Obedience

One thing was for sure, as the little maid grew, her father found discipline to be one of the first traits which he wanted her to learn. He started with very small things so that obeying would become a habit. Perhaps, you don’t think a KING would pay attention to small, everyday things like dressing a little girl’s hair every morning.  Nobody really knows where the KING learned how to dress a maiden’s hair - but then, he has many mysteries that no one understands. His hands would fly in lyric arcs as he combed her long, silky hair so that all hairs lined up obediently ready for parting and pinning. 

As she grew, the KING wisely taught her to dress her own hair – one step at a time. It took a graceful curve in the line of the comb’s movement, a twist in the wrist to wind a curl, precise placement of the fingers as she pinned the bundle. Of course, this took several years, with the KING doing less and less as her fingers and hands learned to obey the patterns she was being taught.  By the time she was six years old, an amazing thing happened.  One morning she rose up before the morning star had set and went to sit in front of the glass at her table. Cautiously, but with an inner confidence, she let her hands and fingers remember the habits of obedience she had been practicing every day under the close tutelage of her father.  Yes, it worked!  She was six and almost a lady – father would be so proud. Obeying father always made her feel so close to him as did dis-obedience make her feel so alone. She would lose him. However, then all she needed to do was to come to him carrying her little penitent heart, holding it out to his mercy. Much later she would find out that he would not allow anything, not even her greatest disobedience, to separate her from him.

                   

 

                                                         Humility

 

The tiny baby under the KING’s cloak survived and physically flourished under the KING’s nourishing fatherhood. Now, I said she flourished physically – but it was not so in her soul. Too young to remember her rescue from the palace steps, her soul had fury in it Her heart knew it had been abused, rejected and abandoned and was disconsolate. Small though she was, this fury sometimes broke out in her and she tasted bitterness as she clenched her angry fists and reacted with pushing hands.

 

Such was the kind of storm raging in her one morning while she was planting springs seeds. Her whole body shook like an earth quake as she pounded the dirt with her seed stick and then stomped the ground. The tears came following fast. The KING watched paternally from the door of the goat shed – for he saw all things. He sighed deeply and walked to his little maid and knelt in the fresh earth next to her. Her face turned down to the ground and her shoulders were rigid as he lifted her face in his hands he said; Your anger, bitterness and jealousy are separating you from my love. There’s no room in your soul for my love. I want you to run with all your might into my arms when your heart is having a terrible storm. Then, as I hold you tight in my arms the storm will be squeezed dry and you will only feel my love.

 

But, those little hands pushed the KING’s hands away and then pushed out her chest and started to plant those seeds with a new fury. The KING, being so wise, knew he couldn’t reach her heart at that moment. Therefore, he finished cleaning the goat shed, chopping the wood and fixing the midday meal before this small maid would collapsed on the ground, frustrated and exhausted.

Suddenly, the KING was holding her small tear-stained face in his oversized hands and scooping her up in his long arms. He sat with her nesting in his lap in a large rocking chair on the front porch and sang a song whose notes soaked up her tears – now, she would listen. Her fists were limp as he softly said; Yes, you were left for the vultures to devour, but I have rescued you and chosen freely to be your Father - to love you. All your work earns you not one measurement of my love. Will you allow me to provide and protect you? It gives me such pleasure.

 

Yes, she would stop trying to earn her bread and cheese at the table. When the storm in her soul returned she would remember his song and run into his arms. It’s a mistake to think that very small people are too young to learn very large lessons of life. The small maid, not yet five years of age, was already learning in the KING’s meticulous mentoring care. What could he have in mind for this adopted child?

                                                 
The Ancient Forest

 

The KING disappeared into a part of the forest that was older than man – a place of great mysteries and untold stories – a place the realm knew nothing about. Here he determined to let the destiny which his subjects had chosen to play out.  He was certain the truth would be revealed in time and he would return to the throne.  Meanwhile, he would raise the prince and his newly adopted baby daughter (yes, the ‘it’ was a baby girl) to prepare them for their royal life to come. Unencumbered by all the royal trappings and environs of the court, he would live a simple and rustic life in a small cottage - which was the best environment anyway for teaching children the ways of royalty and noble character.

The KING maintained contact with the realm through a confident – a currier of exceptional talent. He was faster than mercury, faithful as the son, smarter than a learned wizard and almost as invisible as the wind.  He could travel in and out of the realm almost unnoticed and worked like a cobweb among the subjects to learn how their thinking was developing.

 

And so the years of sequester began. They were long years, by the standard of ordinary men, but by the KING’s standard, they were just right - the exact amount of time to prepare his heirs for their royal destiny. I say heirs because the KING had now fully adopted that baby girl as his own precious and valued child.

                                                  
                                                                 -- Next Episode - Humility-

The Last Dressing - Installment One

Greetings my friends!  It has been a long time since I posted here. A very busy year  has kept me away from my blog.  I am now posting  six installments of the story behind Belleherst's newest production, The Last Dressing, which will be on tour once again in the U.S. during January and in Poland during March, 2014. I'll be posting one installment each week.  Enjoy!

THE LAST DRESSING

                                                                                                by

Kathleen Ann Thompson

The Beginning

 Once upon a time, as most stories begin, is not so appropriate for this tale, as it began before time was marking the comings and goings of life. But, nevertheless, we shall begin at a point of time in the story. This is the point where, our hero, the beneficent, wise  and powerful KING, charted a plan for his threatened realm – a realm with so many territories they couldn’t all be named and more subjects that the stars in heaven.

 A jealous rebellion has broken out against the KING which endangers the realm’s stability and existence. Now, one must not think that the KING could not muster an overwhelming force of his own military to squash the revolt.  He could.   But, I told you, the KING was wise.  A rebellious element overcome by brute force would only thrive underground, chewing on their bitterness and anger waiting to fight again some unsuspecting day.  No, he must change their thinking, and then their hearts could be changed.

 Now, the KING had no queen, for she had died in child-birth five years before.  His son, the prince, was their only heir to the throne. So, just before dawn, as the rebels were gathering with huge and hard boots, fire brands in their hands and curses in their mouth to attack the palace, the KING took the five-year-old Prince under a large grey hooded cloak and fled down the palace stairs.

 It was here that everything changed. The KING suddenly stopped and perched with one foot up and one foot down on a step - he had heard something.  It was the cry of an infant. Searching through the grey mist of pre-dawn light, he saw movement – like a moth caught in a web –thrashing, erratic, desperate movement. The cry was weak and pleading. Time – no time.  The big and hard boots were coming, the fire was near.  He reached for it and with his right arm swooped it up.  It was wet and slippery with its own blood as he tucked it under the big grey cloak and fled into the mist.

That was the last he saw of the realm’s subjects for a long, long time.

 

- next week-     The Ancient Forest

 

 

 

The Stilling of Desire

A sequel to The Killing of Desire (posted 2006 on my website, www.belleherst.com)

I know, I said I would get back to the seven part series on the Perfected Marriage, but once again that intention is stalled by lack of free time at the moment and a compelling rush of intentional adrenalin to write on, The Stilling of Desire.   This seems to be the  proverbial moment of a clear eruptive understanding in my mind after weeks of fragmented dialogues with God on the subject of personal accreditation.  I have been speaking a great deal this spring on the subject of finding our true accreditation, not from the world's faulty and fickle standard, but from God who is able to truly validate our value and worth since He designed it. This accreditation can be summed up in us as a satisfaction for the seven longings or desires designed into our spiritual DNA by God (thanks to Mike Bickle for defining this for me).  If we do not seek satisfaction in God for these longings, we will attempt to wrench an accreditation, whole or partial, from the world's systems.


These seven longings drive us like turbo motors in our life.  They motivate our decisions, stimulate our will, occupy our thoughts, structure our life style, determine our actions, explain our relationship choices and in short, design our entire life. How?  They cause us to move consciously and unconsciously toward experiencing their satisfaction. Like an unbearable itch, we eventually move toward activity which we believe will relieve the sensation of longing and desire.

One morning this week, I awoke in the early hours of dawn with this declarative statement cold minted in the space of my brain, as if my brain had just been branded and the brain was still smoking from the imprint(like fire and ice).  The statement was (clearly God's thought), "I came to satisfy you." 
It seemed so startling to me because I realized how much I think and believe the other way.  Life is frustrating - sometimes at every turn. Does anyone care what I am trying to do here (like God?).  I will never achieve what is in my heart to do - just plain inadequate for the task and so on....


The dialogue went on for several days in prayer, under my breath while attending to mundane activities, in my head as I slept with one compartment of my brain awake until some impressions crystallized.  The seven longings (I list them here):  The longing to be loved, the longing to be beautiful, the longing to achieve something great in the world, the longing for intimacy, the longing to be relevant (meaningful) to the world we live in and to the people we  are connected to, the longing to be fascinated with life, the longing to be whole-hearted (so committed to something that we could die for it). These desires are not stilled until they are completely and perfectly satisfied.  They are like vortexes pulling us into unknown territories where we try, despair, struggle, deny, create, cogitate, emote and much more in our effort to find perfect satisfaction, but to no avail.


I listened to a TED talk the other day on chronic pain. The doctor gave an account of something which happens much too frequently in life and particularly in science.   A little cell (gilia cell) which was thought to be of no real significance to the body (sort of like dead weight -as cells go) until, it was brought to an enlightened mind that  it was actually a very important cell accomplishing many necessary and important function relative to the perception of sensation brought to our body by neuro-transmitters. The scientists should have known that God did not put anything in us that is superfluous. I repeat this account here, since it is relative to the fact that those seven, God-designed and implanted desires in us are not there as dead weight to our existence.  They are not insignificant to our development.  They are not evil and therefore, should not be denied and eliminated so we can live a desire-free existence.  They are not the root of greed, lust, deception, promiscuity, perversion, envy and blasphemy....unless, we seek satisfaction for them from the world's systems of accreditation.  


Quite the contrary, these longings in us are to drive us to connect in the most intimate of ways to Him, our God, who placed them within us to act as a spiritual GPS which is programed to always find God.  We must turn the vehicle of our life toward its destination -walking so close with God in the garden of life that our will is one with His. Then, we join the dance of love with the trinity which has been going on since before the foundations of our world were laid and realize we are totally satisfied.  We experience His unconditional and jealous love for us, we realize He has given us His beauty, we discover that we didn't chose Him BUT, He chose us to bear endurable fruit, we are fascinated every day with a new revelation of His un-graspable being, we are strong and committed to Him (even unto death), we see that our relationship with Him gives us salt and wine to share out to others in our worldto be relevant to them and we are immersed in an inescapable addiction to being known by Him and to knowing Him, an intimacy we never dreamed possible.



In this condition, all desire is stilled.  We are suspended in present state of enjoyment and pleasure.  Our whole life is now in Him.  We are at last whole, complete  without desire. He is the end of all our desires.

Comfort at the Door of Death

I must say, that it has been awhile since I posted.   A truckload of writing and creative necessities overwhelmed me with the starting of the Edinburgh project.   I still do not have a clear path, but I am working on it.  I do intend to continue with my series on the perfected marriage.  However, with a request at my door to write the story of 'comfort' in my life, I am diverting from that goal a little here to tell this story.  I hope it will bring a hope and warmth to your hearts.

 In April, 1971 I lay on the bed in my room staring vacantly at an overhead light bulb which was diminishing in size. I had been repeating this experience for several nights with an ever-increasing sense of fatality and hopelessness.  It had begun with a lethal, breath-sucking depression which swooped into my mind, soul and body after I had driven myself to the hospital where they performed a D&C to remove the dead 6 month fetus of my child, and then driven myself home again the next day. I had been convulsed in sobs as I walked down the stairs of the Catholic hospital, when a small priest came up the stairs and saw my despair.  He asked if he could do anything for me.  I replied; I don't think so, they just stole my baby.  He looked at me through very thick lenses with big compassionate eyes and said; The Lord gives and the Lord takes; blessed be the name of the Lord.

I was not a believer at that time and had spent 12 years running from God in search of some sophisticated, esoteric and elite enlightenment.  I was so sophisticated that I had married a man who repulsed me and for whom I had no love what-so-ever.  We were both students of the occult. Therefore, I could not process this priest's response to me.  Nor, could I dismiss it as a stupid platitude which was more akin to salt in a wound than a comfort.  Because, one thing pigeon-holed in my mind and drove me relentlessly to question his statement. That one thing was the fact that the priest believed this with all his heart-I could see this, even through those thick lenses.  I then asked and asked and asked of myself; is there a God to whom you could say 'the Lord takes, blessed be His name'?  If there was, I wanted to know this God.

The days following this incident were mired in a life-threatening shut down of my body and soul. Each time I lay on the bed, the overhead light became smaller and smaller-irising out the light in the room.  I knew that one night it would go completely out and I would live no more.  On this last night, the light had slowly irised out till it was only a pin prick - like a distant star.  I held my breath and listened to my heart and waited for death.  At that moment, the phone rang by the bed.  I don't know why I picked it up - very illogical for person who was preparing to die.  However, I did.  My sister was calling me from three states away.  She said; I don't know what I can say to you Kathleen, except that the Holy Spirit is a comforter.  I heard nothing else.  I was in such pain and loneliness and dark despair that the only word that mattered was 'comfort'.    I finished the short conversation and went looking for a Bible.  I managed to find one and began reading it.  I have no idea where I read or what.  But, this was clear.  As I read, the black oppression lifted from my soul and I could breathe again and think again.  I felt a huge warm presence wrap around me like a feather comforter and insulate me from the reality of my pain.

I read this Bible non-stop for two weeks.  I was never without this Bible. I read any 30 seconds of free time I had anywhere. It was like taking a drug.   Whenever I read, this suffocating depression would lift off my heart and mind, and breath would come into me.  The warm presence was always there.  After two weeks, I was so hungry to know if this God, to whom the priest had said 'blessed be His name', was real.  I knelt down on the bare wooden floor in the absolute darkness of my room alone and prayed; If you are really there God, I want to know you know my name.

I have no idea how long it was (3 minutes or 3 hours) that I sat absolutely still listening.  Then it came, the undeniable voice in my spirit which I will never forget:  "Kathleen, I love you".  I believed and He took me as His own.  I have never been without His comfort since.  Thank you, my Lord.

7 Parables of a Completed Marriage: One - The Sacrifice of Pain, Part B

A parable on pain from the marriage of Daniel and Chloe.

Daniel and I (Chloe) had been married almost two years.  We were very much in love and spent almost all of our free time together. We were not accustomed to conflict between us and thus, were completely unprepared for the event which follows.  Even now, I shutter to think of the damage this event could have brought in our marriage, if I had not realized something extraordinary about dealing with pain.

In the beginning of our marriage I wanted so much to please Daniel and serve him in ways that would give him pleasure.  He was always doing so much for me.  Therefore, I started preparing something for him everyday after he returned home from work.  It was a very personal thing and I took a long time preparing it for him each day.  He seemed to be really pleased with it and it gave me so much pleasure to do it for him.   This had been continuing for almost 16 months when, one evening during our after-diner talk by the fire, he said; You know Chloe, I don't really care for this (referring to my daily preparation for him).  Would you mind not doing it.

I was stunned by this spontaneous moment of honesty since I had no idea he didn't appreciate my effort.
I suppose my face was a clear map of shock and hurt because he immediately read my reaction and tried to soften his comment. In answer to my obvious question; Why didn't you say something 16 months ago?, he stumbled and stuttered out a defenseless reply.  His reply was genuine and centered on the fact that he knew I really liked doing this and he didn't want to hurt me by rejecting the gesture.  He thought I wouldn't continue with this and it would stop by its own accord.

We talked for about an hour. He apologized and asked me to forgive him.  He also, fully admitted that it was wrong of him not to tell me honestly in the beginning, and that he had been 'thick' for not understanding that this would be interpreted by me as some kind of betrayal of trust.  I did forgive him and tried to rationally deal with the tremendous sense humiliation I felt for doing something I thought was so self-sacrificing and wonderful for my husband while he, all this time, was wishing I wouldn't do it. However, I felt betrayed and humiliated.

Over the next couple of days, I ran and re-ran all the logic as to why I needed to let this go now and return to the extremely generous and transparent intimacy Daniel and I had always shared. But, something was growing in me like a tumor.  I had forgiven him and knew I loved him deeply...but, I didn't know how to deal with the pain of having my trust in him betrayed. Deep down I knew I had a small, tiny fear of another betrayal happening.  These ten days between the event and my realization were, I think, the most agonizing days I have ever spent.

I watched everyday at the disappointment and then suffering agony in Daniel's face as I continued to  defy his hopes that this was over and we would be as we were before. We were behaving with normal geniality and concern for one another.  There were no angry accusations or arguments. But, we both knew that this unresolved pain in me was building, day by day, a partition in my soul.  It was keeping me from giving myself to him completely.  I was becoming destroyed by my own divided soul.

The crisis moment came on day ten when Daniel looked at me before leaving for work and uttered with pleading voice, You need to help me make it right Chloe. I can't sustain this separation.   I knew that it wasn't he who should do something to make it right.   It was me...but what? The pain seemed to be unbearable.

I turned to God and prostrated myself on the floor before His presence crying; Dear God, this wall of pain will kill us.  I don't know how to make it go away. Please, help me.   I cried more and muttered into the carpet, and then, I went quiet inside.  I listened, as a well-known scripture formed in my mind;  ...though you slay me, yet will I hope in you Job 13:13.  I began to dwell on this idea of not having my pain somehow treated and soothed away by Daniel or God, which would be some kind of restitution for the wrong I had suffered. Instead, I started to feel a kind of exhilaration at the idea of simply giving it up - sacrificing it for the opportunity to once more completely and vulnerably trust Daniel. After some time, it became wonderfully clear.  This is what real love was about...taking the risk again and again, trusting again and again in the one you loved so dearly..even if it happens once more. I made a decision at that moment to let go of my pain and concentrate on trusting Daniel- giving myself to him without reservation.

It was ironic.  I realized that by sacrificing this pain in me and choosing instead to trust Daniel's love for me, I had actually given him the most valuable gift of our marriage.  He understood as much also and his gratitude was deeply moving.

Kathleen's footnote:

I have taken this event into my own single life and applied this wisdom over and over. It has been a miraculous experience for me to simply abandon pain in a direct exchange for trusting, hoping and loving God's providence in my life. I have gleaned from Daniel and Chloe's marriage the liberating feeling of sacrificing pain and disarming its destructive results in my life: alienation, self-pity, bitterness, doubt and coldness. Once we refuse to hang onto pain, it looses its grip on us.

Next post will be Parable 2:  An Offer of Grace