The Summer Chronicles

I was recently recounting to a sweet new friend that almost every summer for the past 8 years has marked a move of God in my life. There is always a turning point. Without fail, it's a time of maturing for me. It's interesting how that parallels with creation. Plants come to full maturity each summer before dropping their fruit and leaves in autumn. In the same way, I've come to be expectant of fruit in the summer seasons. Bringing forth fruit is not always the easiest process. Often there has been much painful pruning involved. But each time I find myself transformed - and I know it's worth it. I want to share some of the stories of Gods faithfulness through these seasons...

The summer of 2006 was the first after we transitioned into house churches. We were high on newly discovered relationship - with God and each other. Someone got wind of Andrew Strom's "Personal Revival" message and it spread among us. In our group of friends the wave of personal revival began with Jordan. She had a life-changing revelation of the holiness of God. It soon spread to Lauren - whose testimony is still posted to Andrew Strom's website. Finally, God got a hold of me. I was purged of everything I'd ever known about who God is and how to approach Him. He was no longer this puppy dog in the sky who catered to my every whim. I saw Him in the beauty of holiness and He became more real to me than He'd ever been before.

Sadly, at the end of that summer, one of our best friends walked out of our lives. We went from perpetual sleepovers and endless inside jokes, to nothing at all. In all the growing we did that summer, there was much pruning. Pruning that left scars, but there is fruit in us today as a result. We learned a big lesson in obedience through suffering during that season.

My first summer at a full time job was in 2007. I did data-entry and form corrections every day with headphones on, listening to every Leonard Ravenhill sermon available on the internet. The young girls in the bible study we taught grew tired of my quoting him constantly, I'm sure. God lit a "fire in my bones" that summer. Jordan, Lauren and I practically memorized "The Revival Hymn". One night, when we were supposed to go see a movie together, we got into the car, and started talking about it. Before I could even buckle my seat belt tears poured down my face and all I could hear in my mind was this;

"We haven't spent half an hour with Jesus, but we'll stay two stinking hours in a movie house! And Paul says that's what the world is to me; It's a system of corruption and rottenness and vileness. It's anti-Christ from the word go!... Is the world crucified to you tonight? Or does is fascinate you?"

When I voiced what was going through my mind, Jordan and Lauren looked at one another and immediately said, "Me too!!" That night became the first of many prayer meetings we had that summer. It was during one of those prayer meetings that God told me to take off my purity ring for good. But that's a story for another time.

In the 2008 the growing and maturing was a lot more practical and tangible. That summer Jordan and I ended up moving out of my parents house together. We lived with a gracious single woman in the church who opened her 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment to us for very low rent. This was a fresh start for us. It held a lot of new challenges that taught us to rely more heavily on the Lord for our needs. He proved Himself faithful, as always.

Relationships were the primary source of change for me in 2009. My relationship to my parents was in the process of being re-defined, despite living apart from them for a year. One of the most profound changes was that our best friend, Lauren, was imminently moving away to college. She was dating Blake. There was a whole new dynamic to our relationships. God dealt with me personally a lot that summer. He put to rest some things that'd haunted me too long.

Last summer followed a spring that we'd spent in intercessory prayer. Beginning in March we met every week to seek God and pray that He would move in our lives and mold us to be more like Him. We prayed fervently for friends who were faltering. We prayed for renewed fire in ourselves. And that summer, God answered. Friends transformed before our eyes. I really believe the Lord mercifully poured out His spirit on us. We sought to hear His voice, and He spoke - through us. None of us had operated in the gifts of the Spirit with any regularity for years. Last summer God taught us to use the gifts again, with words of wisdom, knowledge and prophecy. Church function as laid out in 1 Corinthians 14:22-26 was tangible in our meetings. Peoples hearts were laid bare, causing them to cry out to God. I learned to hear the voice of the Shepherd again, in a completely new way than I'd previously learned it. In years before He had to set my heart racing to get my attention. This time I learned to hear Him in the still, quiet voice, and to act - immediately - on what He was telling me to do or say. He always confirmed what He'd spoken every time I stepped out in faith. And my faith grew by leaps and bounds.

As I've been reflecting on past summers, I'm looking forward to this one. Already a month in, God is moving and shaking so much in me. I feel as though I've been having a crisis of faith - questioning things in myself that I've never questioned before. Why do I believe what I do? Where do my values come from? Are they based on the word of God? What are my convictions, apart from what I've always been associated with?

I admit, as far as my core values and convictions go, not a whole lot has changed. What has changed is that my weak knees are being strengthened. I'm becoming grounded where before I was easily thrown off balance by others opinions of me. I have no idea what the rest of this summer holds, but I know there is a reason I've being firmly planted on the rock of my salvation.

More Than Just a Name

Those who know me in person know that "Rebekah" is not the name I go by. If there is some chance that I am introduced as "Rebekah" I will probably shake your hand, smile and say, "Please, call me Bekah." All of my email signatures and social media bear the shortened version of my name.

"Rebekah" is a name I have associated with being in trouble most of my life. My parents only used it when I was being severely reprimanded. I vividly recall flushing with dread every time they called "Rebekah Hope!" into the backyard. I would run down the mental list of mischief I'd been in, wondering which fiasco I'd be answering for this time. This is a habit I carried with me into adult life, growing anxious each time a teacher or supervisor used my given name.

I hated being called "Rebekah" all through middle school and high school. The guys in my classes quickly discovered this and taunted me relentlessly. There were two Rebekahs in my small high school. Since we had many of the same classes, it was decided early on that she would go by "Rebecca" and I was "Bekah". If someone slipped up and used my given name, I would rarely acknowledge them because I assumed they were addressing the other girl.

Last October, when I started this blog, I was wrestling with God. Earlier in the year I'd spent some time allowing myself to be courted by a guy with whom it ended up not working out. But in the midst of that the Lord stirred up dreams in me that I thought were dead. I was angry because I felt like He dangled something in front of me only to snatch it away. In the midst of expressing this to Him one afternoon, He spoke to me.

"You are not the first to get a promise from me only to see it unfulfilled within your timeline. I promised Abram and Sarai a child - and they waited, in faith, for the promise to be fulfilled. While they waited, I changed their names. As I am changing yours. It is no accident that your name is Rebekah Hope. You will no longer associate that name with anger, trouble, and anxiety. In the book of Genesis Rebekah was found as a wife through her service. You will be found serving me. Do not sit idle. Pour yourself into serving the least of these. Rebekah Hope, you have been so named for a reason. Hope in me. Serve me forever. Then it will no longer matter how long it takes to be found."

 I was - and still am - floored each time I read that. Has God really given me a promise and changed my name? I'm learning to quell my anxieties when I hear the name "Rebekah". And I'm learning to believe the promise He gave me even when it seems so unlikely.

I gave my blog this title as an act of faith. This is a daily reminder of how God has spoken over my life and a testament of His faithfulness to me. It's more than just my name.

How Did I Get Here?

I've been doing a lot of blog reading lately, which has me thinking about how I got here, and why I'm writing. Text has always been the medium where I've been most comfortable. I started writing at 11 or 12, shortly after my dad drilled grammar rules into my head through many tearful home-school sessions. After memorizing 436 proofreading symbols, I finally learned to love words.

My first online platform was "Teen-Open-Diary". Yes, it was as bad as it sounds. This was before MySpace was on anyone's radar. I created an "anonymous" profile, which I promptly emailed to my closest friends, and I began to write with gusto. I filled page after page of internet content with my every angst-filled teenage thought. "Relationship" trials, school drama, prayers, tears, depression. I treated that platform like my personal diary - completely uncensored as though no one was reading it. I cringe now, remembering that I thrived off of the drama my "honesty" created. Eventually the open-diary network was hacked one too many times and shut down, gratefully leaving me with only a few entries in my hardback journal as a reminder of the emotion-crazed pre-teen I was.

Shortly thereafter I joined a new youth group and found out that - wait - there are some deep, dark thoughts that only a few should know about? And the opposite sex shouldn't be on that list (especially at 15)? So, I stopped writing in all public forums and began to write for myself. I internalized everything that year, filling two journals and a sketchbook. I wrote pages of letters that I never sent, and some that I did. In that year I laid aside several destructive relationships and began to learn to relate to real people in real ways. This was a process. I can't tell you how many hours I wasted trying to speak my heart only to give up and write it down, passing it to the person across from me. Writing became a form of bondage for me.

Because this continued to be a problem, someone challenged me to give it up for a season and told me that, "It's out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, not the pen writes." I laid my pen down and put the journals aside. That year I learned to talk. I learned to voice my heart. I was no longer bound to the pen. But I still didn't trust it. I was afraid that in this medium where I felt so comfortable I would say too much.

I tried for a while to write anonymously through Xanga, but I gave up after 5 entries the first time I crossed the line of "too personal" - even though no one was reading it. Then my friends jumped on the blogger bandwagon. I quickly found where I was safe - writing exclusively about the things the Lord was teaching me. I spoke only of struggles in the past-tense, from the side of victory. Prudence dictated that I keep things on a surface level while I learned to safely relate to the opposite sex, both virtually and physically. Eventually it came naturally - at least in person. But when it comes to writing, I have danced on eggshells for years, careful not to say anything that might later incriminate me.

I've realized that as a 22 year old young woman I can trust myself with a pen again. With some maturity has come discernment, proven in the fact that the hand-written version of this (I'm a little old-fashioned that way) has sentences with lines through them that won't end up in my final draft.

I want to tell my stories - both past and present. To testify of what I have been saved from, now safely removed from who I used to be. Maybe by removing the vague cloud that has covered my writing, I'll find out that I am not alone. And maybe... you will too.

To the Fathers

This is a testimony that I wrote and gave at a Father-Daughter banquet early last year. I think it is appropriate to honor my Father right now by sharing this. May it be an exhortation and encouragement to you as well.

The photo to the left of my sister Jordan and Poppie was taken a couple of years ago on the Baton Rouge barge dock downtown. I had it printed and framed for Fathers day that year.

Good evening -
I don’t think there’s anyone here that doesn’t know my sister, myself and my Father – or "Poppie" – as many of you affectionately refer to him. What some of you may not know is that I am the 5th of 6 daughters – 6 daughters who were raised in a ONE bathroom house. I think it would be fair to say that my Daddy has had his share of experience raising girls!

I want to testify tonight about the difference that the words of a Father can make to his daughter. Right now you are "the man" in your little girls’ life. I can only imagine the great weight of responsibility that comes with parenthood. But I want to encourage you to take advantage of this small window of opportunity that’s been given to you to endear yourself to your little girls.

My Father isn't perfect, and I don’t believe he would have me give you that impression. But I want to share with you some of the things he has done, raising us, that have made a lasting impact on my life. My sister and I, like most little girls, loved to play dress up. We spent hours in our room playing with makeup, veils, crowns and frou-frou dresses. When we dressed up we would wait in the front yard for Poppie to get home from work so that we could show off our handiwork. We were rarely disappointed. He would tell us how beautiful we were - even if we had mascara on our noses or lipstick out of line. It didn't matter that our dresses were 5 sizes too big and stained with kool-aid. In this way he earned our constant affection and devotion. We knew we were pretty because “Poppie said so!” and he was the final word.

As we grew older the dress-up sessions were a little more serious. We came home from shopping excursions with Momma to show off our purchases. No matter what he was doing Poppie would pause to look at all the new things and give his approval. But it never really mattered what we wore. We always knew that we were beautiful - inside and out- because He took every opportunity to tell us so. Countless times he spontaneously looked at one or both of us and said something like, “I am so blessed to have such pretty girls who love Jesus SO much.”

The consistent affirmation we received has had lasting repercussions as we’re entering adult life. Today, as a young woman who has been taught to be modest in all things - protecting the eyes of the young men around me - I feel confident that I can go unashamed to my father after purchasing something and ask, “Hey Pop, is this immodest? Do you see any reason that I should return it?” And I trust that he will give me an honest answer, looking out for my best interest, and helping me guard my virtue. I have learned to value his opinion first as my father, but also as a man.

It should be no surprise that in our culture media plays a part in shaping the image that young girls strive to achieve. But I’m here to tell you that fathers have a vital role in shaping who their daughters aspire to be. It’s almost cliché to say this; Your words as a father hold the power of life and death. I cannot explain why I want it, and I can't get rid of the desire for my Fathers approval. As a child, I craved his laughter. I would put on the most ridiculous antics and tell him endless knock-knock jokes just to know that I put a genuine smile on his face. Conversely, because I crave his approval, his criticism or correction strikes deeper than almost anyone else's. To this day there a few things that humble me as much as the stern voice of my Father. Without even knowing or meaning to, a Father can inflict lasting wounds on his daughter through harsh criticism - especially of her appearance. But the knowledge that her father is proud of her, that he values her, no matter how many opportunities she's given him for disappointment, can be the core of confidence for a girl of any age.

Let me give you an example. I was not the most popular girl in middle school. I was awkward around boys, I had frizzy hair – and I was the “goody-two-shoes”. I particularly remember one day that my dad dropped me off at school. He joined hands with me, praying briefly as he always did before letting me go. As soon as he looked up at me he tugged on one of my pigtail braids and said, “I love it when you wear your hair like this. It makes me feel like you’re still my little girl who isn’t growing up too fast.” That simple statement made my day! I walked through the gates of the school grinning from ear to ear and joined my friends. The first thing one of the boys said to me was “Why do you wear your hair like that?? It looks so stupid. You look like a little farm girl.” I couldn’t have cared less. What that silly boy thought about me paled in comparison to the glowing approval I’d just received from my Father. And those boys knew it. As a result they were terrified of my "precious Poppie”, who despite his 6'4" frame, is a big teddy bear. They knew he had my heart. He spoke words of encouragement and affirmation and without even knowing it my Father protected me from seeking the attention of other boys. He spared me so much heartache and insecurity through his uplifting words.

I look back and I know that because I was secure in my fathers’ love and affection, I didn’t need the affection of any other boy. I didn’t go seeking the attention that so many girls do – and they come back with broken hearts that they're too ashamed of to turn to their Fathers. Please - take every opportunity to share with your daughters how beautiful each of them are. Be sparing and thoughtful with criticism. I know for some of you this may not be easy. The Word of God says that “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.” It is vital that your daughters hear your heart for them. It can, and it will make a lasting impact on how they view themselves for the rest of their lives. Because if you don’t say the things she needs to hear from a man, then she will find someone else who will...

Allow me to note that your little girl will never grow tired of hearing your heart. Just last week I got a voicemail from my Poppie. He was just calling to tell me – with tears choking his voice – how much he cherishes me and how proud he is of the godly woman I have become. He left a similar message on Jordans phone. I have no idea what prompted this, but it made me feel incredibly cherished. As a single young lady without a date in sight, I still need to hear those words from my Father.

I want to take this opportunity to say Thank You to my Poppie. Thank you, for your fervent prayers, and your constant encouragement that has helped me become a woman who is growing in character. I love you.

A Fool in Boasting

I didn't want to write this, much less look at it. I don't want to look at why I do what I do because I'm ashamed to admit it - to myself or anyone else. But I would rather boast in my infirmities that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

It's hard to describe how badly I craved doughnuts and coffee this morning. I talked myself into it 10 times in a matter of 5 minutes. I reasoned in my mind, saying I'd limit the amount. I wanted to comfort myself with food - and I justified this saying, "It's not like I want to binge. I just want one or two. How much could that really hurt me?" One or two doughnuts in the whole scheme may not "hurt". But the reason I want them does.

Our culture says it's okay to turn to food when you're upset or stressed. Women from every generation are led to believe that this is "glamorous". How many chick-flicks include a scene where a usually thin, gorgeous girl is drowning her sorrows in a bucket of ice cream or box of chocolates? If they put a large woman in that role I have to wonder how "cute" would it be? Yet our society accepts this. Celebrates it.

What began as imitation in early years, has become habit for me. I turn to food to comfort myself. Why? I have this idea that I need to satisfy a craving. When really it's a soul hunger that needs satisfying. I have programmed my mind to think that food and fleshly satisfaction will make the ache go away. When did I start mistaking heartache for hunger pains?

The easy thing would be to blame "Legally Blonde" for my eating habits. Or to point my finger at Ronald McDonald for luring me underneath those double arches as a child. But ultimately the responsibility lies with me. Gluttony is one of American Christianity's most ignored sins. We like to believe that "The lust of the flesh" (1 John 2:15-16) refers to only the sexual sort. Lust is defined as a desire, longing, or craving. Few people would broadcast their craving for sex by openly seeking a brothel and publicly carrying out sexual acts. Yet Christians all over America herd into the Golden Corral each Sunday seeking to indulge - extravagantly - their craving for food. The definition of lust doesn't change with the object it is set upon. Lust for food is no less condemning than lust for sex. And you don't have to be overweight to be a glutton. This is a subject not often discussed and never addressed in most Christian circles. We are afraid to step on toes. Toes we can't even see for our bellies.

There is so much shame in the sin of gluttony - a shame I know too well. Over the years I have dieted in secret. I never wanted to admit that I was trying to lose weight because I'd simultaneously be admitting that I have a weight problem. I have dieted in darkness so that if I fail, no one has to know. But I am tired of hiding in darkness, because the fact is I'm not hiding from anyone. The evidence of my wrong thinking is plastered all over my stomach, thighs, and arms.

The word of God instructs us to confess our sins one to another that we might be healed. This is my confession. I declare this is the day of salvation. I will be be healed through repentance - changing the way that I think about food and exercise. In changing the way that I think, I will change the way that I act, how I eat, and how I move.

"Ho! Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat. Yes, come, buy wine and milk without money, and without price. Why do you spend money for what is not bread, and your wages for what does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and let your soul delight itself in abundance. Incline your ear and come to me. Hear, and your soul shall live; and I will make an everlasting covenant with you - the sure mercies of David... Seek the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake His way, and the unrighteous man His thoughts; Let him return to the Lord, and He will have mercy on him; and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon" ~ Isaiah 55:1-3, 6-7

The Ready Soul: Conclusion

I’m sorry this is so late in coming. Jordan and I hit the ground running after we got back from our vacation.

The title for this series comes from a My Utmost for His Highest devotional for April 18^th that was so timely. Here are a few excerpts from that devotion:

…Readiness for God means that we are ready to do the tiniest little thing or the great big thing, it makes no difference...When any duty presents itself we hear God's voice as Our Lord heard His Father's voice, and we are ready for it with all the alertness of our love for Him. Jesus Christ expects to do with us as His Father did with Him. He can put us where He likes, in pleasant duties or in mean duties, because the union is that of the Father and Himself. "That they may be one, even as We are one."
Be ready for the sudden surprise visits of God. 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 the ready soul, it is ablaze with the presence of God.

It just so happens that the week before we left for Tennessee I’d been praying that the Lord would give me a ready soul. I prayed that God would open my eyes to see His kingdom, His people, and where He wants me to serve. Try to imagine my amazement when I found that prayer answered so specifically, so quickly. God visited us.

Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. I have evidence of Gods’ specific answer to so many prayers – from a single day! When I see this tangible proof of my Heavenly Fathers love for me, I can always feel my faith swelling to new levels. I want to list all the ways He answered prayers, just to summarize for you:

· He rolled away the rain clouds when we asked Him to

· He shielded my vehicle while we were driving in a onslaught of hail – only 5 pieces hit my car as long as we prayed!

· He provided shelter and safety for us during severe, tornado-laden storms

· He paired us with 2 young ladies who are a part of “The Remnant” of His kingdom – out of all the places we could’ve stopped or taken shelter, He orchestrated our every step to be in French Camp, Mississippi

· He provided an opportunity to serve, as unto Him

· Most importantly, He gave us new friends that we’ll never forget

In my opinion this proves that God is intricately involved in even the slightest details of our lives, such as whether or not it rains. He hears the cries of our hearts and longs to show Himself faithful when we trust Him with everything.

Jordan made the point after we returned that if we gave the Lord just one day of our lives, and He turned it upside down for His glory – imagine what He can do with a surrendered life! This is something I need to remember daily. Just before we left for vacation I found out that the State of Louisiana is going to consolidate some State agencies. They have since submitted the bill to the Legislature, and we are waiting to see how this will play out. An estimated 300 employees will be reduced to 150. I have about a 50/50 chance of keeping my job. Yet, I know that regardless of what happens, the Lord will take care of me. My heart is completely at peace about that.

God put me in this job. My first interview here, just over a year ago, was the worst one I’d ever done. I was flustered and unsure, and as a result I cried the whole way home, believing I’d ruined any chance of getting a new job. I am assured my Heavenly Daddy saw my tears that day with a twinkle in His own eye. I’m wondering what He’s thinking now as I’ve been prayerfully considering my future. But one of my favorite things to do is stand back and watch Him prove His faithfulness while I learn to trust Him.

In my life this is not a cliché:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.” ~ Proverbs 3:5-6

You can read the more detailed version of Gods faithfulness to us on this trip here: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V

The Ready Soul Part V: Here I am

After several minutes exchanging stories, Summer turned and mentioned to Tekoa that her work crew (teenage girls she mentors in an internship job setting) was cancelled due to the storms so she alone had to prepare several rooms for a convention arriving that evening. Tekoa offered her help to strip (take sheets off, empty trash bags) and flip (clean and supply fresh linens, etc) the rooms that were needed at the Camp of the Rising Son. Tekoa's work crew for the thrift store was also cancelled. My ears perked up immediately, and I inquired about their problem, trying not to sound obvious. I knew: This is why we're here. I was inwardly praying, "Lord if this is where you want us and what you want us to do, please let them say yes." I said something to them like, "I don't know if you guys need it or not, but do you want some help? We can make beds, dust, clean toilets, do whatever you need to be

done!" They just sort of looked at us for a few moments, wide eyed. I don't know if they initially took us seriously. But I knew that we were there for the express purpose of lending a hand. We discussed it back and forth with them and they warned us that it wasn't fun work, to which we replied, "We are two of six daughters. We are not afraid of work - our dad made up for not having sons!" Before long we were walking outside - where the rain had stopped - and piling into a van to roll up our sleeves and get to work!

We got a delightful narrated driving tour of the academy campus as we made our way to the camp facilities, thanks to Tekoa. It is this picturesque little campus with a bunch of quaint old houses and buildings. The camp lodge is positioned overlooking Lake Anne with several cabins surrounding it. Our assignment was to prepare several rooms in a guest-house with the girls. After instructing us on how to make a bed with hospital corners (ahem, which I am still incapable of - thank you Jordan - I will never again complain about your insistence in doing this at home!) we set to work for the next several hours. And we had a blast getting to know Tekoa and Summer while we worked! They are truly more kindred spirits than we ever anticipated. After preparing the rooms for the convention attendees, we took a few minutes to play around. The dock over Lake Anne was submerged a few inches due to the excessive rainfall they'd had that day. Summer suggested we get pictures of each other "Walking on Water", so we headed down to the little beach. The clouds were clearing out of the sky and the setting sun was stunning over the water. I snapped pictures while the girls walked out across the water, submerged only to their ankles.

We continued our adventures with Tekoa and Summer by cleaning a boys bathhouse that'd been closed all winter.

Stories were told and we talked as we worked. I can't remember when I've had a more enjoyable afternoon. They ordered dinner for us from the only cafe' in town. We picked up our dinner that Tekoa graciously paid for, then made our way back to her apartment. Can I tell you their roast beef sandwich (on the locally made bread) rivaled anything you'd find in New Orleans? And that's a serious compliment! For the next several hours we hung out talking and sharing our hearts with these girls. Each of us shared various things the Lord has done in our lives, and things He was currently teaching us. I was convicted and encouraged, provoked to love and good works.

With our bellies full, and hearts brimming, they offered us a room in the lodge for the night. We gladly accepted the opportunity to take hot showers and sleep in a bed. Our gratitude even now is unceasing. God provided for our needs so bountifully in those 24 hours. We trusted Him, and he gave us abundantly more than we could ever ask for or imagine. We would've been happy to pitch our tent on the campgrounds that night, but the Lord showed His hand so much mightier than that. He showered us with good gifts, and we must give Him all glory.

Read Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV.

Jordan and I both plan on writing about how this affected us on a deeper level spiritually - and how it was a specific answer to specific prayers we'd prayed during the week.