Echoes From Zion

Part of the fun of Thanksgiving when I was a child was all of the crafts, songs, and holiday lessons I got to do at school. From tracing my hand into a turkey, to singing songs about grateful hearts, school was always super exciting when Thanksgiving rolled around. One of my favorite activities involved making over sized Quaker hats out of construction paper. I would carefully cut out a long black hat with wide brim, then use my Elmer's glue to paste on the gold buckle smack dab in the middle of the hat. Some cool classrooms even got to make construction paper collars to make their outfit complete. But, whether you were in the super cool class or the semi-cool class  (like me), each kid would don their pilgrim apparel,  circle up for story time, and eagerly listen to the tales about the wide brimmed hat wearing pilgrims who made their impetuous journey on the Mayflower to America. Then, in reverence and adoration, they celebrated a day of giving thanks to God for their new home and

Have you ever noticed the placement of Thanksgiving on our calendar? It's right when winter has begun to settle upon us with cold winds, bare trees, and brown landscapes, that we as a nation celebrate a day of Thanksgiving. It would seem more natural to give thanks when spring flowers are in full bloom or when the first crops of the summer are brought into our barns. But instead, we offer thanks at the beginning of the bleakest part of the year. I believe that the placement of this holiday is no accident. God gave us seasons in order to teach us about His ways. In fact, I find it fascinating that Genesis 1:14 tells us that God first gave the sun, moon, and stars, not as lights for earth, but for signs and seasons. The secondary blessing is that they give us light! But the Lord first intended the natural seasons of the world to be a podium where lessons are taught. He shows us things in the natural in order to teach us spiritual truths (1 Cor. 15:46) So, what is the lesson here

Back when we lived in Oklahoma, my husband and I would occasionally turn on the TV to find a local minister who was one of the angriest people we had ever seen. He didn't shout. He didn't yell. But the words he spoke were filled with venom. He would speak to the women in the congregation and call them dogs, Jezebels, and worse. He would refer to his congregation as idiotic and stupid. It was almost comical on one hand because it seemed so unreal, so absolutely absurd. But in all seriousness, we would watch, realizing that this was no laughing matter: this man had a sizable congregation who was repeatedly being beaten up all in the name of the 'prophetic edge.' For years, the church body at large was like that Oklahoma congregation. We sat under a venomous teaching that told us prophetic ministry was brash, in your face, and terrifying. I know personally, growing up in a small Pentecostal church, that whenever a visiting minister was speaking at my church, I sat in the

We are so blessed to be living under the New Covenant. No longer do we approach God with the blood of goats and bulls. No longer do we have a weak representative who goes to God on our behalf. No longer do we only have access into His presence once a year (See Hebrews 7:27-28, 8:7-13, 10:19-22). Because of the blood of the New Covenant, we all are made priests unto God, accessing His presence day and night with confidence, no longer bound by laws written on stone, but by the law of the Spirit written on our very nature (Romans 6-8).  What a day to be alive! There is such grace under this New Covenant that the new testament writers warned us about the license some would say they found in it. Many were boasting in the early apostle's day that they could sin freely because God's grace had covered them. This is why Paul penned such truths as, "Shall we sin because we are not under the law but under grace? Certainly not!...How shall we who died to sin live any longer in it?&q

I love to spend time in the woods. With the branches reaching the heights and the canopies all around me, the beauty I see makes my heart feel alive. There are many reasons to love the woods: the smell of the forest, the crunch of leaves beneath my feet, the rocks, the moss, and the critters scampering about. But above all of these qualities, there is one reason why I love the woods: God taught me to hear his voice here. As often as I could, when I was young, I would venture into the sanctuary of my wooded backyard, climb onto my swing set , and lift my song with the trees that surrounded me up to my Father. It was here that my heart was first moved to know Him; to know the one that made such beauty all around. I would swing back and forth, back and forth, keeping the motion in rhythm with my love songs. One song that I sang over and over was a song called, "The Voice of God". The words of the chorus went like this: I hear His voice every time I hear a newborn baby cry, wh

Remember those old Looney Tunes Cartoons where there was always an anvil falling from the sky? As a kid, I would see those anvils falling and wonder, "How the heck did they get that thing in a tree?" Or in a plane, or in a skyscraper, or whatever other high object it was falling from. Not to mention, "Where is this ACME company located and how does one go about buying sooo many anvils?" I also always wondered what on earth the anvil was really for. Well, I think I've finally learned. Over the last couple months, I've been pondering the Lord's Sovereignty.   I know what you are thinking: that's a subject far to grand for my pea-sized brain to grasp. But still, my heart has been drawn to this side of His nature. He IS Sovereign. He raises up nations and tumbles them down. He holds the heart of the King in His hands and moves it as He wills. He is, after all, GOD. He can do as He pleases. In pondering His sovereignty, I have naturally contemplated t

Every weekday morning, I awake before dawn. I quietly and sleepily make my way down the stairs where I enjoy my first cup of coffee in my overstuffed chair. I always love listening to the early morning sounds of birds lifting their chorus. I close my eyes and sip my coffee to the sweet sound of nature praising God in the dawning light. This morning, however, was a bit different. I still quietly and sleepily made my way down the stairs to enjoy my coffee. However, this morning as I settled into my overstuffed chair, I heard thunder in the distance. Gazing out my window, I noticed a coming storm. Lightning and thunder was peeling in the dark sky, steadily creeping towards my house. It was in this instance that I noticed my familiar morning greeting: the birds were still singing in their trees. I sat in awe, listening to the birds noisily lift their voices as the steady rhythm of thunder and the flashing dance of the lightning drew closer and closer to their habitation. It was such a st