Driving 85-North was busy and congested: endless construction barriers and redirects slowed and narrowed traffic to make going on today's long-awaited writing and prayer retreat, well, rather prayerful. Then, there it was: the rest stop where my husband, Greg, had been shot in an attempted armed robbery. It has been two years. The anxiety attack that building caused, in traffic no less, surprised me. Heart racing, palms clammy, sweat dripping from my forehead -- the suddenness and intensity of it shocked me. I reached an exit away from the traffic mess and pulled over into a gas station. Deep breathing exercises, anxiety medication, focusing activities -- this is the new normal now. Two years later, and that rest stop hits me like this every time. That night has had far-reaching effects, even to little things what we would take for granted. Most people keep scales in their bathrooms and weigh themselves regularly. In a recent checkup, we were told that Greg could be weighed at the hospital on a wheelchair scale -- four different places later in the same hospital, and no wheelchair scale existed for outpatient use. To Greg, this was yet another incredible inconvenience. To me, it was unfair and stupid and I said under my breath, "I bet the suspects can get weighed anytime they want in prison." Stop. I heard His voice, immediately. Forgiveness means in the big things and the little things. Even in anxiety attacks. Sometimes forgiveness is a daily activity, particularly on weekends when Greg is home from work and I see him flinch and grimace in pain or trying to interact in such a way that would have been taken for granted when he wasn't paraplegic. Sometimes asking God to forgive the men who did this lasts a few days. Lately, Jesus has been impressing on me that I need to ask forgiveness from Him for not thoroughly, one-hundred percent, forgiving the men. That in order to start the healing process, true forgiveness must be extended and not just some quip phrase to deal with Greg not being able to get in Laura's room to tuck her in at night, or watching the struggle it is to just get to church. Reading 2 Corinthians tonight opened my eyes to a truth that I had read before, but the Holy Spirit took the words, fashioned a 2x4 out of them, and whacked me on the head with it: "We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many," (2 Corinthians 8-11, emphasis mine). Yes, the last two years has had each of our family members in despair at one point in another. But Jesus, in His infinite grace and mercy, is taking the ashes of that rest stop shooting and creating beauty from it. He is using that in people we haven't even met, to encourage them, increase their prayer life, and draw closer to Him. The struggles aren't to harm us; they're to grow us. Grow us closer to Christ Jesus in such a way that blessings cannot. Look at the verbs in that passage in verses 10-11. Has delivered. Will deliver. Will continue to deliver. These are not condemnations of our seeming lack of faith; rather, they are promises from Jesus. He has delivered, He will deliver, and He will continue to deliver us. It's not about us, speaking about the corporate Body of Christ. It's all about Jesus. The Body's prayers remind of the Exodus 17:11-13. "As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword." That's what the Body of Christ does by helping people with their prayers -- they hold them up. Lifting to the Lord. That's what our friends, family, and even total strangers have been doing for two years now. We didn't ask to be on this path, but we are on it. And if Jesus, as I know He can, will use our testimony of healing and forgiveness to lead just one person to Himself -- it will all be worth it. You see, my dear husband will, one day, walk again. It may be in heaven, but we have the hope that can only exist in Christ Jesus that these worn-out bodies will one day be traded in for Resurrection bodies with no expiration date. Will you have one? It's all Jesus, Terrie (C) 2017 Terrie McKee
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When I was a single mom with young children, grocery shopping was one of the most difficult activities I had to do. Between the stress of managing young kids and trying to get necessary items on the list, it was a herculean feat. Disclaimer: This post may contain affiliate links. Purchasing these and other products through these links provide a small income to me and my family at no cost to you. We appreciate your support. At that time, the grocery store I visited the most installed a “kid watch” program where customers could have their children watched by trained sitters in a special section of the store that was full of toys, video games, computers, and crafts. The boys loved going there when the store opened this invaluable area – and I could finally shop in peace. I wish now, with my youngest daughter, I could have access to such a place, but that grocery store has since closed. I was thinking about this and wondered: what Christmas gifts would I have wanted during that season of being a single mom? My boys would want to buy their mom a Christmas gift, so there we’d go, off to the dollar store, and, armed with a few dollars each (as money was very tight), they’d choose gifts for loved ones, including me. It would have been sweet had someone else taken them to do this. It always bummed them out, at their young age, that I went with them and saw what they picked out – even had to help with the wrapping. If a church has a single parents ministry, it needs to realize that Christmas can be a tough time for kids and parents alike. Just taking the kids shopping and help with wrapping the gifts for their single mom or dad would be a huge blessing for all. Often, people want to bless a single mom or dad with gifts at Christmas. There are some things that I received during this season in my life – and some things that I wish I had received that would have been a blessing. Such things can make life just a little easier for women and men who are carrying the entire weight of being both parents for their children. Grocery Shopping Back to the grocery shopping: besides the obvious of a grocery store gift card, there are some items that would have made bringing the groceries in the house a lot easier, especially with young children. Inevitably, I would have both arms loaded with the handles of plastic bags, trying to balance the load and walking like a pregnant polar bear, while trying to herd kids to the door. This tool was a great help to place the handles on the hooks to hold multiple bags and not create those unsightly handle lines embedded on your skin. Conversely, utilizing cloth bags for grocery shopping was even easier. These bags can hold a ton of groceries, or a picnic lunch, books to return to the library, or snacks for the soccer team. I still use the cloth bags I bought in 1992! They last a very long time and pay for themselves quickly. While I used them a lot as a single mom, I still find myself relying on these now. The key is to buy sturdy bags with solidly-made handles, like these nice canvas bags. Another gift idea for grocery shopping is to watch the kids while the parent shops. This could be a set weekly time or an on-call ministry. Wouldn’t it be an incredible outreach tool to have a weekly kids’ Bible study, utilizing past VBS curriculum including crafts and music, while parents shop in peace? I found that not having the kids with me actually saved me money – and peace. At Home Once the groceries are purchased, meals need to be made. As a single mom, it was just hard to work all day, pick up the boys from after-school care, then home to balance making dinner, homework, chores, bath, cleaning up the kitchen – all by myself. There were several things that would have helped with this process. An Instapot is a multi-use, programmable slow cooker, rice cooker, steamer, sauté and warmer appliance and even yogurt maker in one. While it cooks dinner, a single parent can oversee homework, chores, clean the house up, work on laundry – any number of necessary items, then sit down with their kids to a delicious dinner without the hassle of constantly stirring or putting a meal together on the stovetop or oven. This also helps the family eat healthier because they’re not eating fast-food or microwaved processed food all the time. The Instapot is a great gift for non-single parents, too, for all of the above reasons! There are other items that would assist single parents in the running of their home. When my husband left, he took with him all the tools – so when a kitchen cabinet door fell off its hinges, I had to go buy a toolbox and tools – which I use to this day. General household tools, such as this toolset, is a big help. Another great gift idea for a single parent are gift certificates for oil changes, grass cutting or landscaping, or even a once-month maid service. It’s important to think about all the chores that a typical couple tackle together – then imagine if it was just the mom doing it – or the dad. Self-Care Often, self-care took a back seat as a single mom. I was too busy trying to balance work, a house, children, bills – and all the little emergencies that came with it. As a single mom, my version of “self-care” was putting the boys to bed, straightening up the house, then taking a hot bath at 10 p.m. There was no money for regular hair cuts or other things that are taken for granted. Gift cards for hair cuts, mani/pedis, massages, and other self-care items would make meaningful gifts for a single mom particularly. Offering to watch the kids during the appointment would be even better. I’m not saying that single parents don’t want to be around their kids. What I found as a single mom is this: there were some things that were made more difficult because I was by myself. Mowing the grass while watching a nine year old boy with autism who wandered and a six year old who would follow his older brother….that was hard. Painfully hard. However, after a church friend of mine drove past on a day that I was trying to mow and keep track of the boys, she saw the difficulty. She and her husband, who owned a landscaping company, talked and offered to cut my yard at a discounted rate. It meant the world to me. Shouldn’t the Church take care of all its members? Holidays I tell you, the most difficult holiday in memory was the first Mother’s Day as a single mom. No flowers, no gift, boys too young to think about making breakfast in bed. So, after church, we went out to eat at a restaurant the three of us liked, picked up a movie rental, and spent the rest of the day cuddled on the sofa in our pajamas. Churches who want to have a single parents ministry would do well to remember how hard Mother’s and Father’s Days can be, and perhaps either have a luncheon for single parents and their kids, or give out gift cards to restaurants and for movie rentals. The same thing applies to Christmas, which can also be a difficult holiday for single parents – especially the ones whose ex-spouses receive visitation on holidays, and they are left without kids. Including the parents who are alone at Christmastime in festivities can do wonders for their spirits. Parenting is hard work, no matter what. Some men and women, through death, divorce, disability, or deployment, are faced with managing a household, rearing children, and working either at home or out – very much on their own. These people need to have the hands and feet of Jesus extended to them by the Church, to know they are loved in word and deed. In Him, Terrie © 2017 Terrie McKee "Only the power that makes a world can make a Christian." – Wesley Sometimes, I’m tired. Sometimes, I’m discouraged. Sometimes, I’m confused, and let’s face it. Sometimes, I’m angry. Child rearing can do that. Raising children from hard places can do that. The grind of an upward trajectory can do that. Getting up at 6 am, getting children ready that are food obsessed and devoid of any sense of time, and getting them to their properly designated areas before 8 am can do that. Thus, my need to cry out to my Father on a Tuesday morning after a long Monday evening. Had I cried out to Him on Monday evening, there would have been less crying from my little one and less crying on Tuesday morning. That’s how it goes, And days can manage to do a nose dive Straight from bad to worse. There’s this lesson that I’ve learned as of late—answers. They come quickly when we surrender quickly. Surrender to the Holy Spirit, I mean. God doesn’t give us vague notions or fleeting feelings. He gives answers, the kind that speak into our lives in a way that we understand. He knows us so intimately that He can give us answers that catch our eye, snap our head, make us stand upright, and we whisper a profound oh. This was my experience on the Tuesday evening of the Tuesday morning that I decided to wave my white flag to heaven. The little darling that got all this crying started memorizes scripture, every week, for school. Tired, discouraged, confused, and trying not to be angry, I pounded on some keys on the Dell, and staring back at me from the pages of the KJV was my oh. 2 Corinthians 5:17 -- Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. Adoption is hard stuff. Mommas, we desperately want to make our children into something new because where they came from may have done many things but producing a desired effect on our children was not one of them. They are broken. The tears, they come when we can most clearly see the millions of broken pieces and the deepness of the depravity. Yes. Depravity. We all suffer from it. There is only one cure. Jesus. We find the right doctors. We bargain for the right teachers. We read all the latest literature. We connect with other families. We discipline, not too much, not too little. We read them books. We rock them, over, and over, and over. We pick the best food. We stay on a strict schedule --to make them new. All the while, the weight on our shoulders gets heavier and heavier, and every time we nose dive from bad to worse, the guilt chews us up and spits us out. But, have we taken their little hand and led them to a Savior that promises that He will make them new? Have we taken our yoke of perfection off, laid it at His feet, and exchanged it for a yoke of mercy and grace? Have we forgotten that He made the world, and surely, He can make a new creation out of our children? Have we lead them to a bloody mess of a cross where our Savior cloaked himself in our depravity, freed us from death, and broke the chains of every oppression that the evil one seeks to use to bind and destroy? Mommas, lay at your Savior’s feet and rest, and while you’re there show the beauty of a risen Savior to your babies. Give them a reason to fall in love with the One that loves them most. And, one day, when they raise their white flag of surrender to heaven, He will do the work. Married with four children: a daughter, two adopted sons, and a son in heaven, Victoria Paxton blogs at Happy Sparrow. Follow her here. Having never shied away from transparent topics, I’m coming clean: I’ve been struggling. The last two years have been the most difficult of my life, and the life of my marriage with Greg. It’s been a hard road. When he was shot two years ago this month, I could not fathom how much the shooting would change me. Him. Us. Our family. Relying on my faith, I was not prepared for the slow dive into what I did not see coming: full-on depression. Reading that last sentence has made me realize that I have been relying on my faith – instead of Christ. When we’re told so often that we’re to be commended for our faith, or how strong our faith is – our faith tends to become an idol. It’s not Christ we’re focusing on at that point – it’s our own faith in Christ. Last week I made an appointment and saw my primary care physician. She took bloodwork. She listened. She is our family doctor, so she is extraordinarily aware of the situation we’re all in. It is extremely helpful that she is a believer, a Christ-follower. She told me that she’s going to add a medication to help me get out of the pit, and said, “Terrie, even Jesus used mud to heal.” Jesus told that man that he would be healed if he would go and wash that mud off. The man replied, “The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see,” [John 9:11]. I don’t think the mud had anything to do with the healing – I believe it was the act of obedience on the part of the man, to trust Jesus enough to do what He said to do. I have been feeling the downward spiral into depression for a year now, maybe longer. It has become much worse the last few months with the emotions that come with court dates and seeing the perpetrators in the courtroom. Financial struggles have hit us hard and make me want to apologize for affiliate links, although they have been largely unsuccessful, on Near Your Altar’s social media sites. Issues with children, my health, my mother, the house – all of these factors and more avalanched and killed what hope I thought I had. Still, throughout this past year, friends and family at church and on social media would comment: “I envy your strength!” “You’re amazing!” “I couldn’t handle what you do!” “You’re still smiling!” Little did they know: behind the smile I have been crying and screaming inside. Friends will ask what they can do for me. Truly, I have no idea what to say to this. “How can we pray for you?” they will ask. How do you say, Everything? Depression creeps up on you. There’s sadness, which is sudden and takes your breath away. But depression is sadness mixed with being overwhelmed mixed with hopelessness. It’s despair. It’s a pit that you’re trying to claw your way out of but all the dirt is coming back on your face and pushing you down. And you’re still smiling. During the last month, I lost interest in writing – that’s when I knew it was bad. I didn’t want to work on the book I’m writing; I had no interest in blogging; Bible study was infrequent. I found that I could easily find my Bible on Sunday mornings because it was right where I left it, unmoved and unopened, the last Sunday when I came home from church. That’s when I knew I needed help. I prayed. I devoted time to reading the Psalms, like 55:1-2 – “Listen to my prayer, O God, do not ignore my plea; hear me and answer me. My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught.” Knowing I was under spiritual attack, I prayed Psalm 139:5 – “You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.” Making the decision to call the doctor was huge. I don’t like admitting I need help. I also knew, because of the Stephen’s Ministry training I completed, that depression was not going to just go away – that Jesus was telling me that I needed to obey Him, and that, like the shooting, He had a plan for this. It seems like everything Christ brings me to, He brings me through, to encourage you. So I called my pastor in charge of the counseling center, and made an appointment to talk with a therapist. I started taking the medication the doctor prescribed. I still don’t know how to ask for help. This has been a learning curve – having depression while in the Body of Christ. I’ve figured out there’s a definite stigma about it. We don’t want to face that sometimes life is so hard, yet there’s a mask you put on for the good of everyone else, to encourage others, to somehow show satan he hasn’t won yet…but behind the smile, deep down…. There’s a hurt there that only Jesus can touch. There have definitely been some things I’ve learned during this season that I’m still in, and I want to share how to minister to people in the Church who are suffering from depression.
The Lord Jesus cares for the broken-hearted, and He has shown that time and time again these last two years. It has not been as immediate as it was in the first month of my husband’s paraplegia, but it is steadfast. People ask me a lot how they can pray for us. Here is a list of requests and praises that can be offered up in prayer to our Lord. We are forever grateful for your prayers on our behalf.
In Christ, Terrie © 2017 Terrie McKee For God so loved the world, that He sent His only begotten Son, Jesus, to be reared by a man not his biological father, but who loved Him, taught the Creator of the Universe how to be a carpenter, and loved His mother. Joseph was Jesus' adopted father, even allowing Joseph the distinct honor of giving the Babe the long-awaited name of "Jesus." Matthew 1:24-25 states, "When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus." Joseph was a righteous man who did not spoil Mary's virginity, allowing the prophecy to be true that a virgin would birth a Child. If Joseph had had intercourse with his wife, it would have raised doubts about Jesus' conception and birth. Joseph had faith in God that what the angel had told him was true -- and adopted a miracle into his heart and house. How does God feel about adoption? If He did not love adoption -- why Joseph? Why make adoption part of the salvation story? As sinners, we are far from God. But because of Jesus, Who took our sins upon Himself, adoption is made part of the salvation story. Galatians 4:4-5 states, "But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship." We are no longer sinners, doomed to hell, but adopted into sonship and heirs with Christ under grace. Often, a child languishes in an orphanage or a terrible situation, without hope -- much like a sinner before knowing Christ. But when a child is adopted into a loving family, that child becomes a son or daughter of the adopting family. God provides adoption for children and sinners alike through His Son, Jesus Christ, to save them from certain death. "The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father," wrote Paul in Romans 8:15. There is no need of fear for the child of adoption -- whether of flesh or of spirit. As adopted children, we are redeemed and given a new Father, a new Name, under the Son. Glory! Jesus even tells us, "I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you," [John 14:18]. When I went on a mission trip to Africa in 2013, I was met with hugs by two little girls, Judith and Micca. I fell in love with these two girls and felt like I had found a part of my heart that I didn't know I was missing. I couldn't adopt them (one must live in Zambia for 18 months prior to adopting, and the two weeks I was there just didn't count), but I think of them often, and consider them to be my African daughters. I went to them, flying over the Atlantic, to minister to them and to lead them to Christ. That is what Jesus did: He did not leave us as orphans, to die and go to hell, but He came to us, as it states in Matthew 1:23, "'The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel' (which means 'God with us')." Because of Jesus' great love for us, He did not want us to be orphans, without Him as our Father. That is why Jesus' own brother writes that we as Christ-followers need to take care of orphans. In James 1:27, James wrote, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." Our faith resembles Christ the most when we take care of orphans, widows, and prevent ourselves from the sinful nature of the world. So how do we do this, in practical terms? We can adopt a child. The world keeps saying that abortion is necessary because "who will take care of all the babies if they're born?" My question is this: Where is the Church? In the United States, with as many churches that exist, there should not be abortion, or children waiting to be in a foster home, or kids in orphanages. The fact is, just because a church exists, doesn't mean that congregation is part of the Church. There are children waiting to be adopted all over the world. There are waiting children in every county in the United States. There is no better illustration of the Great Commission, "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age," [Matthew 28:19-20], than adoption. If not adoption, consider being a foster parent. Matthew 19:14 states, "Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'" Fostering allows you to take children who have been abused or neglected and introduce them to the love of Christ -- for a time, a season, or through adoption. How can the Church turn its back on the most precious of God's heart? But some people are not called to physically foster or adopt. However, we are still called to look after orphans -- and we can do that by supporting foster and adopting families, financially and materially donating to organizations that help foster and adoptable children, and sponsor kids through various nonprofits. How do we support families who foster and/or adopt? -- Pray for them -- Provide meals -- Provide gift cards to stores -- Donate money to them (often/usually, foster/adopting children have special needs that require expensive therapies, surgeries, eyeglasses, etc). Consider helping out with those costs. -- Do yard work -- Help them clean their kitchen -- Do their laundry -- Listen to them -- Share their story What are some organizations that help children in foster care? One that I have personally worked with is Least of These Carolinas. While they are located and serve the foster community in the Carolinas, I encourage you to prayerfully consider a donation to them here. If you know of any other organizations that support adoption/foster care, feel free to put them in the comments below. Jesus came to save us; as a response, in faith to salvation in Christ, we as the Church are commanded to take care of orphans. Everyone can do something -- either adoption, foster, or supporting those who do. In Christ, Terrie (c) 2017 Terrie McKee I was flying into Lusaka, Zambia in late September, 2013 on a mission trip. On the flight over from the United States, I petitioned God to answer three specific prayer requests: that many children would be saved in His Name; that He would allow me to see a lion; and that He would allow me to pet a cheetah. I shared these requests with a native Zambian, beside me on the plane. He laughed, his eyes shining. He prayed aloud, holding my hand on the plane, sitting on the tarmac while goat-herders moved the potential pot holes on the hoof to better pasture. He held my hand, raised his other hand, and in a thick African accent, prayed, "Father God of the Universe, Creator God, Lion of Judah, Lamb of God, we pray in Your Name all these things. Please allow Terrie and the team success in sharing your Gospel; prepare the harvest for their delight; Lord God, allow Terrie to see a lion up close and personal, and Lord -- " he giggled here, "--- Allow her to not just pet a cheetah, but to hear it purr! In Jesus Name, the Son of the Living God..." the people in four seats surrounding us chorused together, "A-men!" He answered all three requests. We went on a safari for a fun day, and got out of the safari truck to walk and see the mighty lions lounging around a tree. One mighty-maned lion surrounded by his lionesses. Then, one stood up in the heat of the day -- he seemed bored -- and walked over to the chain link fenced that separated my church group from what could eat us. With the fence between us, he looking at us with giant brown eyes, he didn't seem so tough. He seemed very gentle, not unlike my domestic cats far away, lounging on a sun-washed window sill at home. Then, the lion yaaawwwnndddd --- and the thoughts about his gentleness gave way to a distinct knowledge that he brings down zebras with those teeth. How could something so mighty, so graceful, and so tender to his pride, his children, turn suddenly into a powerful king that would kill to protect his own. Standing there, watching a lioness come over as well, I remembered the Zambian man's prayer and whispered, "The Lion of Judah..." We tend to think of Christ as being this great teacher, walking through towns, villages, and deserts, teaching along the way and healing people. We tend to separate this Jesus from the God of the Old Testament, who was more of a fire-and-brimestone type. We forget God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit who lives in us through salvation in Christ, were all one. Explaining the Trinity makes grammar check go all wonky. Three in one. They were; they are; they will be. Looking at the lions -- and then the cheetah I got to pet right afterwards (it purred! it also stank) -- reminded me that while Christ is the Lamb of God who humbly laid His life down for us on the cross, He is also the Lion of Judah, who will come again. The age of grace will pause when He returns for His Bride, the Church, and judgements will rein down on the world. On the cross, "When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit," [John 19:30]. Compare this to Revelation 21:6 -- "He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life." Finished, done -- the same word, right? According to the KJV Greek Lexicon, the word "finished" is the Greek word "televw" which means "to perform, execute, complete, fulfill." Christ came to this world as a Babe to do what He did on the cross -- to carry our sins and die a sacrificial death. To perform, execute, complete, and fulfill the need for a Savior because sin was in the world. "It is done," in Revelation, is the Greek word Γέγοναν, which means "to come into being, to happen, to become." Do you see the awe of God in this? He had known since Adam and Eve ate the fruit that humanity would need a Savior, so God sent the only Sacrifice good enough to end sacrifices once and for all: His only Son, Jesus, who upon the Cross said, in essence, "This part is done." Enter the age of grace where daily sacrifices and living by the Law, which no one could do, was gone. Jesus came to finish (fullfil) the Law and enter the age of grace. In the future, when He sits on His Throne and all of humanity, great and small, who was ever born or killed, kneel before Him, He will declare "It is done!" SIn will be abolished, and Jesus will bring a new heaven and a new earth into being, to get Creation back to where He had it before sin entered the picture. What does this have with reverence? Everything. “Do not come any closer,” God said. in Exodus 3:5 to Moses. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” When we speak His Name of Jesus, we need to do so with a reverence -- He is our KING. He is our LORD. We need to give the Lord God more reverence than we do human leaders. Pastors have left churches and half the church has followed him to his new calling, because they were following him instead of staying with the call of God to remain. We need to give the Lord God more reverence during worship. Listen: Worship should be the act of living for Christ in all things, in and out of the church, with a celebration culminating at church with like-minded people, there to praise God. Worship should not be about performance, making the music Broadway-caliber or rock-music loud. Worship has to do with reverence. Are we taking off our proverbial shoes when we enter the building, knowing we are entering a Holy Place? Though the Holy Spirit endwells each of us the moment we accept Christ as Savior, Should we not revere Christ? Church has become way too flippant. This is not about the question of drums or not drums, hymnbooks or screens -- there are pros and cons to each. We can use hymnbooks with no more reverence than reading a magazine in a doctor's office. We can raise our hands high and worship the King in a gym and do so reverently. We can also act like we're rock musicians and crank the sound and become a hindrance to people trying desperately to worship and meet with Jesus. Church worship is not about performance or about the players on the stage. Life worship should not be about how many likes we get on social media or how cute we look. Real worship -- reverence -- is about being humble before the Lord Jesus and knowing that He must be greater and not us. Worship is not about how cool we look on stage. Our worship needs to point to Christ at all times, in gentleness and in peace. satan loves to make hindrances in church -- to take your mind off the message. Do you ever remember the weirdest things that you've been trying to remember for days, right during the sermon, so you write them on the bulletin? satan. Reverence is about being in awe of what God has done, is doing, and will do in your life. Reverence is about daily life-worship in constant prayer with Him. If we don't physically take our shoes off, maybe we should do that in our minds as we prepare in silence, awe, and reverence as we meet with the King of Kings. In Christ, Terrie The sentencing hearing for the man who shot my husband at a rest stop after Thanksgiving 2015 was held on October 26, 2017. I had the opportunity to read the following victim impact statement to the judge in the courtroom with the defendant, his attorney, the assistant district attorney, sheriff deputies and other people present. Your Honor, My name is Terrie McKee. I am the wife of the victim. But that is not exactly true. Greg, myself, and our whole family were victims of the shooting on November 28, 2015 which left my husband paralyzed from the waist down. It has been almost two years since a stop for a restroom break changed our lives forever. The defendant’s actions and choices that day have created undue hardship on us as a couple, our four children, and indeed our extended family and friends. We were having a difficult time financially before the shooting; now, because of the paralysis, we are desperately struggling financially. Because of the paralysis, Greg’s bladder and bowels no longer function as they should, so he has to constantly wear incontinence pads and briefs to catch the leaking urine. These are not cheap. The catheters that are required for him to urinate because of the paralysis from the shooting are an added cost we did not have before. The maintenance on his wheelchair and the need he has for a standing frame – all of these are things he requires but we cannot afford. They are not covered by insurance. His medications, and my medications for anxiety and depression are direct results of the shooting on November 28. Your Honor, we live less than paycheck-to-paycheck and are nearly always within one month from losing everything. It was tight before – in fact, the only thing that was in Greg’s wallet the night of the shooting was his Aldi quarter – but now, finances are beyond tight. While we are grateful to God for His provision, we have to make the conscious decision to either purchase the medical supplies he needs or do without some item of food, car repair, or clothing for our children. Although we are certainly thankful to our church family and community for renovating our home to accommodate Greg’s wheelchair; the fact is, because of our large family, we need a larger home. It’s not a want; it’s a need. Yet, because of medical bills, ongoing medical requirements, bulky medical equipment that takes up a ton of space, and the inability for Greg to make more money because of being paraplegic, we cannot afford a larger house. This is a constant source of emotional stress – to know you need something but cannot get it, because your husband was shot and paralyzed in a random crime event. The shooting caused me, personally, to have PTSD very similar to a soldier who has fought in war. Car backfires, or someone dropping a box, the sight and sounds of an ambulance – all cause me to have severe panic attacks. The thought that a severe urinary tract infection or an infected pressure sore can take the life of my husband at any given time creates daily anxiety. The choice the defendants made that night to shoot my husband has forever changed our family....I have a tremendously difficult time staying home by myself. Driving up I-85 and seeing the rest stop sign sends me into a full-on anxiety attack. I have had panic attacks so bad they have sent me to the hospital. It is extraordinarily painful experiencing the love of my life cry out with searing nerve pain and being unable to do anything about it. Paraplegia requires that I help him shower, get dressed and undressed, and even assist him in moving his bowels. He is 45 years old – this is our life now, for as long as he lives, because he was shot by the defendant. Greg’s career choices and ability to make more money to support his family, and his medical needs, have been diminished greatly and forever because of the inability to stand. Since I am also the caregiver for our autistic son and little girl who suffers with chronic migraines, I cannot work outside the home. Greg is the only breadwinner. The ADA and equal opportunity programs are great but one has to be physically able to do a job. He cannot find better-paying employment because of the paralysis due to the shooting. The shooting not only destroyed his vertebrae but it shattered our whole family’s hopes, dreams, and aspirations. It has affected each of our children. Our son who witnessed the shooting had to leave Western Carolina and his dream of being a high school band director. He has battled depression because of the shooting. Our son who has autism is angry and hurt that someone would do this to his step-father. Because of his disability, he doesn’t fully understand – but he constantly blames me for the shooting because I had to use the bathroom. Can you imagine what emotional trauma this does to me? Our oldest daughter will not have the opportunity to have her Daddy walk her down the aisle in a year or two when she gets married. We all grieve this. The Daddy-Daughter dance she has dreamt about will not be able to happen. Our little girl, the youngest, also witnessed the shooting. She saw her Daddy in his own blood, crying out thinking he was dead. She constantly asks if he will ever walk again. She has decided she wants to be a surgeon when she grows up, so she can get the bullet out of his back. The shooting has affected us in other ways, Your Honor. Most people who see us at church or in public see us as strong and resilient. In reality, we are suffering and hurting. It’s awfully hard to talk about a tragedy and trauma of this magnitude – who has that kind of experience? We feel so very alone. We are struggling in every way. Yet, Jesus is with us and we know that He is our Provision, our Peace, and our Protector. In His strength, we will move forward the best we can. # # # The defendant received 23 years in prison. In NC, there are six record levels in the felony punishment chart -- the higher the number, the more violent the offender. The defendant is a level four offender with 11 points for prior convictions over ten years, starting at age sixteen when he dropped out of school. The week before the hearing, he claimed he was "disrespected" by his cell mate, whom he subsequently beat up. He was presently in solitary confinement because of the beating during the hearing. He will be 51 years old when he leaves prison. No one from his family showed at the hearing. In Him Alone, Terrie There’s a misconception in the United States that only African Americans are descendants of slaves, brought here against their will to work fields and serve in grand plantation homes. What people don’t realize is that before Africa was pillaged for the slave trade, the English targeted a whole other group of people. Teague MacQuillen was born in 1615 in County Kilkenny, Ireland, the son of Rory Org MacQuillen. Rory Org was the last of the “Lords of the Route,” who had built Dunluce Castle and was a Lord with land and title to back it up. When King James (yes, that King James of the KJV) decided he wanted more and more of Irish land, he targeted Irish landowners. Rory Org, who famously decreed, “no captain of his race ever died in his bed,” was strapped to English horses, drawn and quartered, for his land, faith, and beliefs. He was the last of the Lords of the Route, and Dunluce fell into enemy hands. His son, Teague, though, without land, hope, or kin, was forced onto the ship the Thomas, bound for the New World, and landed as an indentured servant near Jamestown in 1635. Years later, Thomas Bentley was born in poverty about 1716 in England, and, wishing to come to the New World, signed the papers and became an indentured servant to someone to secure passage. I guess to him being a servant in America was better than being a pauper in England. Once in Maryland, he was sold, and indentured to a vile Anglican clergyman named Rev. Joseph Hooper. With two years left to serve, his eyes set on marrying his sweetheart Hannah, Rev. Hooper sent him on a trading expedition to some Native Americans in the wilderness of western Virginia. When Thomas returned, Rev. Hooper was waiting for him with the authorities, claiming that he had stolen the items that he had traded. He was forced to serve for another seven unlawful years. Years later, Thomas would be married to Hannah with many children in Lincoln County, NC, and would support the colonists as they broke free from English rule. While he was too old to fight, he sold grain and other materials at a steep discount to colonists who were unsympathetic of the Crown, and jacked up the prices to Red Coats and English supporters. Great history lessons, right? These two men, Teague and Thomas, are much more than pages on history books for me. They represent two different angles of indentured servanthood: one forced into it, and the other who willingly served (until that business with Rev. Hooper) to come to America for opportunity. They were both indentured servants: a fancy name for slaves. Both of them are my ancestors. People now tend to forget that America was first a colony of England, and that it was England who had the large sailing ships that landed on African shores and Irish docks to bind and shove men, women, and children toward a life of slavery in the New World. Did America keep the slaves? Yes, but not without consequence. This country was divided in 1861 over states’ rights, slavery, and economics and that particular matter was settled in 1865. It has reared its head time and again, though, and with the passion of people like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and others like him, young people today do not experience the racism that once existed. Signs like “Irish Need Not Apply” or “Colored Water Fountains Only” do not exist in this day. Perhaps we need to stop living in the past to get 15 minutes of TV time today. Perhaps the liberal media needs to stop covering non-news stories and focus on what is the real news: there is a mad man in North Korea who has enslaved his entire country, tortures and kills at whim, and is threatening to blow us all up. There are millions of young girls and boys who are trafficked and enslaved for wicked, vile, sexual purposes. There’s a drug epidemic that is killing thousands. Millions of babies are murdered each year as birth control. What do the news media focus on? Over-paid jerks claiming oppression. Oppression is what the people of North Korea face every day that is not being covered in the news. The Pittsburgh Steelers who hid in the tunnel as the National Anthem was played yesterday make, all together, $132,612,017 annually. The lone Steeler who stood outside of the tunnel, former US Army Ranger and West Point graduate Alejandro Villanueva, makes $25 million a year. It’s really hard to claim oppression when you’re making more than some African countries’ revenue. Instead of kneeling for the anthem, why not take a pay cut and divide millions of dollars between all the teachers in Pennsylvania? Why not provide scholarships so young men and women can attend college and break the cycle of poverty? Why not do some good instead of just do something of no consequence except to acquire air time? Claiming oppression at the hands of the police is mind-boggling. It doesn’t matter what color your skin is when it comes to the police. Here’s the deal: you do something illegal or stupid and threaten a police officer’s life or the lives of citizens, and things will happen to you. You may be tackled and handcuffed; you may be tased; you may be shot. You may be caught and have to spend 25 years in prison. Don’t do stupid activities that are illegal and those things won’t happen to you. Don’t associate with people who do stupid activities that are illegal and you won’t be caught up in it. There are real slaves in this world; NFL players who make hundreds of millions of dollars aren’t oppressed: they want young boys to think they look cool by “taking a knee” so those young boys will buy those players’ jerseys. Who’s oppressing whom? My name is Terrie Bentley McKee, a descendant of indentured servants. Do I claim oppression at the hands of England? Do I go and protest Buckingham Palace? No. Can Queen Elizabeth go back in time and give Dunluce back to Teague? No. Can I do anything about my ancestral history? Yes. I can learn from it. I can treat others the way I want to be treated. I can inform others about real slaves today: children who are being used as sex slaves. I found out recently that thanks to my Swiss grandfather, my Dutch-Irish grandmother, and a long string of Irish ancestors, with a smidgeon of English blood, I am a large majority of Swiss, Dutch, and Irish with a hint of English (thanks, Thomas). But do I sing the National Anthems of Switzerland, Holland, Northern Ireland, or England? No. I was born and live in the great melting pot of the United States of America. But I am more than the DNA that is in my body. Because of Jesus, I am not just Terrie Bentley McKee, descendant of indentured servants. I am Terrie Bentley McKee, Child of God, a Daughter of the Most High King. I am a forgiven sinner, redeemed by the Blood of Christ, a sister in Christ to all my Christian brothers and sisters. And one day, when mine eyes shall gaze upon His Holiness the Lord Jesus Christ, every knee will bow. The issue is not whether some spoiled football player kneels. It is, rather, do you kneel, now, at the foot of the Cross, so that you can say that you are a Child of the King? Peace, Terrie Dunluce Castle
It is a difficult thing to discern God's will for our lives, when our lives themselves are full of questions. Why do loved ones have to die? Why does healing sometimes come via death? Why do companies have lay-offs at the most inopportune of times? What will happen to this person, that person, this child, that child? Why? There's this passage in the Bible that also creates a lot of questions. "They came to Bethsaida, and some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. When he had spit on the man’s eyes and put his hands on him, Jesus asked, 'Do you see anything?' "He looked up and said, 'I see people; they look like trees walking around.' Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly." [Mark 8:22-25] This passage has been resonating with me lately. It is just full of questions: Why did Jesus take the blind man outside of the village for the healing? Why did Jesus spit on the man's eyes when He could have just touched him, spoke the healing into being, or put mud on the man's eyes with instructions for a bath after? He had done all those types of healings before...why the spitting? Why did Jesus, Who had raised people from the dead with just words have to touch the man twice for him to regain his sight? My family and I are going through a very difficult time right now...dealing with my husband's paraplegia, my son's autism, school for the youngest, general young adult issues with the middle two. I've been battling a deep depression lately, and trying to prune areas of my life that aren't glorifying to God or don't directly benefit my family. It is very difficult to discern God's will in all these things. Yet (and I love how Jesus uses the word "yet" to mean Glory and Victory instead of defeat)... yet...."He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village..." Why outside the village? Going through the trials that my family and I are facing, I understand what this means....sometimes we are thrust headlong into a situation that we otherwise would not choose. My husband did not choose to be shot in the back...yet...here we are, in the throes of a lifelong situation that we did not choose to be in. Outside the village. I did not choose to have back surgery three times in 10 years, but they were necessitated by herniated disks...outside the village. How many times do we have to go through a fire for which we did not put flame to kindle? Yet...God can always use these "outside the village" moments when we trust Him. Often times we will not trust or obey unless forced...like Jonah who found himself in the whale after turning tail and running away from God, only to be puked up on the beach like a bad piece of krill. It was then that Jonah obeyed. Outside the village... So Jesus has the blind man outside the village and spits on his eyes not once but twice....Let's look at the first vision recovery...after Jesus spits and rubs and asks the man if he sees anything, the man looks around and says, "I see people; they look like trees walking around." You almost see Jesus' grin when the blind man says that. We are so tempted, when Jesus is working on our lives, to stop Him halfway, aren't we? We get to the point that this man came to....not blind...with definitely better vision...but not completely where Jesus wanted him. So many times we stop Jesus short of where He wants us, saying, "Oh I'm better now!" and we jump up from the dirt on the ground and run around, saying "Jesus healed me!" But He wasn't finished. It wasn't that Jesus had to spit and rub twice to get this man's vision back...He had performed countless Making-the-Blind-See miracles before this. Jesus was wanting to see if the man was willing to have the faith and patience to sit there for a minute longer for Jesus to give him complete restoration. This brings to another point: the man had faith that Jesus was still there while He was working. So many times we go through trials and we think, "Oh Jesus is working here," only to doubt when things get fuzzy and we can't see clearly. Jesus is still working, whether we see Him or not. We may see trials and tribulations as big fuzzy trees, overpowering us and walking around -- it is at these times we sit back, be patient, and wait for Jesus to complete the work. Blind faith...blind faith is a call for trusting God when we see Him working and when we don't, knowing full well that the blind man did not see Jesus but he most assuredly heard Him spitting and felt His precious fingers touching his eyes. We as followers of Christ need to recognize that we may not actively feel Him working in our lives but He is, nonetheless. Faith is not about feeling -- it's about trusting. Trusting in the promises of Christ as outlined in Scripture -- not as fleeting and momentary feelings that will fail us. Jesus is working a healing within our family -- it may not mean my husband can walk this side of heaven, but it does mean that he will walk on the other side of heaven. It may mean that we have to be patient and wait on the Lord, for His timing. When we trust Him with the big picture, the little puzzle pieces of our lives fit so much better. In Him, Terrie (C) 2017 Terrie McKee I can still remember the shock. My ex-mother-in-law had been cleaning for days – actually took a week off of work before Christmas – to clean the house, top to bottom, even dragging her canister vacuum up to the attic, all because her mother was coming to town to spend the holidays with us. Every baseboard, every crevice, every grout line, were scrubbed with bristle brushes, old toothbrushes, wiped down, and all on her hands and knees. She did not own a mop out of the belief it didn’t work as well. When her mother came, the grandmother walked around the house, admiring the Christmas tree, the decorations…then, what to my incredulous eyes did appear, but a white glove she pulled from her ironed slacks’ right pocket. She pulled it on, and wiped the very top of a single door. The right finger presented the evidence: a smidgen of dust. A dust bunny must have just pooped there, it was so fresh. The grandmother looked at my ex-mother-in-law, her eyes peering over her glasses, and said in an aristocratic tone, “You must improve your housekeeping skills.” The woman had been married over 25 years. She had housekeeping skills. There are many reasons why I’m glad I’m no longer in that particular family, but the insane expectation of perfectionism is a good one. The need to be absolutely perfect for whatever reason, still plagues me. I’ll say it: Pinterest, as incredible a resource as it is, has caused a slow growth of insanity to have the perfect house, with the perfectly-placed shiplap on one wall, with the perfectly-coiffed and clothed children, and three crafts going on simultaneously. It has given rise to a whole passel of people who want to create a homemade-from-scratch dinner, complete with their own goat cheese they made three days ago from their own pigmy, non-fainting goats. We have had a lot of rain this summer and that, coupled with teen boys that either work or want to avoid fire ants at all costs, means that our front flower beds have weeds in them so high that acquiring a goat doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. But yesterday, Sam went for his daily walk in the neighborhood, and came home with the news that a church member had passed by our house, waved at him, and went on. All I heard was church member, passed, and house: I bee-lined outside with the lawnmower and mowed the flowerbeds. Mulch flew. I didn’t care. That grass was coming down now. I was sick and tired of the pasture that was growing against the house instead of mulch and bushes. Suddenly and without warning, fire engulfed both of my feet; I looked down as I jumped away from the lawnmower, which turned off automatically. Fire ants were in my shoes, on my feet – I started this crazy redneck dance while running to the house – step step, hit right foot with right hand, throw shoe, step step, hit left foot with left hand, throw shoe, run to the door, screaming “Jaaaaaaaacooooooooobbbbbbbbbb!!!” Jacob comes to the door and on the porch. I’m dancing around. He starts moving and grooving to whatever beat he hears in his head. “No you moron!” I yell in the most Christ-like and mothering way I know. “I have fire ants on my feet!!” “Oh dude,” he stopped dancing. His friend, who’s a CNA, walks out of the house. He’s a gem. Jacob says, “She has fire ants on her feet.” “Oh, okay – well, go to your bathroom and spray warm water on them.” That sounded logical and medical. I did that. That didn’t help. That didn’t help at all. But while I stood there and sprayed water on my feet, the Lord started poking me on my shoulder. You know, like Someone is trying to get your attention. Poke poke poke. I dried them off. That didn’t help either. Put essential oils on them. Helped some – had to continue that, but it helped some. I’m not gonna lie to you, fire ants are from satan. They’re little demons in ant form. They’re probably the first ones that were tossed out of heaven. Poke poke poke. The Lord kept poking at me as I sprayed the essential oils spray I whipped up on the twenty or so ant bites on my feet. First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean. This verse from Matthew 23:26b hit me hard, right between the eyes. He wasn’t talking about how clean my house was or how manicured my lawn was (or isn’t). He was talking about me. I’ve been trying way too hard lately to please everyone else, to make my house Pinterest-perfect in an attempt to be content with a house that has little room but a good mortgage, in a great school system, instead of working on my relationship with Him, and letting Him sort out all the other stuff. Working on being joyful in my salvation means that everything else either falls into place, or doesn’t matter. I’ve been doing what that grandmother had done – instead of seeing all the good, I was taking out the white glove of discontent and nitpicking everything. Instead of being filled with gratitude regarding our home that the Lord God has blessed us, I was wanting to move someplace that would take a lot of work to make handicapped accessible not to mention too much land to work properly, when we have a hard enough time taking care of a quarter-acre. More than that, I had been trying to be perfect instead of being grace-full. No one has perfect children. No one has the perfect family. I do not vacuum my home in a dress, heels, and pearls. Yet, the Lord laid on my heart as I was spraying my feet down from fire ants, I was, in some fashion, expecting perfect children when I am far from perfect. You see, we put so much pressure on ourselves to have every blade of grass cut at the right height, every hair in place, every blog post written, posted, scheduled, and linked up on social media, serving on all the committees, that we, in busyness, forget the most important aspect of being a Christian… Christ. A large part of being a follower of Christ is knowing the most important mission field you have lives in your own home or visits regularly. I was getting irritated with the kids just way too much – shouldn’t they understand by now that dishes will not hop into an empty dishwasher on their own? Can’t they forgo visiting friends just one night (not knowing that the chronic visiting-friends-son was being there with them when his friends were going through some pretty rough stuff)? Why must every day begin and end with a fuss, dadgumit? The driving desire to have a perfect, Cleaver-esque household had been damaging the relationships I have with my children. Damage the relationship, and you damage the ability and opportunity to speak Christ into their lives. I’m a big proponent of being in the Word, but I will also admit here that I’m not always good at it. Being a caregiver, mom of four, trying to manage the household with very little real help, trying to write – time seems to fly by. Exhausted, I fall into bed feeling guilty about not cracking open my Bible. I know in my head that an open Bible, read and applied, does more to grow me as a follower of Christ than any sermon ever does. I love that my pastor preaches the Word of God without apology but he cannot force-feed the Bread of Life into me. As a believer, I have to feed myself. And that happens when I read and study the Bible. When that happens, something incredible happens. I am more content with my home. I extend grace and mercy more quickly to my husband and children. Something else happens too – I care more about being a steward of the blessings God has bestowed upon us, and I keep a cleaner house. It’s not a museum, and it’s far from perfect, but it’s lived in, full of the laughter of the people who live in it, and God is glorified. Perfectionism can be an evil thing, beloved. We are perfected through Christ, and in Him alone. A relationship with Christ that is active, whole, committed, and dedicated to growing in Him is not one based on our perfectionism, but on His – and that spreads to all areas of our lives. In Him, Terrie © 2017 Terrie McKee |
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