Introducing “How He Loves” to the Folded Arm Ministry

I suppose there has been plenty spoken about John Mark McMillan's song "How He Loves". Many folks have been fixated on the "sloppy wet kiss" vs. "unforeseen kiss" controversy. I understand why – it's provocative language that is often left to a listener's interpretation.

In leading worship for my youth group, "How He Loves" (sloppy wet version) is a treasured, oft-requested song. Our youth director actually used the song as the basis for a sermon series for our youth worship time. Until yesterday, I had not presented this song to my congregation.

I have recently unfairly represented a section of my congregation as the "folded arm ministry". The suggestion is that they are closed to contemporary worship music and cross their arms in an illustration of their disapproval. While there is a grain of truth here, one could argue that their worship leader has not always presented songs in a manner that permits them to appreciate the songs.

During the summer months, our choirs (handbells, chancel, and worship) go on hiatus. We sing our three hymns, accompanied by organ, but the anthem is offered by a congregant in the form of "special music". I was tagged to provide special music yesterday (Sunday, June 27).

My wife encouraged me to sing "How He Loves". I was skeptical. She argued that, because it is important to the youth, it should be shared with the congregation. They should understand that our youth group doesn't just gather, play games, and plan on new ways to spend the church's money – our youth regularly and thoughtfully worships. She was right – she's usually right (don't tell her I said so, or I'll deny it).

Last week, as I traveled for work, I spent the evening time in my hotel room working on the song. I did something different this time, though. I dedicated a large chunk of time to considering and practicing my introduction for the song. In my opinion, "How He Loves" is a great song, and to just "dump" it in their laps would be unfair both to them and to the song.

So yesterday morning, I took the stage, picked up my guitar, and adjusted the microphone. I greeted the church. I introduced the song. I spoke about the All About Worship roundtable discussion last Fall where I first learn of "that" song. I told them about Jared Anderson's beautiful cover from his "Live At My Church" album, the version I shared with our youth director. I described introducing the song to the youth group and the importance of the song to their worship time. I prepared them to hear "sloppy wet kiss" by providing context. I encouraged them to not shy from the lyric but to embrace the intent. Finally, I played the song…

I had to fight the urge to cry when I sang the first line…"And He is jealous for me". I was already overcome and fully engaged in worship. I had to continue to remind myself to worship horizontally and to include the congregation. I had to step away from the microphone as I belted "We are His portion, and He is our prize". Blood rushed to my head as it only does when I feel a distinct and visceral connection with God and with my fellow believers.

When the infamous kiss lyric came, I didn't shy away, but I did take an extra moment to observe the reaction. No shock. No folded arms. No heads shaking in disapproval. Instead, people were nodding. People were engaged in worship. I invited them to sing the chorus with me as the song was winding down. And they did.

I played the final chord and thanked the congregation. I placed my guitar back in the stand, turned the volume down on the pedal, and took my place in the house next to my wife. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. I didn't understand why, but I suspected it had something to do with the song.

After the service, I was approached by a number of people of all ages. Many were people who have been openly critical of contemporary worship music in the past. They thanked me for sharing. They remarked on what a beautiful song it was. One gentleman commented, "It was nice you finally let yourself go". I didn't get a chance to ask him what he meant, but I think I know: I had stopped apologizing and just worshipped, honestly and openly. And it was contagious.

Later that day, as Vanessa and I were going about our Sunday errands, I asked her why she appeared upset when the song was over. She replied with something that I found extraordinarily kind. She commented that she felt had just witnessed a glimpse of our future. She felt she had just participated in a real worship experience, led by her husband. She no longer doubts that this is my calling. We held hands.

The Deterioration of Quality

A few months ago, while flying to Dallas as part of my day job, I found myself sitting next to a fellow believer. We spoke at length about our faith and our respective congregations. For the majority of the flight, however, we spoke with great passion about the general mediocrity of Christian artistic output and the attending apparent lack of discernment among Christian consumers.

What do I mean? It is my opinion that we, intentionally or not, tend to lower the bar when it comes to assessing Christian music, literature, and film. We are disposed to hold Christian artists to a different, lower standard. We often choose to consume an inferior product merely because it bears the "Christian" moniker.

I am part of the problem. I am not an exception. I am probably one of the worst offenders.

When I have a personal or emotional stake in a person, I will exhibit a greater tolerance for an average or substandard performance. I reward these people with praise beyond what their work warrants.

Because I am guilty of this myself, I find it difficult to accept commendation from other believers. I believe most will error on the side of "being nice". So how, in this environment, do I judge whether my efforts are truly worthy of their compliment?

Thankfully, I have friends that I trust to speak truth to me – friends who will, in an honest and loving manner, tell me exactly what they think. I don't always like to hear it, but I'd prefer a difficult truth over well-meaning insincerity.

I wonder: do we validate or affirm out of fear of being perceived as unkind or un-Christian? Or have we become so cloistered within our safe, spiritual world that we can no longer judge between excellence and the "just OK"?

I fear that, in an attempt to appear polite and supportive, we fail to temper and refine our art. By neglecting to critique, in an honest and loving manner, we promote a culture that endorses a continuous and accelerating deterioration of quality. When we avoid speaking truth, we not only hinder an artist's growth, we diminish and call into question the abilities of his peers.

Do you agree that this is an issue? Have you witnessed a lack of discernment at your church, in your ministry? How do you suggest we "right the ship" and rededicate ourselves to excellence?

Day 5: Discouragement and My Daughter (#215800)

Wednesday morning, 7.47am. Writing my 800 words. I ended yesterday feeling disappointed and discouraged – all for reasons well within my control. Will I do better today? I hope so. My resolve, in so many things, melts away much too quickly.

I finished reading 2 Kings today. I wasn’t ready to jump into Chronicles yet. I decided to rewind and go back to reading Genesis and work my way back to Samuel. They’ll get to Chronicles again. I’m looking forward to reading Ezra and Nehemiah. Love the Biblical history, but the violence – I tell ya’. They were some killing people. I found some comfort in seeing how the struggle to remain faithful is a universal one. Even our great Biblical heroes, David and Solomon, had some monumental screw ups. There is hope for me yet.

Started listening to the new series at Willamette Christian Church this morning via podcast. Their pastor, Joel Dombrow, is speaking about doubt. What a timely subject for me. Appreciated his discussion of the three kinds of believers: the simple-minder believer, the scientist, and the skeptic. I admit that I generally straddle the scientist and the skeptic. But I’m a seeking, hopeful skeptic. I want to believe and I want the roadblocks to belief (doubt) removed. But it is human to doubt. I suppose that my lack of follow-through may have something to do with my little faith and how I’m impacted by doubt.

OK, at this point, I’m finding myself to be uninspired. There are a lot of things to write about, but I’m afraid many of them aren’t interesting enough or are too ambitious for the space of these 800 words. Both assume that somebody might be reading this. I should let that go. Not only is no one reading this, but the point is to write – not to write for an audience. Let’s try again.

Marisa is earning a D- in two classes. This frustrates me to no end; however, I’m also aware that the very reason she’s struggling (missing assignments) is the thing that challenges me at work. Sometimes we just don’t WANT to do the work and will go to any length to find something else to work on. Still, we supported her as she studied for one of the finals, Marine Biology. She felt confident before and after the final. Mathematically speaking, there is a chance she can pull that grade up to a C. I hope so. We’ve worked hard with her on her study skills and homework. We let up on the reins some in this past semester - something that we really need to do. She needs to start taking responsibility. Yet I can’t completely let go. In the other class, English, she was missing a lot of assignments as well. Thankfully, the teacher was kind enough to allow her to turn her missing assignments in for full credit. Very generous. She actually has the potential to bring her grade up to a B. I’m hopeful…

Marisa also received her learner’s permit on Saturday. She is so exciting and anxious about driving. I’ve let her drive quite a bit in the past four days. I’ve decided to make her a deal, though. She needs to work out on any day that she wants to drive. If you’re wondering why, here’s the scoop. Marisa, when she gets bored and has time on her hands, tends to eat…a lot. Yesterday, for example, she made herself a lunch of chicken wings and French fries. She gained a lot of weight last summer when she was bored and alone at home. Therefore, I’m trying to leverage her excitement about driving to get her to be more active. She’s a little annoyed by it, but she understands that this stipulation is borne out of our desire for her to be healthier.

I’m ridiculously proud of my daughter. I’m so blessed that she was able to move in with us last year. I know that she continues to struggle with the changes that led her to change households. Her relationship with her mom is strained. There is little enthusiasm for visiting Mindy’s (her mom’s) house anymore. I would like to give credit to Jason, Mindy’s husband, for being the peacemaker and the bridge to keep the chasm from widening further. He picks her up at the start of weekend and ensures that she gets to her games, whether soccer or rugby. Yesterday, Marisa and I texted about her relationship with her mom. While it would be easy for her to dismiss her mom and allow that relationship to whither, she isn’t ready to do that. I’m glad that she’s not. I’m not a huge fan of Mindy, but I encourage Marisa to stay connected with her. That relationship is much too important to ignore it.

Day 4: Behind Schedule (#215800)

I haven’t written for several days. No excuse. I allowed other, less important things to distract me. In fact, my output for Friday and Monday (last two business days) was just poor. I know better, but I continue to let myself be taken off tasks, saying to myself that I can catch up. And then I find myself under the gun and swearing that I won’t allow myself to get there again. I’m back on today. It might take 30 minutes to write this morning, but at least I will have something accomplished that I can hang my hat on.

I’m all about ritual. Must be something about being raised Catholic (love Catholic mass, by the way). I appreciate when I’m able to build myself a ritual that is not boring but stable. I suppose that’s been part of my struggle since Sammy was born and Marisa moved in. I wouldn’t change the opportunity for anything, but it has been awfully difficult to establish a ritual for myself. I mind that I’m just jamming activities into whatever time slot I can find, ignoring any rhyme or rhythm. And more than infrequently, I’m choosing activities that really don’t benefit me at all. They just allow my mind to shut down. While there is a time and place for mindless activities, I almost always regret them. I reflect on the things that I wish I had been doing, the things I always say I want to do but never have the time.

So this is my current morning ritual – not perfect but certainly predictable and comforting. My alarm goes off at 5.00am. Much too early for most people (and for me, frankly). I don’t snooze. I get up, grab a t-shirt, underwear, and my phone and head to the bathroom. I brush my teeth with my SonicCare toothbrush. I leave the water running so that it can get warm in advance of my shower. During my two-minute tooth cleansing, I catch up on email and Twitter. Then it’s shower time. Soap, shampoo, and prayer. Seems like a good place to start my praying. I dry off, shave, and then head downstairs.

Downstairs, I prepare Sammy’s morning milk with vitamin drops, fill-up Vanessa’s and my coffee cups, and feed the dogs. I’m predictable when it comes to food, too. Currently, I’m enjoying maple and brown sugar shredded wheat. I was using whole milk, because that’s what Sammy uses, but this week I switched back to skim. Not as satisfying but healthier.

I return upstairs and eat breakfast while I read the Bible on my phone. Vanessa wakes up at 5.48am. I take a break from reading to chat with her before she jumps into the shower. I’ll set out clothes for myself and Sammy, then go back to reading. When Vanessa finishes her shower, I’ll iron my clothes. Sammy wakes up around 6.30am. I give his bottle, change his diaper, and get him dressed. He and I cuddle for a few minutes before the family goes downstairs (Marisa is awake by this time). We all pack lunches. I give everyone individual hugs and, at around 7am, I walk out the door to start my day.

Over the weekend, I began to consider that in about a month, I will be at Great Wolf Lodge with my family and my best friend’s family. It’s a water park. I will be in my swimsuit most of the time. I have not been getting to the gym on a regular basis, choosing instead to occupy myself with mindless activities (see above). I’ve decided that I need to use my fear of looking flabby in public as motivation for refocusing on fitness. I did a short bike ride on Sunday with Sammy. Pretty short, but better than doing nothing. Yesterday, I did good. I made it to the gym. I ran two miles on the treadmill, completing in just under 15 minutes, which I feel pretty good about. I expect I could’ve gone another mile, but I planned on running when I got home. I did some weights to complete my workout. When I got home, I changed into workout clothes, strapped on my new running shoes and socks, and hit the road. I put in three miles. A short road run, but combined with my treadmill work, I ran five miles yesterday. I’ll have to up that mileage significantly if I’m going to avoid torture on the Hood To Coast in August.

I’m currently sitting at my desk at work, laptop between me and door, listening to the Glee soundtrack. They are singing U2’s “One”. Great song. I love these guys, but they aren’t doing the song justice. I remember how important that album (“Achtung Baby”) was to me during my lonely times in the early ‘90s. I loved that song “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses”. Reminded me of my girlfriend at the time, Heather Merrifield, who turned out to be a lesbian. That’s a story for another day.

800 words in less than 30 minutes, interrupted only by the mindless activity of playing Mafia Wars on Facebook. I have REAL work to do now.

I love you, Lord. Please help me focus today, on you and on being a man of integrity.

Day 3 (#215800): The Other Job

Thursday. And I’m thankful the end of the week is near. It bothers me that I look forward to the end of the week. I’m thankful for my job, but it doesn’t sustain me. I struggle to maintain focus and to stay engaged in the work that I’m doing. While I enjoy leading teams to success, many of the steps along the way are tedious, repetitive, and uninteresting.

Six years ago, one of the pastors at my church approached me and asked if I would consider leading the congregation in some contemporary worship songs. She knew I enjoyed singing and that I also played guitar. I agreed, and she supplied me with a list of the CCLI’s top 25 worship songs. It had been ten years since I attended a church that featured praise music, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to me that I did not recognize a single song.

Since I anticipated this was likely a one-time event, I fell back on the standards: “Lord, I Lift Your Name On High” and “Shine, Jesus, Shine”. I recruited some friends and choir members to assist. The result was passable but met with a relatively enthusiastic response. A short time later, I was asked by our Spiritual Growth and Renewal Commission to organize a team to lead music once monthly. I accepted.

Rather than subject any one to the trials and tribulations, successes and rewards, let it suffice to say that I took the ball and ran with it, occasionally in the completely wrong direction.

There were some important, notable changes that occurred. Prior to being given this opportunity, I had little use or patience for contemporary Christian music, let alone worship music. I was in a wholly new territory. I submerged myself in research and listening. Rather than building a repertoire, I was learning a new language. I had no idea who Chris Tomlin or Matt Redman were. All the songs were foreign. All the bands were foreign. In general, I was unimpressed with the landscape. Listening to this music was not a pleasure but a chore.

At some point, something clicked. I think it was when I started to connect the songs in my “How To” books to the songs I was hearing on the radio. I became excited about the idea of sharing these songs with my congregation. I became hungry to hear new songs, more songs. I bought more books, more CDs. I subscribed to services that sent me the latest music and the tools to perform them.

At the same time, I was missing some clear signals from members of the congregation. I made assumptions about their appreciation for the music we were providing. I assumed this is something they wanted, something they bought in to. For some people, this was true. For others, this was so far from reality.

It took me a couple of years and some not-so-subtle complaints to realize that my team was equally reviled and adored. Once that became apparent to me, I found myself self-conscious to the point of being nearly paralyzed. I would read into every bit of body language and allow it to discourage me. When people didn’t sing, I would take it personally. I would spend hours listening to music, trying to identify songs that were both accessible to the congregation and interesting.

And something else was happening: my team was getting very good. We were SOOO amateur when we started. Thankfully, God made us naïve so that we weren’t aware of how unskilled we were. My musicians practiced more on their own, took lessons, and studied the music. I learned how to direct and arrange. I grew more adept at matching songs to the circumstance and not to allow personal preference to drive song selection.

When my son, Sammy, was born in September of 2008, things necessarily needed to change. There were new priorities and certainly less bandwidth. Vanessa couldn’t participate as a team member. She didn’t have the same passion as I did, and she didn’t have the energy. Life was just busier. This was a blow to me. I love singing with my wife. She is a great partner with a lovely voice and a great ear. In many regards, the band was as good as ever, but we were hampered vocally. Though we retained great talent, Vanessa has in many ways been a leader. People look/listen to her as a guide. And she wasn’t there anymore.

At the end of that season, I was burned out, frustrated, and questioning what I was doing. Not questioning my desire to lead worship, but questioning why a person puts forth such an effort for a group of people that are uncertain they want you to be there. And one of my team members was struggling both personally and professionally. He needed to take a step back. This was yet another blow. He was key to ensuring our sound was set up, key because of his enthusiasm, and key for his support for this ministry in general.

When the fall season rolled around, I wasn’t ready. I discovered that my sister wanted to leave the church for a larger church with a younger congregation and better resources. I didn’t blame her. She is single, in her 30s, and had dedicated a lot of time and energy into serving at our church. She needed a break and needed somebody to serve her. I questioned, along with Vanessa, why we chose to remain where we were. Neither of us felt fed spiritually by our service, and we had to fight tooth-and-nail to promote any kind of change.

At this point, I was ready to walk away. I had decided that I needed to, at the very least, take a season off from leading worship. It was not outside of the realm of possibility that we would find another place to worship. It was at that time, on that very day, that I was approached by our Youth Pastor. Fully expecting me to say “no”, he asked if I would consider leading worship each Sunday night for the youth. I took this as a sign from our Lord that it was not time to walk away – it was time to shift my focus. After some brief family discussion, I agreed to work with the youth.

And that decision has brought about much of this current season of renewal and rededication. I lead worship for 10-20 youth, a small but very appreciative group of young people. I believe I have discovered a voice within myself that wants and needs to lead people to Christ and to lead them to worship and praise Him.

I believe that God wants me to take this role to another level. I wait on Him to tell me when it is the right time. And yesterday, my boss at my day job told me this: if I decide I want to pursue this path to a greater extent, he will support me; however, he doesn’t want to lose me as an employee. He would support me working for him part time while I took on a part-time worship leader role.

I’m not ready to pull the trigger yet, but it feels like another message, telling me that I’m heading the right direction. I will continue to listen and prepare for the day when He tells me that it’s time to move.

Day 2 (#215800): The Day Job

I sat down at my computer ten minutes ago, certain that I had intended to actually do something specific. It took those ten minutes and a review of tweets from the folks that I follow for me to realize that I need to begin the work of writing my 800 words today.

I went for a run yesterday after work. Four miles. I was pleased to discover that it is becoming easier, and I was able to trim 15 seconds off of my best time this year. At the AAW retreat Eddy Mann and I discussed how running for us is a time of quiet reflection and praise. For me, it is a time to consider my actions, my place in life, my relationship with Christ, my relationship with my family, my performance at work, etc.

Yesterday, I spent a great deal of time contemplating the vast subject matter available for me to address when I write. What came to my mind again and again was this: sin. I considered how I sin and the form it takes. I wrote a healthy number of words in my head during that run. I hope that, in the near future, I’m brave enough to discuss that in public forum; however, since this is only Day 2, I have chosen to reserve that discussion for a later date.

So today’s subject is a simple one. I’m going to write a brief description of my day job – tomorrow I’ll describe what I consider my real job.

I work for a small company (less than 50 people) in Vancouver, WA. While we provide an array of services, my position is focused on consulting. Actually, I’m the manager of the consulting group.

OK, I find the term “consulting” to be vague. It means many things to many people. My father-in-law worked for Bayer Chemical for 23 years – two years from full retirement. He was laid off by a consultant, evidently to save the company the cost associated with paying his benefits for the rest of his life. I’m NOT that kind of consultant.

I work with public agencies, generally small government (cities, counties, states) and utilities. I shepherd them through the steps necessary to procure and implement software to support their organization. Ii don’t sell software. I don’t pick the software for them. I provide the method and the objective voice that ensures they are successful.

My wife used to think my job was ridiculous. Why do people need help buying software? Why would they want to pay somebody to do it? That’s a fair response. It used to be my response. Here’s the deal, though: most companies don’t do it well. There are millions of dollars at stake. There are competing priorities. It is quite easy to screw it up. And when you’re a public agency, an expensive and/or failed project gets you in the papers. Essentially, I’m a reasonably priced insurance policy.

My wife gets it now. Her company has been dealing with a nightmare software implementation project for several years now. She has come to appreciate the objective approach to software selection that my company promotes. Her previous boss decided that, rather than purchase a proven system that was more expensive initially, she would go for the cheapest product available – a product that was not fully developed and not implemented anywhere. Poor judgment, trust me.

So where are they now? Three years later, the application still isn’t fully implemented. It’s buggy, slow, poorly designed, and unstable. They are trying to renegotiate the contract with the developer (there’s only one!). He’s got them over a barrel, because he owns the code and they have sunk so much time and money into the solution that they aren’t willing to just walk away from it.

Anyway, that’s a quick story about my job. There’s a lot to it. I could write many days about it, but since I don’t expect anyone to read this on a good day, I really don’t expect anyone to slog through an entry about consulting and software procurement. I know that I would not get through it. Seriously, most of us don’t take the time to read 200 words in an online sitting, let alone 800.

Today I will be driving with one of our partners to kick-off a new project. We’ve worked with them once in the past. They are a challenging and demanding group. I say this not in a pejorative sense – it’s just a statement of fact. We’ll likely be engaged with this company for at least 18 months. To be honest, I am somewhat anxious about this project. The previous work for them was met with some criticism. Though we delivered a quality product, the message we delivered was not the message they wanted to hear. Unfortunately, my job is to be objective and speak the truth as I see it. I am blessed that most of my clients are open to hear my message. Occasionally, though, I have to tell you that “your baby is ugly”.

I’m over 800 words now. I’m not too impressed with this entry today, but I suppose it’s like writing the exposition of a book – not a lot is occurring, but the information given is necessary to grasp the context of the story to follow. When I’m reading back on this, I might find it helpful to recall just where I was in mind and spirit in June 2010.

Day 1 (#215800)

As I take on this new challenge, I am keenly aware of my desire and tendency to overwork my writing. I will fail to write for the fear of discovering that I am unable to find the appropriate word or some elegant phrasing that suits my message perfectly. I have lost hours upon hours at my desk at work, essentially wasting time, as I fumble around for the right sentence. I hope that the exercise of stringing together my thoughts on a regular basis will sharpen the saw of my writing skill and jumpstart my day.

I often bemoan the fact that I do not keep a regular journal. As I reflect back on special times, I realize just how little I can recall. I still have a journal that I kept briefly when I was in the sixth grade. It was given to me by my friend, Dennis Dalling. It is filled with many stories of my insecurity, need for acceptance, loneliness. And I’m more than a little sad for Joey Brookhouse circa 1982. But I’m so thankful for the stories that I collected through the activity of keeping that journal. Perhaps, in twenty years or so, I will look back at the writings from this 20 some odd days and reflect on the man that I was as I approached my 40^th birthday. I hope so.

Since returning from the All About Worship retreat, I have focused on a rededication of my life to Christ. Let me tell you: it is not easy. I remember praying so fervently during our many times of worship. Most especially, I recall crying to our Father, acknowledging that I’m a sinner, expressing my desire to follow Him, and letting Him know just how hard it is. “Lord, it’s just so hard, but I want to be closer to You, I want to follow You, I want to honor and praise You. Everyday. With everything I am. Lord, help me walk with You on this narrow road.”

I was so cognizant of the vast difference between life at the retreat and the resumption of life in the “real world”. I was anxious and aware of the difficulty that lay in front of me as I chose to bring this renewed faith back to my family and congregation. Just as I was praising Him, I was distracted by my fears and doubts about my ability to bring it home.

My wife, Vanessa, during my spiritual journal, has often asked for me not to leave her behind. What does this mean? I can get caught up in things. New ideas, new technology, new ways to express faith, something new to get enthusiastic about. In my zeal, I will take off down the road, leaving everyone behind. And then when I get tired, there’s nobody there with me. Vanessa is calling for me to go forward with her, so that we can participate in this journey as partners.

I must admit that her faith isn’t always evident to me. I know that she prays – I just don’t frequently witness it. And in my arrogance (so much arrogance), I often make the assumption that there really isn’t much to her faith. So what’s to do? I’m trying to make my faith more evident in my household. I’m praying openly and often and encouraging my family to join me. I’m reading my bible daily, then sharing the stories with my family, discussing what we can take away and how it might apply to our daily walk.

The aforementioned arrogance is also evident in my relationship with my congregation. While I attend a fairly inclusive church, they are conservative in their approach to worship and not particularly demonstrative. I find myself frustrated when I don’t see evidence of their faith or passion for Christ. I assume (as I do with my wife) that because I can’t see outward evidence of it, their faith must be small or absent. I assume they show up out of routine or to see friends, not to worship. I don’t know their hearts. I don’t know their faith. But I pray that, somehow, I can reach their hearts and share with them the passion I have. I would love for my faith to be contagious. Part of my challenge will be to understand how that is translated. In other words, I need to reach out to share my enthusiasm, but I also must remain open to however they choose to share (or not share) theirs.

As I’m nearing the end of 800 words, I recognize that there is much to discuss, much to share. I hope that I can become efficient in writing, documenting my thoughts, concerns, ideas, excitement for the Lord working in my life. Our Father knows how imperfect I am – Lord, give me the patience, strength, and resolve to carry forth one day at time, giving my best to You.

Great love…