has been singing for the past days, Isaiah 61. I've been given a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, I'm made to be a planting of the Lord that He might display His beauty. Under the heading of Isaiah 62, a few familiar lines are underlined in pink:<br /><blockquote>but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her,<br />and your land Married; [ESV]</blockquote>Wanted.<br /><br />In a moment of brutal honesty -- I have a day in my mind when I assume I will know that I know that I am wanted. It involves a white dress, a handsome groom, you get the picture. There is a part of me that long has mistakenly believed that when a man desires me, I will know for sure that I am desirable. I will be a chosen Bride, a won heart, and I will know.<br /><br />This morning I realized that the theme of that desire is correct, I am made to be married. My value is very clearly spoken to by the pursue of a Man, but it is not the earthly man I so easily think of. Neither is the jury still out. I need not wait to know. I can know today, because of those words pulled off the page by a pink highlighter.<br /><br />I am already called Married. I am already spoken for. I have already been chased, I have already been won. You and I, we are worth something. We are wanted. The Heavenly Man, He has called us His own. He wants us. The cross proves it.<br /><br />It is a sweet thing to be wanted and won.Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-24673489683214525342010-07-02T00:00:00.000-05:002010-07-01T22:29:07.328-05:00SecurityI think I was about twelve when I got sidelined by a kidney infection. I remember that it was a terribly hot July day, which I spent out in the sun at a church yard sale. I remember laying on my couch at home in excruciating pain, with no idea what was wrong except that there were knives in my back and I had lost my lunch. I'm sure my parents prayed for me, and I somehow drifted off to sleep, utterly exhausted by pain. <div><br /></div><div>When I came to, I was resting between my parents in the front seat of my Grandma's old white Buick, about to pull away from our house for the hospital. The pain was totally gone, and I felt sleepily at peace. Thinking back over this last night, I realized: my daddy must have carried me out to the car.</div><div><br /></div><div>You know, when I was small, I fell asleep in the car all the time. We would get home, I would wake up, but I would keep my eyes closed and act limp, just so my dad would have to carry me inside.</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought last night about safety and reassurance. I don't know if you knew this, but I moved my life across the country again this week. Kansas City is home once more, and while moving home to family is a wonderful dynamic, it is still change. Transition. A moment where you look down and try to figure out what exactly you are standing on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Honestly, the picture that came to my mind when I thought of the whisper of safety from the Lord was that of an emergency room. There's me, lying on the table, doctors and nurses and tubes and needles and beeps and more nurses flying around me. Near my head, though, bent low and close to my ear is my heavenly Father. From His presence, from His reassurance, comes absolute peace. All it takes is His constant voice: "I'm here, you're going to be fine." The safety of a Father. A friend of mine recently landed in the hospital and even though she is grown and on her own, what did her dad do? Rush to Tacoma, of course. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm carried, I'm covered, I'm watched out for. I know that no matter what streets I drive down, His hand is there. No matter what adventure He takes me on, He's coming too. Behold, what manner of love is this, that I am a child of God.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm safe. </div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-8878674358000293942010-07-01T01:13:00.002-05:002010-07-01T01:25:10.834-05:00Knowing<div>You know what?</div><div><br /></div><div>God loves me something fierce.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I worry about a situation, how something will pan out. I get frustrated with myself, afraid that I can't make something happen. All it takes is a moment, a gentle reminder from the Holy Spirit. He's in charge. He's holding on, and His grip is tight. He's going to do what He wants to do in me.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's like a bullet-proof jacket, His love. I've never worn one, but I imagine it feels somewhat like a life jacket. I love zipping a life jacket around me, the feeling of being held in, held together, protected. If I were to crash into the water, it's not coming off. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's a point where you have to quit simply dodging fear and instead turn around, stare it in the face and say "You know what? You're ridiculous. My God is <i>strong."</i> The strongest love, the most powerful force you will ever encounter, is on your side. I wish, I so badly wish there were words to describe the fire of the love of the Creator of the ends of the earth. I want to write and write and write, just to try to find a way to say it.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's a fire all around me, holding me in, pressing me together. He targeted me, chose me to surround. How is the burning jealousy of the Bridegroom spoken in the tender whisper of the Holy Spirit? </div><div><br /></div><div>He is big, and His love is strong.</div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-35693636137724038332010-06-10T17:42:00.004-05:002010-06-10T17:48:06.956-05:00To Brighten Your Day<div><div>My sister wrote this wondrous song about her Glorie. I figured I would let Glorie be a cute part of your day, because she makes everything better. You're welcome. :)<br /></div></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxFAnTAtvPcqtL5I0wEQqa_E1_im8IQhNZHwRwupj6Z_t5kaQN7EE844ekjRSxRgD55Wwc-r0WHmxE' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-58215916409255129762010-06-09T00:37:00.003-05:002010-06-09T00:51:03.146-05:00Simple VictoryA short post today. I was inspired by <a href="http://bpaduganan.wordpress.com/2010/05/07/to-the-girl-in-the-mirror/">Brianna </a>to share something with you. Actually, it's a dare.<br /><br />Ladies, if you are anything like me, you have fought tooth and nail with self-hatred. The thoughts, the come so easily, don't they? Comparing the size of you with the size of the girl you just passed. Always sure dropping 5 pounds would be useful. My story is for another time, but I've skirted the sidelines of disordered eating and this battle is more familiar than I want it to be.<br /><br />One could write and write and write about the trap of self-hatred and the truth that vanquishes it, but for now I have one thing.<br /><br />Your words are powerful. Seriously. "The tongue has the power of life and death." -Proverbs 18:21<br /><br />So I challenge you to speak life.<br /><br />What if, for the next month, you looked in the mirror every morning and said (<span style="font-style: italic;">out loud</span>): "I am beautiful." It can be that simple, or you could add in an "I'm perfect just the way I am" or a "Dang, God, You did <span style="font-style: italic;">good</span> here!" if you want to, but whatever you do, say it <span style="font-style: italic;">out loud.</span><br /><br />Your tongue has power, use it.Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14935073.post-4915547814832439992010-06-06T19:15:00.004-05:002010-06-06T19:33:43.848-05:00Me, Crammed between two car seats.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs511.ash1/30145_393507786708_550101708_4222487_2589135_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 453px; height: 604px;" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs511.ash1/30145_393507786708_550101708_4222487_2589135_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I have just arrived in Kansas City. Be still my beating heart. It's like my world world just stopped at a wonderfully blissful spot. Kansas City is home in so many ways, and I love being here.<div><br /></div><div>Getting here involved an 8 hour road trip in which:</div><div><ul><li>I developed what I call the "blanket tent" over the high chair and baby went to sleep.</li><li>We got redirected onto the back roads of Iowa, as the state patrol <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">completely shut down </span>the interstate, and funneled hundreds of cars onto random highways which no one knows how to maneuver. I'm glad we made it.</li><li>I remembered that thing I talked about yesterday, the thing I shouldn't be qualified to do. SKIING! Who in the world would take me to the top of the mountain and decide it was okay to leave me there to slide down on two little pieces of plastic?! Unqualified, I tell you.</li><li>Soon after we crossed the Missouri state line, we saw a man walking down the highway. That's strange. What's even stranger is that he had his pet pig with him. </li><li>I ate lots of Trader Joe's White Cheddar Corn Puffs. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">J'adore.</span></li></ul><div>The good news is, I've forever secured my position as necessary-child-wrangler on all my sister's forthcoming road trips.</div></div>Annie Petersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000717361737062594noreply@blogger.com0