The cost of the oil

I seem to take this writing thing in seasons. When I first started the bolg, I was working at an automotive manufacturing plant that was just getting to be up and running. Those first few months were training on already built cars that were similar to what we would build but not the same. This did, however, lead to a lot of down time. I would pull up this app while hanging out in a bathroom stall in silence and write about whatever thought may have popped into my head before going into my quiet place.

As the demands of the job increased, the ability to steal away into the silence disappeared. The times of writing took a hiatus while I kept up with the demands of the job. I continued writing but not like it was at the start. I wrote 37 blog posts that first year, once writing two in one day. The number the following year dropped to less than 20. 

But realistically, this is not about my blog. This is my place to write what I feel. The last 8 have been about the 60 days leading up to now. I have had to take off rose-colored glasses and look at some hard and ugly things. But let's be honest, death, when a person is not saved, is ugly. I've had to look at my failures and areas where I could have done things differently.  I even had to look at my relationship with Christ ( the enemy tried to convince me I had been playing around, that God didn't love me and never would). 

I've had to look at these things and more because in many ways, my life has been under a microscope (so I felt). My family thinks that I'm fragile and that I'm going to break at any moment. Matt's family has been absent and watching from a distance waiting for me to fail. I have walked on egg shells feeling like if I took one false step everything was going to come crashing down around me and I didn't know if I would survive if that happened. 

But then, just today I got to reading and doing my Bible study lesson for our class on Wednesday evening. The question on the paper that pastor wrote was taken from Revelation 1:13-18, "And in the midst of the seven candlesticks one like unto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle.His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters. And he had in his right hand seven stars: and out of his mouth went a sharp twoedged sword: and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength. And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first and the last: I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death." The question, not verbatim, was of the descriptions of Jesus given, which one stands out to you and why.

As I read, I was drawn to vs 14 where it says that His eyes were as flames of fire. Fire is a strange thing. It can destroy a home, a car, even nature when left to burn uncontrolled and given the proper fuel to feed it ( sound familiar with how sin can destroy a life). But that same fire can be used to provide heat to cook a meal and feed a hungry soul. It can be used to purify gold by drawing the impurities to the surface to be removed. But fire is also used as a source of light, illuminating dark places and letting that which was hidden to be seen. 

As I reflected on that while I continued my lesson, each question would bring another revelation from scripture, words that I ashamedly admit I haven't read in a while and to be honest, I couldn't tell you the scripture without Google's assistance. But it was as if Jesus was speaking these words to me as I was writing my answer down. Word after word and all I could do was sit at my station between calls in bewilderment. 

Within 30 minutes of what I know was Jesus speaking to me, I had another moment of God showing up. While we are working with a new trainee, my pastor's wife and I sit across from each other at the office and the new girl next to her. For whatever reason, we got to talking about "crazy conversations" and the subject of the strange sayings from the pulpit came up. She just had to share these. When she said the one, we both started to giggle while the new girl sat there like "and the context of that was?" Some of them we could not remember but there were two that stuck out to me and I was instantly taken back to sitting in the church service as they were being said. I could hear the pleading in pastor's voice as he said the words while talking about hebegeing (he-be-gee-ing) to hell and about people with alligators coming from their ears (people crying crocodile tears).  In an instant, I said to the new girl, "While what he said sounds crazy to most, I still remember that he was warning of those who are not authentic with their worship or those who do things just for show." 

As the day went, I went to a revival service tonight and low and behold, the message is about The Art of Celebration ( not my title). I completely understand where the evangelist was coming from in his message. But I didn't understand when he was speaking about the lady with the alabaster box. I know that story backwards and forwards. There was no extravagant celebration done when she broke the box. There was indignation from Judas because this costly fragrance was "wasted" and spilled out. There was silence followed I'm sure by hushed whispers as this woman let down her hair to begin rubbing the oil into the skin as the tears which fell from her eyes washed away the dirt which had caked on from the days journey. How did this fit into what the evangelist wanted to see and was trying to manufacture tonight?

The scripture context for a lot of this message was Psalm 150, "Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary: praise him in the firmament of his power. Praise him for his mighty acts: praise him according to his excellent greatness. Praise him with the sound of the trumpet: praise him with the psaltery and harp. Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments and organs. Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise him upon the high sounding cymbals. Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord."  I'm about to tell my age a bit here, but Carmen back in the 90's had a song called talking about seven ways to praise the Lord. I am in no way a Hebrew scholar so I cannot tell you with 100% certainty that these words are true. So, I did utilize Google for my answers here. 

1. Barak: To kneel or bow down.

2. Halal: To shine, boast, rave, or celebrate. It can be a loud, even foolish, and joyful kind of praise.

3. Shabach: To shout loudly, to command, and to proclaim with a loud voice.

4. Tehillah: To sing spontaneous, unrehearsed praises or a "new song".

5. Towdah: To give worship through an extension of the hand in thanksgiving, often for things that have not yet happened.

6. Yadah: To extend hands vigorously in surrender and adoration.

7. Zamar: To make music, primarily with instruments, and to rejoice. 

Now I know that Apostolic churches are known for their over the top worship. But, just as I was reminded today when we were reminiscing of pastor's crazy sayings, not everyone who has this crazy praise is going to heaven. I understand that there is a time for the halal worship. But there is also time for barak. Here's how I know. On November 3, I went to the same revival service. I was fighting a battle in my mind that night and I needed breakthrough badly. But the more I pressed there was only so far that I could get. After a time of fasting, my breakthrough came. Not in a church service with someone that I did not know shouting at me, urging me to halal, but in the quiet of my car as the Holy Ghost came and flooded my soul to wash all the pain and hurt I had been carrying away. 

Tonight, after spending my day in His presence and experiencing true joy for the first time in 60 days (I laughed till I hurt today and Sis. Megan didn't help with her "tickle pasta")I walked into service with an expectation of a good night. I felt the Holy Ghost all around me and knew that service was primed. When the call for the "celebration" came, I was ready. After having leg cramps all night and a knee that sounded like a bowl of rice krispies, I knew that extravagant worship wasn't on the table tonight.  But still, I pressed because I wanted to be obedient to what the Spirit did desire of me tonight. 

There was bouncing and almost a little jump until leg cramps hit. Then came a pop that let me know "Hey, this is you trying to perform. Your praise is not a performance. I want honest worship. Be authentic. Be you." In that moment, I stood with my arms outstretched, eyes closed and offered what I had, me.  As reminder after reminder flooded my mind of all that He had done in my life, all I could do was Baraka (bow down) before Him. His goodness for me has been great and I owe my life to Him. I bowed before Him in complete submission. I felt as if I was on a precipice and the next moment I would step off into a world that I have not been before. It was a new dimension where He was about to unlock areas that had been reserved for just this moment. 

Then just like that, it was gone. Right as I was about to make that next step, a man that I didn't know grabs me by the hand to begin trying to get me to go over the top. Telling me that I just needed to breakthrough. Again, everyone has a different way to praise. The "celebration" for me tonight was of joy returning to my life, of a complete surrender to Christ as Lord, Master and Savior. My praise was simple, yes, but it was what I needed in that moment. It was me breaking my box of precious ointment on His feet and drying them with my hair. No one knows the cost of the oil that has been put into this box of mine in these 4 1/2 years of being Apostolic.  They have not walked the nights of crying myself to sleep. They have not felt the loneliness of caring for a sick spouse. They have not lived the worry of being able to pay the bills once the sick spouse becomes disabled.  They have not watched as that sick spouse turns his back on God and walks away. As the eyes of Jesus looked upon me today like fire, the dross (the impurities) was taken away as He purified me. All of these things that have defined me these past 4 1/2 years of my walk with Him were requested as a sacrifice. I laid them at His feet as I bowed before HIM in worship, in celebration of a new season moving forward. 

What I had to offer may not have been the extravagant worship that the evangelist was hoping to achieve tonight. It was a celebration though. A celebration of what was, what is and what is to come. I made room tonight for Him, to do whatever He wants to. He asked me to let go and let Him in so I did. He is rebuilding that foundation that has been dug up. I said way earlier that the writings I have done lately have been leading to this and it has. He is my kinsman redeemer and tonight, I broke the box to give Him all that I had held sacred. I give Him all of me.