tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40730812425611272572024-02-20T21:47:38.216-08:00Rebekah HopesRebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-55659677703858261932013-07-20T19:11:00.002-07:002013-07-20T19:11:20.379-07:00I have moved.This blog has moved over to<a href="http://rebekahhopes.wordpress.com/"> wordpress.</a> And it started there with a bang. <div>
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If you are following me here, please feel free to follow me there! All of my posts and comments from this site have migrated. </div>
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<a href="http://www.rebekahhopes.wordpress.com/">www.RebekahHopes.wordpress.com</a></div>
Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-56712617518818012972013-05-10T11:47:00.000-07:002013-05-10T14:21:01.300-07:00I Still Belong to YouI can't make the words come the way I want to. I've tried. I want them to be pretty. I want to be poetic. I want to tell my story in such a way that it unfolds beautifully. But the story is beautiful anyway - no matter how I tell it - <i>because He is redeeming it</i>. Everything the Lord puts His hands on becomes beautiful. So I am just going to tell you like I would if I were sitting at the end of your couch alternately clutching a pillow and talking with my hands.<br />
<br />
When<a href="http://www.rebekahhopes.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-shepherds-presence.html"> I left the flock</a> I lost my identity. I didn't know who I was or what I believed. I could quote all the "right" doctrines. And tell you precisely how scripture "should" be interpreted - with no small amount of cynicism. The only solid thing I had to stand on was the cross. I could not deny it's transforming power in my life and I clung to it.<br />
<br />
For several months I was paralyzed with fear to approach any spiritual topic, to read the bible, to do anything that required independent thinking. I believed a lie that I would become the worst version of myself by leaving the flock. I worried that by walking away from certain relationships, I was walking away from Jesus. I worried that I would self-fulfill the prophecy of rebellion, heresy, and immaturity. I was slow to realize that none of those fears materialized.<br />
<br />
At 24 years old I am starting over. The simplest truths completely wreck me. A few refrains of "Jesus Loves Me" and I'm a puddle of tears. It's baffling to me. I've been following Christ since I was a small child - you would think I'd know these things by now. For the first time in my life I'm experiencing humility that isn't forced or full of shame.<br />
<br />
I'm getting my identity back. Several weeks ago my pastor at the church I'm attending abandoned his sermon to follow the Lord's prompting and invited us to wrestle with God as we felt led. I began to pray, not knowing where to begin. Gently the Lord put his finger on the lies that I have believed about my identity. He unraveled the fear. And told me in no uncertain terms that I belong to Him. I belong to Him alone. This is truth that no man can touch or take away from me. I can stop fighting, stop making excuses and simply believe Him.<br />
<br />
Psalm 73 has been an anchor for me in many ways the last few months.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CcCjiLvZO8PapUnXDg1U3zZrCW-B7ZpmpvVqF84ZbucCQ-2BX4BlPcuZDAJRx3baa-wbN3XXsjdbzGa9kUkLBJfYE7RGoWkBc3gLehtu5FZUIX0CyQieohhtpwjrG5GN9TkN_-oTctaa/s1600/Psalm73.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CcCjiLvZO8PapUnXDg1U3zZrCW-B7ZpmpvVqF84ZbucCQ-2BX4BlPcuZDAJRx3baa-wbN3XXsjdbzGa9kUkLBJfYE7RGoWkBc3gLehtu5FZUIX0CyQieohhtpwjrG5GN9TkN_-oTctaa/s320/Psalm73.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Psalm 73:21-26 NLT</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I still desire Him more than anything on earth. He is the strength of my heart -<i>He is mine forever</i>. I cling to this truth, this promise. No one will take it away.Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-5898415409756905232013-04-02T22:02:00.002-07:002013-04-02T22:08:25.324-07:00The Shepherd's PresenceI love to lie on my porch swing and sway in a wide arc. I relish feeling my stomach drop a little with each deep back -- and forth. But tonight the crickets are humming to me. And my swing is rocking slowly, slightly. The barest hint of a breeze kisses my skin. I feel warm and comforted from the very depths.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>"He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs into his arms; he will carry them in his bosom..." <i>Isaiah 40:11</i></b></blockquote>
<i><br /></i>
I am learning the nature of the true Shepherd. Which is humbling, because in almost 20 years of following Him, I thought I knew Him well. The truth I'm discovering is that I'd been independent from Him, foolishly following and helplessly dependent on the flock rather than the Shepherd Himself.<br />
<br />
<b>So I separated from the flock. </b><br />
<br />
I had no choice. I couldn't any longer distinguish His voice from the bleating around me and the cries from my own mouth. I was overwhelmed and terrified by my inability to hear the clear voice of the Shepherd. Each time I thought I heard Him, I questioned the flock, "Did you hear that too?" and compared it against their cries. I only obeyed if they went with me.<br />
<br />
In my panic to escape I tripped and stumbled on every lie in my path, believing I would never again hear the voice of the <i>true Shepherd </i>while distanced from the flock. Some of the lies were spoken over me as I ran, and some were offered up by the enemy of my soul who I'd disregarded for so long I was taking credit for his deceptions as my iniquity. I believed the Shepherd would not pursue me. I was labeled rebellious, a heretic, discordant, immature, and emotional. <i>What would the Shepherd want with me? </i><br />
<br />
I grew up hearing the story of the Good Shepherd and never imagined myself becoming the wounded stray. I believed I was alone and felt so lost. I still craved His voice, but I didn't trust myself to hear it clearly. I suppose that's why He let me out into the wilderness before He came after me.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">And He most certainly came after me</i>.<br />
<br />
In spite of the lies I believed, the Good Shepherd sought me out in a place I never would have believed He still inhabited. And there He sang over me, rejoicing over me and gathered me to Himself. His banner over me is <i>love</i> that I'd wholly forgotten existed.<br />
<br />
I am only just learning to trust that I know His voice. This moment on my porch swing encompasses His embrace. If I listen just a bit more I will soon hear the heartbeat of the Shepherd. I am invited to tuck my head against His chest. His breath is in the breezes. The rhythms of His voice are echoed in the leaves, crickets and frogs. Distant thunder rumbles His strength.<br />
<br />
<b>Here the Shepherd is present. I am the lamb gathered in His arms and He carries me in His bosom. </b><br />
<br />
<b><i>Have you ever experienced a moment where you've felt His presence so poignantly? Share it with me.</i></b>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-33022715979483363672013-03-18T23:53:00.001-07:002013-03-19T00:17:25.561-07:00Awakening - And coming out of hiding<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Something inside is awakening. Like a dream I once had and forgot. And it's something I'm scared of and something I don't want to stop."<br />
~<i>Sara Groves, Awakening</i></blockquote>
I am coming to realize that prior to this winter I'd spent the better part of a year numb in my emotions. Perhaps more than that. Somewhere along the way I picked up this idea that my anger is unacceptable in every circumstance - even though it was caused by injustice. There was nothing I could do about that injustice so I had no choice but to ignore the anger and hope it would dissipate over time. I believe that my sadness equated unforgiveness and told myself that I must "get over it" in a hurry before anyone noticed or had much time to comment on it.<br />
<br />
I don't think I was really afraid of anyone noticing my change in mood - I know I wear my emotions on my sleeve so some observance couldn't be avoided. It was the demand for an explanation that I feared. Because every reason for my change in countenance sounded like a lame excuse -- after all, He bore <i>all</i> of our iniquities and by His stripes you are healed, so <i>why all this drama</i>? I'm incapable of effectively hiding almost any emotion - so I developed a new tactic: Get over it. Which amounted to this formula of shedding a few tears, praying a few desperate prayers, then "medicating" with busyness or entertainment. This is how I lived - for years. In fear of the consequences of my emotions. It shows if you look over my journals the past few years. You don't have to look far. Two years is encompassed on about twenty pages.<br />
<br />
It shouldn't surprise me that I was told I'm too emotional. When I did have an emotional outburst it was <i>an eruption</i> because I'd spent so much energy trying to contain it all. Those outbursts were quickly deemed inappropriate and quelled back into submission. Now my emotions are beginning to thaw -- slowly, unlike the tornadoes I've previously experienced. I'm afraid it's going to be the global-warming of my life that will change climates, erode boundaries and leave me permanently altered. I'm terrified, and I don't know how to prepare for it. I'm giving myself permission to feel, but it quickly gets out of my control. I fight, and sometimes lose against the temptation to revert back to my state of non-feeling.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"If we lose our ability to feel physical pain, we'd be in a very, very bad way. Pain is an important part of surviving and thriving in this world. It's from God. Emotions are the same way. They aren't untrustworthy products of the fall anymore than any other part of our bodies. They are gifts, guard rails, barometers, etc., that help us survive and thrive in a world that is both full of wonderful things and many terrors too... I love Jeremiah, Elijah, Nehemiah and maybe especially Habakkuk for how they feel so much, so honestly and how God doesn't go do the "churchy" thing of telling them what not to feel, but meets them each, in different ways."<br />
<i>I wish I had a link or even a full name for this quote but it's by someone who goes by DanaKX - she commented on <a href="http://www.elizabethesther.com/2010/07/we-will-tell-you-how-to-feel.html">this post</a> by Elizabeth Esther. </i></blockquote>
I know this is true. I need to remember it. I have a friend who is a microbiologist in the leprosy (Hansen's disease) field. Through her I know well the effects of nerve damage on a body. Yet, I have a hard time relating this truth to my emotions. It seems indulgent and self-centered to care for your emotions in the same way you would a physical wound. But I know that if I don't <i>deal</i> with these things now it will stunt my growth from here forward. Without healing, I will stay in this endless cycle of emotional dysfunction that will effect every relationship. And that is not what I want. I want to thrive in every area and one day be able to minister from this place. The desire to honor God with my life has not gone away.<br />
<br />
In order to heal I must acknowledge that there is pain. It's taking me a while but I'm finally learning to do that. I'm trying not to look so much like a deer in the headlights when someone asks me, "What's wrong?" But that question induces momentary panic. I feel like I've been caught someplace I shouldn't be - my countenance does not speak of victory in Christ Jesus. I have yet to be able to produce anything other than an awkward, evasive response that leaves the inquirer more unsatisfied than before. But even that is progress for me - I'm no longer denying, lying, and covering with a smile.<br />
<br />
So here's to recovery through uncovering. He's always been faithful to me.Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-77401052163721608252013-02-11T23:27:00.002-08:002013-02-11T23:42:26.628-08:00Finding the Fault Line<i>fault</i>, <b>Fault</b>, <span style="font-size: large;">Fault</span>, <span style="font-size: x-large;">FAULT</span><br />
The pulse of my pondering<br />
Make the world spin, pumping<br />
Where does the fault lie?<br />
Where is the fault line?<br />
Can the uneven ground<br />
Be repaired or found<br />
Before it makes my world shake, tilt<br />
Break, spill<br />
<br />
Clenched fists can't stop a wave<br />
Dig my heels in, learn to <i>stay</i><br />
Baptized by tsunami<br />
Wash over my body<br />
You are my earthquake<br />
Witness of my heartache<br />
Cast me on your will<br />
Remake, refill<br />
<br />
<i>I can count on one hand the number of poems I've written that weren't forced out of me in high school English classes. Rhyme seems awkward to me. But awkward is fitting in this case. </i>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-43281422091465278822013-01-04T14:16:00.000-08:002013-01-04T14:16:27.719-08:00Build an Altar Here<br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Can I whisper
something in your ear? It’s not really a
secret but it feels like one of those holy things that can only be spoken of in
hushed tones inside quiet sanctuaries. Can this be our sanctuary today? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The invitation
was for those who need healing. But my wounds aren’t physical. The pain isn’t
localized to any place you can lay your hands on. It’s deep. Hidden. Several
minutes passed before I convinced myself the invitation was also meant for me.
I stepped into the aisle telling myself, “Just get up there. He will do the
rest.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Then a woman
whose face I didn’t know was standing in front of me, asking how she could
pray. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“My heart. Pray
for my heart,” was all I could think to say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Physical or
emotional?” She asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Emotional…” and
I stammered, trying to say more but coming up empty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">So she started
to pray as you would expect someone to pray for a stranger with unspoken
requests. But then she paused. And my spirit began groaning with utterings too
deep for words – quietly, in the pattern I am used to when I don’t know how to
pray. She listened, and took my head in her hands. Like a mother, her forehead
touched mine, crooning sounds of sympathy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">And then she began to pray <i>with understanding</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">{Here is where I
want to whisper} <i>Do you catch my meaning</i>?
She prayed <i>specifically</i> – as though
I’d poured out my heart with her for a lifetime. This stranger prayed like she
knew me, reading my heart open. She <i>heard</i>
and <i>understood</i> my groanings. My
spirit laid me bare, though I did not know it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">In the arms of
this woman, I broke. In awe that my Heavenly Father sees me. He hears my heart
and whispers my secrets to strangers when I am incapable. The wonder of holy
moments such as these steals my breath. When I feel most forgotten and lost –
or even when I don’t feel at all – He invades my consciousness, unmistakably
informing me that I am seen, heard, understood, and <i>extravagantly loved</i>. He provides guidance and instruction, lighting
my path and confirming the direction I am to go. He assures me that I am right
where I <b><i>belong</i></b> in His hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Let there be no mistake. <i>He still works miracles. <o:p></o:p></i></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><i><br /></i></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">In the Old Testament
whenever a miracle took place or God did something significant He instructed
His people to build an altar in that place so that future generations would
pass by the monument and recall the works of a mighty God. Today, this is my
altar. A miracle happened here. Will you join me in my worship? </span>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-76913066234745045732012-10-30T16:07:00.001-07:002012-10-30T16:11:38.084-07:00Hide and Seek Him<br />
If you grew up in a two parent home you are likely familiar with the following scenario: A child is wailing loudly in protest to whichever parent happens to be administering discipline.<br />
<br />
<i>"I want my daaaaaaddyyyyyyyy!"</i><br />
<br />
You would often find me so, curled into the back of my closet, sitting on piles of stuffed animals and discarded prom dresses. I would cry for whichever parent had not crossed me - hoping they would hear from the living room on the other side of the wall.<br />
<br />
Then there was a day that I opened my mouth to cry for my mother or father and found that I could not call for either. I knew that neither would offer the comfort I sought. My tears became suddenly silent and I whispered,<br />
<br />
<b> "I want my Jesus." </b><br />
<br />
I sought comfort from the only constant in my life. I didn't need to make a sound in order to be heard.<br />
<br />
Today I can recapture my tiny closet sanctuary with perfect clarity. The pattern of my best Sunday dresses, walling me in, are burned into memory. The uneven plaster carelessly applied to walls never meant to be examined so closely. And the words, written in green crayon, "I want my Jesus."<br />
<br />
That closet became my refuge. It was there my heart broke for the first time over friendships broken and lost. In that place I felt fully the first effects of loneliness and rejection. Pressed against three walls, I cried, confident each tear was captured by a Savior who loves me. I never cried for anyone else after that first prayer was whispered. My soul found its' resting place.<br />
<br />
<b>The place I used to hide taught me to hide myself in Him.</b><br />
<br />
I have been hiding ever since. Not in a closet. These days my soul finds more refuge in the open air, admiring the handiwork of my Heavenly Father. I have sought Him from dried-up drainage canals, and in pine-carpeted woods, in clearings of wildflower fields, graveyards, and winding country roads.<br />
<br />
I'm tempted to wrap this up with a nice little bow. I could do a concordance search on the word "hide" and find the deeper meaning, paired with a few quotes from the Psalms to solidify my position. But that wouldn't be real. The fact is that right now my soul is seeking sanctuary again. I wish so much to return to my closet. I have very little that is familiar to me right now. I am vulnerable. I am broken. I am being humbled. And all I know to do is cry, "<i>I want my Jesus.</i>"<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-50552978052140636602012-10-12T13:11:00.000-07:002012-10-12T13:11:00.632-07:00True Reflection<i>Note to self.</i><div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
Write about why you hide. </div>
<div>
And don't worry about how long it is. </div>
<div>
Don't try to make it pretty. </div>
<div>
Every story does not have to contain an overwhelming moral. </div>
<div>
Otherwise you only have a collection of personal platitudes. </div>
<div>
Be free in your writing. </div>
<div>
Be honest. </div>
<div>
Don't look for the solution all the time. </div>
<div>
Let the hard questions hang for just a little while.</div>
<div>
Share when you don't want to. </div>
<div>
Read through your <i>own</i> eyes instead of criticizing through someone else's. </div>
<div>
Hit "publish" without proofing.</div>
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Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-42617720296823326192012-08-16T20:42:00.001-07:002012-10-19T13:03:47.461-07:00It's Only Up to YouI'm not sure that anyone would describe me as a particularly ambitious person. I have a death-fear of disappointment so I tend to keep my goals and expectations low. I am exceptionally good at meeting the status-quo. Sure, I have a few broad life goals - fall in love, get married, have a few babies - but those are things I don't have much control over. I can't necessarily <i>make</i> them happen in a set time frame.<br />
<br />
Last week after she rattled off a short-list of things she wants to do in the next couple of years, Jordan asked me, "<b>Bekah, is there anything that <i>you</i> want to do?</b>" I had to answer honestly. <b>I've never thought about it</b>. So I started to. And once I put some things on paper I realized that the things I want to do are not far out of my reach. The only thing standing in my way is <i>me</i>.<br />
<br />
This song by Bronze Radio Return came on while I was doing my dreaming. I love these lyrics.<br />
<br />
<i>...The crowd stands still</i><br />
<i>No one's moving they'd just rather stand and wait until</i><br />
<i>Someone starts to move</i><br />
<i>Someone starts to move</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Shake, Shake, Shake</i><br />
<i>It's all what you make of it, take what you will</i><br />
<i>You know, know, know your only mistake</i><br />
<i>Is if you stand still</i><br />
<i>So Shake, Shake, Shake,</i><br />
<i>It's all what you make of it, break it until </i><br />
<i>You know, know, know your only mistake </i><br />
<i>Is if you stand still</i><br />
<i>It's only up to you</i><br />
<i>It's only up to you</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Am I the only one who relates to that? It feels like I've been waiting for someone else to make the first move <i>with my life</i>! I'm a capable leader. But I prefer to follow. Forging my way ahead, <i>alone</i> scares the bejeezies out of me. I want to be brave. I want to change. So I will not stand still.<br />
<i><br /></i>
I wrote out a list of 30 things I want to do before I'm 30 years old. Some of them are things I've always wanted to do, and some of them made the list simply because I'm scared to do them.<i> </i>I know that following those conquered fears will be dozens of mini-epiphanies. But I want to share my list here so I'll have some accountable - if only to myself - for actually <i>doing it</i>.<br />
<ol>
<li>Sing in public</li>
<li>Own a pair of Tevas</li>
<li>Live debt-free</li>
<li>Take a photography or Photoshop class</li>
<li>Visit Washington DC and see the Presidential Monuments and Holocaust Museum</li>
<li>Go sledding (<i>in SNOW!</i>)</li>
<li>Complete every page of at least one journal</li>
<li>Read the Bible cover to cover</li>
<li>Explore a cave</li>
<li>Be thoroughly kissed on the stroke of a New Year</li>
<li><strike>Order an actual drink at an actual bar</strike></li>
<li>Put my feet into the Pacific Ocean</li>
<li>Go backpacking up a <i>real</i> mountain</li>
<li>Join (and go to) a gym</li>
<li><strike>Learn to keep plants alive</strike></li>
<li>Save $3,000 (<i>we're working on a "3" theme here, so why not?</i>)</li>
<li>Have short hair</li>
<li>Visit Europe (<i>I couldn't possibly pinpoint one place. This'll hafta do.</i>)</li>
<li>Run a 5k</li>
<li>Run a 10k</li>
<li>Have my writing published</li>
<li>Photograph a wedding</li>
<li>Learn how to use fondant</li>
<li><strike>Live alone</strike></li>
<li>Teach a bible study</li>
<li>See a counselor</li>
<li>Define my sense of style (<i>Rock it.</i>)</li>
<li>Make a swing in the middle of the woods</li>
<li>Learn to dance <i>(lessons, anyone?</i>)</li>
<li>Buy an original piece of art that I adore</li>
</ol>
<b>What about you? Is there anything holding you back from dreaming? Do you have a list of goals or dreams?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>P.S. I will be coming back to this post periodically to cross off the items I've completed!</b><br />
<i><br /></i>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-38084745732824094042012-06-26T08:32:00.001-07:002012-06-26T17:10:51.581-07:00The Ready Soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This post is a part of the <a href="http://www.prodigalmagazine.com/travel-stories/">Travel Stories</a> series at <a href="http://www.prodigalmagazine.com/">Prodigal Magazine</a>. </div>
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I was ready. Four hundred forty-four miles of winding, commercialism-free
road lay ahead of us. My tiny car was packed for camping along the Natchez
Trace Parkway, spanning the distance between Natchez, Mississippi and
Nashville, Tennessee. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Two hours into the trip, with rain pouring in sheets, my
sister and I realized we forgot something vital – <i>prayer</i>. So we stopped and prayed that God’s will be done on this
trip. That we would be His hands and feet to all we encountered. For
protection. And almost as an afterthought – that He roll away the rain clouds.
Within minutes I was able to open the sunroof, marveling at the love of my
Heavenly Father. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgRV97xMesMuiosBKJby3y29ODcYkjLyOZiae2ICn6_LXHZS91SnnppgnRHA0NOeJ2rHVJoWK7YEHKmU6sziM8IS6Lrol7SssH6-RBjTrjH-YDUO0jSSGBJFRoP6zWlo3Cj-CU9-wzFWL/s1600/NatchezTraceinSpring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgRV97xMesMuiosBKJby3y29ODcYkjLyOZiae2ICn6_LXHZS91SnnppgnRHA0NOeJ2rHVJoWK7YEHKmU6sziM8IS6Lrol7SssH6-RBjTrjH-YDUO0jSSGBJFRoP6zWlo3Cj-CU9-wzFWL/s400/NatchezTraceinSpring.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Natchez Trace Parkway after the rain</td></tr>
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We drove this way for 170 miles until heavy grey clouds began
to drop hail onto the road ahead. It took me several seconds to identify this
form of precipitation since I’d rarely seen it as a child. There was no mistake
when the first piece hit the windshield, sounding like a gunshot. We began to
pray, out loud. I wasn’t sure how the glass roof panel of my car would hold up.
The hail
picked up in speed and size as we continued to drive, scanning the horizon for
any kind of shelter. We drove for 2 full miles this way. At the rate we were
going and the rate of hailstones falling, we should’ve been hit countless
times. Yet, I can count on one hand the number of hailstones that hit my vehicle
during that stretch. Five - five pieces of ice. In my eyes we were experiencing
a miracle. I don’t know how the Lord protected us, I only know He did. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally, we reached a crossroads and followed a truck into a
tiny town. The hail was reaching golf-ball size. Immediately we were aware of a
deafening screech that took me only seconds to identify where I’d heard the
sound before. <i>Twister</i>. The tornado
siren turned its din on us, making my heart rate increase two fold. We needed
shelter and we needed it <i>fast</i>. My
sister pulled up to the French Camp, Mississippi post office where we dashed
inside the small cinder block building. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The postal clerk invited us into the back of the building and
showed us where she’d cleared space underneath a steel table if we needed to
hunker down there. A radio blared gospel music, frequently interrupted with
foreboding weather updates. We made nervous small-talk with the Postal Clerk
while we tried to reach family and friends to let them know where we were. When
the hail finally gave way to rain, we all trooped next door to the French Camp
Visitors Center to wait out the rest of the storm. People of all ages milled
about. Judging from the “LSU” logos emblazoned across our sweatshirts everyone
immediately surmised where we were from and that we’d been traveling the
Natchez Trace. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We were introduced to a couple of young ladies with “French
Camp Academy” nametags who began filling us in on the day’s events. Tekoa – who
is named after the hometown of the Hebrew prophet Amos – informed us that we’d
landed in a town with a population of 350 that was home to a Christian boarding
school for young people from broken homes. She and Summer told us about the
work they did with the Academy and the teenage girls they mentored. I felt a
tug on my heart, sensing they were of kindred spirit so I said, “I’m going to go
out on a limb here and assume you girls love Jesus a whole lot. Otherwise, I
don’t think you’d be doing this out here. Am I right?” Smiles spread across
their faces. They affirmed my suspicions and began openly sharing their passion
for being examples of purity to the young girls in their lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Tears pricked my eyes. <i>They
were speaking our language</i>. After several minutes exchanging testimonies
and stories I was overcome by the providence of being stranded in <i>this town</i> with <i>these people</i>. It was apparent with every passing moment that God
planted us there for a purpose. <o:p></o:p></div>
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By the early afternoon the storms passed and sun was peeking
out. Summer and Tekoa began making plans to go back to work, preparing for a
conference that evening. It was apparent from their discussion they were
shorthanded. My sister and I looked at each other. <i>We knew. </i>This was why we were here. Our campsite in Northeast
Mississippi could wait. I nervously offered our services to the girls, telling
them we were available to help in whatever necessary capacity – making beds,
cleaning toilets, mopping floors, or whatever else they needed. Sure, we
sounded crazy. But I also knew with every beat of my heart that <b><i>this
is where God wanted us</i></b>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So we went to work! We shared stories while we made beds and
marveled at the hand of God so obvious in each of our lives. That night Tekoa
invited us back to her apartment for dinner where we shared heartbreaks and
healing. My sister and I were both convicted and encouraged. We felt Jesus
Christ in the flesh when they offered us hot showers and put us up for the
night. The next morning we were speechless as we drove past swaths of tornado damaged trees within a mile of where we'd taken shelter. God truly protected us.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhvW6Qw4ucqs4oDP8xVC0P93W6tLtg0nO5cb43eeXOTQwOa-dUDNJygpxLGG15072VExZGvhJ6WCF2I0tWrZyBmPNCsi-1fo1toOSUyAQArvTQpSlkGNO2hlWRfv18lVXbr2cL5_C_iUM/s1600/FrenchCampatSunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhvW6Qw4ucqs4oDP8xVC0P93W6tLtg0nO5cb43eeXOTQwOa-dUDNJygpxLGG15072VExZGvhJ6WCF2I0tWrZyBmPNCsi-1fo1toOSUyAQArvTQpSlkGNO2hlWRfv18lVXbr2cL5_C_iUM/s400/FrenchCampatSunrise.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">French Camp, MS at Sunrise</td></tr>
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Prior to the trip I’d been meditating on this quote by Oswald
Chambers, <b>“<i>Be ready for the sudden surprise visits of
God. </i></b><i style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">A ready person never needs to get
ready. Think of the time we waste trying to get ready when God has called! The burning bush is a symbol of everything that surrounds<b> the ready
soul, </b></i><b>it is ablaze with the presence of God.<i>” </i></b>For one
day my soul was ready – ready for God to interrupt with anything. He filled that day with miracles and divine appointments. Remembering
this trip always makes me wonder; if the Lord can do so much with a ready soul surrendered
for one day, what can he do with a ready soul surrendered to Him for a
lifetime?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-30403808629157527812012-06-11T01:27:00.000-07:002012-06-11T12:18:54.692-07:00In the Hands of the PotterI've recently encountered circumstances that have made me come face to face with things that I don't like in myself. Perhaps it's being in a new house church surrounded by new friends that has made me strikingly aware of the impressions I am making. I've seen these things in myself before. And I always assumed that if I am displeased with myself, how much more is my Heavenly Father displeased?<br />
<br />
I think I would probably prefer that the Lord just make me into a little clone of Jesus. It's hard to imagine the Creator of the universe formed and fashioned me - uniquely - to worship Him. I find myself wanting to love Him like others do. I have the privilege of walking with some amazing women of God and I often think to myself, "If only I could be like <i>her</i>. I want the sweet, encouraging spirit of Hollie. I want the hospitality of Deb. I want the steadfastness of Lauren." There are so many beautiful traits in the women around me that <i>I wish I had</i>. I'm constantly comparing myself to others and seeing ways that I just don't measure up.<br />
<br />
I was recently praying about this part of who I am that I don't particularly like. It's a part of my personality where it seems most of my problems, struggles and temptations stem from. Once again, I found myself pleading with the Lord, "<i>Please, take this away! I don't want to be this way anymore. I don't want to be this person! I don't like who I am.</i>" In that moment, God spoke to my heart saying,<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<b>Who are you to say to me, 'Why have you made me like this?' I made you this way for a reason. I am not going to take it away. <i>I am going to redeem you</i>.</b>" </blockquote>
For years my friends and family have reminded me that this part of who I am is both a weakness <i>and a strength</i>. However, it is only a strength when submitted to the Lord. Those reminders have consistently gone in one ear and out the other. That's not what I wanted to hear. I wanted someone to help me pray it away. Because all I could see were the glaring weaknesses this brought to my life. All I saw was imperfection and I just wanted Him to <i>cut it out</i>. That's the easy way, right? Just start over? For years now I have wrestled with God over this; never understanding why it wouldn't just <i>go away</i> and wondering how I was failing in my pleading prayers. I was <i>unyielding</i> in my desire to see it gone.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7r8suest7rBgSzyD5IO1iv_OvMhs84CWNZo8NSOwlWmyyZbycTVaiIflv-LUm7k2bLiedJQ5w7bn7L9yRePnedGgmf2qU9UA6rVB53iZjChO5ZMKSK4d3EKiSwxEtabzEw96w7V_OObm/s1600/Lumpofclay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7r8suest7rBgSzyD5IO1iv_OvMhs84CWNZo8NSOwlWmyyZbycTVaiIflv-LUm7k2bLiedJQ5w7bn7L9yRePnedGgmf2qU9UA6rVB53iZjChO5ZMKSK4d3EKiSwxEtabzEw96w7V_OObm/s320/Lumpofclay.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pressure of the Potters hand</td></tr>
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As soon as the Lord spoke to my heart I saw myself as the stubborn lump of clay {<a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Isa&c=29&v=16&t=ESV#16">of Isaiah 29:16</a>}, refusing to yield to the hand of the Potter and insisting, "I don't like how you have made me." Regardless of my objection this is a part of who I am; a part of <i>who He wants me to be</i>. God reminded me of this passage in Psalm 130:5-7<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"> "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits and in His word I do hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning. O Israel, hope in the Lord, for with the Lord there is <i>mercy</i> and with Him is <b>abundant redemption</b>." </span></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhUlJ7yjI2-ShPafySf13KI9JHa8YwxiZAjtf5BWZDsV_55vnfmmUCzu_QHVY1CYk18PjQ8AEP0GOhryrlgM_lA3jbkEuvvkVARlL_MU6x6Kb7Wcmp786WxKJiJc-nKYG6rrOdekavNjC/s1600/lcuttheclay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhUlJ7yjI2-ShPafySf13KI9JHa8YwxiZAjtf5BWZDsV_55vnfmmUCzu_QHVY1CYk18PjQ8AEP0GOhryrlgM_lA3jbkEuvvkVARlL_MU6x6Kb7Wcmp786WxKJiJc-nKYG6rrOdekavNjC/s320/lcuttheclay.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What does He see?</td></tr>
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He says that there is abundant redemption - even for the areas of my life that I would've thought were un-redeemable. But the ugliness I see cannot be transformed until I yield to His will and <i>accept</i> this part of who I am. I have to stop fighting Him before transformation can take place. I have wasted so much time just wishing I could be someone else or have some other personality when all I need to do is simply yield myself to Him.<br />
<br />
This concept is particularly powerful to me because my earthly father is a Potter. I've grown up alongside the potters wheel and I know that the transformation from a hard, stubborn lump of clay to a beautiful and useful vessel is not an easy one. Stubborn clay is beaten, thrown, drenched in water, sliced and sometimes re-worked several times before it becomes something useful. I know this transformation process won't be easy. But I know I can trust the Potter. Ultimately He will get more glory when I allow Him to redeem beauty from these ashes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTp_ysDkWqdXs4peOQsDiLDCtkDo9ZSlXNfEJJbyKVLR53NiVF-KgLzCm6RYC6P3zKny48yh3LsZPfGwwQ3JN2gziqsaChmzp_j0z5_cc35G6yF6r50UPdPcPWdvqGi_CSjTZEryEPpPsw/s1600/lvessel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTp_ysDkWqdXs4peOQsDiLDCtkDo9ZSlXNfEJJbyKVLR53NiVF-KgLzCm6RYC6P3zKny48yh3LsZPfGwwQ3JN2gziqsaChmzp_j0z5_cc35G6yF6r50UPdPcPWdvqGi_CSjTZEryEPpPsw/s400/lvessel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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So I choose to hope in the Lord. <b>With Him is abundant redemption</b>.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Are there things you don't like about yourself? Do you believe they can be redeemed?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Pottery photographs are of my Poppie and were taken by me March 2011.</i></span>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-77438257195909470172012-03-15T11:42:00.002-07:002012-03-15T13:40:50.685-07:00Bond of Sisters, Bond of ChristThose who know me only through my blog or other social media outlets know me as a singular person. Rebekah Hope. But to those who run in the circles of friends and family I am one part of a duet known as "Bekah and Jordan" or more commonly "The Ward Girls". One part is rarely without the other. My sister and I share something special. Actually, we share most everything - an apartment, a car, clothing, and countless other things. We're rarely apart. We don't think twice about it. It's our "normal". Neither realizes how<i> abnormal</i> or unique this relationship is until we get the funny looks and the exclamations of "It's so great you and your sister can do that! My siblings and I could never..."<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>But it wasn't always this way. In my early teens I made <i>a lot</i> of the 18 months and 2 grade levels between Jordan and I. I was determined that we would never be on the same playing field in any arena, convinced I was superior as the older, "wiser" sister. As teenagers we fought <i>constantly</i>. I love sharing this story because watching peoples faces as Jordan and I tandem in the telling is the best part. When they see our relationship now they can hardly believe there was a time we didn't get along - <i>at all</i>. Aside from my own salvation, this is the greatest miracle God has done in my life.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I will never forget the night. At fifteen years old, after a particularly bad argument with Jordan, I was praying on the floor of my bedroom. I couldn't reconcile my desire to please the Lord with the way I acted towards my sister. I knew it wasn't right. But she was my <i>little</i> sister. What did she know? What gave her the right to correct me in anything? God stopped that thought with these words, "<b>That girl in the next room? <i>You need her. </i>She sees the absolute worst parts of you and loves you anyway. I gave her to you for a reason.</b>" That night repentance took place. Many cleansing tears were shed. We <i>agreed</i> in prayer for the first time as sisters and we've <b>never been the same since</b>. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I never would've anticipated how much I would grow to need my sister over the years. In the beginning learning to swallow my pride and allow my sister to address my attitude was <i>rough</i>. But now there are few who can speak into my life with the impact that she does. Jordan is one of the best listeners I know, but when she speaks - <i>pay attention</i>. It's not hard to do because she gets right to the point! (among our friends this is known as "the chin quiver" - when Jordan gets passionate she hits right on the mark!) I love that about her. She speaks the truth to me whether I want to hear it or not. My stubborn heart <i>needs that</i>. <br />
<br />
People have told us that we bicker like an old married couple. We laugh, because we know it's true. But it's taught us how to resolve conflicts quickly. There is so much we have learned from each other and continue to learn. After so many years doing <i>everything</i> together it took a bit to adjust to the fact that we have completely separate interests. She can spend hours doing crafts of all kinds (knitting, quilting, sewing, etc. I swear the girl is a 70 year old woman in a 21 year olds body) leaving me completely bored. While I spend hours writing and she's probably read only about a half dozen of my blog posts.<br />
<br />
One of the things that I'm most grateful for is that Jordan has taught me how to laugh at myself. I take things way too seriously and make a dramatic big deal out of just about everything. She makes me see things through her eyes and realize how ridiculous I'm being. Jordan reminds me of this verse from Proverbs 31, "<b>She is clothed with strength and dignity and<i> laughs without fear of the future.</i></b>" So often she sees the bigger picture, therefore finding it easier to laugh in the present. There are few things I enjoy more than laughing with my sister.<br />
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</div>I have only to look at Jordan to be reminded of the redemptive power of God. There is no way that we would have a relationship apart from Him. I am in awe of the miracle that took place in our relationship 8 years ago and consider it an honor to be a part of this duo. What a privilege to be associated with such a God-fearing, talented, and beautiful young woman!<br />
<br />
<b><i>Jordan, I am so proud of the woman you are growing into. Each talent amazes me with your handmade dresses, beautiful quilts, woven jewelry and perfect pie crusts. Every day I see your heart transformed to look more and more like Jesus. You have the heart of a servant in every way. Thank you for working so tirelessly to serve me. You never complain, though you have every right to. I am so grateful for the example you set for me. </i>I thank God for you, my precious sister. <i>I love you</i>. </b></div>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-85400985991646889072012-03-06T13:12:00.001-08:002012-03-06T13:15:04.538-08:00The Cry of Desperation<i>This is an illustration that I wrote several years ago after reading Luke 18:35-43. I pictured the scene vividly, looking something like this.</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-iaT8LuxpicuCsIa_fildmi0PU3Ao7b5uxRYMkxn0XIcCcZxDCIbHQQRq02l0DDImiuhyrDoVmZ-dsUaGsnjBGGBHpC-RzaRbXAkgtpebKZnMHuXV9b2zoz_6Jicj24AxsCxz17ZU1nd/s1600/BeggarsBowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-iaT8LuxpicuCsIa_fildmi0PU3Ao7b5uxRYMkxn0XIcCcZxDCIbHQQRq02l0DDImiuhyrDoVmZ-dsUaGsnjBGGBHpC-RzaRbXAkgtpebKZnMHuXV9b2zoz_6Jicj24AxsCxz17ZU1nd/s320/BeggarsBowl.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>The scent of my own sweat was heavy that day as I sat on the edge of the road near Jericho. I listened to the cicadas buzzing, keeping my ears tuned for the sound of footsteps. There hadn't been many travelers on the road that day. I ran my fingers inside my empty alms bowl, wondering if I would be able to find a meal that evening - my only meal for the day. My stomach growled at the thought of food, and I sighed.<br />
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In the distance I heard voices, coming towards me slowly. Before long, multitudes of people were passing me by on every side, pressing me to stand and pushing me further off the road. Confused, I asked where all these people were coming from and someone told me, "The Great Rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth, is passing by Jericho!" The Rabbi? <i>Jesus</i>? Could this be the great teacher I'd heard so much about? My cousin told me of how He'd recently healed ten lepers in a village of Galilee. There was rumor that He was the Messiah, the one we'd waited for, our Redeemer. I heard that He healed the blind before. Surely He could heal <i>me</i>. But how would He even <i>see me</i>? There were many people here. I heard voices all around me. How could I get His attention? How do I even know where He is?<br />
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Before I could stop myself I lifted my voice and began to cry out, "Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!" I knew I looked like a madman. "<i>Jesus!</i> Have mercy<i> </i>on me!" I felt heat rush up my face in embarrassment as I struggled to make myself heard over the crowd of voices. The people closest to me grew quiet and I could feel the judgmental stares. I pushed aside my shame and continued to cry, "<i>Have mercy on me, Jesus!</i> Jesus!" Someone shoved against me roughly and said, "Be quiet man! Don't disturb the master with your yelling!" Even still, as the crowd continued to move past me I lifted my voice louder, straining to make myself heard. My mouth and throat were coated with dust stirred by the crowd. I couldn't stop now! <i>I had hope. </i>Hope that I would <i style="font-weight: bold;">see</i> the Son of God. Desperation grew in me and I cried out with urgency, "<i>Son of David, have mercy on me! Jesus! </i><b style="font-style: italic;">Have mercy on me!</b>"<br />
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I soon realized that the constant shove toward the city ceased. I paused to listen, trying to understand why they stopped. In the distance a voice gave a command that I couldn't quite hear. People around me started murmuring and whispering. I heard a woman ask, "What is the Master going to say to him?" Him? Who did she mean? Someone nearby muttered in frustration, "The whole crowd is stopping because that blind fool couldn't keep his mouth shut!" I don't think he cared that I heard him. I felt the stillness grow before I heard it. Suddenly, a man took hold of my arm and spoke, "The Master would like to see you. I will lead you to Him." One of His followers began to lead to me through the crowd to the place where Jesus stood. I stumbled behind him, sure that my beating heart could be heard by all those standing in silence around me.<br />
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You did not need to tell me the moment I stood before the Son of David. His very presence was one of authority - yet not authority that induced fear. Rather, my heart became still in perfect peace. The multitude collectively held their breath, awaiting His words. Would He rebuke me? Touch me? Send me away? He simply asked me a question, "What do you want me to do for you?" Relief flooded my mind, I felt as though I were a child being offered a wish for my greatest desire. But this was no wish - the man before me was the very Son of God who could bring the impossible to pass. Overcome with emotion, my request came through a sob, "Lord, that I may receive my sight!" <i>Oh!</i> I will <i>never </i>forget His words to me! "<b>Receive your sight; your faith has made you well</b>." Immediately my eyes were opened and <i>I saw</i>! <i>Oh, the light! <b>The Light! </b>The Light of the World flooded my darkness.</i> And from that moment forward I knew I would follow Him.<br />
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<i>I plan on following this with a post about the desperate cries of our hearts. But in the meantime...</i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Have you ever cried out in desperation? What was the response?</b></span></i>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-4905299207847874092012-02-20T00:00:00.000-08:002012-02-20T00:15:44.026-08:00Bound to PleaseI am a people-pleaser. I always have been. I want to make sure that everyone is happy, but more importantly I want to be sure they are happy <i>with me</i>. Nothing makes me more uneasy than the thought that someone <i>might, possibly</i> be upset with me. This has caused an endless amount of anxiety in my life, because like all of us, I am full of faults. I put my foot in my mouth. <b>Often</b>. I have been known to step on more than a few toes. But this is so desperately <i><b>not</b> who I want to be</i>. As a result, I learned from a very young age to apologize well, and apologize often. I've since been told that I have an "I'm sorry" problem. I apologize senselessly for the most ridiculous things that are completely out of my control. All because I desperately want those around me to be pleased. Most importantly, I want the <i>Lord</i> to be pleased, but all too often I forget this in my search for human approval.<br />
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For example: I didn't graduate from high school in the conventional way. I didn't complete four years and walk across the stage. The way I saw it I "dropped out" and got my GED. Which is true. But I decided to drop out having obtained all necessary credits apart from 1 in English. I went on to earn nearly perfect scores in the English portions of the GED test, and I began working an entire year earlier than most of my peers. But I couldn't get excited about that. I was sure when I received that "General Equivalency Diploma" it might as well have stamped "loser" across my forehead (despite the fact that many of my home-schooled friends had the same document). I was so <i>ashamed</i> by what I imagined people to be thinking of me, since I certainly didn't think much of myself. So when my parents threw me a surprise graduation party, I was mortified. They revealed that dozens of people were gathered to honor my accomplishments and I secretly wanted to crawl into a hole and cry. I was surprised to find that these people were genuinely proud of me, even if I wasn't proud of myself. It was then I began to see that perhaps my perceptions of how people saw me were not as true as I believed.<br />
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Worrying about what others may think of me and the decisions that I make has caused no small amount of anxiety for me, especially in the last year. This fear has unfortunately made me hesitate in the directions God has clearly given to me. So it came as no surprise that the words He spoke to me for this year began with, "<b>Please </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">me.</i>" Please <i>Him</i>. <b>Not</b><i><b> </b>"Please your family." </i>or <i>"Please your friends." </i>or <i>"Please your church." </i>or even <i>"Please yourself."</i> His word is to please Him. I spent the last year <a href="http://www.rebekahhopes.blogspot.com/2011/01/he-who-has-ears.html#comment-form">learning to hear his voice</a>. Now I must learn to obey Him, no matter the cost. His is the only opinion that matters in the end. He alone is the one I will give account to. I would say that I have lost sight of this goal, but the truth is I'm not sure I've ever <i>had sight</i> of it.<br />
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If I'm being completely honest the thought of publishing this blog scares me silly. My mind is racing over all the ways that it could be misunderstood or taken out of context. I worry, "Will they think that I'm trying to dismiss godly counsel in favor of my own opinion?" When this couldn't be further from the truth.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtilTWjZpBlbj5mvNsx4bHfZNCPOuhDBpdVJaRvifgB60D9MdTFtcRvZDou4Fg7c1bXtKkoolgFNvzRYUVLa8fmh7NDzyEaGq3Gu5zp_tFYICMm5_PZQwoeUZ-lZI8zn2n9AJv89r2i2_/s1600/Set_Me_Free.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtilTWjZpBlbj5mvNsx4bHfZNCPOuhDBpdVJaRvifgB60D9MdTFtcRvZDou4Fg7c1bXtKkoolgFNvzRYUVLa8fmh7NDzyEaGq3Gu5zp_tFYICMm5_PZQwoeUZ-lZI8zn2n9AJv89r2i2_/s400/Set_Me_Free.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The Lord spoke to me saying, <a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Mat&c=6&t=NKJV#vrsn/33">"Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added unto you."</a> If I make it my singular goal to seek His kingdom rather than the approval of man, He promises to sustain me. I must let go of the obsession I have with pleasing <i>everyone</i> all the time and turn my attention to pleasing Him alone. This fight to change the way I think has only just begun, but I have no doubt that He will transform what is broken. Instead of being bound to please men, I am <i style="font-weight: bold;">bound to please my Heavenly Father</i>. There is no greater delight. He will set me free.<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Do you ever struggle with pleasing man vs. pleasing God?</i> <i>How do you overcome this?</i>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-91311111492727494532011-12-02T13:49:00.000-08:002011-12-02T13:59:37.711-08:00Memories of Generosity<i>This is my letter of Thanksgiving to my Father for the legacy of generosity he is building. </i><br />
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</i></div><div>To My One and Only Poppie, </div><div><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">I don't know if I've told you how much I've come to admire your generous spirit. As we were growing up I took for granted the way you selflessly gave to those who were down and out. It wasn't until recent years I realized not everyone does that. Hurting souls have always found a haven in the Christ in you. Immigrants, homeless, recovering addicts, the elderly, the unfriendly.. Otherwise known as "the least of these".</div></div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMPXFId3HmOztxEjPLofP7wURnSTSM08joNsmb0ylPtT12q9luFGRhX54wypf498ul_CBrz1CykJFKG0IHYhpaSdVquvhvTcGyVC3e1MNLM8ETxySzjelq_7KmcHhvon5mLfN7-P87QVD/s1600/Letters1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMPXFId3HmOztxEjPLofP7wURnSTSM08joNsmb0ylPtT12q9luFGRhX54wypf498ul_CBrz1CykJFKG0IHYhpaSdVquvhvTcGyVC3e1MNLM8ETxySzjelq_7KmcHhvon5mLfN7-P87QVD/s400/Letters1.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">I remember being about six years old the first time you picked up a homeless couple. It was a cold winter evening on Airline Highway. The man was pushing the woman in a wheelchair and you offered them a ride. We went by The Salvation Army to find it closed for the night. Instead, you drove them to the place they directed - a wooded area on the edge of a parking lot in a bad part of town. Jordan and I thought their tent was neat. But you knew differently; it was cold. Without hesitation you gave them the old comforters we'd used to keep warm in the van and we said goodbye to our smelly new friends. You went back the next day to take them to a shelter. </div></div><div><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">That was the first time I understood what it meant to be homeless. We asked a lot of questions about what we'd seen. It made a lasting impression on me. I forever saw the homeless through different eyes. Eyes of compassion and understanding instead of cynicism and entitlement. <i>(Poppie had no recollection of this whatsoever, but it has been etched in mine and Jordan's cherished memories.)</i></div></div><div><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">I can recall many other stories of lives that you touched. You couldn't afford babysitters so Jordan and I always tagged along with you to visit nursing homes, halfway houses, rehab centers and repair work days. Maybe we didn't spend our weekends like our other friends did, but I'm so very grateful that you taught us how to live like Jesus as a way of life - not a Sunday school lesson. This wasn't done out of obligation or preached "because the bible says to do it" and made into a cliche'. It wasn't religious. This was simply how you taught us to live. To see the need and meet it, even when "silver and gold have I none." </div></div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqUIZUC84OiCFxhDl3t2-IFR4iGaHAltNw4PJh789-oJUvIUmQUWKQL6_TYKWb5Vl0NEURyd4lJ273GiSWmv0s1dhBtgokKJeb6DK5UqvWqMjo4JWBTLk6BJmD5S199x28L2vOu2u_UCLR/s1600/Letters2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqUIZUC84OiCFxhDl3t2-IFR4iGaHAltNw4PJh789-oJUvIUmQUWKQL6_TYKWb5Vl0NEURyd4lJ273GiSWmv0s1dhBtgokKJeb6DK5UqvWqMjo4JWBTLk6BJmD5S199x28L2vOu2u_UCLR/s320/Letters2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">How many times were you burned? Countless. Yet I've never heard you recount those instances. As a child I thought this ordinary - to give to those who eventually stole from or betrayed us. I never questioned why you did it again. It was our "normal". Now I recognize this for what it is - <i>extraordinary</i>. You display an extraordinary spirit of ceaseless generosity, undeterred by wounds the world has inflicted. You have been forgiven so much that <b>you love much.</b> Never have I known you to hesitate. Your right hand never let the left hand know what it was doing. Thank you for consistently modeling compassion and generosity to us.</div></div><div><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">I hear of families visiting soup kitchens to show their children how to serve. This is their good work. Poppie, you showed us much more than "good works". You showed us what it means to lay down your life; investing your time, money, hard labor, and most importantly you heart into people. </div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am overwhelmed when I think of the number of lives that you have touched and I pray fervently that I will be like the Jesus that I have seen in you over the years. To give without thought of gain or reward. You gave when you had nothing. But I can only imagine the heavenly crowns you have earned in these sixty years, and how many more you will earn, all to lovingly lay those crowns at the feet of Jesus and how blessed that day will be. </div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div><div>Happy 60th Birthday, </div><div><br />
</div><div>Your Bekah</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmoyY_8q8v1XvDfYLPVcsy-uqZJVNb4MlOrosb0vC-MPUnvd6gt93pVVSoCGpOQbw6SFPpqvAooQcQK3Os1LrBVM6fiJRZbC9G1jg0qf0xwFTq-SSEWkpN4VWwGNrxIEGFsbak0Uch0tSr/s1600/Legacy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmoyY_8q8v1XvDfYLPVcsy-uqZJVNb4MlOrosb0vC-MPUnvd6gt93pVVSoCGpOQbw6SFPpqvAooQcQK3Os1LrBVM6fiJRZbC9G1jg0qf0xwFTq-SSEWkpN4VWwGNrxIEGFsbak0Uch0tSr/s400/Legacy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-89510192295998164062011-11-30T14:16:00.000-08:002011-11-30T14:34:12.888-08:00SnapshotsWhy is it that when someone takes an unannounced blog hiatus, they feel the need to provide excuses or somehow explain the absence? It's an unspoken pressure - and I know I'm not the only blogger who feels it.<br />
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So yes, I took an unannounced hiatus. All I know to tell you is that my inspiration fled for a time. But it has returned. My hands are itching to write once again. I can feel the fountain of words bubbling beneath the surface, and I am relieved.<br />
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But until the time that those words find their way these digital pages I thought I might share a few pictures with you - my blog followers - of what I've been up to for the last two months. You can actually <i>see</i> where my renewed inspiration comes from.<br />
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Jordan and I visited Houston with some dear friends of ours. We took a day trip to Austin, TX where the photo below was taken in this great crafty antique shop on Congress. Austin is a great city!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxyNkTYa6_I0t_qskcNxZbSfLgq2XKjAYY4erVQSOsMiTNAg9M-wwzQ3UoBGX0twG5D1FaxNPvK5y_XI1eaJsHM03X1lHnpqZ4axN2MA3u2hpmvhz2xdn9ieOc4bE3rhDGYgRuns4cELWN/s1600/Houston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxyNkTYa6_I0t_qskcNxZbSfLgq2XKjAYY4erVQSOsMiTNAg9M-wwzQ3UoBGX0twG5D1FaxNPvK5y_XI1eaJsHM03X1lHnpqZ4axN2MA3u2hpmvhz2xdn9ieOc4bE3rhDGYgRuns4cELWN/s400/Houston.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Jordan {sister}, and Arielle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We had some grand adventures and tried new things (as always) like Coconut water that we got from a Malaysian Restaurant! Jaclyn (our friend in Houston) knows all these great places for great food! We wandered around Chinatown seeing odd sites and avoiding <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Durian">Durian Fruit </a>every time we turned around. Jaclyn and her husband Orlando are as fabulous as my big sisters. And if you know me, you know my big sisters are pretty spectacular. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimsgi92EBUPVEZzJKVwTmhXf0MWxITNTATXtRt_DUB1PlJwgdJGOtvCD-VMaojDNSp5MxzHTzbX9WamcNzP9t9x9Pt1jt4Y5vZcL0vnou-TvjO3TKahHuTDPBsHcMO2H0DJ_XJDEh-B2DD/s1600/Coconuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimsgi92EBUPVEZzJKVwTmhXf0MWxITNTATXtRt_DUB1PlJwgdJGOtvCD-VMaojDNSp5MxzHTzbX9WamcNzP9t9x9Pt1jt4Y5vZcL0vnou-TvjO3TKahHuTDPBsHcMO2H0DJ_XJDEh-B2DD/s320/Coconuts.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jordan, Me, Jaclyn and Arielle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>If you have been on Pinterest for any length of time it's likely that you seen <a href="http://nothingbutbonfires.com/2011/06/sixty-years-memories">this idea</a> to give 60 memories for a fathers 60th birthday. This was inspiration defined! Our beloved Poppie turned 60 years old at the end of October and we managed to gather notes and letters from friends old and new, co-workers, church members, neighbors, and family.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dJeUakIteb_b7HOKuu6iGPnjyVj6c6qTSPWcf9DB_csYmoDKwLQAye9HZdcpQf_gZKjXoekOxgS-HkICin6AdW_fcy_yCCrqT4SygsuPBw8G2J33pDeq_my8dq7qgtHKqf_KCz3YYOgd/s1600/PoppiesLetters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dJeUakIteb_b7HOKuu6iGPnjyVj6c6qTSPWcf9DB_csYmoDKwLQAye9HZdcpQf_gZKjXoekOxgS-HkICin6AdW_fcy_yCCrqT4SygsuPBw8G2J33pDeq_my8dq7qgtHKqf_KCz3YYOgd/s320/PoppiesLetters.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jordan stamped all 60 envelopes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I was absolutely overwhelmed to see the ways my father has effected so many lives. I plan on publishing what I wrote to him here on the blog sometime soon. This project produced many tears and much laughter, and our Poppie was so very blessed by it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYqxoOL4v3ZbLeFL_vvnIxs1UD7jHU1iykWUpxMZnWdv76x9bcC2SRGRwHQZnrTQXbICTw4KMXyqPvciiIMOg3dIr73MdrYRht-46SsJRNH91rS1tql2kv6eLTtilqt9s4VIpW51x2D2P/s1600/JordiCryPop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYqxoOL4v3ZbLeFL_vvnIxs1UD7jHU1iykWUpxMZnWdv76x9bcC2SRGRwHQZnrTQXbICTw4KMXyqPvciiIMOg3dIr73MdrYRht-46SsJRNH91rS1tql2kv6eLTtilqt9s4VIpW51x2D2P/s400/JordiCryPop.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tears as they were read aloud.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At the beginning of November Jordan and I decided to take a spontaneous trip back up The Natchez Trace where <a href="http://rebekahhopes.blogspot.com/2011/05/ready-soul-conclusion.html">these adventures</a> happened. This time were were going camping and hiking!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqfyFB0Tyt98rFo0QX-ev5eluwdHf38bdcyy2KuBNbAT0ojjVkD6GkUYRDEO4Ow_F5Kugto6jr1LUeP9gFTHojqE93x_XdJeeKP5C89jujnf9eYs3Cr5O5dOdMvGkhb4AlDMoVMojejPr/s1600/NatchezTrace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqfyFB0Tyt98rFo0QX-ev5eluwdHf38bdcyy2KuBNbAT0ojjVkD6GkUYRDEO4Ow_F5Kugto6jr1LUeP9gFTHojqE93x_XdJeeKP5C89jujnf9eYs3Cr5O5dOdMvGkhb4AlDMoVMojejPr/s320/NatchezTrace.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me at the Parkway Entrance </td></tr>
</tbody></table>We had a great time hiking all 13 miles of trails in Tishomingo State Park. Even though most of the leaves had fallen, it was still beautiful!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4NG-NqCvbU8xmxlHDdz2r2RKINvn3e1LCzywzItyMixrReQiMDqR1DNixqlOE88JQDyj6sqeC0srbsh0-C6Ye5hAfaaPYjKdcMYMRleW09pDzaQ6oxXRct_2tMZ9z7rARQaRn7GT15Ni/s1600/ShadowBridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4NG-NqCvbU8xmxlHDdz2r2RKINvn3e1LCzywzItyMixrReQiMDqR1DNixqlOE88JQDyj6sqeC0srbsh0-C6Ye5hAfaaPYjKdcMYMRleW09pDzaQ6oxXRct_2tMZ9z7rARQaRn7GT15Ni/s400/ShadowBridge.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our shadows on Swinging Bridge over Bear Creek</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUUBhcpOLX4n0HEPPfU29xwqvskci35l7Y1vYmn2kTuu_6ZJ-NK3CRHjiRFn7GUqQZ7VCLJ5K1AE10-fn5_SI1OIfhm_ouyWpLlGhRXQ5m6Skfe0aYrFp6MGvg5_0j2g9WGULbK9Jaxr0I/s1600/HikingSmile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUUBhcpOLX4n0HEPPfU29xwqvskci35l7Y1vYmn2kTuu_6ZJ-NK3CRHjiRFn7GUqQZ7VCLJ5K1AE10-fn5_SI1OIfhm_ouyWpLlGhRXQ5m6Skfe0aYrFp6MGvg5_0j2g9WGULbK9Jaxr0I/s400/HikingSmile.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We did a lot of smiling</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
We also listened to this song a lot on this trip. I love this group. You can <a href="http://www.pastemagazine.com/blogs/free_mp3/2011/01/download-seryns-we-will-all-be-changed.html">download it for free here</a>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/zKx45wKC3FY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
And finally, over this past Thanksgiving weekend, I turned 23. I had an <i>amazing</i> time with my family and got some great gifts (Thank you Jordan for <a href="http://family.christianbook.com/bonhoeffer-freedom-family-radio-theatre-audiodrama/9781589975156/pd/975156?event=1079FOTF|2191341|107302">Bonhoeffer on Radio Theatre</a>). As an excuse to get out of the house Jordan and I took my niece, Leah, and got manicures (in pale neutral shades).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivF3Jcybzy1Eq4FsZBGRrZuRXLlpDDYt2ygOCqeLQbMAz_Cs6x1udfrsi1xuSLPs6bKq3tKhyphenhyphenfELMUcICTZfNcqQVjUOpOtWuWBNUBPzGcqG6aVmMpirw8rnuHy11JPHcPZW6MiUSWZUz8/s1600/Manicures.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivF3Jcybzy1Eq4FsZBGRrZuRXLlpDDYt2ygOCqeLQbMAz_Cs6x1udfrsi1xuSLPs6bKq3tKhyphenhyphenfELMUcICTZfNcqQVjUOpOtWuWBNUBPzGcqG6aVmMpirw8rnuHy11JPHcPZW6MiUSWZUz8/s320/Manicures.png" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Of course we did. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>I've got to tell you guys that my niece is one of the most amazing teenagers I've ever met. It shouldn't surprise me, because she has some great parents. I enjoyed every moment with her, as you can see from the pictures below.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNodDVFba514PuHuTbZLYtZ0fzlc7sQn9Lzx6pSnbX8qhUsh96AU1ULQj4e6QEuKZlly_dbstOXklsAXcAWHr1R3PE03e1TTjqSalm3Sw0lQY8tgeYrsnYhF2aN6KcIxgxN8oCqJxEg0vy/s1600/23isNice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNodDVFba514PuHuTbZLYtZ0fzlc7sQn9Lzx6pSnbX8qhUsh96AU1ULQj4e6QEuKZlly_dbstOXklsAXcAWHr1R3PE03e1TTjqSalm3Sw0lQY8tgeYrsnYhF2aN6KcIxgxN8oCqJxEg0vy/s640/23isNice.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very happy birthday indeed</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxgQFL6Pu-xM4EMamRD2Ty0lqplAV6N62RRZ3HEiOeIozcvNCETTtQU5ReJlr0xc1XRE7H3ILIITN85PJ6f2EwvBZzoOCTdjWRVUlOaOM7tQ5zMFOK1rrtsWNRpHewQGvS9hmb5ANqudt/s1600/Favorite23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxgQFL6Pu-xM4EMamRD2Ty0lqplAV6N62RRZ3HEiOeIozcvNCETTtQU5ReJlr0xc1XRE7H3ILIITN85PJ6f2EwvBZzoOCTdjWRVUlOaOM7tQ5zMFOK1rrtsWNRpHewQGvS9hmb5ANqudt/s320/Favorite23.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We got our "no evils" a little out of order</td></tr>
</tbody></table>And y'all. This chick is gor-ge-ous. If my future children are even half as beautiful as my nieces, this family is going to have to take stock in the weapons industry.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlq1OwzMjZI4Th-Ujlsn-0lzRbiwJwRs5nkWb90eCwvYLY_Ictqq5va0CHRoWm3C5swKJdKUU1MPbgNAZNXf1Uy71vx-7p7zEzSSFdrCd2hqJyxlHsQGfCVehgtSLMvWgCgSn1LJ87oana/s1600/LeahBelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlq1OwzMjZI4Th-Ujlsn-0lzRbiwJwRs5nkWb90eCwvYLY_Ictqq5va0CHRoWm3C5swKJdKUU1MPbgNAZNXf1Uy71vx-7p7zEzSSFdrCd2hqJyxlHsQGfCVehgtSLMvWgCgSn1LJ87oana/s320/LeahBelle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo from my shoot with her this weekend.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I can't tell you the last time I've enjoyed my family so much. And still am. We made some lovely memories.<br />
<br />
So the loveliness continues. I love the holidays. I love cuddling under a blanket (new new fluffy, fleecy one!) with some tea to watch old Christmas movies. I'm looking forward to an entire month of these kind of indulgences. It's the simple things...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgneOuVbmvcSwksTRpoHdJm3lqgkYfXh_C9V9cfZeOsduLcpGD_paXsBZPKVgHRIM3iaClKyNMpV6mWZNzrXCY9y0Jfggdf7hnVchWqIZCRb9wWNFZZExvbkrfxIrSUK6nd0p5G-EFviNAz/s1600/Mainures.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgneOuVbmvcSwksTRpoHdJm3lqgkYfXh_C9V9cfZeOsduLcpGD_paXsBZPKVgHRIM3iaClKyNMpV6mWZNzrXCY9y0Jfggdf7hnVchWqIZCRb9wWNFZZExvbkrfxIrSUK6nd0p5G-EFviNAz/s320/Mainures.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">milktea with honey #favorite</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-15685166884803019682011-10-05T12:15:00.000-07:002011-10-06T08:42:26.108-07:00I was ashamed, You called me Beautiful.<blockquote>"When we stop believing that good men exist, we lose the desire to be good women... To believe that you were created to be the masterpiece of God's creation, the height of beauty, an imitation of your Maker's heart; that you hold value by simply being a woman: To begin believing that in the same way you would die to be an incredible woman, there are men that would die to be incredible for you." </blockquote><blockquote>- <a href="http://makeitmad.com/2011/02/16/a-good-womans-guide-to-the-21st-century/">Lauren Nicole Dubinsky</a></blockquote><br />
When I first read this quote five months ago I was afraid to believe it. Afraid that it was mildly sacrilegious. But I wrote it down on a sticky-note and kept it beside my bed, painfully unaware of how desperately I <i>needed</i> to believe that this is truth. At the time I had no idea how deep insecurity was rooted in me. I have been surprised to discover in the last 3 months that I am much more insecure as a 22 year old young woman than I ever was as a teenager. For years, without even realizing it, when someone has paid me a compliment I have graciously accepted it, but inwardly identified a reason that person feels <i>obligated</i> to say such a thing and dismissed their words. Without a second thought. Without realizing that I was essentially making my well-meaning friends and family liars in my eyes.<br />
<br />
God brought this thought process to a screeching halt one afternoon while I stood at my bathroom sink. When I looked up into the mirror I heard Him speak to my heart so clearly, "<i style="font-weight: bold;">You are beautiful because I have made you that way. And you cannot dismiss that.</i>" My mind froze. I could not find a reason to dismiss His words. I knew that He spoke truth. He <i>cannot</i> lie. The weight of His words were so precious and sobering that I fell to my knees right where I was, crying. Grateful tears. Thankful that truth was finally penetrating my heart.<br />
<br />
This work in my heart continued as I read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Captivating-Unveiling-Mystery-Womans-Soul/dp/0785264698">Captivating</a> (by John and Stasi Eldredge). I began to see how women are uniquely created to reflect God's beauty in this earth. My beauty is not something I should be ashamed of or try to hide. I have struggled with this for years. After all, "Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain", right? I didn't want to believe that there is anything of beauty in me. The lie that says I am not enough was easier to believe. Growing up in the church, I have heard "You are created in God's image!" until I thought I might puke if someone repeated that tired phrase to me again. That is, until I heard it from my Heavenly Fathers own mouth;<br />
<blockquote>"My Dear Child, you admire the beauty of the sunsets that I paint. Yet do you ever stop to realize that <i style="font-weight: bold;">you</i> are more beautiful than these? Because I created <i>you</i> in <i>My</i> image. Am I not more beautiful than a sunset? Who are you to say that my beauty is not in you?" </blockquote>My Father knows my heart better than anyone else. He knows that sunsets take my breath away, mountains make me stand in awe, oceans strike me speechless with their thundering. God showed me that in the same way that I marvel at His creation in the earth, He marvels at <i>me</i> because I am a reflection of <i>Him.</i> <b>He is pleased with what He sees</b>. For the first time in my life I understand how He sees me. And I am learning to finally see myself through His eyes. I am learning to embrace and even celebrate the beauty that He's bestowed on me. Not for my own sake, or my own pride. But because I <i>know </i>that I represent the beauty of my Heavenly Father in the earth.<br />
<br />
I was ashamed. He called me Beautiful.<br />
<br />
<object height="40" width="250"><param name="movie" value="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" /><param name="wmode" value="window" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=29226430&style=metal&p=0" /><embed src="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="250" height="40" flashvars="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=29226430&style=metal&p=0" allowScriptAccess="always" wmode="window" /></object>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-10872453311988046602011-09-30T17:57:00.000-07:002011-09-30T17:57:11.828-07:00I WonderI had another post in the works, but this song started playing from a new album I just downloaded by <a href="http://noisetrade.com/tlc">Tara-Leigh Cobble</a>. I decided to share this instead.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes I wonder how much He knew</div><div style="text-align: center;">Of all the things His love would put Him through</div><div style="text-align: center;">Did He ever pass a tree along His way</div><div style="text-align: center;">and know it was the very tree He'd die upon some day?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And if He did, did His heart break?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every time He passed it on the street</div><div style="text-align: center;">I wonder if He ever thought</div><div style="text-align: center;">that tree I made will be</div><div style="text-align: center;">The death of me</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh the irony of His carpentry</div><div style="text-align: center;">Did it serve as a reminder of His legacy?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Did He bear it constantly?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Building with the nails that tore His body?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And if He did, did His heart break?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every time the metal broke the beam?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well I wonder if He ever thought</div><div style="text-align: center;">A nail like this will be</div><div style="text-align: center;">The death of me</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well I may never know what crossed His mind</div><div style="text-align: center;">But there's one more question hanging on inside</div><div style="text-align: center;">And did He ever think of me?</div><div style="text-align: center;">2,000 years somewhere across the sea</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And if He did, did His heart break?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Even though He died so willingly</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well I wonder if He ever thought</div><div style="text-align: center;">My love for her will be</div><div style="text-align: center;">The death of me</div>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-47527193276169946292011-09-04T20:07:00.000-07:002011-09-04T21:28:43.718-07:00ContentmentI was just sitting here (in my apartment) trying to come up with a sufficient facebook status to sum up my weekend. To sum up how I feel right now. But I don't want to be one of "those people" who uses social media to list every little thing they did that day, knowing you<i> may not care</i> what I did this weekend. You may not care about the little things that make me happy. I am known for {perhaps} being {overly} sentimental. But I can't just let this pass me by without memorializing it somehow. I feel contentment. Better yet, I feel blessed. So allow me to count the blessings that have touched my heart this weekend.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOKpFxlwTrj_w6jl3lNgPjfZ-5kQsWqSCm-PunK2LexwKc0ejChUN3K40maf6fBtcGgxnsD8Bq1CL8UsgWNESgc9xOsh7LSSfSpVmoc5WGyo_ScYegmpEazKD10BmM-G_h72dH_zKMzkH/s1600/MaraKiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOKpFxlwTrj_w6jl3lNgPjfZ-5kQsWqSCm-PunK2LexwKc0ejChUN3K40maf6fBtcGgxnsD8Bq1CL8UsgWNESgc9xOsh7LSSfSpVmoc5WGyo_ScYegmpEazKD10BmM-G_h72dH_zKMzkH/s400/MaraKiss.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My right eye almost closes when I <i>really</i> smile.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><blockquote><ul><li><i>Balloons, helium, and the various forms of giggling they produce</i></li>
<li><i>Bright blue birthday cake (Yes, the cake itself was dyed blue!)</i></li>
<li><i>Roller skating</i></li>
<li><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Captivating-Unveiling-Mystery-Womans-Soul/dp/0785264698">Captivating</a> - this book is challenging me in so many ways</i></li>
<li><i>Hugs and love from my 8 year old niece</i></li>
<li><i>Having the title "</i>my<i> Bekah-wekah" bestowed on me in lieu of "Aunt Bekah"</i></li>
<li><i>Holding the hand of "my 'Mara-Beara" in the grocery store (she really is the sweetest thing EVER)</i></li>
<li><i>Long talks with friends and sisters</i></li>
<li><i>Slow, rainy car rides that give me plenty of time to think, pray and worship</i></li>
<li><i>Technology, allowing me to talk to <a href="http://www.bebokirkwood.blogspot.com/">my best friend</a> every day, despite her being several countries away</i></li>
<li><i>Naps</i></li>
<li><i>Rainy long weekends</i></li>
<li><i>Remembering that this weekend marks 8 years of fellowship with the church body I am a part of</i></li>
</ul></blockquote>I love the little things. I love that God <i>made me</i> to love the little things. I love seeing <i>Him</i> in them. My heart sighs with contentment on nights like this. I feel His peace washing over me, and I just want to pour gratitude back to Him for all these things so freely given, so grossly undeserved.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>"O GOD, My heart is steadfast. </b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>I will sing and give praise..." </b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>~Psalm 108:1</i></div><br />
Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-64718359019496117482011-08-26T09:46:00.000-07:002011-08-26T10:05:23.393-07:00Open Letter to Amber<i>Amber is on a cruise with her husband this week. I wrote her this email last night, and decided that it was too important not to share. Transformation is becoming tangible. </i><br />
<br />
I am sitting on the floor of my living room in front of our box fan, cooling off. As I write this I have no idea where you are (I mean, a hurricane is sort of bearing down on the Bahamas right now so I would hope and pray you are <i>not</i> there!) and I have no idea when you'll get this.<br />
<br />
Let me start off by saying that I have missed you so much this week. For so many reasons. I've wanted to call you up so many times this week and it makes me sad that I can't. But there must be a reason for that because this forces me to write down what is taking place in my body. I want to record these things and <i>never forget how this feels</i>.<br />
<br />
My friend and co-worker, Carnisha, started a blog this week called <a href="http://www.mylastfatyear.wordpress.com/">MyLastFatYear.wordpress.com</a> and let me tell you, it is <i>AWESOME</i>! She is on a journey to lose over 70lbs, and has lost over 35 of it in the last year or so. Amazing. I am so proud of her. This blog is chronicling her quest to lose the rest of the weight by January of 2012. She has inspired me. Tuesday she texted me saying that she was thinking about doing 2 workouts that day and I told her, "Go for it! You're a machine." She credited me that night (on twitter) with being responsible for motivating her. As a result, <i>I was motivated</i> and downloaded the "Couch to 5k" app on my phone. This is a 9 week program that eases you into it through walking/jogging intervals. They are 20-30 minute workouts 3 times a week. SO doable. It was 10pm when I downloaded the app but I was determined to start that night.<br />
<br />
The first week starts with 60 second spurts of running alternating 90 seconds of walking. I got to the last cycle of running (with Jordan walking/race-walking nearby) and told Jordan, "I can't do it. This last one. I can't do it." My back was seizing with muscle cramps from lack of proper oxygen. My legs were shaking. I thought I was done. But Jordan looked back at me and gently encouraged, "You can do it Bekah. It's 60 seconds. Just push through it." So... I took those words to heart... and, <i>I did it!</i> It took every bit of willpower in me. I pushed out the last 60 seconds with the last chorus of "<a href="http://youtu.be/Bgu7-We98Gk">God is Enough</a>" in my ears (thank you <a href="http://bebokirkwood.blogspot.com/">Bebo</a> for introducing me to Lecrae). It was precisely what I needed in that moment. I was <i>elated</i> when I finished. It felt amazing.<br />
<br />
And you know what? I just did it again. I hit that "wall" on the second to last circuit. I didn't think I could finish. I was doubling over from the cramps in my back. But I pushed through, with my muscles literally trembling. And the last one was easier. When I was finished I just left my headphones in and started praying and praising God out loud, thanking Him for the strength that he has given me to do this. Thanking Him that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>I am fearfully and wonderfully made </i>and <b>my body was built to do this</b></span><i style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">.</span> </i>I have been the stubborn one all these years. I have been the one who has refused to make my body do what it was created to. The strength was there all the time, I just had to reach out and grasp it. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>I can do this, through </i><b style="font-style: italic;">Christ who strengthens me</b></span>. This realization literally made me dance in the street. I might have lifted my hands in worship. I might have turned a circle or two. I might have concluded that by taking off in a sprint to the end of the road, <i>simply because </i><b style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I can</span></b>. I am 22 years old and I have been given a body that is capable of <i>running</i>, <i style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">because of HIM</span>. </i>And I love Him, Amber. I am in love with the Person who created the veins running through my body taking blood, oxygen and nutrients to every inch of me. I love the One who created the organs that cause me to sweat, crafted my lungs to breathe, shaped my muscles to <i>move</i>. I love that He created chemicals in my brain to release after exercise, giving me this unbelievable, overjoyed <i>feeling and emotion</i>. <b>Everything inside of me points to the wonder of <i>who He is</i></b>.<br />
<br />
I hope you're having a <i>wonderful</i> and relaxing week and that your vacation hasn't been rudely interrupted because of the storm. I miss you, and I love you, and I look forward to sitting down to talk with you when you return.<br />
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Love,<br />
Bekah Hope<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Have you ever experienced this when exercising? Do you have any advice for me as I embark on this new adventure?</span>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-17625224432144626332011-08-17T19:55:00.000-07:002011-08-18T06:52:15.345-07:00Oh, How I Love JesusI was killing time in Baton Rouge today, so I stopped in on my mom at work. She works at a retirement center as a Registered Nurse. My mother has always loved working with the elderly. And I've always enjoyed visiting the nursing homes she's worked at, getting to meet her "favorites". My mom has an eye for picking out the "characters" among a group of people. In our family we would say they are <a href="http://rebekahhopes.blogspot.com/2011/02/dear-mrs-polacco.html">"Such a person, such a person." </a><br />
<br />
A few weeks ago Momma was telling us about one "Such a person" at the retirement center, Ms. Lassiter*. Ms. Lassiter <i>loves</i> to sing in the hallways - loudly and often. And she often picks a favorite tune, singing it over and over again, much to the chagrin of the other wheelchair bound patients within earshot. I<i> heard </i>Ms. Lassiter today before I met her. I was sitting across from my mom in her office near the nurses station when a faint voice that would rarely be classified as "singing" came from the hallway.<br />
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<i>Oh, how I love Jesus..</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Her voice was timid in that first line.<br />
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<i>Oh, how I love <b>Jesus</b>..</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
She gained confidence with the second line, putting the emphasis in the perfect place of Jesus' name.<br />
<br />
<i>Ooh, how I love Jesus..</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
The strains of her voice were high pitched, and shook as though her vocal chords were seized by Parkinsons.<br />
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<b><i>Because He first loved me!</i></b><br />
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Ms. Lassiter croaked out the last line with such conviction, tears sprang to my eyes. My mother got up from her desk and led me into the hallway to be introduced. I could only grin as I laid eyes on this frail, shriveled woman who looked well over 90 years old. "This is my daughter, Bekah, Ms. Lassiter. You just blessed her heart with your song!" I looked into her clouded eyes, not sure she could see me, so I took her hand and said, "Nice to meet you! I loved it!" She grinned up at me and exclaimed, "I love to sing! I just love to sing! So whenever I feel led to sing, I just let it out! I don't care who hears me!" I assured her that I loved to hear her song, and our Lord loves to hear it too.<br />
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My mother soon had to answer a phone call, so I made my exit shortly thereafter in order to not be a hindrance. Ms. Lassiter wasn't much to listen to. If she'd been singing almost anything else, I might have been tempted to giggle a bit. But instead I found myself crying as I drove away. All I could think of was the scripture saying, "<a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Psa&c=22&v=3&t=KJV#vrsn/3">The Lord inhabits the praises of His people</a>." no matter how humble those praises are. I know that my Heavenly Father took great delight in the unashamed, absolutely abandoned praise of His child in the hallway of that retirement home. I like to think He let me in on a little bit of His delight. And He showed me that this is how He desires all of His children to love Him - with abandon - <i style="font-weight: bold;">because He first loved us</i>.<br />
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I'm not sure if I entertained any angels today, but I know that an angel entertained me.<br />
<br />
*<i>not her actual name</i>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-78995350962984371502011-08-12T07:27:00.000-07:002011-08-12T07:27:16.867-07:00Changed Mind. Changed Body.I've debated over whether I should say anything more about my weight loss journey here. But after<a href="http://rebekahhopes.blogspot.com/2011/05/fool-in-boasting.html"> I gutted myself</a> last time I suppose I have nothing left to be ashamed of. I am now over 25 pounds lighter than when I began. I don't want this to be about me though. Accolades make me uncomfortable. I'm not looking for a pat on the back from anyone. Rather, I want to use this small milestone to acknowledge the people in my life who have supported me and loved me through this process. I haven't made it easy.<br />
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It comes as no surprise to those who know me when I say that I am by nature very headstrong. You will not easily convince me to do something I don't want to do. But through the admonishment of my friends and the grace of God, that is changing.<br />
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I have a couple of very special friends who are in this endeavor with me; my sister Jordan and friend Amber. In the beginning - truthfully the first 3 months - they all but dragged me along as we learned to eat healthier and work out. While they swapped stories of success or failure, I sat silently sulking and just praying for the conversation to be over. I said before that I wanted diet in secret. So the last thing I wanted to do was <i>talk</i> about it. What I failed to realize is that my silence<a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/search/translationResults.cfm?Criteria=leech&t=NKJV"> turned me into a leech</a>. While they were talking things out they were <a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Hbr&c=10&v=24&t=NKJV#vrsn/24">provoking each other</a> to love and good works. They were encouraging me... and I was sucking life from them while giving nothing back. These girls fleshed this out with me - with persistence.<br />
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"Faithful are the wounds of a friend." (Proverbs 27:6) I know this saying to be true. I found myself standing in my bedroom talking with Amber and Jordan one Sunday a few months ago. We didn't have a typical house church meeting - the Holy Spirit had ideas of His own that morning. These faithful women gently and cautiously confronted me in my stubbornness and sulking attitude. It was not easy to hear. I looked in the mirror that day. Not literally - I was all too familiar and unsatisfied with my physical reflection. I saw my reflection in an altogether different way - through their eyes. And it wasn't pretty.<br />
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I'd grudgingly made the outward changes necessary. I followed our meal plans. I exercised (when I felt like it). I thought that was enough. But my attitude stank. Through the faithfulness of these young women I saw Jesus Christ,<a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Rom&c=5&t=NKJV#8"> "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."</a> While I was being stubborn and selfish, they encouraged me, hoping Christ in me. They extended mercy when I'd done nothing to earn it, and showed me the grace to change. The faithful wounds inflicted that day prompted the first fruits of repentance growing in me. I would not be where I am today if not for their continual support and encouragement. They have forgiven much.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDJkyYCGHSkbiBhXvCE6ftViQoxU0TgeglEmW4z0rmJlAhj3q0dxcXDk8YHehcqZ2jC4qN_6F1LG1Ru-_xPMReu5HmcpxjudMGxHuQj0zEZYhVUK7BfxHcPzX9uyj-HEr0Cq9CRkdz1Q1/s1600/necklace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDJkyYCGHSkbiBhXvCE6ftViQoxU0TgeglEmW4z0rmJlAhj3q0dxcXDk8YHehcqZ2jC4qN_6F1LG1Ru-_xPMReu5HmcpxjudMGxHuQj0zEZYhVUK7BfxHcPzX9uyj-HEr0Cq9CRkdz1Q1/s320/necklace.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Each of us have charm necklaces that are telling the story of our journey. A pearl marks the beginning, and an initial pendant marks the loss of the first 10 pounds. The third pendant is a post with the word<a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/lang/lexicon/lexicon.cfm?strongs=G3341"> "<b><i>metanoia</i></b>"</a> inscribed into it. It's the Greek word for "repentance", meaning <i>change the way you think</i>. This marks the loss of 20 pounds. And it's been a significant reminder to me that my mind is changing in the way that I approach food and exercise. This is not a "lose-weight-quick" scheme. This is a lifestyle change. There are <i>permanent changes</i> happening in my heart, mind, and body through this process. I no longer crave foods that aren't good for me. My body is being conditioned to crave <i>movement</i> and <i>action</i>. This may sound <i>crazy </i>but I've grown to <b>love</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>feeling sore after I've really pushed myself working out. I <i>crave</i> that feeling! <i style="font-weight: bold;">My mind has changed for good</i>. Repentance has taken place by the grace of God and I am amazed.<br />
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1 Timothy 4:8 says this,<b><i> "For bodily exercise profits a little, but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life that is now and of that which is to come."</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
This rings to true to me. It's my experience that God had to change the way I think, transforming my mind, <i>before</i> my body - my flesh - followed suit. And that is what is important. Because my body will one day give out. There will come a day when I'm no longer able to do the things I'm capable of now. But the lessons I have learned in this - the relationships that I have gained - are of far more profit than my physical body changing. I've entered a whole new level of friendship with Jordan and Amber. Jordan is my sister, and I've known Amber for 8 years, but despite that our hearts have been knit together in ways we couldn't have imagined when we took the first step in this journey. This has proven to me that<i> godliness is profitable for</i> <b><i>all things</i></b> - especially my relationships. I am <i>so grateful</i> for their faithfulness to me, their patience, and the love that is continually being poured out. <b><i><a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Jhn&c=13&t=NKJV#35">"By this all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."</a></i></b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>So, thank you, Amber and Jordan. I know you are His. </b>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-60699016705038034052011-08-08T20:26:00.000-07:002011-08-08T20:48:48.915-07:00De-stressing.I've had a completely different post written out for almost a week now. But I left my notebook at work and it's been too long since I've written anything here so I'm just going to write this out. I hope it doesn't sound like I'm whining...<br />
<br />
One of the things that I've learned about myself lately is that I work well under a certain amount of stress at work. Nothing motivates me to get something done quickly and efficiently like a deadline. It's a good kind of stress. I leave work feeling accomplished and satisfied - and I <b>leave the stress there</b>. <i>Huge</i> difference from my old job.<br />
<br />
Revenue (previous job) made me anxious and stressed <i>all the time</i>. I would wake up in the morning with a sore mouth because I was grinding my teeth at night from stress. No matter how hard I tried, I was never measuring up. Even when I was the one setting the standard - I wasn't able to meet it, because they always expected more (this sounds like an exaggeration - it's not). When interviewing for my current job one of the questions the Managers asked me was, "What was a stressful situation at your job and how did you handle it?" I thought for a moment before replying, "Well, it's always stressful at Revenue, regardless of the tax season. There's always too much work and not enough people to do it. So we just have to laugh at ourselves and try to stay positive in order to cope!" Sadly, I considered that interview one of the worst I'd ever done. I thought I bombed it. And I cried the entire way home because I didn't realize how stressed-out I was until they asked me that question. I wanted <i>out </i>after over 3 years at Revenue. But God knew what He was doing. He took care of me, and by some miracle I landed the job that I'm in now. I love the people I work for.<br />
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If I face any amount of stress now it's because I'm being challenged and stretched in areas I've never been before. I'm learning things that are completely new - the hard way: trial and error. But it's great. Because I'm good at it, despite the bumps in the road. For example; today was really hard. For the first time in over 16 months that I've worked there I went into overtime because of a work-related issue we were experiencing. I almost fell apart for a few minutes. We had a problem that I didn't understand. I'd done everything I knew to do - correctly - and still things weren't working right, causing some major malfunctions further down the line for other people. But between me and IT, we got it figured out and repaired (turns out my computer is one of only a few in the building with Windows 7, and it's got some crazy kinks to iron out). All will be well. I left this afternoon with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.<br />
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I don't really have a point to this, other than the fact that God is proving Himself faithful to me. This area of my life is changing. Stress is no longer just something to cope with - it's something I'm learning to thrive under. And that's only by the grace of God.<br />
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<i>Writing this out helps a little too... </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<b>How do you handle stress?</b><br />
<br />
Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-6447647543391426402011-07-27T11:40:00.000-07:002011-07-27T15:32:36.863-07:00Formulas and Faith<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDtZNP-eCsZPfM3RckAfGZrtktNphA12OOEDb93gqDyfzCpN9QrrO_32aqlu0IjkFtPPuQ88kZb10vqN6Mq-3XBDuH4XNH8qnmeHTKxtFSKz0scQASU7pfOmReIk2yutHD5m2DVUwOGKW/s1600/math.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDtZNP-eCsZPfM3RckAfGZrtktNphA12OOEDb93gqDyfzCpN9QrrO_32aqlu0IjkFtPPuQ88kZb10vqN6Mq-3XBDuH4XNH8qnmeHTKxtFSKz0scQASU7pfOmReIk2yutHD5m2DVUwOGKW/s320/math.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I don't enjoy math. In high school I memorized formulas long enough to pass the test and promptly forgot them. But I've found myself looking for formulas in my walk with God.When I approach a problem or have a question I want God to give me steps A + B + C that will equal a calculated result.<br />
<br />
For example: as a teenager I craved an abiding, constant relationship with the Lord. And in my mind, the way to get that was this:<br />
<blockquote><b>read bible + pray more - sin = ABIDE</b></blockquote>But the reality of an abiding relationship with the Father is so much simpler than that. Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying that we shouldn't read God's word, pray and resist temptation to sin. But those works alone do not achieve the end I desired. For years I tried to turn my faith into works and it got me nowhere. I thought, "If I only do these things more I will be the kind of Christian I want to be." <i>I do</i>...<i> I will</i>... <i>I want</i>... My motivation was myself. My trust, and ultimate disappointment, was in my own ability.<br />
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There is no formula for abiding in Christ. The relationship I have with Him now is not the result of anything I have done. I can't point to a certain time when a switch flipped and I "got it". All I know is that I grew desperate for Him. I stopped trying to figure out with my head how to walk with Him, and I just started seeking - unscripted. I cried out from the depths of me, humbling myself and coming to Him broken. And somewhere in that He met me. I can't point to one thing I said or did. I didn't "pray enough", "read enough", or "stop sinning" before He met me. It was all Him. I can't take any credit.. and now.. my desire to read the word, pray and resist temptation flows out of my relationship with Him.<br />
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If you've been a Christian for any length of time you know the agony of trying to "figure out Gods will" through formulas and plans. We want to make the decisions that please Him, so we pray, we fast, we wait, we lay out the fleece for His clear direction. There have been times in my life this process has <i>paralyzed me with fear</i> of stepping out of His will. We want the "audible voice" or the "handwriting on the wall". And sometimes He is gracious. He gives it. Sometimes "the formula" works (<a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Jdg&c=6&t=NKJV#39">think of Gideon</a>). But sometimes I think the Lord lets us have what we want and redeems it, for the glory of His name.<br />
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I've been reading in 1 Samuel lately where the nation of Israel asked the prophet Samuel for a king. They were tired of being ruled by judges and through prophets. This grieved the heart of Samuel but the Lord told him to give the people what they wanted. And we all know the end of the story. The people got Saul (who was good when he obeyed God), then they got David - the man after Gods heart. And eventually Solomon - the wisest king the earth has ever known. Gods name was made famous through the reign of these kings, and many after them. As long as a king submitted himself to the Lord, God got the glory due Him.<br />
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Gods "ideal plan" was to rule Israel himself through judges and prophets. But He gave the nation their king. And He redeemed them. During that time He made the nation of Israel a banner of His faithfulness. His Son came from the lineage of kings that were established then. I don't think anyone could say that this plan was "bad". If there was a "formula" in this situation for "the perfect will of God" the nation of Israel didn't follow it. But still God was glorified as long as the nation and its king submitted to Him. Does He ask any more of us?<br />
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I think I can say the same thing about my life. There have been times that I moved ahead and made decisions that may not have been "Gods perfect will" but they were not "bad" inherently. I cannot say I regret these things because He has so beautifully redeemed me. So I'm going to stop looking for formulas. I need to remember that His ways are not my ways. Despite my disdain for math, "my way" is to find the formula, to lay out the plan, to make lists and stay organized. But His ways are higher. I'm learning to trust Him. Sometimes that will mean He lays out His plan clearly. And sometimes it means I step out blindly, with only His light to illuminate each step of faith as I take it.<a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Jhn&c=10&v=1&t=NKJV"> I know the voice of my Shepherd </a>and I can trust Him to guide me, even when I have no idea where I'm going.<i> I don't have to know every step before I take it</i>. And I've come to find<i><b> that's okay.</b></i><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I know I'm not the only one. Do you look for formulas?</span></b>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4073081242561127257.post-73360155115473221472011-07-24T01:39:00.000-07:002011-07-24T09:15:26.648-07:00Removing the Veil<i>I have another post in the works that I'll be putting up in the next few days. But this quote has been pinging around in my heart ever since <a href="http://bebokirkwood.blogspot.com/">someone </a>shared it with me a couple days ago. I want to put it here if only to be able to easily reference it later. </i><br />
<div><i><br />
</i></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let us remember that when we talk of the rendering of the veil we are speaking in a figure, and the thought of it is poetical, almost pleasant, but in actuality <i>there is nothing pleasant about it</i>. In human experience that veil is made of living spiritual tissue; it is composed of the sentient, quivering stuff of which our whole beings consist, and to touch it is to touch us where we feel pain. <b>To tear it away is to injure us, to hurt us, to make us bleed. To say otherwise is to make the cross no cross and death no death at all.</b> It is never fun to die. <i>To rip through the dear and tender stuff of which life is made can never be anything but deeply painful.</i> Yet that is what the cross did to Jesus and<b> it is what the cross would do to every man to set him free</b>... The cross is rough and it is deadly, but it is effective. It does not keep its victim hanging there forever. There comes a moment when its work is finished and the suffering victim dies. After that is resurrection glory and power, and<i><b> the pain is forgotten for the joy that the veil is taken away and we have entered in actual spiritual experience the presence of the living God.</b></i></span></div></blockquote><div>- A.W. Tozer, <i>The Pursuit of God</i>, Removing the Veil</div>Rebekah Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05621414007953219061noreply@blogger.com0