Remnant Writings, Part Two. The God of Your City

“And seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” – Jeremiah 29:7

In 2008, the worship anthem “God of This City” made its debut in large conferences and small churches all across the country. The story of how it originated is as powerful as the lyrics[i]. Birthed in a brothel in Thailand, what began as spontaneous worship from a group of young men determined to beg God for a move in a city that desperately needed Him, boldly believed He’d do it with this declaration:

You’re the God of this city

You’re the King of these people

You’re the Lord of this nation—You are.

You’re the light in this darkness

You’re the hope to the hopeless

You’re the peace to the restless—You are.

I remember being moved to tears the first time I heard the song, thinking of my own city and its inhabitants, begging God for a mighty work and believing He could do it. Now, thirteen years removed, I’m asking myself, when did I stop begging? Sadly, I confess the answer to be perhaps when I stopped believing. This revelation is truly profound: begging births belief. Please hear me—I am not saying that my faith in what my Father could, or would do suddenly faltered. As the lyrics to the anthem continue, “There is no One like our God.” What I’m proposing is that, as my pleas for my city dwindled, so did my passion. If you’re not seeking a move from God, you’re sure not going to see one.

Sweet Friends, prayer turns pleas into possibilities.

Since we’ve been identifying with the Israelites within these Remnant Writings, I’d like to pick up where we left off in Jeremiah chapter 29. In verses 5-6, The Lord was telling His children to build houses, plant gardens and make families. To increase, not decrease, while in the city of Babylon. This was because The Father wanted to have a remnant—a group of survivors—to be living evidence and a lasting example of who He is to the rest of the world—those who knew Him, and those who only knew of Him. Now, beginning with the ones they interacted with every single day, verse 7 records God telling His people two things: first, seek—and then pray—for the welfare of the city where He sent them.

That’s still His plan, Sweet Survivor. He wants to be the God of your city.

—And He wants to use you to do it.

The word city has a variation of definitions, but in the original Hebrew, the word is iyr (pronounced “eer”), and it refers to a place that’s guarded by a watchman. As I studied this verse, do you know what The Lord showed me? Any person, place or thing that holds our affection and harbors our attention is our “city”. We are the watchman for our family, our friends, those to whom we minister and mentor, our campus, our church, and our community.

In ancient times, a watchman was carefully chosen and specifically sent to protect their city from surprise attacks from an enemy, to be alert to any dangers or threats to their city’s welfare, and to announce to the city when their king had arrived. 

This means that Father God carefully chose you to be that sweet boy’s mama. And He specifically sent that precious girl to you—whether you birthed them from your body or deep within your soul. He’s trusting you with that man’s heart, because He knows exactly what that man’s heart is capable of. He provided that friend you never thought you needed, but always knew you wanted. He orchestrated the intersection of your life with the one desperate to know healing from their hurt. And He gave you a group of people to demonstrate the difference in religion and relationship.

These are the individuals who collectively contain your city. And He sent you to them.

Oh, but the limitless love of Jesus extends much farther than the boundaries of just family and friends—there are other people in your life who are also very strategically placed. The friendly coffee barista who knows your order by heart, the disruptive kid the other parents warned you about, the sad-looking man who walks his dog in your neighborhood, the hesitant visitor in your small group, the quiet new lady at work and the grumpy old man at church—they’ve all been entrusted to you, Brave Watchman.

You’ve been assigned to seek their welfare—and God says within their welfare you’ll find your own.

Seek, or darash, in Hebrew, has three meanings: to tread, or beat a path, to investigate with intent to understand the thoughts and feelings of another person, and, to care for—and care about—what matters to God. Welfare simply speaks to the well-being of someone else. In the Hebrew, it is shalom, otherwise known as peace. For Jesus to be a light in the darkness, hope to the hopeless and peace to the restless to our closest, in our churches and for our communities, it’s going to take someone to believe Him enough to beg for it. If you want to see a move of God for you and your city—any and all of them—it begins by seeking one.

—Our Closest

I want to take a moment and honor the weary watchman who perhaps singlehandedly stands guard for your city. You know exactly what it means to seek The Lord by beating a path straight to Him in prayer for those closest to your heart. Selfless and sacrificial, you’ve tread perhaps a million miles and back again, never abandoning your post—or your people. If I could look into your sweet face right now, I would tell you this—don’t give up. It’s your prayers that stir the very heart of God to move mountains. I know of what I speak—I was raised by a Watchman. You’re reading this message today because of her.

Pray protective holiness over the hearts of your sons and humility for the hearts of your daughters. Beg for your grandchildren to know Jesus early and love Him all their days. Speak life over marriages, especially your own. Ask for authentic Holy Spirit encounters for your people, and not just occasionally—daily. Declare victory over strongholds and freedom from addictions. A very real enemy relentlessly approaches to attack, but he can’t get even come close to a city with a fierce and fearless guard on alert. You fight for your city, Mighty Watchman—that one that needs their mountain moved may be closer to breakthrough than you know.

—Our Churches

I’ll never forget the first time I realized that just because someone says they love Jesus, it doesn’t mean they act like it. Y’all—church hurt is real. If you’ve ever experienced pain at the hands of a spiritual sibling I want to say, I’m so very sorry. Like any good parent, it grieves the heart of The Father for His children to hurt one another, and He expects us to do our part to get along: “Do all that you can to live in peace with everyone,” says Romans 12:18.

I really love how The Message words it: “Discover the beauty in everyone.”

To seek the well-being of your city—your church—is to investigate, or discover, the thoughts and feelings of another person with intent to understand. Those words or actions of someone that broke your trust, your confidence, your heart, or even your opinion, likely came from someplace deeply broken within. A faithful watchman was alert to any danger or threat to their city’s welfare, and they would bring the matter to their king to keep the peace. Let’s not miss this wisdom, Sweet Watchman. If we’ll take any concerns, offenses, or hurts about our brothers and sisters to Father God—before anyone else—He’s more than able to restore peace. By truly seeking Him to understand them, we might just discover places in our own heart He wants to heal.

—Our Communities

Caring about what—and who—matters to God is the final definition of seek. When the king returned home from battle, it was the peacekeeping watchman’s responsibility to notify the city. The inhabitants were never more at peace than when the king was on his throne. Jesus told His followers in John 14:27 that He was leaving His peace with them—a gift that the world can’t give. There are people that matter to God that He purposely places before us every day in grocery store lines, restaurants, school cafeterias, neighborhoods and office buildings that are desperately seeking the peace that we’ve already been given. King Jesus won the battle over sin and death and is seated on His throne—and we’ve been appointed to notify our city. Father, open our eyes and our hearts to those we see as strangers but You see as souls.

Precious Peacekeeper, The Lord Jesus placed you as a watchman within your community. Ask Him to reveal what can seem to be interruptions throughout the day as opportunities for eternity. Jeremiah 29:7 says that our welfare is intertwined with the welfare of our city—so you carry their gift of peace. They’re just waiting for you to share Him.

Worthy Watchman, The Father wants to be Lord of our closest, King of our churches and the God of our communities. Knowing He’ll turn my pleas into possibilities, today I boldly make this declaration over my city—any and all:

Greater things have yet to come, greater things are still to be done in this city.

—And I’m believing Him enough to beg Him for it. Who’s with me?

Remnant Writings: Part One—Build, Grow, Multiply.

“Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease.” – Jeremiah 29:5-6

One summer when I was in high school, our church youth group embarked on a cross-country choir trip all the way to Canada. This was my first interaction with people that were very different than me in everything from customs to cuisine. The distinction in our accents provided endless entertainment, and they were fascinated with our pronunciation of certain words. It went like this: Canadian Friends—“How do you say, r-o-o-f?” “Reeewwwf”, I’d reply, like any self-respecting southerner with a drawn-out drawl. To me it was just language, but to them it was lyrical. I will never forget the feeling of deep appreciation I had for my heritage. It’s true: you can take the girl out of Louisiana, but you just can’t take Louisiana out of the girl.

In 607 BC, King Nebuchadnezzar invaded Judah, destroyed Jerusalem and the temple, took many Jews captive, then deported his prisoners to Babylon. The exiled Israelites quickly found themselves interacting with people very different from themselves, but for them it was in much more than just customs and cuisine—the deities were as diverse as the dialogue in this country, and many gods meant many ways to lose themselves. But, good Father that He is, God sent a message of hope to His children in Jeremiah chapter 29 so that whether captive, prisoner or exile, they wouldn’t forget who they were. Even though the Jews were taken out of Jerusalem, He didn’t want Jerusalem taken out of the Jews.

Beautiful Remnant, this is straight truth from the Lord—no matter where you are, don’t lose who you are.

For the sake of this series, “Babylon” represents any place—past, present, or future—that we feel like a prisoner, a captive, or an exile. For the Israelites, everything was different in their Babylon.

I’m thinking it is in yours, too, Sweetest One.

·       To the one who’s suffering from sorrow brought on by disease, depression or death—my heart aches for you. You can pinpoint the precise moment, when you lost yourself. The instant one breath took you from wife to widow. Or one heartbeat meant motherhood and the next meant miscarriage. How the diagnosis measures time in an hourglass, and you see it running out. When you realized the divorce was the last thing you wanted, or the breakup the last thing you needed—even and especially if you’re the one who did the leaving. Or when you thought the sadness might consume you because you remain while the one you love was taken, wishing it were you instead of them. The pain still imprisons you, whether yesterday or years ago, and you think you’ll never be the same. And you don’t know how to be, or even who you are, without them.

·       My heart is also so tender toward the precious ones held captive in your current situation—and slowly losing hope. You’re pleading with God for things to be different, to be better—in your marriage, with your children, with yourself. The sleepless nights of a terrified mama waking up with a newborn or the one waiting up for a teenager. The ones grieving over conflict in your church, or friction in your family. The one desperate to be free from habitual sin or strongholds. You’ve been praying for progress and begging for breakthrough, but every day without it holds you hostage a little longer. You look over the landscape of your life but all you can see are the weeds, and you’re afraid to keep hoping for change. And if you’re honest, you’re growing tired of waiting. And you’re asking—is it worth it?

·       And to you—the one who’s distanced yourself from everyone else—I see you, sweet friend. The one living in exile because one person hurt you so much, you’re afraid to trust again. The quarantine meant isolation for everyone, but for you it meant insulation from everyone. Distance means protection—less opportunity to put yourself out there, and being alone means not getting hurt. But, you’re hiding—and you know it, because relationships require risk. It means opening yourself to pursue new friendships, or perhaps reacquainting yourself with the ones you have. It means evaluating who should have access to your beautiful heart, then fighting for some relationships, and letting others go. It’s scary to be that vulnerable, but know this–someone is praying and waiting for a friend like you. Are you willing to move forward and find them?

May I gently remind you of something, Sweetest One? No matter where you are, don’t lose who you are.

You’re not an exile, or a captive, or a prisoner—that’s a lie straight from the evil one. It’s not your identity.

You’re a remnant.

You’re chosen. Blessed. And a strong survivor of every single catastrophe that the enemy uses to try and convince you that you’ve lost your happiness, your hope, or your heart.

So no matter if your Babylon has you feeling imprisoned to the past, captive in your current situation, or an exile fearful of the future, the powerful message of hope in Jeremiah 29:5-6 that God gave His people then translates as a beautiful love letter to you, today.

Build houses—and live.

When your whole world crashes you need a firm foundation, so The Lord’s very first instruction to His children was to build—right where they were, and only with what they had. He was telling them they were going to continue to exist, even in their loss. Precious Remnant, you will, too. God wants to build a place of healing in your heart if you’ll only make room for Him there. The final conversation King David had with his son Solomon was about constructing a place for the presence of The Lord to be near to His people. I pray that the last words David used to encourage Solomon to carry on God’s work without him minister to you as well in your sorrow:

“Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Don’t be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord God is with you. He won’t leave you or abandon you until all the work for the service of The Lord is finished.” – 1 Chronicles 28:20

God tells His people to not just build, but to live. Oh, some precious someone today needs to have permission to live again. It may not be today, tomorrow, next week or next month, but in the presence of The Lord, you will find courage, strength, and comfort. He will come to you, right where you are, and pick up every broken piece you’re holding and use them to make you whole and healed.

Plant gardens.

Now that a home was established, God’s people had to resign themselves to be still. To plant a garden is a commitment to stay, to nurture, to put the work in, and wait for the return. This was clearly not an overnight process.

But then again, nothing worthwhile is.

One of my favorite Scriptures is Job 14:7-9. It speaks of a tree that’s been cut down and left for dead, yet still has hope:

 
“There is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, it will sprout again and grow new branches. Though its roots have grown old in the earth and its stump decays, at the scent of water it will bud and sprout again like a new seedling.”

Tucked within the word hope is the Hebrew word tiqvah. It means to wait, to look for, to expect. Hope is about looking over the landscape of your life—weeds and all—and knowing underneath them is a garden. If we’ll surrender our marriage, our children, our churches, and our strongholds to Jesus, He will cut away the things that hold us back and then breathe life over the places left for dead. One version of verse 9 says the tree will flourish. Not survive—thrive. Sweet Remnant, there is hope for your marriage. For your family. For you. Hold on to this while you wait for change—God does His best work in gardens. Miracles happen there. Be expectant for yours.

Make families.

Psalm 68:6 says, “God places the lonely in families; He sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.” Beautiful Remnant—your heart is much too valuable to entrust to just anyone, and 1 John 3:20 tells us that God is greater than our hearts and He knows everything. He literally knows you from the inside out, so He alone is trustworthy to guard and protect the place most sacred—where He resides. It’s holy ground. The blood of Jesus makes us family, and within the Body of Christ are people right now that will honor your precious heart and keep it safe. We need one another, and we’re better together. Ask the Holy Spirit to bring those people into your life that He’s chosen for you, and also to remind you of the ones He’s already sent. Your sweet heart is His dwelling place, so you don’t have to hide any longer—He who made you knows who’s made for you.

Father God wants to build happiness from the pain of the past, grow hope in our current season of waiting, and multiply sweet friendships for the future of His people.

So then, who are you, Precious Remnant?

Healed. Hopeful. Holy. His.

Remnant:[ rem-nuhnt ]; noun

I learned the word remnant as a little girl while accompanying my mother in search of bargains at the fabric store. To me it was like a textile treasure hunt, searching through various colors, patterns and material until we’d find exactly what we wanted for the purpose that we needed.  Last year, my newly-retired-and-needing-a-project husband witnessed the fun firsthand as we combed through cloth in hopes of locating the perfect print to re-cover an old chair. (If you know me, you can imagine my delight when my search led me to a banged-up bolt of canvas covered with birds). There it was, placed exactly where I needed for the purpose that I wanted—a remnant. My remnant. I love it so much, it’s hard to believe that the word refers to unwanted cloth at the end of a bolt, and that synonyms include: remains, scraps, left over, fragment and residue.

It makes me wonder—what warrants placement in the remnant bin? Maybe the background of the broadcloth was too busy. Or the denim was damaged from being mishandled. Or the linen lost its luster from being exposed to outside elements. Or perhaps the suede sat so long unselected, it’s simply out of style. Wrong color, wrong size, wrong look—or just, wrong. Whatever the reason, because someone decided a particular piece or pattern wasn’t right, the worth of the remnant was reduced. And the fabric, singled out and separated.

It’s as if being separate means a separation of significance.

Goodness gracious, do I ever know what it feels like to be the remnant. And something tells me you do, too.

You, with the “busy” background in the fabric of your life as a result of choices in the past. Ones made by you—or for you. And you, with the beautiful broken heart that’s been damaged after years of being mishandled. Also, you, with your luster lessened by outside elements of insensitive, ignorant words spoken by someone that crushed your sweet spirit. Or you, there, feeling as unwanted as out-of-style suede simply because you don’t look like, sound like, or act like other people—you know, too. Any one of these scenarios can make a person consider themselves a living, breathing remnant synonym: Misfit. Outcast. Less Than. Left.

Between the pandemic, politics and the powers and principalities of this world (Ephesians 6:12) we’ve encountered over the last year, the struggle is real. If we’re made to think we’re the wrong color, wrong size, wrong look, or just plain wrong enough times, we’ll begin to believe we’re insignificant—like fragments of fabric. We’ve been isolated from people and by them, so Satan wants us feeling lonely, left out and left over. Forgotten by friends and family, and worse—by Father God. We, as a nation have been as divided as damaged denim and as Believers we’ve been separated like swatches of suede that’s been relegated to the remnant bin.

But oh, Sweetest One, being separate does not mean a separation of significance—not according to Jesus.

Far from it.

In Zephaniah 2:12, God says, “I will leave as a remnant in your city a people humble and meek who take refuge in the name of The Lord.” Do you see that, Sweet Friend? The kind of “leaving” that God does is deliberate. We’re not left behind—we’re assigned! Throughout history, Father God has always, always had a remnant—the faithful ones He sets aside specifically for His holy purpose. He strategically places His people exactly where we’re needed to accomplish the plans that He wanted. So, the city you live in, the people you live with, the job you have—even the fact that you’re alive during this exact time in history—especially in a pandemic—is all intentional.  

"’Remnant’ has a special significance denoting ‘a holy seed,’ or spiritual kernel, of the nation which should survive and become the gem of the people of God, being blessed of God and made a blessing.” – The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia

A remnant are those whom God preserves after a catastrophe—weather, warfare, disaster or disease. Examples include: Noah and his family after the flood, Lot’s family after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the Israelites who were delivered from captivity in Egypt and the remnant of them that entered the Promised Land in Canaan, those that believed and followed Jesus separate from those who held fast to their religion and rejected Him—and you and me. If you’re reading this, you’ve survived the catastrophe that was 2020. That means The Lord has chosen you to be His remnant. And with that choice comes responsibility. 

When God’s people repeatedly turned their back on Him after chance after chance to return, eventually He allowed them to be taken to Babylon to live as exiles for seventy years. And all along, The Father’s plan was for a remnant of them to return home to Jerusalem. But first, He gave specific instructions as they lived in Babylon found in Jeremiah chapter 29. His children were to be a reflection of Him to the people that surrounded them in everyday life. Just as God had an assignment for His children then, He does for us today as well in our own modern-day Babylon. Over the next few weeks, we’ll examine The Father’s message for His remnant while they waited for Him to deliver them, because it speaks to us as we wait for a move from Him, too.

There are three things The Remnant is to display in the waiting: Righteousness, Refuge and Redemption.

Righteousness:  In the definition above, the remnant is referred to as the gem of the people of God. In Zechariah 9:16, those set apart by God are called sparkling jewels in a crown that shines in the land that we live. We’re supposed to stand out, but never, ever stand-offish. We’re to pursue right living—walking in obedience to Christ—while we show His love to everyone around us. Our lives should cause those that God has placed around us to see His beauty in us and want to know who He is to us. So, to you, with the dazzling personality—you were intentionally created to look differently, sound differently, and act differently. You are a bright, brilliant beacon in a dark and dismal world. So, shine with the glorious radiance that is Jesus, Beautiful One. You were literally made for it.

Refuge:   My son-in-law Austin recently said that he believes more than ever, the world is looking to The Church (as in, Believers)—during these days marked by fear and uncertainty. He says “if they see we’re okay, they’ll know everything’s gonna be okay.” Sweetest One, your heart isn’t damaged—it’s been strengthened. When a bone is broken, once healed, it becomes stronger than it was before the break. Father God takes what’s been mishandled in your heart and carefully, lovingly restores, remakes and reshapes your strength (Psalm 34:18). Through this, you can stand firm, speak truth, and tell searching friends and family of the hope that can only be found in Christ. It’s your heart that He uses to help the hopeless find their home in Him. 

Redemption: Since the beginning, when sin separated creation from Creator, He always had a plan for all mankind that continues still, today. You see, then—and now—deep within His remnant lies redemption.

Redemption: it means to redeem; through purchase, ransom or rescue. To deem is to consider or assign value. So then, to redeem is to buy back or to set free something—or someone—that’s of great value to you.

We have been redeemed through the precious blood of Christ. He purchased our freedom once for all time (1 Peter 3:18). But with every rescue, we can say that we’re (re)redeemed. God delivers us from strongholds and sets us free when we fall into the traps of the enemy (2 Corinthians 10:3-4, Colossians 1:13-14). He forgives our sin without condemnation (Romans 8:1) and chooses to remember them no more. (Psalm 103).

Do you know what this means for the one with the “busy” background in the fabric of our life? The past stays in the past, where it belongs. Precious Remnant, you are so loved by a God who sees you! All and every part of you. There is nothing about you that doesn’t belong. The gorgeous colors of your background paint a portrait of exquisite grace that only enhances your worth. You are of great value to Jesus, and He will redeem—and (re)redeem every single time, for you are His redemption reflection. The very picture of the goodness of God.

We as God’s remnant are so very blessed, and because of that, we’re to be a blessing. To display to a watching world who Jesus is and to demonstrate His love through our past, our pain, and our personalities.  Your past has purpose—someone in your sphere of influence needs to hear your story. Your pain has purpose, too—your heartache will be used to minister to another hurting heart that’s begging to be whole again. And your personality—you are exactly who God designed you to be, and He assigns your worth, not anyone else. Just like my remnant of beautiful bird fabric, you’re exactly where you’re needed for the purpose that God wanted. 

Beautiful, Chosen Remnant, you are not now, nor have you ever been, set aside—you’ve been set apart.

 “At the present time there is a remnant chosen by grace.” – Romans 11:5

The Song of the Father

Did you know when songbirds are born, they don’t know how to sing? It’s actually the father bird that teaches his tiny one their own sweet song. He sings it over and over again with resolve and repetition, until one day the music makes a memory of the melody. The father patiently makes certain that the song is tucked so deeply within, the nestling knows it by heart and sings right along. After a while, the song the father created for his little one becomes a part of them. The song composed the day they were born. The song of their identity.

One of my most favorite verses is Zephaniah 3:17. It’s the only time in Scripture that our Father is recorded as singing. And He’s singing over His children:

“The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” 

Sweetest One, He’s singing over you.

A songbird will only struggle with their song if they’ve been injured or impaired—an event significant enough can cause an interruption of identity. Then and only then does it appear that the song of the father is forgotten. It takes something serious and sinister to steal the song from a songbird.

Do you remember your song, Beautiful Songbird? Did you know that you have one? If not, it may be that something—or someone—has silenced what The Father wrote the day He created you. It’s the song of your spiritual identity.

I was only seven years old when Satan tried to steal my song. I learned about a woman I’d never met nor heard of who’d given birth to me and a man that fathered, but wanted no part of me.  It’s no coincidence that it was precisely the time I was just beginning to learn who God was, and that He loved me and wanted to be my Father. Oh, but the enemy of our identity is serious, and he is sinister. He watches and waits for opportune times not only to steal, but also to kill and to destroy (John 10:10).  In one defining moment, The Thief made sure that I believed I was unloved, unprotected, unworthy and unwanted by the people in my life—and even more so, by God. 

I’m thinking some sweet songbird reading this knows exactly what I mean.

Your song-story is likely different, but no less painful. Maybe you feel unloved after a divorce you never wanted or a death you never expected. Or you feel unwanted by someone when you long to be close to them. Or perhaps you feel unworthy after losing yourself—again—and you’re desperate to be free from strongholds or addictions. Or maybe you feel unprotected after something precious was taken—your innocence. One diagnosis, one misplaced trust, one moment of weakness, one confrontation, or one conversation was all the evil one needed. One significant event caused an interruption of your spiritual identity, and that was the day you forgot your song.

—Temporarily.

Over the years, scientists have studied the music-making of the songbird. One group played recordings to young zebra finches containing the songs of their father, of the little one’s own lyrics, and of the sounds of similar species of birds. The researchers found that as the young birds listened to what was sung over them, they would typically react to their own tune, they would reject the unfamiliar sound of another, but they would always, always respond to the voice of their father. This demonstrates that the one who went to such loving lengths to make sure his child knew his song wanted to be sure they’d be able to recognize the unfamiliar sound of an imposter—and to reject it. 

Last year, The Holy Spirit revealed to me that there are seven spiritual identity “thieves” used by the evil one to oppress the children of God and attempt to silence His song. Like beautiful birds ensnared in a trap, we may not even realize we’ve been caught in a cage of comparison, depression, pride, words, malice, apathy and fear. I wrote “Miss Taken Identity: Come out of the Cage and Fly into Freedom” to expose the lies of the enemy using seven sweet birds—the mockingbird, sparrow, goose, magpie, raven, peacock and swallow to illustrate how we can become imprisoned—and the lengths Christ will go to set us free. 

Our passage in Zephaniah was what Father God used to remind me of my song. It references a time when God’s people will celebrate blessing and freedom. It’s the promise of rescue from captivity, victory over their enemy, and assurance that nothing—not past mistakes nor future failings—affects His love for His child. Far from it. In fact, the Lord is so overcome with joy and affection for His people, He literally bursts into song. To anyone feeling unworthy, unloved, unprotected and unwanted, as I was—this was music to my ears and healing to my heart. 

Sweet Songbird, Satan can only momentarily silence the song of your Father—try as he might, he can’t steal what’s been sealed. And, like your identity in Christ, your own sweet song is tucked deep within your very soul—the song He composed the day you were created. If you can’t hear it now, just ask Him to sing over you again and again. Your patient Father will go to loving lengths to make certain you know it by heart until the music makes a memory of the melody. 

And you sing right along.

Love,

What about Who?

My baby girl is having a baby girl.

And as you can tell by the photo, her parents were just a smidge surprised.

When the pink smoke cleared, we all cruised across the confetti-covered ground to congratulate Grace and Austin who were noticeably, still stunned. Can I tell you a secret? I wasn’t.

I’m not saying I had some foreknowledge of my granddaughter’s gender before anyone else—I didn’t. As a matter of fact, if you’d taken a peek at my prayer journal in the preceding months, you would have read how I was asking Father for a boy. But here’s the lesson I learned through my confidential conversations with Him regarding grandbaby-girl number three—He is much more interested in the Who than the What of a person. And I didn’t realize by simply placing the pronoun he in my petition, I was limiting my prayers over this beautiful baby girl.

I also didn’t consider that in my own mind—I was limiting the Lord.

One day as I was praying for this baby “boy”, in my spirit I heard Holy Spirit gently say, “You’re concerning yourself so much with the ‘what’ of this child, and I’ve already completed that. Now ask Me for the ‘Who’.

Immediately, I understood what He was saying. When Father God decided that it was time for my daughter to become a mother, He had already worked out the what of the matter—a baby girl. I was interceding for many things concerning this sweet baby, but there was so much more to her than the mere what that I knew. You see, what minimizes our mindset to the problems of the present, or it maximizes the pain of the past. But who—well, that’s to come. Hope inhabits who.

Sweet mama with little ones underneath your feet, this is for you—who can’t see past diapers and days of Terrible Twos. And it’s for the parent of a preteen who overnight became someone you scarcely recognize. This is for the woman who longs for your man to be your spiritual leader—the one you know in your heart he can be. It’s also for the warrior whose tears over your wayward one have wet the worn-down carpet you’ve prayer-walked 1000 miles and back again. And it’s for the leader that’s aching to see breakthrough in the hearts and lives and minds and souls of those to whom you minister.

For every one who only knows the what of the ones you love, this is for you.

“What” is used as an interrogative in a sentence—in other words, it asks a question. Webster’s Dictionary says that the word expresses “inquiry about the identity, nature, or value of a person, object, or matter”. But who is defined as “the identity of or the noteworthy facts about each of a number of persons.” Did you catch that? When what questions a person’s value, who validates it. Where what seeks fault within a person’s nature, who speaks fact.

What disputes identity, while who defines it.

Satan seeks to impede our prayers by causing us to question. If he can plant just one sinister seed of doubt about the identity, nature or value of a person—particularly those important in our lives—he’ll make sure the weeds within the What of them completely overtake their Who. What remembers the past, relegates the present and as a result, resigns the future. “He’s always been like this.” “She’s just that way.” “There’s no hope for them.”

What doubts—Who dreams. What presumes—Who prays. What belittles—Who believes.

Scripture demonstrates where what focuses only on the flaws and failings of a person, God illuminates the identity within the who:

• The what of Moses included murder, speech problems and resisting leadership, but the who of him talked with God face to face. (Exodus 33:11).

• David’s what consisted of the underestimated shepherd and unlikely king that committed murder and adultery, yet who he was to God—a man after His own heart. (1 Samuel 13:14, Acts 13:22).

• The unnamed woman in Luke’s gospel. Her what was all she was known for—her “sinful life”. She sat at the feet of Jesus with her alabaster jar, weeping and wiping His feet with her tears. The who of her was known simply as “Forgiven.” (Luke 7:36-50).

The stories of the incredible men and women of the Word are meant to show us that who someone becomes starts with what they once were. The two aren’t mutually exclusive–everything that makes us who we are in Christ today is because of what He’s brought us through every day since He called us. And praise You, Lord, You’re not finished yet! Even though the evil one seeks to defeat and discourage us in the middle of the what of the ones we love, Holy Spirit gives us sweet glances into their who.

The tantrums—be it teenage—or threenage—can be training ground for fierce faith. The strong-willed student is a glimpse of unwavering resolve. The man of the house is being molded into the minister of your marriage. The one wrestling with religion is learning to release the fear and failure of performance. And the person with a painful past is positioned to encounter extravagant grace. And the very best part?

Father invites us to participate in their Who.

When I relinquished my focus on the what of Grace’s baby and released to Father the who of her, my prayers began to take on new direction. Rather than worldly wisdom, I began to pray that she’d have supernatural discernment. Instead of having brown eyes, I found myself asking that when people looked at her, they’d see Jesus looking back. And more than having great talent, I declared that the legacy of her life means the breaking of decades of generational curses. So much more than a beauty that fades—that she'll have a beautiful heart. One that beats in perfect time with Father’s.

Precious Wives, Mothers, Prayer Warriors and Leaders, we’ve been entrusted with the ones chosen to change the world. Never underestimate your purpose, or God’s plan. Let’s stop limiting our petitions for our people based on what we see today and declare Who they can be through Jesus in the days to come.

Love,

A Crown from Chaos

Take a good look at the picture above. What captures your attention?

Is it difficult to see anything beyond the chaos and confusion? Do the knots and gnarls direct your attention to everything that’s wrong? Would you consider it a colorful pile of messy mistakes that’s simply not worth the trouble?

Do you see yourself?

Does it depict the diagnosis? The disagreement? The divorce? The depression? The debt?

Maybe the twists and tangles within the threads resemble your marriage. Or the threadbare places portray the gaps in a complicated relationship—full of holes and heartache. Perhaps the image conjures up the conflict between you and your teenage daughter who’s reeling from rebellion or your adult son who’s running from responsibility. Or it may remind you of the one that you’re desperately praying for—the one so completely entangled in Satan’s lies, they don’t even realize they’re lost in them.

To you it may designate every single wrong turn in life, and the shame and guilt and pain of the past has you tied so tightly to it, you don’t even remember where it ends and you begin. You work and work to keep it tucked away, terrified that someone will see that you’re the colorful pile of messy mistakes that’s just not worth the trouble.

Self-preservation is tightly stitched into the fabric of our souls, woven into and out again and again, like the brightly-colored thread on a piece of needlepoint. As a result, what we share with others is the neatly-framed front—pretty, pristine and presentable. But the back? It’s a tangled, twisted, tortured display, all gnarls and knots and stretched-out shortcuts.

Can you see this in your own life? I sure can. What we present to the public is all put-together, but the underside undermines the forgery within the frame. And the enemy makes us feel as if we’re the only ones concealing a matted-up mess; every gnarl and knot and stretched-out shortcut evidence of every time we fell or failed or faltered.

Oh, someone needs to hear today that you are not the only one trying to keep your tangled, twisted, tortured background from unraveling. We all are.

And someone needs to hear that in the middle of your mess is a miracle in the making, and within the chaos is a crown.

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“You are altogether beautiful, My love; there is no flaw in you.”    -Song of Solomon 4:7

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I was recently in the home of a precious friend who had this verse beautifully displayed against a window at the end of her kitchen table. I’ve read these lyrics that tell the story of the king and his beloved many times, but that night and ever since, Father God has been purposefully, steadily stitching them into the fabric of the forefront of my heart—all for you.

Your King says that you are “altogether” beautiful. The word in Hebrew is kol. It means the all—the totality of something. At the root, it is to complete, to make perfect, to place a crown upon. In order to see beyond the illusion of framed perfection, we need to stop thinking of ourselves as separate sides of cloth, but rather one seamless artistry. The pretty, pristine, presentable parts of your present as well as the tangled, twisted, tortured pieces of your past. All of it, together, is being stitched into your story, like lyrics to a love song from King Jesus to His Beloved. Can you hear Him singing this over you today?

All together, you’re beautiful to Me. Every part and all sides of you. The things that no one else sees, I do. The shame and the pain and the fear and the failure, I’m stitching into your story with the crimson-red thread of My blood that covers you. Nothing is wasted; it’s part of you, and who you’re becoming. And all of it is being used to make you complete. When I look at you, I see seamless. I see flawless. I see whole. When I look at you, I see Me.

Flawless: Having no defects or faults; especially none that diminish the value of something.

There is absolutely nothing that diminishes your value. Not your messy marriage, or your complicated conflicts. Not your depression, your diagnosis, or your debt. Not the things you did in the past or the things you did this morning. Every single knot and gnarl is part of your story. The holes and the heartache are part of your loved one’s story. You can trust Him with your rebel on the run and have hope for the one that you’re praying for, because the Father’s still stitching together their altogether, too. Will you invite the Almighty into your altogether?

The incomparable Corrie Ten Boom would use the piece of tapestry shown below as an illustration of life. She would first hold up the matted, messy back of the piece displaying the chaos in the threads. Then she’d turn the piece over to reveal the beautiful crown to show that God doesn’t see the missteps of life as mistakes, because He knows you can’t have flawless without failure. And there can’t be miraculous without the mess. Where you see fractured weakness, He sees a complete and finished work. Where you see only chaos, He sees a crown. And He’s still stitching your story.

All of you, together—every inch and every stitch—He calls flawless.

Altogether you are loved.

Altogether you are complete.

Altogether you are beautiful.

And from the chaos, comes your crown.

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“Although the threads of my life have often seemed knotted, I know by faith that on the other side of the embroidery, there is a crown.”

– Corrie Ten Boom

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Love, Loni

The Call Note

I can honestly say that I don’t remember a time in my life that I didn’t love birds. It began when I was just a little girl.

I vividly recall the fascination of being outside with my grandmother, watching as she would carefully tear scraps of bread into tiny pieces and then toss them into the air, being mindful to evenly distribute them throughout her yard so “everyone can have some”. To her, the winged wonders were a glorious extension of God, and she was serving Him by feeding them. Early in life, I learned to look for beauty in their being, for grace in their glide, and for a Savior in their song. 

The breadcrumbs provided visual imagery of the connection between the ministry of creation with Creator, and as the beautiful birds would come to feed, my heart would feast as well.

So, when God called me to write a book last year, it wasn’t a far stretch that He designed Miss Taken Identity: Come out of the cage and fly into freedom with seven birds to serve as “flight” attendants. To my great delight, the gentle sparrow, graceful swallow, misunderstood goose and magnificent peacock demonstrated how fear, apathy, malice and pride can be used by Satan to entrap us. In addition, the easily-overlooked raven, the easily-distracted magpie and the easily-mistaken mockingbird were examples for depression, comparison and words. As a bonus, the tender turtledove made a cameo appearance as the model for loyalty and single-minded devotion, being compared to Mary Magdalene. As breadcrumbs strewn throughout my grandmother’s yard were used to make a connection for me to the heart of The Father, He used sweet birds scattered throughout the pages of a beautiful book that He penned, all to connect my heart with yours. And I’m so grateful.

I’ve praised God over your testimonies of reading the book. Your victory over strongholds, lies that were exposed—then exchanged—for truth, and the beauty of discovering (or re-discovering) your true identity in Christ. I’ve laughed and I’ve cried right along with you as you’ve shared your heart with me through emails, text messages and social media posts. I’ve been honored and humbled, overwhelmed and positively undone over the work that Holy Spirit is doing in and through you. I gladly give Jesus all the glory and honor and praise, and I declare more to be done in His name! To this very moment, when I know someone is reading the book, I daily whisper your sweet name to Jesus as I pray. And as you celebrate your freedom, you are to me an exquisite illustration of a beautiful bird in flight. Your stories are breadcrumbs scattered among my heart—a glorious extension of the goodness of God that nourishes my soul in deep, deep places.

As a result, and by His design, I begin this blog, aptly and divinely entitled “The Call Note.” 

We’re all familiar with the sounds of music made by birds—the songs we hear them sing are comforting, encouraging, inspiring and uplifting. But did you know that there’s another melodic message that birds bring? Yep—it’s a “call”. The difference while slight, is interesting. Songs are generally sung by males and are more complicated, with definite patterns when you listen.           

By comparison, a call is simple and short, even at times just one syllable—or note–and are sung by females as well as males. Therefore, a “call note” is a simple message with a distinct purpose used by birds to communicate within their flock.

The different types of calls are as follows:

• Alarm Call – to warn the others of predators or other danger

• Contact Call – to keep in touch with the flock; to avoid separation or isolation

• Flight Call – while in motion or on the go

• Begging Call – to signal hunger or the need for assistance

As Father initiated and grew the connection between you and me, He made it very clear that the book is not a “one and done”—He is fashioning us into a flock, and I am positively giddy about it! If this year has taught me anything, it’s just how much we need one another. We can meet right here on “The Call Note” and walk together as The Holy Spirit communicates His purpose with simple messages, always grounded in the truth of Scripture. 

It may be an alarm call to remind us though victorious in Jesus, we have a relentless enemy in active pursuit: “Be clearheaded. Keep alert. Your accuser, the devil, is on the prowl like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” - 1 Peter 5:8–CEB. How does a flock guard themselves against a predator? Together!     

A contact call will allow us to keep in touch and to share great things about our great God. “We loved you so much that we shared with you not only God’s Good News but our own lives, too.” – 1 Thessalonians 2:8 –NLT. 

Sometimes it will be a flight call – a quick devotion, or word of knowledge, or just a biblical mic drop: “Words kill, words give life; they’re either poison or fruit—you choose.” – Proverbs 18:21-MSG

Finally, you may be like me, hungry for a word from The Word. It’s then we’ll have a begging call: “How He satisfies the souls of thirsty ones and fills the hungry with all that is good! – Psalm 107:9 -TPT

We’ll talk of life lived and lessons learned. Truth from God’s word will be spread around like breadcrumbs—so everyone can have some. Like my sweet grandmother, I sincerely believe I am serving Him by feeding you. I pray we feast together often. 

-Love, Loni