Beatitudes · Spiritual

Blessed are the Meek (Part III of The Beatitude Series)

The truth will set you free. But first it’s going to be pretty uncomfortable.

By: Jana Greene

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Most everyone knows this beatitude; what with the promise of inheriting the earth and all. I love the way The Message translation breaks it down:

“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are — no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.” (MSG)

Who else has felt like they are never enough? I don’t mean the self-depreciation that comes with not meeting individual expectations. I mean,  who else struggles with core low self-esteem? Just feeling less-than?

At times, I feel I can do no right. I wish I were more organized, more punctual. More reliable. Steadier. It’s easy to get swept up in self loathing as a vehicle for ‘meekness,’ at least for me. Once the spiral gets going, it’s easy to believe all of your own negative press. Our self-esteem can ride on our hormonal fluctuations, our bruised egos, our moods.

Before I got sober, I was a very guarded person. I had few friends and because I was operating out of a place of near-complete fear, I reasoned that I wouldn’t say boo to a goose because I was ‘meek.’

I watched every word I said (sometimes that was good) for fear I might incriminate myself. I watched every thought because I just knew that God was displeased with my carnal nature. It was a stifling existence, fighting my voice in order to please everyone else, especially the Almighty.

It wasn’t a lifetime of meekness. It was a lifetime of being afraid. God isn’t afraid of my thoughts – He know them all already. Oh how I wish I had known that the Almighty was already okay with the real me!

Meekness is defined as (trigger warning) “submissiveness.” Why is being submissive considered such a societal ill? Because we are defining submission in terms of how humans treat each other, not how God treats His creation. If someone always has your best interest at heart and never fails at sweeping you off your feet, being submissive is easy. Most of the time.

It isn’t a watering-down, but a building-up!

Four years into sobriety, I met my husband. In an instant I fell in love and took the great risk of being myself with him. Through step work, I started loving people and letting them in, and in return, received a great deal of love. And I was amazed – I am STILL amazed 12 years later – that he actually encourages my quirkiness.

Had I not met him, I doubt very much that I would be writing this blog – or anything else – because I would be too afraid of what you (the reader) are thinking right now.

Sometimes we just need someone to give us permission to see ourselves in a positive light.

God is giving you permission! Blessedness is not a mood, but a state of being. Praise be for THAT!

It took a little longer for me to trust that God encourages our quirkiness, but I’m here to tell you, He does. He really does get tickled by the things that make us US.

It’s okay to have a voice.

In researching the subject of meekness, I came across a wonderful quote (and one that is, as far as I can tell, anonymous): “Meekness is not weakness, just strength under control.”

Meekness is not low self-esteem. To be meek is to know who you are, and not try to be more than that or less than that. But being who God says we are is so much better than who we could paint ourselves to be.
Just BE.

Human being < human doing.

And it is in the ‘being’ that we become content with who we are and find ourselves the proud owners of everything that can’t be bought…

Love among one another.

Strength under control – God’s control.

Intimacy with the Living God. If we are bestowed that, we have gained the whole world.





Blessed are Those who Mourn (Part II of The Beatitude Series)

Blessed are those who Mourn pic.jpg

By: Jana Greene

Blessed are those who mourn. Hmmm. Grieving sure doesn’t feel like a blessing!

Mourning and grieving seem nothing like the trappings we equate with blessings. It looks nothing like lightheartedness, or joy pressed down and overflowing, It looks and feels like pain.

Here is the verse in The Message translation:  “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”

Blessed are they who mourn – for they shall be comforted – is what the scriptures say.

Psalm 56:8 puts it this way:

“You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn
    through the sleepless nights,
Each tear entered in your ledger,
    each ache written in your book.”

When I was a teenager (and a bit of a self-righteous holy roller) my daily prayer was always exactly the same. I would write it down in my journal, so as not to forget praying for one single person. It became a bit of a chant – a laundry list of ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous.’ The top priority was always this little nugget, always prayed with the same inflection and tone of desperate begging:

“Please, Father, keep all of my loved ones safe and healthy. Build a hedge of protection around them. Please, God, please. Don’t let anything happen to my mom, siblings, extended family…..”

My fear of death for the people I loved most was an absolute obsession of mine. At the heart of it – beneath the words in my journal – was this imploring prayer:

“God, I will not survive it if you take anyone I love, or if anyone I love gets sick. You know it. I know it.  Please let each member of my family live long, happy, healthy lives. Amen.”

As long as I prayed the very same thing fervently and (here, God, let me remind you, in case you forgot yesterday) almost chant-like, I felt covered. Insured I’d payed my premium.

I never anticipated that things would turn out the way they did. The estrangements form those I’d loved most and prayed for OCD-style. It never occurred to me that I would one day have to mourn the living. For the sake of my sobriety, I had to erect boundaries, some that require virtual estrangement.  I never added the prayer, “Please God let us all get along for the rest of our days,” because there was no way I could have foreseen what would happen in the future. Indeed, those loved ones are still living. I hope they are happy and healthy, too. I still pray for them every day.

If you’ve ever had to mourn a living person, you know it is a slow, laborious process that rips your heart out cell by cell, sinew by sinew, over the course of years. It never gets easier. The betrayal you may feel numbs not one minute of the soul surgery.

Nothing about it seems ‘blessed.’ A person in mourning  (for the living or dead) might seem the last you’d imagine as ‘blessed.’

But that person might just be leaning into God in such a way that she melts into his love and provision. That has been my comfort. The melting into God.

And having a father you can melt into like that embodies the very being of the blessing state.

“You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you tangibly feel the embrace of the One most dear to you.

I’m starting to see a pattern here in the Beatitudes. The emotion of happiness  is nothing like the state of blessedness. Not only on the surface, where we are all so used to looking for it. But in the supernatural comfort in the midst of some really shitty circumstances.

Blessedness > pain. It just has to.

See, there’s this thing I cannot live without. – one thing I would not survivt. It trumps loss and grief, because it wraps itself around me and fills me.  The One thing that I can never lose or grieve.  That thing is Holy Spirit.

So remember, you are not lost, no matter how much loss you’ve had to endure. Papa hasn’t forgotten that you need provision. He cries with us when we mourn.

You will survive. I will survive. It just doesn’t always feel like we will.

Blessed are every toss and turn. Blessed are the sleepless nights.

Blessed be the One who remembers every tear we shed, and records them in our books.

Blessed are those who mourn, for the Father weeps with them.

Blessed are they who trust God through the grief.

And God bless us, every one.



Blessed are the Poor in Spirit (Part 1 – Beatitude Series)




By:  Jana Greene

Finally, I’m beginning the series about the Beatitudes, and exploring the differences between experiencing happiness and living in the state of Blessedness.

One is what you feel, the other is a state in which you live.

I’d like to share with you what God has revealed to me through the Beatitudes – one single item at a time.

For the next 8 days, it’s my goal to post a piece every night at 6:30 p.m. Texts will be taken from The Message translation of the Bible, unless otherwise noted. The Beatitudes can be found in Matthew 5.

Today’s Beatitude is “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (NIV)

I’m no expert on this subject – no theologian. I only know what each of the Beatitudes has looked like in real time, as it ever-reveals itself to me. And now – hopefully for you.

Are you in a place where the Biblical Beatitudes seem like shallow platitudes?

Are you flummoxed by some of the language used by Jesus, as He explains who qualifies as “blessed.”

Does it seem like He is speaking in riddles all throughout the Beatitudes? At times, even His own followers implored him to use simple words!

It sometimes seemed like that to me, too. But as I go slowly, (oh. So. Slowly.) Through Seminary and personal study, I am learning that many of the original texts were written in Greek – a language with so many more nuances than King James ever dreamed of. Much is lost in translation.

“When Jesus saw his ministry drawing huge crowds, he climbed a hillside. Those who were apprenticed to him, the committed, climbed with him.  Arriving at a quiet place, he sat down and taught his climbing companions. This is what he said: – Matthew 5:1

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.”

When I read this passage, I am not thinking joy. I am not thinking shallow happiness.

I am not thinking, ‘Hooboy! I wish I were at the very end of my rope so I could feel BLESSED!’

It sounds counter-intuitive to everything we’ve learned about the way life works, because it is the complete opposite of this world’s workings.

Nobody ever wishes to be hanging on by a thread,  because it’s so uncomfortable to our Spirits to be in that place. People who thank God in the midst of trouble FOR the trouble must be higher evolved spiritually than myself, because truthfully, I don’t really want anything to do with that ‘rope’ at all.

Especially the ‘end’ of it.

If I’m honest, I also really don’t want to identify as ‘poor.’

You see, in the study of the NIV translation, “poor in spirit” is the term used to assure you that you are blessed. “Are you in Spiritual poverty?” Jesus asks. “Well, come on down! Come sit by me and be Blessed.”

Not blessed later.

Blessed in the midst of Spiritual Poverty.

What does that mean anyway, spiritual poverty? For me, it means staying a desperate beggar for more of God. It means knowing you are not in charge, and being thankful that you aren’t.

Yes, we are children of the Most High God, and yes, He lives IN us. Holy Spirit is already here with and in us. I know that there are rabid opinions about this issue (are we Royals and should operate as such, and that we are beggars no more) but truthfully, I am okay with being a beggar.

I never want to lose that primal desperation to have a deeper relationship with Christ. I never want to lose that worshipful desperation. And I’m not going to apologize for that.

Every single day, I can come to God and ask for His help in maintaining my strong-but-occasionally-rusty, 17-year old recovery, for example. Even though I know He is ‘in da house’ – the Kingdom of God is within us – I invite Him deeper, and his love acts as a salve for my mind.

My heart knows “It is Finished” and He already lives in me. But sometimes my mind gets awfully forgetful.

There I meet my inner Beggar – sometimes at the end of her rope – desperate as always for the comfort of Jesus. And in doing so, become poor in spirit – in need of ever more intimate relationship with the One who Blesses.

It’s the place where you tell Jesus “Hey, I got NUTHIN’ here, Brother.”

It’s the place where you cannot see any possible way out.

It’s the place where Jesus shows up – invited or not – hallelujah!

When you are at the end of your rope, and feeling like your Spirit is impoverished, there is no self-promotion. There is no energy to fix and do and manipulate. On the contrary. The “I decrease so that you increase, God” modus operandi comes into play so fully that the Father is bound by duty to rescue us.

Who else among my readers has been at the end of their proverbial rope? Are you there now? Are you poor of Spirit, feeling like you have no well to draw from and nothing to pull from to bless others?

You are BLESSED, Kiddo! Right here. Right now.

Rope can be used to hang us. But it can also be used to lift us up out of our poverty of mind and soul. And even though the end of a rope sounds pretty ominous, what will you meet if your hands get tired and slip off of the lifeline? Trust that your feet are only inches from the palm of the father’s hand. He will catch you, guaranteed.

We get blessed when we decrease, and He increases.

We get blessed when, having nothing at all to give in spiritual poverty, He gives all, pouring it into us to overflowing.

Tomorrow, I will be writing about the second Beatitude, and it’s a DOOZY. Bring tissues!

Here is the verse:  “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”

Thank you for your readership, friends. I’ll post the next segment tomorrow.

God bless us, every one.


A Thanksgiving Treatise (or Turkey Day with the Grown-Up Kids)

(*This piece is satire* No offspring were hurt or egos bruised in the making of this post.)
By: Jana Greene
Happy Thanksgiving, All!
There are certain things my adult daughters and I have agreed to disagree on, and thus; avoid conversing about altogether on Thanksgiving.
We get along SO MUCH BETTER when certain topics are off the table. It ain’t denial – we all know where the other stands – lets call it relationship maintenance. These things have been hashed out MULTIPLE times, and are only really good for raising blood pressure and driving a wedge between us.
Your typical Thanksgiving table talk is rife with strife, amirite?! So as in years past, I have issued a brief and snarky outline of acceptable Thanksgiving dinner topics for my lovely but liberal daughters and their paramours, because nobody really wants to see Old Mom stroke out at the table during the festivities. It makes it much harder to pass the gravy.
Let’s all try to get along on on this Thanksgiving Day, the year of our Lord, 2017:
1. The Kardashians. Oh Law, how are they still making the list? Why do they keep replicating? No, we will never be anything like the Kardashians. Why? We are not rich. We are not (quite as) bitchy to one another. Our bootys are not as high as Kardashian bootys, nor as round or firm and NEVER WILL BE. Do I really need to go any further? As such, I don’t care what Khloe or Kim or….(I only know two, sorry) are doing these days.
2. The presidency of the United States. Yes, everything sucks, politically. All of it. We have differing reasons WHY we think it sucks but I’ve been an American a long time, and I can assure you that someone will always be elected to office who SUCKS. Trump, Obama, Biden, Michelle, Pence, (fill in the blank with your favorite Libertarian) – all suck mightily. Lets not waste time stating the obvious. Last year, multiple people at this very table threatened to move to Canada is things did not go their way. Those things did not, yet here you are, right here at my table. So hush.
3. Giving us the rundown on the ‘gender identity’ or ‘fluid sexuality” lifestyles that the kids you went to high school with have adopted. I don’t want to fixate on it, but not for the reason you think.  I made those kids oatmeal raisin cookies when they were little, and took them to pumpkin patches and watched them grow up. I love them, and not one iota more or less because they’ve changed. I get it that this issue is a VERY big and legitimate thing, but I don’t want to hear about the sex lives or choices of my heterosexual friends, thankyouverymuch. Being tran / pan / bi  / sexual, queer or gender fluid? You just do YOU! Evaporating every part of a human being except for their sexuality is tragic, because they are so much more than just that one identity. We get it. It isn’t’ ‘just a phase.” It’s long ago lost it’s shock value. Please pass the cranberry sauce.
4.  Refugees, Syrian or otherwise (although I’d love to chat about The Fugees – the R & B group that features Lauryn Hill. Anyone know what they’re up to these days?)
5.  If you feel strongly enough about the backstory of Thanksgiving, remember that not one single person alive today ever had a hand in decimating a population. I wholeheartedly agree that what was done to the native population was HORRIBLE, and is one of the very reasons I TRUST NO GOVERNMENT. Rather than guilt-tripping everyone at the table, feel free to boycott the turkey and sides and pie, and take a box of lucky charms up to your room and eat dry cereal all by yourself, you anti-Colonialist. We’ll save you some plain water. Really, we’ are all fine with that.
In conclusion…..the list also encompasses avoidance of:
6….. Terrorism talk, twerking, why being a vegan is preferable to being a barbarian, what you did when you got drunk last week, Global Warming, and  (if applicable) why you don’t shave your legs anymore,  why I will not get matching tattoos with you (keep this one on the back burner, though, kids. I’m intrigued,)  Any and all ‘shaming’ –  Body, lifestyle,  turkey. Also, I’d really rather not have a rundown of all the genetic material that I’ve passed your way that is sub-par. Sorry about all of that. Thems the breaks, kids.
7. I know you have “cramps” (and have every Thanksgiving since your menses) but you CAN help clean up after the meal. Its a very good way to display camaraderie with your family, and participation is a VERY feminist thing to do. Thank you.
Lets try to be cognizant of how very BLESSED (yep, I SAID it!) we are to be family, because we are an AWESOME family. We put the “fun” in dysfunction, and do so brilliantly.
We’re not ‘lucky,’ because everything wonderful that makes up our relationships did not come about all willy-nilly, but has been formed over years and years of fierce love, fierce opinions, fierce loyalty.
I am so blessed to be your mama.
No – actually WE are BLESSED. All of this straining and lurching forward and falling back – again and again choosing each other – that’s a supernatural bond. We laugh all the time, we love unconditionally, even when that looks really messy. We each have the other’s back EVERY day, no matter how much we disagree.
Lets nomnomnom out on Thanksgiving dinner, eat too much pie. Loosen our belts. And go back for seconds. Lets laugh and hug and have seconds. And thank God for allowing us the privilege to do so.
And after dinner, if you’re really lucky, we’ll break out Cards Against Humanity and play a round of wildly inappropriate cards with your own mother, and you’ll try to tell me what certain things mean, and I will block my ears and say NO DON”T TELL ME!  and we will laugh to the point of choking / and-or peeing.
I love you all to the moon and back.
Happy Thanksgiving, ya’ll!

Giving Gratitude the First Word

Happy Thanksgiving Week, all. In this Thanksgiving season, I’ll be sharing some pieces about gratitude from the archives.
The Beatitude Series will return next week. Thanks you for your readership! God bless you all.

Musings of a Gypsy Soul

bird Not today, worries. You don’t to rent space in my head in this season of gratitude.

Dear Standard Issue Worries,
Yeah, I heard you when I woke up this morning. I normally hear you before I even open my eyes to start the day. You’re pretty obnoxious and hard to ignore.
But you know what?
Today is not your day, and tomorrow might not be either.
Do you know why?
Today I let Gratitude have the first word, and it drowned out your useless clamor.
Awash in the fount of every blessing, I realized that Worry is a victim’s game.
But Gratitude? It is interactive! It encourages me to look around at the overwhelming blessings Abba has given me, name them, and realize each one is a result of God’s strong hand.
As a matter of fact, when a sneaky worry creeps into my mind today, I…

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Christianity · Spiritual

The Beatitude Series – Blessed vs. Happy, an Introduction


By: Jana Greene

Hi, friends. This week and the next, I will be writing with a focus on the biblical Beatitudes. I’ll try to convey my heart on the subject and – as always – welcome YOUR take on each post. Blessed be, dear readers.

Many of you know that I am involved in a Christ centered 12 Step program. At tonight’s meeting, the leader made an amazing point about being blessed, and I can’t sleep until I share it with you. It was an AHA! moment; an epiphany, if you will. So simple, yet so profound.

We were discussing the Beatitudes – those biblical ‘blessed be’s. I’ve read them a thousand times. I’ve delved into studying them. I thought I understood them. But one single sentence he shared struck a chord, and I am thinking of it still.

You see, My Beloved and I recently returned from a trip to the mountains. We stayed in a tiny cabin and read books all day, and listened to the birdsong on the porch swing, and Van Morrison in the evenings, and went fishing in a little stocked pond multiple times. It was super EASY being happy there.

Alas, the realities back home were waiting for us upon our return. It wasn’t that I was unhappy to be back in real life; it’s just that comparatively, I’d rather sit in a cabin in the woods and read all day every day. Evidently that’s a lot to ask for.

But I’m richly blessed to the point of overflow. And not because of things or lack of things.

Happiness and blessedness are not the same thing.

Happiness is circumstantial. I can be full of mirth one moment, and in another moment become sad or angry. Oh how we love to chase the Happy!

Happiness is what we worship, isn’t it? I just want to be happy.

If I had all of my bills paid, I’d be happy. If my children were serving God, I’d be happy. If I lose 30 pounds, I’ll be happy. When I get that dream job / house / recognition / improved health … THEN  I’ll be happy. And then eventually I won’t, because LIFE keeps happening.

We catch it sometimes in celebration and laughter (which, according to my favorite author Anne Lamott, is ‘carbonated holiness.’ It’s an awful lot of chasing for something so fickle.

Blessed is a state. It is your natural state of being, because of whose you are. Even if you don’t know or believe, you are bestowed with the blessing of being invited to partake in the divine dance of the Trinity. Blessedness surpasses time or emotion or circumstance.

To live in a state of blessing awareness is to live the transcendent life. It’s a lot harder than it sounds! I’m preaching to myself here, too, because I am emotionally driven and get high on the Happy. There is no reality crash on blessedness.

There is only one qualifier to living the blessed life – if you know who you are and who you were created to be, you reap the benefits from the One who loves you.

So that’s what I’ll be writing about in this series; taking each beatitude one by one and hashing it out a bit. I’ll be referencing The Message translation of scripture.

Tomorrow the subject will be “Blessed are the poor in spirit” Please come along for the ride!

And note that my opinions are just that – my take on this very hard thing called Life. I’d love to hear your perspective as well.

Blessed be, friends.

The Beatitudes:

When Jesus saw his ministry drawing huge crowds, he climbed a hillside. Those who were apprenticed to him, the committed, climbed with him. Arriving at a quiet place, he sat down and taught his climbing companions. This is what he said:

 “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

 “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

 “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

“You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

“You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

 “You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

 “You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

“You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

“Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble. – Matthew 5:1-12 (MSG)


Spiritual · Spirituality

The DMV, God and Me (When Waiting Sucks)

keep going

By: Jana Greene

But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.
    They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don’t get tired,
    they walk and don’t lag behind. – Isaiah 40:29 (MSG)

If my life had an allegorical venue right now, it would be the DMV office.

Nobody there seemed to care about rules. The last time I went, there were children running all over, people playing games on their cellphones with the volume up, others having boisterous telephone conversations (mostly about making gravy,) and – I swear this is true – eating the Kentucky Fried Chicken they’d brought in.

It’s chaos in the lobby.  And not even the controlled kind. Much like the circumstances in my life right now.

When I go to pick my cattle-tag “next in line” numbered ticket, the printer is jammed. I go ask a worker about it, but she tells me to sit down and wait for my ticket to be called.


“Go sit DOWN please.”

There are four DMV agents on duty and about 40 people waiting. Some of them are moving so slowly, I think they might be walking backwards. One of them finally comes to my aid and tinkers with the machine. When I go up to accept the ticket she pulled, I can feel the eyeballs of the other people waiting bore through my skull. I know what they’re thinking, because I’m thinking it too.


License renewal is such a PAIN.

See, I know how to drive a car, but the state thinks it’s a good idea to make me come back every 10 years or so and prove that I still remember.

But then I pick up the leaflet about road signs that I am about to be quizzed on, my confidence deflates. They’ve come up with some new ones, folks! We didn’t have those when I learned to drive, back is the Jurassic period. New directional signs, because the dozens we already had weren’t enough to heed.

When my number got called, I hopped up like Charlie when he found the Golden Ticket to the Chocolate Factory, and hustled up to the agent available.

And there I stood with nary an acknowledgement from her that I was there.

A good three minutes I stood there, then six more minutes. Finally she looks up and asked me with cold, dead eyes how I can be helped.

Now at this point I’m feeling super awkward and cannot remember what to do with my face. Smile? Furrow the brow?

Then she rushes  (dawdles) through the tests and I’m seated for the dreaded license photo that inevitably makes me look akin to Winston Churchill.

And then it was done… license was renewed.

I’d only been at the DMV for 2 1/2 hours, though it seemed so much longer. It always seems so much longer when you are going through something.

It was not the Department of Motor Vehicles fantasy experience I’d hoped for (haha) But it made me think about waiting in a new way.

I know this is a strange analogy. But in this season of my life, I do feel like I’m at the spiritual Department of Motor Vehicles.

I wrangle with outside forces just to find my place in line.

(Do I belong in this line or that?  What am I supposed to be doing, God?)


In life, struggling minutes become hours, and while there is activity all around me, none of it is about solving my problem.  It’s just noise.

(Lord, I feel like maybe I can be still and know, well…YOU are YOU, if I were in a little less chaotic atmosphere….)

Wait again.

I’ve studied the  roadside pamphlet of life, and realized that I don’t know everything. Or even many things. So I try to cram as much of the apparent hieroglyphs into my sad, tired brain.

(Delve into the Bible, eeny-meeny-miny-mo style. Lord I know you are trying to tell me something! I’ll just flip through your Word until a page gets stuck on my hangnail, and that will be the magical verse that gets me through this season in life.)

Wait some more.

A renewal can mean being called in to prove that I  still know what I’ve known all my life. God is never content with His children just eeking by.  He loves me too much for that. He loves you too much for that. He knows our potential and wants great things for us.

(Why am I feeling like I’m being taken back to the basics in my faith?)

Just wait a bit longer, He says.

I’m too tired to learn new things Lord. I thought we had a pretty good thing going already. What’s up with all this drama? It’s like eerything is happening right now, and NOTHING is happening right now.

(I need to know you are with me in the midst of all of this.)

Wait upon me, child.

But this WAITING, oh Lord. Oy vey, the WAITING! I’ve discovered that what I hate most about waiting is that it gives me too much time to run through a thousand scenarios in my mind, nearly all of which are doomsday in nature. I suppose that’s where ‘lean not on your understanding’ becomes applicable.

God’s timing is perfect – the machine is not jammed. (Sometimes I shake it and yell at it just to be sure…)

Spirit renewal can be a little painful on occasion, but we always have the full attention of Jesus.

And you don’t have even have to wait for that ❤


Father God, Make me more aware of your directional signs and give me the guidance to follow them. I’m so fidgety right now. As you  know, waiting is not my strong suit. You know how badly I just want to get this SHOW ON THE ROAD already, but I trust that your plans are exceedingly and abundantly superior to mine. Please just sit in the lobby with me, holding my hand. I do so love you, Jesus.



The Truthspeaker’s Daughters

This one is for my Sisterfriends. Love you all.

Musings of a Gypsy Soul


By: Jana Greene

Hey, you.

Yeah, YOU.

The woman trying to fake happy, always busy being the nurturer.

You could use a little nurturing yourself.

Am I right?

And you – the one worrying late into the night for her adult children who seem to running from the God you made sure they were exposed to in church as youngsters.

You, the lady who feels like writing the bills requires her to channel Jesus Himself to pull a “loaves and fishes” miracle to have enough.

You, the one whose marriage has lost its luster.

Or suffering loneliness.

The woman who looks in the mirror and sees only wrinkles and fat and lost youth; the one who is saddened about the texture settling into her face as age sets in.

The one fed so many lies, by the media, societal expectations, and worse – ourselves.

What we need is a Truthspeaker…

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