Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness in the day of judgment; because as He is, so are we in this world. 1 John 4:17 Easter Sunday was a big deal for the Gaston household when I was growing up. My mother, the quintessential celebrator of all holidays, went all in! Dying eggs and egg hunts, jellybeans, chocolate bunnies, and Peeps (my sister would only eat them if they'd sat out for a day or so and were hard) to fill the Easter baskets. I'd have a new dress with ruffles and lace (I hated ruffles and lace), new patent leather shoes from Thom Mcan, Easter bonnets (which I hated more than ruffles and lace) with fresh Shirley Temple curls cascading beneath. I knew, though, chocolate bunnies, eggs, and Shirley Temple curls were not at the crux of Easter. I knew what the day truly represented, though as a child, I didn't fully understand the implications of Christ's death, burial, and resurrection. I knew He suffered for me; I knew He bore my sins for me. I knew that my belief in Him and what He'd done meant forgiveness and heaven when I died, but what did His death and resurrection mean for me in this life? What were the present implications and, yes, benefits for me— every believer—in this life? As we celebrated Resurrection Sunday 2023, my pastor John W. Stevenson shared this thought: He is Alive! As He is, so are…
Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” -- Luke 23:34a At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light, And the burden of my heart rolled away, It was there by faith I received my sight, And now I am happy all the day!” ― Isaac Watts I will never forget the day I gave my life to Christ. It was a sweltering Sunday morning in June—Children’s Day—and our little Baptist church was packed. I sat fidgeting on the front pew next to my father. I was eight years old, and I had made up my mind—this was the day. And so when Pastor Lewis offered the invitation to discipleship as he had so many other Sundays before, I leaned over and whispered in Daddy’s ear, “I want to be saved.” He smiled and nodded, and I nervously stepped forward. Pastor Lewis knelt down, cradled me in his arms, and, after a series of questions, welcomed me into the family of God. I was saved! That was the first of many “salvation” moments in my life. My seeming inability to "get it right" made me think that perhaps it hadn’t taken the first time, and over the years, I’d rededicate my life to Christ and then rededicate my rededication. It seemed everyone lived this Christian life better than I did (but that's a subject for another blog post). I've spent time these days leading up to Resurrection Sunday…
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will guide you with My eye. Psalm 32:8 NKJV When I was a child, my mother had a way of communicating with me without speaking a word! You may be familiar with— the look! You know the glance says, “Girl, you better sit down now!’’ or “Just wait ‘til I get you home!” My mother had mastered the art of “eye language.” With a single glance, she’d say, “Don’t play with me!” or “Get over here right now!” When I sat at the dinner table, staring defiantly at the Brussels sprouts she’d piled on my plate, a simple glance at the plate and then back at me said, “You’re not getting up until you eat every one of them!” With one glance, she said, “You’re doing a great job! I’m so proud of you!” or “Yes, you’re on the right track!” or “No need to be afraid; I’m here!” With one glance, she simply said, “I love you!” Understanding my mother’s “eye language” was easy because of our close, intimate relationship. She knew me; I knew her. She watched over me, kept her eyes on me, and I learned to look to her for guidance, assurance, and even correction. I studied her ways, and I learned to keep my eyes on her. I knew because she loved me, she wouldn’t steer me wrong. She only wanted what was best for me. I trusted her,…
We have become his poetry, a re-created people that will fulfill the destiny he has given each of us, for we are joined to Jesus, the Anointed One. Even before we were born, God planned in advance our destiny and the good works we would do to fulfill it! Ephesians 2:10 The Passion Translation She’d settled into life as it was and had taken consolation in the words of Paul: “Whatever state I am in...” She wrapped herself in contentment like a thick wool comforter on a cold winter’s day and nestled into a predictability that, over the years, had slowly and methodically suffocated her dreams, hopes, and desires one by one. Some were still breathing, but barely. Up at dawn, shower, dress, cook breakfast, get kids ready and off to school, battle through the morning rush to just make it to the job for which she was highly over-qualified, a job that had long ago ceased to challenge or draw from the reservoir of creativity within her. But dutifully, she put in her eight hours and then was hurled into the madness of after-school activities—soccer practices and dance classes. Then home again. Cook dinner, check homework, go through bedtime rituals with the kids. On a good night, she’d stare blankly at the TV, watching the Housewives of Somewhere, and wonder how someone got away with murdering her dreams as she watched re-runs of "How to Get Away with Murder" on Netflix. Pray, read, go to sleep, only to…
Unapologetically (Sorry, Not Sorry) But what I am now I am by the grace of God. The grace he gave me has not proved a barren gift. I have worked harder than any of the others - and yet it was not I but this same grace of God within me. 1 Corinthians 15:10 J.B. Phillips Translation She’d answer the phone speaking in tongues! “Hello, Mother Clark!” I’d say. She’d laugh with such delight as she always did when I called, and she’d say (as she always did), “Ah, Sister Deborah! Daughter, I was just thinking about you!” She’d barely give me a chance to ask how she was or if she needed anything before she’d go straight prophetic on me, give me a “thus saith the Lord,” pray with me. I’d hang up, eyes filled with tears and heart filled with gratitude. I admit I don’t remember a lot of those conversations now. But there are some that I will never forget, for the words lodged deep in my spirit. They didn’t necessarily take root at the time, but recently those words returned to me to heal, shift my perspective, change me, settle me more deeply, and strengthen my resolve. I came home from work one afternoon and called Mother Clark to check on her. She began our conversation by telling me about a segment of the Oprah Show about birth order she’d just watched. Then she said, “You are bold, full of dazzle and sparkle! Full…
". . . He said to me, “My grace elevates you to be fully content.” And now, instead of being overwhelmed with a sense of my own weakness, he overwhelms me with an awareness of his strength! O, what bliss to rejoice in the fact that in the midst of my frailties, I encounter the dynamic of the grace of God to be my habitation." 2 Corinthians 12:9 The MIRROR Hello. My name is Deborah, and I am a recovering perfectionist. Seems most of my life, I have found myself striving to be perfect—not Wonder Woman perfect and definitely not Stepford Wives perfect. More like Mary Poppins. You know . . . “practically perfect in every way” (because everyone knows that practically perfect is more attainable than perfectly perfect). And while I recognize in the sane, rational part of my mind that perfection is an illusion, that it is, as Anne Lamott writes, ". . . the voice of the oppressor,” that it imprisons us, I still found myself striving for, at best, the illusion. Strived to be the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend. Worked hard to be the perfect student, the perfect teacher, the perfect Christian. It mattered to me how I measured up in the eyes of my parents, in the eyes of my friends, in the eyes of my teachers, in the eyes of God! Color within the lines. Follow the rules. Get the A’s. Do it flawlessly. Be the best. And in…