Sight

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. (vs.7) Therefore we do not lose heart... inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. SO we FIX our EYES not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (vs. 16-18)" 2 Corinthians

Light and momentary troubles.

Sometimes I forget that my troubles are for only a moment. That I really, truly have never suffered. I have grieved losses, but in comparison to so many people I have met, I know things could have been so much harder for me.

Why do we lose perspective on real life so quickly. Why do our eyes so easily turn to what is temporary??? To our circumstance. To our own challenges or desires?

FIX our EYES. That would imply an intentional choice to SEE with GOD SIZED SIGHT. Spirit eyes looking through us and into the eternal.

Ask God to fine tune your vision today.
Lord, help us see with eyes that are led by the Spirit. To look on in courage and not defeat. To see with eyes of faith beyond our here and now. Give us an appetite for the eternal. Let our eyes feast with longing for your Kingdom to come in and around us.

Shopping

Warning: This is a non spiritual post.
Men: Double warning to you...

So I have not lost the 40 lbs. I wanted to lose.
4 lbs. Four Pounds. Less than the weight of a decent Thanksgiving turkey leg is all I have managed to shed off this frame in the last 75 days. My Wii keeps making mean noises at me. Those who created the Wii did not posses the gift of mercy.

I leave for FL in less than 2 weeks.
Today I shopped for a bathing suit. (gasp!)

For most of us women, with the exception of the few cuties who grace magazines, this is not an enjoyable experience. This is a time when we hurl insults at a mirror or find defeat in brightly colored stretchy material. And just to warn you... the "miracle suit" is only a snake oil salesman kind of claim. Unless you consider the putrid print of the suit causes hallucinations or dizziness, the only miracle in a suit like that is being able to expand the lungs enough to survive! I KNOW I need to eat less and move more. It is not rocket science - ahhh... but it is obedience and discipline. I need more of those ingredients in my life and less of the extra large print hibiscus flowers hanging on the rack.

Swim suit shopping. Sorry men, you can't KNOW the grief it causes! I think I would rather gouge my eye out with a screwdriver - or go to Chuck E. Cheese three nights in a row with 70 three year olds, or have a root canal, or attend a cheer leading competition or _________________________ - you fill in the blank.

I Don't Want to Be Free

Freedom.

We long for it.
Hunger for it.

Freedom from addiction.
Addiction to...
people.
food.
approval.
alchohol.
abuse.
cigarettes.
drugs.

People WANT to be free.

Free from...
worry.
pain.
betrayal.
pressure.
stress.
hatred.
war.
debt.
grief.
denial.
poverty.


I spend time each week hearing women tell me how much they pray for freedom. For deliverance. For an open prison door that they might walk out.
No. Dance out - skipping and singing a freedom song.

We imagine what freedom will...
feel like.
smell like.
taste like.
look like.

Ahhh... freedom is the desire of every human heart in one way or another.

But there is one place where I choose to stay bound.
Locked in.
Chained.
Shackled.

To HIM.

I want to stay bound to Christ. To God my Father. Chain me to the Spirit within.

Slavery is my only hope of freedom.
In this.
In this relationship.
In this blessed, appointed, anointed space... leave me in chains.

I don't want to be free ...
from my Savior.

Bond´slave`
n. 1. A person in a state of slavery; one whose person and liberty are subjected to the authority of a master.

Romans 1:1 - Amplified Bible
FROM PAUL, a bond servant of Jesus Christ (the Messiah) called to be an apostle, (a special messenger) set apart to [preach] the Gospel (good news) of and from God...

First Visit to TX Death Row

Houston is a huge city with a sprawling interstate that would intimidate any small town girl like me. Nashville is TINY compared to this massive footprint of a city. There's no shortage of insane drivers either so it is only the call of God that would make this "slow lane" lovin' chic choose to enter the freeway! In a borrowed SUV no less. That had a broken speedometer. Hallelujah! Prayers rose like breath from these lips as my knuckles turned white.

When I finally arrived at the Polunsky Unit, I was immediately taken by its size. When I reached the check point in the parking lot, I popped the hood of the car and opened every door as instructed by the kind officer. My car was examined and permission was granted for me to proceed. I parked and entered the first little building. I went through the metal detector and was frisked by a female officer. When I informed them that I had a minister's visit with an inmate, they seemed surprised. I guess the capri pants and casual shirt was a bit out of the box for a minister. I liked this fact. God will never be contained in a box and I am always inspired by Him to break the religious mold. After all, this was a visit to a man contained in a steel box and that is box enough.

I was given a large, plastic dog tag to wear around my neck. It read "Death Row Visitor" though the yellow color on the tag was almost worn off. I guess visitors come in with a tag around their necks as inmates leave with a tag around their toe. It was all so surreal now. Once I was processed through, I walked another 100 yards to the visitation building. It had bright green metal doors and a few flower beds scattered around it. Nothing could soften the look of the place. As I walked I looked up to my left and to my right. Tall guard towers containing armed officers stood as reminders of the reality that no one could escape. Upon entering the building, I turned left and made my way down a short hall. Two more sets of green metal doors. Then I saw them. The line of white numbered cubicles where visits take place. Separated by a wall of glass. Again I became nervous. Like a fish out of water, I was unsure of these new surroundings. Thankfully a kind officer offered her help. I was taken to number 31 and took my seat. I stared into the tiny, vacant holding cell. Looking to my left I noticed only two other individuals conducting visits in the room. While waiting, I was able to meet Catherine Cox. She has been working with death row inmates for 38 years. Her husband also ministered in this capacity. She's been a widow for 13 years now and looked to be in her 70's. What a hero of our faith!!! Thomas has told me all about her and how she is a lifeline for many men without family. Her legacy is her faith.

While talking to Catherine, Thomas arrived. I did not seem him enter the cubical. When I realized he was there, I stepped toward the window and we simultaneously picked up the phone. We were both smiling and any concern I had about how I might be received melted away. His eyes were bright and though he had surgery on his arm two weeks earlier, he looked well. We talked about many things. Comparing prison stories, discussing religion in today's society, and simply getting to know one another. In my work with women in prison, I have learned that the greatest weapon in our hand as believers is love. The past and the horrible decisions made by an individual does not have to be the way we define a person. A person God made, no matter how broken. Love tears through walls like a sledge hammer. A sledgehammer with a soft edge.

Near the end of our visit I sang for him. Amazing Grace and At Last. He asked for Blue Moon, but the lyrics escaped me. He also talked reason into my head to not sing half way through the visit as he feared I would be kicked out! Texas is not like Tennessee. In Tennessee a few officers will sing with me. I was on new turf here and did not need to take chances. To honor his privacy, I will not go into the weight of our discussion. What I can say is that I will learn much about myself and my God as a result of this unlikely friendship. I am learning more about how believers live out their faith. How we demonstrate what we truly believe. Fake faith fades. It is temporary and phony. Real Faith is like a soul tattoo. In penetrates and leaves a lasting mark on every life we draw on. Through God's power, I hope to leave a soul tattoo on each broken life He allows me to color on. Hues in every shade fully expressed in the vibrant ink of HIS LOVE.

The two hours passed so quickly! Goodbye was far from somber and I left my chair with a full heart. How good is God that He will encourage us in the darkest dungeon of existence? Touch us when we can't reach out and touch the human behind the glass. I kept looking back as I was walking away but I never caught another glimpse of him. The officers were putting his shackles back on his hands and my view was obscured. But I knew he had been greatly encouraged by our visit... God be praised for that!

As I walked out into the 105 degree weather, I could feel my emotions rise within me. Tears started to sting my eyes. I fought them back as I made my way to the car. The reality that my pen pal was now made flesh before my eyes made death row all the more real. The devastation of his crime does not go unnoticed by me. He is behind bars for a reason, yet compassion lives in me. I am reminded of Christ choosing to go on death row for my sake. I am reminded of God made flesh to walk among us and be moved to compassion to die for us. He is the very reason that I am empowered to love the guilty. I know how it feels to be loved and forgiven myself.

Paul's words to Timothy rang in my head...

I Timothy 1: 12-17
I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.
Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.

Texas Death Row

Short update -

Was 105 degrees in Houston today.
Was able to visit death row today and will be posting about the visit tomorrow. Limited access to internet and I am so worn out that I am headed to bed. Please come back tomorrow afternoon for a post about what I experienced.

God's power, strength and love shines through our weakness.

Bound for TX

Just stopping by to ask for prayer.

Leaving for Texas this AM. I have been awake since 3:30 AM. Mercy!

I have a minister's visit scheduled with an inmate on Death Row on Thursday morning at 9:00 AM central time. I have never been to a prison like this one... with it's reputation for toughness. Please pray that I can be Jesus with Skin when I walk through the gate. That God would guide the conversation and give me discernment.

I will also be at the Mission Centers of Houton. Pray for God moments as I serve there.

I will updating the blog often to check in with me and thanks for those prayers!

An Offering

The Widow's Offering
As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins."I tell you the truth," he said, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on." Luke 21:1-4

I once again opened my mail from the ministry P.O. Box. It never grows old. This feeling of amazement and awe. In prison the average wage in TN is 17 cents per hour. Takes over two hours to pay for one postage stamp. You can imagine my amazement when women donate money to our ministry from prison. They are state issued checks drawn from their meager accounts.

Today I had $14.50 in donations from incarcerated women. In God's eyes a $4 donation is HUGE for HE knows the sacrifice they make to bless this minitry that blesses them.

My family tithes. We give offerings when able... but I have never known giving from my lack. Not like my girls in prison know it. Our first donation many years ago came from a woman who had never even come to a choir service. Her roommate was a choir member and that was enough to inspire her to give to Holding Out Hope. If an unsaved inmate can give of her resources then all the more reason for the body of Christ to give and share.

No matter what ministry you choose to support... the goal of every believer is to support God's work. To deny ourselves one night out to dinner or one new outfit so that the Gospel to save can be carried into prison, to Brazil, India, Africa and beyond. If we are the Body... we must move together to move forward.

Little becomes much when you place it in the Master's Hands.

A Prison Black Out

I arrived at the Tennessee Prison for Women much earlier than usual. We had a memorial service for an officer who passed away a couple weeks ago. Once I was in the chapel I learned that the memorial service had been cancelled. I would have known this if I had checked my voicemail. Within thirty minutes of standing inside the chapel coming up with a plan B, a storm of massive magnitude blew through. It took out the transformer for our prison and that put our prison on high alert. I learned it is never a good thing when the electric fence around the perimeter is no longer working. Automatic lock down. No one goes out and no one comes in. Some officers who were ready to change shifts were stuck in their units with no way of knowing how long it might last. Over an hour. That's how long. Finally we were able to move about on the prison grounds. I headed up to Unit 3 to visit the inmates who are on constant lock down 24/7. Every day. Death row is held in the pod that I visited and it had been six months since I had a chance to visit some of my friends who live there.

One must walk through five additional guard operated doors and another metal detector when entering this building. It is the most highly secured building on the compound. After making it through all six barriers, I entered the two tiered room. The women who are housed in this pod only get out three hours per week. There are a few ladies who have lived in this pod for over ten years. When they leave their cell, they are shackled at the ankles and wrists. Not a place of hope or joy... or so one might think. As soon as I walked in with the officer I could hear the yelling. Choice phrases echoing in the cinder block and steel room. I heard my name shouted out amid the chaos. Never ceases to bless me how God can connect lives together. I told the officer the name of the inmate I wanted to meet with. He looked at me with a perplexed face and dryly replied; "She's asleep." I smiled and said; "Well let's wake her up." His face revealed he did not like the idea, but he slowly sauntered over to her door anyway. Speaking through the door jam, he shouted her name. The reply he received was far from warm. He have me an "I told you so" look and asked for my name. He told her I was here to see her and her reply made me give him a smile of victory. "Tina, Tina, Tina.. oh I love her and I need to see her... hurry... open up the door!!!"

He used his key to unlock the tiny pie door on her cell. Her arm was immediately reaching out for me and when I took her hand she pulled my arm into the cell and laid her face in my hand and wept. She cried for nearly an hour as we discussed her pain and suffering. Memories of murder. Memories of betrayal. Raw and exposed... the ultimate consumer of human life. The predator now crumbled into the shattered pieces of a ruined mind and desolate soul. I couldn't help but weep with her. She unraveled strips from her roll of toilet paper to soak up her tears while she continued to unravel. Weary. Alone. Afraid. But still resisting the God who offers hope to her broken heart. She has resisted for over twelev years now. I have never been one who believes in selling God in cute boxes of well worked phrases. Cliches make me gag. God is bigger than shallow religion that presses for the hard sell. Bigger than rote responses to human anguish. I just loved her and knew God was ministering in that honest act of compassion.

She connected with me almost five years ago solely because of the music. It is the only Christian music she will listen to. The warden granted her permission to have a cassette tape of me singing. That day in her presence and in His, I sang over her and into her little pie door. This woman who walks with demons. The woman who's reputation evokes fear and disgust. I thought of David playing the harp over troubled King Saul. How it brought King Saul comfort. I watched as she melted in my hands... how the fixed line of her jaw softened and the child inside this hardened criminal came forth. I sang over profanities around us. I sang over the hatred that spews from the cracks of doors and the pipes of cell sinks. I kept on singing. People begin to get quiet. They can hear something floating up to the top tier. "Who the hell is that?" reaches my ears. I just wink at God in my heart. He is never what they expect when he arrives on the scene.

I sing acapella. I sing loudly so they can hear through the steel. Her neighbors begin to stare out their 12 x 12 door window. I finish a song and they ask for more. Soon I am standing out in the open room and yelling "Hey... Hey... I'm here to sing for you guys so listen up!!!" More faces show up in the door windows. I begin to sing Amazing Grace and about half way through it women begin to shout. Not the normal shouting that happens... shouts of praise instead. They are cheering and saying "Thank you, Jesus!" I see one woman with her hand raised to heaven while her face was wet with tears. I can hear a set of voices, muffled in the distance, singing with me. I closed my eyes for it was almost too much. Too much for my own soul to soak up.

Beautiful flowers can bloom in the middle of hardened clay. They bust through the rocky earth one centimeter at a time until they reach open air. The roots may be locked in place, but they can still get enough nourishment to allow the bloom to open. God breaks though hardend hearts one centimeter at a time. We must be patient and not abandon the seed before it comes to life.


As I walked away from Unit 3, my heart was full. My passion was fueled. God used the forgotten women of our world to make me remember. God loves. God lives. God walks into the empty spaces and fills them with radiant Light of Christ.

How I pray that more and more believers will leave the comfort of the pew to reach their hands out to the Divine and join Him in the work of serving in the refuse heap of human carnage. The junk yard is where God finds His most beautiful treasures. Embark on your own treasure hunt today!