 I have a fascination with names and study them either for my stories or for fun. I adore the names of God, for there are many and they are multi-faceted. We can gain insight into the nature of the Almighty by digging deeper into just one of his names. Some of my favorites are Jehovah Rapha (The Lord Who Heals), Elohim (Creator), El Roi (The God Who Sees Me), Echad (The One God), and YHWH (I Am).
Valued, too, are the names of people. A few lovely examples are Sarah (Princess), Peter (Rock), Matthew (Gift of God), Mayim (Water—and a lively Jewish dance!), and Anthony (Priceless One). I esteem even the short forms of names such as T.O.N.Y. and consider a suitable connotation (The One Named by YHWH). Sometimes, the Lord will give you a name of someone with whom you will meet and connect with in the future, a Word of Knowledge naming, so to speak. You can find an example of this in Acts 9:10-12: In Damascus there was a disciple named Ananias. The Lord called to him in a vision, “Ananias!” “Yes, Lord,” he answered. The Lord told him, “Go to the house of Judas on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul, for he is praying. In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come and place his hands on him to restore his sight.” God can do anything. If we make ourselves receptive to his voice and lean in to listen, eagerly pursuing him, he’ll make his will known and bring clarity as things move forward. I love this mysterious manner in which he sometimes speaks. It can affirm his direction, instill hope, and shed the cloak of a Doubting Thomas (Thomas means Twin, by the way). The Lord has also renamed people based on a calling, experience, or transition from one aspect to another. Names can be interchangeable or hold more than one meaning. Pet names are amusing, too. What we call others matters. In fact, it’s a solid practice to avoid adverse name-calling no matter how ugly a situation gets; curses and blessings and all… What we are called is precious and meaningful; delightful and significant. In everything, even through your name, may you find joyful blessings wonderful YOU!
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 Ever have an idea or vision that returns to you even if you’ve tossed the notion away? Has your spirit longed for something to the point of aching, an inner stirring, a restlessness, yet there are things present in your life that seem to block a single step forward? Maybe because of circumstances, you’ve accepted your current situation, tried to settle and forget about the vision and scrape it off the table, but the idea keeps coming back and coming back. Either by a subtle reminder, a tap on the shoulder, or a persistent nagging, recurring theme, or spurring revival of imagination and desire. Maybe the vision is huge, crazy, preposterous, or impossible. Perhaps that longing in your spirit is the prophetic call of the Lord on your life, awaiting fulfillment. Longing is our heart crying out for God and his purposes. And God does nothing half-baked. Sometimes we have to endure the process of his putting a unique assembly of ingredients together, kneading and shaping of the dough, waiting for the yeast to rise, and baking—not to perfection, rather, to the perfect time of readiness. This is us as we are put together, pressed and worked, to rise above, and bide our time in his kiln for the feast.
You’re called to a particular vision, a specific spiritual task if, after you’ve perceived it, you let it go, but it doesn’t let go of you. And you’re just peculiar, crazy, or credulous enough to believe in the vision, even if it seems impossible. God gets all the glory when it’s something only God can do. Even those who have been quiet and painstakingly baking, the Holy Spirit is calling you out of the shadows into the season of no more delay. Because in our minds, we can think things are delayed, but God is never late. At some point, by the Lord’s directive, our anticipated tomorrow will be today. From restless me to restless you, “Are you called, too?”  Have you noticed how many people, especially aging people, like to talk about their aches, pains and physical problems? Sometimes there’s even a little pride like comparing heroic war wounds or something: “You think that’s bad? Well, get a load of this,” kind of exchange, as a person proceeds to pull up a pant leg and roll down a sock for the big reveal. As I age, the more I hear such things, have taken part of such things, and yet depart from these discussions less cheerfully. If you haven’t known an individual, or clusters of acquaintances complaining about health issues, you’ll most likely see plenty of posts and pictures on social media. There’s also the constant campaign of ads and commercials on medications. I think it’s safe to say there’s brokenness in our society over health, but the overwhelming need to chew over conditions without end can be equally draining.
I’m not referring to the serious diseases and terminal illnesses, afflictions and real medical emergencies that require our understanding and compassion, and that can also expand our testimonies. I mean the day-to-day discussions that seem to vie for center stage when they don’t need to and probably shouldn’t. Maybe it’s not you doing the talking, but you’d lived with a hypochondriac, or worked with a malingerer, for years; that can be its own sort of burden. The negative concentration after a great length of time can be a real drag, when everything about a person, or that comes out of their mouth, is about their ailments, mild, moderate, or imaginary. It's like a verbal mountain of affliction, and you’re caught on its strange and precarious ledge between feeling numb and hypersensitive. Whether it’s you or someone else, aside from trying to fix sincere problems or addressing them with prayer, dwelling on them can be a thought ravager and praise stealer. God is a healer and restorer. He also desires our focus and attention. I’m not in denial that with aging comes decaying; this curse came with the Fall, our own undoing, that we all must endure. But it’s come to the forefront of how much I don’t want to focus on the process of pains but on praise. A small example would be if someone asked me how my day was going, and I answered, “Well, I got this pain in my hip, and when I move my wrist this way it pops, and I didn’t sleep very well last night…” and then junk is on the table. I don’t want to behave that way. Even if I’m hurting, I want to suck it up, work through it if I can, and not spread the psychological residue, the “crown” of physical discomfort. Instead, have an answer ready on my lips, “My day is good because God is good all the time. Praise the Lord. How are YOU?” Or “I’m still kickin’, thank the Lord–and thanks for asking! How’s YOUR day going?” I don’t want to whittle an opportunity to brighten someone else’s day by dwelling on problems, especially my problems. And if I need prayer, then why not just ask for it, then move on with thankfulness? Some days, I have a spring in my step. Some days, eh, not so much. I am learning the fine line between when to ask for (or offer) prayer and keep quiet being careful not to complain. So when I’ve caught myself lately near joining the valetudinarian collective (such as beginning my last blog by explaining my recent bouts, and longing for my slipped youth), I hear the Lord say, “Stop. In your weakness, I am made strong,” with emphasis on WHO is made strong. The next time I’m feeling blue about getting older and dealing with aged issues (could be again tomorrow!)—the magic word, “Stop,” is followed by “Praise you, Lord. Prepare me for the best years of my life!” And also, to take special care to reporting glorious healings and answered prayers! If you are upwards of age 50, I hope you embrace words of praise over pain. It’s okay to ask for prayer; we’re supposed to support each other and give good ear to listen with compassion and kindness. Give and receive. But at certain points, we might do well to fine-tune our focus, redirecting our thoughts from our bodies to Jehovah Rapha, the Lord who Heals. This is one I’ve heard a thousand times, but it never gets old: let go and let God. From the heart, out of the mouth, may we strive to put the Lord first in all things and linger there. And this concludes my two- day/blog posts on age and body. I’m moving on. “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance and my God.”–Psalm 42:11  We can settle in a place of peace, regardless of what’s going on around us. It might be our nature to desire delineations, even if we dive deep in the Spirit. We might want to see above the surface, or how far to the floor. We might yearn for a glimpse of what’s around or ahead of us. We think we need explanations. Lines and restrictions can give a sense of security… or control. But what if God is asking us to abide in the depths of his fathomless grace? To just linger in his presence, in stillness, even if it’s dark and we can’t see as far as our own hands in front of us? To truly, wholly, trust in him, his mercy--just trust. A hurricane can rip over the surface and destroy everything in its path; impacting everything as we know it; perhaps ridding the familiar or comfortable. But in trusting him, in letting go and allowing him to sweep through our circumstances, our lives, our hearts; we can all the while abide in the depth of his peace, in calm. We can remain in an immovable space, a divine place; one of intimacy and confidence in the God of Glory who speaks to the storms. Instead of the storms threatening to destroy us, we watch them as they shift and scream away at his whisper. All that’s left is what was there all along. Peace, calm, assurance. To trust at a place in the present, where neither height nor depth nor anything can separate us from his love (Romans 8:39). May you abide in his immeasurable peace.
Choices make destinies. Destinies can also change. |
Tessais a storyteller, and a transcript editor. She's also a Romans 8:28 kind of Jewish girl ... 
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