Tune Thirsty

Tucking my precious warriors into bed, a sweet spirit of worship danced into the room. Sometimes, I lose myself in the stillness of their breathing as slumber kisses their night.

I sing. I worship. I war.

This night, a new song sprang from my heart, a tune of joy.

I will sing for your joy has come.

I will sing for your joy has come.

You have captured my heart.

You have ransomed my life and I must sing.

As always, the days blur together as life blinks by. Sometime later, the tune forgotten, the Lord gave me a gift, wrapped in the song of my son.

He began to hum a tune and add words, a song planted in his heart. It sounded familiar. I searched for where I had heard it before.

He was singing...

I will sing for your joy has come.

I will sing for your joy has come.

You have captured my heart.

You have ransomed my life and I must sing.

... a song planted in his heart by a mommy warrior.

My boys now 9 and 11 still ask for momma to sing each night.  My voice may crack.  The tune may falter.  But the seeds planted will bear fruit.  It's the little things, momma.  The moments when no one is necessarily watching.  The notes we string together, singing of His love.   This generation desperately thirsts to hear His tune.

And as always, I would be crazy honored to have you link up with momma notes.  I jot some on Mondays, but you can link up any day of the week (I get the momma, filled to to the brim, schedules)   Just mom.  Sharing our notes.  Creating a melody.

How To Really Fight Tragedy

Hearing the news, the ache of this world, I put up my fists, ready to fight.

The crazy ramblings of the world, clutched in sin's grasp. Violence. Tragedy strikes. We have all felt the sting of the insaneness, bow our heads, leak the tears, shake our fists. The enemy comes to steal, kill and destroy. How do I fight such?  

Answer in simplicity.  Jesus.

Jesus knows our heartache. Utter tragedy.  Mindless violence.  Impacted His walk on earth.

We ache today with clenched fists. I lay down the gloves to pick up Him. His friend, his cousin, the prophet who knew Him best. Clad in simple clothes with honey and locust breath, John the Baptist knew Jesus. Their relationship ran deep. 

John sits in prison, innocent. Then a party with a girl that dances for the men. The leader brags and flaunts his power telling her 'anything, I'll give it to you.' She asks for the head of Jesus' friend, John. It's delivered to her on a tray, mocking the stupidity of the reason he died.

Jesus knows. I follow Him through the pages. How did he fight? Hearing the news, he went away to be alone. I have been there, we all have. Wanting to be by ourselves to sort it out, to cry, to mourn. He was the same, fully human like me.

The only difference, a group clamored, followed him to his quiet place. How did he react. He took up his gloves and fought. He didn't rebuke them. He didn't scream from the depths of his need to tell them to simply go away. He met them. He healed them. He led them because he knew they were sheep without a shepherd. He fought the real enemy.

The drunken party guests and the flamboyant dancer, they didn't kill John. The enemy came to steal, kill and destroy. Jesus knew the real enemy.

 He took aim, and fought.

 He healed, destroying the enemy's works. He loved, a weapon to destroy all tactics of the thief. He taught the kingdom of God and lives transformed.

To really fight, to wage war

"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."

we realize the true enemy and take aim.

At the Top of My Lungs

Ever feel like shouting? The kind of shout that shakes the doubt. The kind that wakes from sleeping slumber. The kind that sends vocal waves through the valley and resonates with hearts who hear.

A simple phrase I shout today with pen and ink. Take a deep breath, God given breath of life. Molded dirt forever changed with the breath of life. Breath fuels our praise. Our words. Our sighs. Our prayers. Without breath we cannot say much can we?

At the top of my lungs, I shout for all to hear today. GOD IS GOOD!

You smile at the simplicity. My heart does as well. Yet I need to shout it loud.

In the past, I walked in a daze so many stumble in. A haze of doubting with the confusion the enemy sent to muddle my heart. I see the same haze hovering over His body in some places and all I can do is shout from the mountain.

Words spoken. Beliefs lodged deep into hearts in the midst of pain. 'God gave me this cancer to teach me a lesson.' 'I guess God wanted this precious little one home in heaven so he took her home.' 'This sickness is a gift.' And my own mutterings of my heart in the past I could add. The list is long.

I shout today. GOD IS GOOD! My eyes opened to the truth. Seriously, open eyes wide to see .... The pain of cancer, the sorrow, the misery, can that be from my Abba? Would he send misery and death? Would the same God who gave His own son that I might have life, force me to open a package of pain with his name attached? Does He delight in tears of sorrow and create them for us to taste? He cannot. God is love. And love never wraps itself as such.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." - John 10:10

I look around, slightly winded from shouting over my own life. The icky, the pain, the disease, leave thief fingerprints. Anything that attempts to steal my joy, destroy my health, kill the full life that Jesus gives me ... I recognize the source. Simply put, my Jesus only gives life abundant. If there's any destroying, killing, and stealing I know from which camp it comes.

I have yet to understand it all. The whys, the uncertain pleas, the wonderings. I understand that the Word of God is true, always. I see that my loving God can take the sludge heaped on and somehow, bring His good into the situation. I know the sludge never comes from Him.

Today, I unwrap His gifts and they are always good.

"Don't be deceived, my dear brothers. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."

-James 1:16-17

For a Generation

Has anyone else noticed? Do we truly realize the potential wrapped up in a generation? Look into these eyes. Joy, love, a child like faith .... Children are the gift we give to a generation we will never see.

If you knew me, sat down for a cup of tea on my comfy sofa, soon you would learn I have a passion for children. It spills out of my heart and into my actions on a regular basis. Serving children on the mission field. Equipping children to change their world. Reaching a generation. My heartbeat and His.

When a child is involved, this mama bear tends to wage war. Let's just say I'm roaring today and bearing my teeth. I'm tired of playing nice. It's time to dust off the army boots and stomp into the battle. The best part, we already know who wins. A cross and an empty tomb ensure the real victory.

This battle in my heart began in an AIDS orphanage in Kenya. Peter forever changed my life with his smile and innocence being ravaged by a crazy disease he had no part in. We began the long process of adoption through Ethiopia. My heart began to beat wild as I battled for the children on the waiting list, praying and standing for them. We took a break from our adoption when we returned to the US from the mission field, called to a time of rest. My prayers continued to battle.

One particular precious one grabbed my heart. He survived a premature birth. On my knees for him instantly as I heard. God has plans for this little guy. A family matched. All paperwork passed. Some setbacks that we bulldozed through in the heavenly realms. Everything cleared. Waiting for the final call to come and take him home.

And now, a child blessed beyond measure with a mommy and daddy waiting for him. A family that knows my Jesus and will raise him. They wait. I stand with them, for far too long. Now this ... investigations, possible ending to international adoption from their country, children waiting for a home. Time to wage some serious warfare.

Care to find your battle fatigues and join me? These children have no voice but ours.

You can read the whole scoop here ....

Get involved by folding hands and storming the heavens here ...

Make your voice heard by shouting loud here ...

How to Really Fight

Hearing the news, the ache of this world, I put up my fists, ready to fight.

A seed fell. Seeds fall everyday. Lives laid down for the sake of the gospel. Eternal impact yet never making the evening news. I dust off my pen and write, fight. Sending the news to as many as I know, writing to bring together a wave of prayers to cover and drench a momma and two children who need His strength, the strength the breath of our prayers lift.

The crazy ramblings of the world, clutched in sin's grasp. Violence. Innocence betrayed. We have all felt the sting of the insaneness, bow our heads, leak the tears, shake our fists. The enemy comes to steal, kill and destroy. How do I fight such.

In my simpleness, I believe that His Word holds the key to every situation, even ones such as these. Doesn't Jesus know. Wrapped in His words, His life, His love beckoning me to the pages. The ultimate fighter. I desire to learn from Him alone.

Jesus knows our heartache. My ache today with clenched fists. I lay down the gloves to pick up Him. His friend, his cousin, the prophet who knew Him best. Clad in simple clothes with honey and locust breath, John the Baptist knew Jesus. Their relationship ran deep. The only one who truly knew Jesus as Messiah.

John sits in prison, innocent of any sin. Then a party with a girl that dances for the men. The leader brags and flaunts his power telling her 'anything, I'll give it to you.' She asks for the head of Jesus' friend, John. It's delivered to her on a tray, mocking the stupidity of the reason he died.

Jesus knows. I follow Him through the pages. How did he fight? Hearing the news, he went away to be alone. I have been there, we all have. Wanting to be by ourselves to sort it out, to cry, to mourn. He was the same, fully human like me.

The only difference, a group clamored, followed him to his quiet place. How did he react. He took up his gloves and fought. He didn't rebuke them. He didn't scream from the depths of his need to tell them to simply go away. He met them. He healed them. He led them because he knew they were sheep without a shepherd. He fought the real enemy.

The drunken party guests and the flamboyant dancer, they didn't kill John. The enemy came to steal, kill and destroy. Jesus knew the real enemy. He took aim, and fought. He healed, destroying the enemy's works. He loved, a weapon to destroy all tactics of the thief. He taught the kingdom of God and seed took root in hearts, destroying any weeds planted.

To really fight, to wage war

"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."

we realize the true enemy and take aim.

When A Seed Falls

"I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." -John 12:24

We received word last night. A seed had fallen to the ground.

I share today in mourning, in hope, in faith, looking to the harvest and asking you to join me in prayer.

Our family served in YWAM as missionaries, having the privilege of traveling and sharing Jesus in Kenya at the Athi River base. Early Friday morning, this base was attacked.

The Kremer family, Ebel and Lora with their precious children appear to have been the target of the attack. Thieves broke into their home on the YWAM base and Ebel, a missionary from Holland, was killed.

Ebel had a vision to build 12 large homes for the unwanted and neglected children of Kenya. These homes would be occupied by a mom and dad who would care for 12 children as their own, raising them with love and hope. His dream began as the first house was completed and the 2nd is in process. Ebel left a legacy of obedience, generosity, love and laid down his life for his Jesus.

Will you grab hands with me today and pray. Pray for Lora and their small children. Pray for all of those serving at the Athi River base. Pray for Ebel's vision. That what the enemy meant to destroy by killing, would surpass even Ebel's dreams. That the seed that fell to the ground would produce a harvest. A harvest of Kenyan children being raised in hope, in Jesus, walking in the ultimate love.

"I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me."

- John 12: 24-26

Click here to read the official YWAM press release.

War Against My Words

"But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgement for every careless word they have spoken. " - Matthew 12:36

I shudder, I cringe. I will be held accountable for every word I utter.

My tongue betrays me, no I betray my Lord with it.

A tool meant to bring healing, encouragement and grace. Too often, I surrender it to my enemy partnering with him in destruction through my words.

Help me, help me Lord. Set a guard on my lips. Brand Ephesians 4:29 on my tongue with holy fire. The power of silence I need to learn.

This warrior is tired of seeing my fellow servants cut down. I search for the evil perpetrator only to view the syllables of my words on the tip of the arrows.

I cry out for your victory in this area of my life. Complete blood bought victory to cover my weakness. I have struggled, persevered, gained ground, and yet I slip again. Righteousness, the standard and hill I choose to climb. I wage war in your power and authority against my words.

The battle rages all around us. No longer can I sit by quietly watching from the sidelines. In my vulnerability, sharing my weaknesses, exposing the cracks in my armor, all pride must flee in the light of His truth. Join me, polish your armor and wage war, calling down the victory of God's Kingdom for your life and mine.

Mommy Warrior Song

Tucking my precious warriors into bed, a sweet spirit of worship danced into the room. Sometimes, I lose myself in the stillness of their breathing as slumber kisses their night.

I sing. I worship. I war.

This night, a new song sprang from my heart, a tune of joy.

I will sing for your joy has come.

I will sing for your joy has come.

You have captured my heart.

You have ransomed my life and I must sing.

As always, the days blur together as life blinks by. Sometime later, the tune forgotten, the Lord gave me a gift, wrapped in the song of my son.

He began to hum a tune and add words, a song planted in his heart. It sounded familiar. I searched for where I had heard it before.

He was singing...

I will sing for your joy has come.

I will sing for your joy has come.

You have captured my heart.

You have ransomed my life and I must sing.

... a song planted in his heart by a mommy warrior.

We sing it together now. We must sing!

Powerfully sweet worship wrapped in the song of a child. A gentle warring song of a mommy singing over her children. Sing of His love today. This generation desperately thirsts to hear His tune.

Selfishness Dies Today

I grip a rusty nail, clutching it in my weary hand.

Today, a day to pierce. A day to crucify.

Crucify my flesh, my selfishness that has run rampant too long.

Nail it to the cross, forcing a selfish heart to surrender all as His blood drips and His mercy flows.

A daring prayer coming from the depths of my heart ... Crush me Lord, until there is nothing left of Sarah Dawn, that my life may exude a fragrant aroma and only be resurrected in your power and glory.

In His gentleness, mercy, and strength, He holds the clay of my life in His fingers and crushes. It hurts. I cry out with tears of joy mingled with the pain.

My heart exposed, my selfishness revealed in the light of His grace.

I roll the nail in my hand. A tinge of doubt. I've grown accustomed to my selfish ways.

Jesus, you took the nail for me. This time, I ask you take the hammer.

Song of My LIfe

A song bubbled from my spirit as I was washing dishes. The suds still on my hands, I sat with my journal to pour out my heart before the Lord. This spilled forth. I have asked for Him to go deeper in my life. He is beautifully answering.

"The notes have been too pretty. A song arising from my spirit.

A tune of anguish, sorrow, chords of contentment lingering.

I want my life to be a song of your praise. But my music sounds like the world.

I've been seduced by contentment. My melody wrapped in mediocrity.

A refrain of staleness playing over and over and over and over and over

Rip the sheet music away. Write only your song on my heart.

No more pretty music. No more chords that please the ear.

I want to be the notes that pierce hearts.

Give me your tune. A song of triumph, exhortation and warfare.

A life that makes the enemy shudder when he hears my melody.

Notes mingled with your Spirit, strong, loud, setting captives free.

The song of my life set to the tune of my King."

The Lord desires to co-create with us, writing our songs. What notes does He long to write on the chorus of your heart?

Waging War

“From the days of John the Baptist, until now, the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing, and forceful men lay hold of it.” - Matthew 11:12

We stand in the midst of a battle. Whether I choose to believe or not, the battle rages on. I see the wounded all around, hurting, broken, singed by the arrows of our enemy. I can cower overwhelmed at the evil hurled by our enemy, or stand and take my role in advancing the kingdom of heaven.

Spiritual warfare, I taught this week, I lived this week. Time to polish my weapons, fit myself with my armor, grasp my sword - the Word of God, that in the strength of my commander I can annihilate our enemy today and walk in the victory Jesus already won for me.

No longer can I close my eyes and watch my fellow warriors fall, pretending it didn't happen. The cries of anguish pierce my soul and I refuse to leave them down on the field of life.

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” - Ephesians 6:10-12

Spiritual warfare begins with realizing that we are already in the middle of it.

Easily we believe that Jesus defeated our enemy on the cross, and yet, we continue to allow the enemy to push us around and take advantage of us. Jesus made me to be a victor, but sometimes I act more like a victim.

Pretending the enemy doesn't exist, weakens my defense. Ignorance covers its eyes and like a two year old says "I can't see you, you're not there." while he lurks waiting to devour.

I need not fear. The enemy clings to the darkness, but the light of the Word shines the truth. The sacrifice on the cross drips with a blood stained victory.

I choose to be aware of my enemy, but impressed with God.

No more sitting on the sidelines. It's time to wage war.