CLICK HERE! A Thousand Years feat. Alison Brook
I’m talking about the millennium, that thousand-year period after Jesus comes, before the earth is finally made new. It will be a powerful, enlightening, and dare I say, therapeutic time.
Heaven will feature several dramatic, healing reunions. Imagine this one: David and Uriah. You remember how David lusted over Uriah’s wife Bathsheba, ultimately taking advantage of her and when she came up pregnant, secretly having Uriah killed? Uriah, knowing nothing of the murder plot, loved and revered David till his dying breath. Can you imagine their first encounter in glory?
Uriah- David! My king! Praise God!
David- Uriah! I’m glad to see you too (embrace). But, uh, we need to have a chat. There’s something you don’t know. Remember Joab’s command that you fight in the forefront of the hottest battle?
Uriah- Yes! It was my honor to lay down my life for my God, my king and my country!
David- Yes, I know, Uriah, but there’s something I must confess . . .
Can you imagine the reunion between Paul the Apostle and the martyr Stephen, stoned because of Paul and other instigators, Paul standing by watching in satisfaction?
Stephen- Wh. . . you? You’re here? You??
Paul- Yes, me. And it all began with seeing your face, Stephen. No shred of resentment on it though we rained down rocks upon you.
Stephen- I saw the Jesus standing at the right hand of God, Saul.
Paul- I saw Him too, a little bit later on the road to Damascus. Do you have a minute? I’ll tell you about it . . . oh, and call me Paul . . .
Heaven will be a time of great rejoicing. But some things will need to be “processed.” For instance, have you ever considered how God will deal with unresolved tensions between His people? Most of our stories aren’t so dramatic; conflict of a more ordinary nature arises between us—a theological argument here, an interpersonal disagreement there. Most of them don’t involve adultery, murder or martyrdom. Still, they eat away at our peace and beg to be resolved. But what if we fail to resolve them before Jesus comes? Will we avoid each other in heaven? Say, “I forgive you but I just can’t trust you!” and take the long way around the Holy City so as not to have to see a brother or sister?
This happens all the time at church, retreats, and Christian conferences. We do fine sitting side-by-side, listening to sermons or music. We say “Amen” in remarkable synchronicity. But walk down the hall and accidentally lift your eyes at the moment your ex-friend or theological opponent looks at you, and suddenly the peace and harmony dissipate. Perhaps you’d like to resolve the conflict but untimely death prevents it. Or, try as you might, no resolution can be reached. Or perhaps the other is unwilling.
God has planned a therapy session. It will last a thousand years. It’s called the Millennium. Not as in y2k, but as in the thousand years between the coming of Jesus and the earth made new. Read about it in Revelation 20 and 21. It’s all there. Several significant things will occur during it, including the imprisonment of Satan (Rev. 20:2), the resurrection of the just (Rev. 20:6), and collaborating with God in reviewing the cases of the lost and fallen angels (1 Cor. 6:3). I personally believe God will work with us to answer difficult theological questions. I think He’ll also sit down with those of us who have wounded feelings toward one another and patiently help us to resolve those issues for time and for eternity. It is after the thousand years that, “God will wipe away every tear from their eyes,” (Rev. 7:17).
Am I saying we should postpone our duty to “live in peace”? (2 Cor. 13:11) Should we procrastinate on that tough conversation or heartfelt apology? No! That would be cowardly. But let’s face it, there are Jesus-followers who, for one reason or another, don’t—and can’t—experience the full relationship healing they long for.
If I as a counselor held a thousand year therapy session, I would earn about 438 million dollars. Jesus will do it like He does everything—without money and without price. Praise our Heavenly Therapist, our Divine Psychologist, our Wonderful Counselor!
PLEASE watch this lovely video entitled “A Thousand Years.” That’s my dear daughter, Alison Brook, singing. I wrote the song. A.J. Pastor plays violin, Justin McLaughlin shot the video and Delon Lawrence engineered. Stay tuned for our The Lamb Wins kickstarter campaign, due to start in just a few days. Don’t know about The Lamb Wins? Check it out (and like it!) on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/thelambwins?fref=ts
Here’s the video again: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wn1URINJJeM
April 5-6- Seminar, Seattle, WA
April 12-13- Human trafficking conference, Berrien Springs, MI http://www.andrews.edu/agenda/2013/03/21/au-summit-for-social-consciousness-2013
April 16- Seminar, Philadelphia
April 19-20- Women’s retreat, Barre, VT http://nnec.org/cal/cal.pl?action=view_entry&id=880&key=
I attended the Justice Conference last weekend. The first speaker I heard was Gary Haugen, a rep of International Justice Mission, saying something like this of his efforts to free slaves: “The perpetrators aren’t afraid, but the victims are. What we hope to do is shift that, so that the victims aren’t afraid, but the perpetrators are.”
I love that—fear balancing. Reading the Bible does that for me. For instance, the Book of Revelation, where the martyrs end up in paradise and the murderers in hell. I admit I enjoy, as most do, the classic protagonist/antagonist narrative where the good guy wins and the bad guy dies.
Speaking of narratives, some of you know I’ve been working on a narrated musical recording of songs based on Revelation. I’ve come to regard Revelation as the social justice book of the Bible. Why? Because among other things it moves the fear off the victim onto the perpetrator. Perhaps no book in the Bible contains more vivid pictures of retributive justice than Revelation. You name it, everything from painful boils to hailstones to bloody seas.
But, wait. Several people I know say they’ve been traumatized by the book; one even claims recurring nightmares. As I’ve written songs for this recording, I’ve remembered these fearful ones. I’ve tried to present a loving Jesus at the center of each song without denying the reality of punishment, wrath, and justice. It has been difficult, really difficult. But my difficulty in presenting the blend of love and justice pales in comparison to God’s difficulty in blending love and justice within Himself. That was difficult enough to kill Him: “He has poured out his soul unto death: and He was numbered with the transgressors,” Isaiah 53:12.
I know. Big subject. Too big for a book, much less a short blog. But here’s what I want to say: In all our need to present a loving God, in all our enthusiasm to make sure God doesn’t look too fire-and-brimstone, too vengeance-is-mine, let’s remember that He is, among other things, a Cosmic Hero. He’s the ultimate Social Activist, shifting the fear off the victim and onto the perpetrator. Many of us question why God pours out plagues and throws sinners in the lake of fire. But the sex slave, the victim of inhumanity, the dying mother holding a dead baby, the believer smelling his own burning flesh, cry out, “ “How long, O Lord, holy and true, until You judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Revelation 6:10.
They don’t wonder why God brings retribution. They wonder why He doesn’t.
It’s good to be biased toward mercy—God is: “Mercy triumphs over justice,” James 2:13. But let’s not be biased toward mercy in a privileged, upper-class, lily-white way. Let’s not be biased toward mercy out of ignorance of, and indifference to, the horrors endured by the little people of the world. God is love enough to lay His life down for every evil man. He’s justice enough to, as part of that love, finally destroy sin and the sinners who won’t turn loose of it. And He’s honest enough to admit all of this, even if we happen to loose a little sleep over it.
Please check out this video: The Lamb Wins Promo
I saw the world in black and white
I drew a line I never crossed
I kept myself locked up so tight
Until I loved one who was lost
My heart was closed, a sealed spring
My soul was cold as autumn frost
My mind thought it knew everything
Until I loved one who was lost
I was so satisfied with life
My little world seemed primped and glossed
The family, children, man and wife
Until I loved one who was lost
And then my picture smudged to gray
I wanted to walk past the line
I could no longer keep away
From death-defying intertwine
My heart broke open, flowing out
Soul melting under warmth of tears
My staunch beliefs felt blows of doubt
My inner peace consumed by fears
My life on earth became a blight
My world looked bleak and sad to me
White picket fence gone, overnight
A rupture in my family
Multiplied 10 billion times
Amplified 10 billion more
And still my love would pale beside
The love that God is, at His core
And oh, the pain that love must mean
I know a little of it now
A teaspoon of the endless sea
A bead of sweat upon my brow
I didn’t know the love of Him
For whom each child is such a cost
But now I see through eyes so dim
Now that I loved one who was lost
I’ve heard that the wise old owls at the American Psychiatric Association who revamp the diagnostic manual every ten years have considered a diagnosis of “perfectionism.” What do you think? So far the owls believe that 301.4, obsessive compulsive personality disorder (OCPD, not to be confused with OCD, [or CDO if you want the letters in alphabetical order]) suffices. OCPD is, “a pervasive pattern of preoccupation with orderliness, perfectionism, and mental and interpersonal control, at the expense of flexibility, openness, and efficiency.”
Ring a bell?
Most of us have New Years’ Resolutions. Some will keep them for a time, then relapse into couch potato chips and full-fat dip, or whatever our temptations happen to be. Some will stick to them, finding delight in fruits, vegetables and abs of steel. A few of us will drive ourselves into the ground with endless harsh and difficult demands, utterly panicked by the thought of failure. These are the few, the proud, the perfectionists.
The most poisonous form of perfectionism known to man is the religious version. It makes decent people into self-centered pietists and obscures the goodness of God. But it’s easy to see how it happens. The utter panic of failure seems validated by the thought of the woeful consequences of failing the judgment of a holy God. We should keep a healthy fear that ultimate, irreversible loss. But like all perfectionism, spiritual perfectionism becomes self-defeating as healthy fear morphs pathological. Driven by that fear, we turn our attention to our performance. Then, the same drive that may work for piano recitals and calculus exams backfires miserably. Why? Because God’s law is love, and no amount of self-centered fear will make us loving. In fact, fear will suck us into ourselves like emotional black holes from which nothing loving or loveable can escape.
I must admit the Bible teaches perfection, but a different form than we may assume. Let me give an overview:
-God called Abram to “be thou perfect,” (Gen. 17:1).
-He commended kings such as Asa for having “perfect” hearts before Him (1 Kings 15:14).
-He bragged that Job was “perfect and upright” (Job 1:1; 1:8; 2:3).
As truth progressed, the New Testament warmed up the subject.
-Jesus prayed that the disciples would be “perfect in one” (John 17:23).
-Paul followed His thread by saying believers should be “perfectly joined together,” “perfect. . . of one mind,” and “come in the unity of the faith,” (1 Cor. 1:10; 2 Cor. 13:11; Eph. 4:13).
What? Spiritual perfection can’t be accomplished alone, every man for himself? Apparently not!
-Paul even rebuked the Galatians for trying to be “made perfect by the flesh” and enjoined believers to make sure others were perfect in Christ (Galatians 3:3; 2 Cor. 13:9).
-Then John repeated the idea of perfection in love almost like a mantra (1 John 2:5; 4:12; 4:17; 4:18).
Summing this up, let’s say that God’s perfection bears no resemblance whatsoever to the ice-cold, self-protective spiritual perfectionism that sometimes plagues us. Job said, “If I justify myself, mine own mouth shall condemn me: if I say, I am perfect, it shall also prove me perverse,” Job 9:20. The moment we think, even in the privacy of our own observations, that “I am perfect,” the more imperfection we reveal. Flip that script: Our very approach to the light of God illuminates more and more detail of our inner corruption. This makes growth toward perfection in Christ unmonitorable—an unconscious process. The very nature of it demands that it must happen apart from our notice. Something more than vanity must motivate us because spiritual vanity sabotages the growth process.
Some of us are launching into 2013 determined to live up to God’s law for once and for all. Just a quick reminder: That law is love. Self-centered concern with our own performance, whether characterized by pride or insecurity or a twisted cycle of both, will constitute disobedience to that law, and therefore failure. The more appropriate and functional motive is admiration for Jesus’ loving and loveable character and a desire to be like Him just because He’s awesome; and to love those around us even when they’re not. Then we just might be cured without knowing it. Let the wise old owls keep their diagnoses. We have a Healer, and His name is Jesus. Happy New Year! What are your resolutions?
January 2013 gigs:
Jan. 26- Finding Peace seminar, Fairview Village, PA
Feb. 1-3- Finding Peace seminar, Joshua, TX
During the Billy Graham era, while the evangelical movement retained the flavor of modernism, the preaching emphasis seemed to my young adult mind to be “getting right” with God. During that time I became a Christian and then a Seventh-day Adventist. Everything felt right. I got right with God, began worshipping on the right day, and believing the right doctrines.*
As the decades rolled along I saw a shift in evangelicalism (my larger religious sphere), which affected Adventism (my smaller religious sphere). Adventism tends to track with Protestant culture in many areas, but at a safe distance so we can’t be accused of copying the “worldly churches.” We allow these mainstream churches to road-test for us things like contemporary music, relational preaching, and church growth programs. When they seem to work, we cautiously adopt them, carefully molding them around our cherished belief system, so as not to disturb anything central to our identity.
Thus the current trend of “getting real.”
The “getting real” phenomenon voices itself through the postmodern buzz words “authentic,” “passion,” “chill,” “sharing,” “praxis,” and, not surprisingly, “real.” It expresses itself in trends like casual attire at church, paraphrased Bible versions, and guitars instead of organs. It fuels much of the current boom in Christian counseling and paves the way for Every Man’s Battle-type books which admit the horrors of the heretofore unmentionable sin of pornography. It at times makes it okay for a pastor to admit before his entire congregation, including bewildered children and grossed-out teens, a litany of moral infractions that would make the Mafia blush.
At its worst, “getting real” places “getting right” at too low a rung of the priority ladder, in many cases entirely out of sight. Then, “getting real” seems to say that obeying God is optional as long as we’re honest about disobeying Him.
But in spite of all the baggage “getting real” brings, I’m committed to it.
You and I know that social trends over-correct one another, creating a self-perpetuating, reactive, pendulum swing. “Getting real” has over-corrected the excesses of “getting right.” But lets back up our pendulum a few miles to the center—which “getting real” blew right past in its flight from “getting right”—and see what “getting real and getting right” look like as a pair.
Getting real/right means swearing off, for once and for all, hypocrisy, which is neither real nor right. A double life projects a false image, of which God said, “You shall not make for yourself an idol,” Ex. 20:4. Don’t make an idol for yourself, especially not one of yourself, dismantled from your real self. You’ll wind up with an adoring public who doesn’t even know you. You’ll be lonely as hell, smiling for the camera.
Aren’t some things private? Yes. But ideally, nothing is secret. With the grossed-out teens listening to the pornography confession, I reject undiscriminating, thoughtless “getting real.” Sin and failure should be confessed selectively, first and foremost to those affected by it.
Okay, lecture over. Assignment time. Whatever your struggle, whatever your wound, write three versions of it: the one sentence version, the one paragraph version, and the one page version. The one sentence version you share with acquaintances—“Life is a struggle right now, please pray for me!” The one paragraph version goes out to friends and the one page version to loved ones. The book version share with God and anyone besides Him who would want to stay awake for that long. Always express your hope alongside pain, so as not to make honest disclosure a downer for you and others: “I’ll get through this with God, but right now I don’t see how. . . “ In this way the real you and the projected you begin to match one another. The gap between the two closes, and you know you’re “getting real.” Which is, after all, right.
Oh, and you can turn in the assignment here- http://jennpen.com/ Just go to the bottom of this post and hit the “comments” button.
*I’m still there, 36 years later.
Just two gigs this month:
Dec. 22- with Alison Brook, Clearwater, Florida
Dec. 29- with Alison Brook, Cocoa, Florida
CHRISTMAS PROMOTIONAL OFFER! Buy $25 or more off my website and I will include a free book or CD of your choice. Simply return this email with your selection, then go on the website and make the offer.
Shane Claiborne’s clever book title says it all.
But Jesus tried that. He was President, King, and Head of State of Israel from the time of the Exodus until the Babylonian captivity. And in spite of His power and perfection, His presidential experiment failed. Sadly, Israel and Judah so totally rebelled against Him that He ultimately gave them over to their idols. Israel came under the tyranny of Babylon, Medo-Persia, Greece and then Rome, never fully recovering from tyranny of one kind or another. How ironic; earthly Israel, refusing to be governed by the most compassionate and fair of Kings, found itself in bondage to despots. The rubble of Jerusalem became the crash-and-burn site of the grand theocracy experiment.
Think about it: If God’s presidency failed at saving a nation, whose could succeed?
Since then, no nation has ever been invested by God with theocratic power. He has cleaved church from state. He has declared that we should obey civil magistrates in civil matters, but yield our inmost souls to God alone (Matthew 22:21). Civil powers may govern behavior, but not the conscience. Not until Jesus comes back with his ten thousand times ten thousand cabinet of angels, not until He appears as President of Presidents, will God again establish theocracy.
Theocracy will succeed the second time around. Why, when the same King rules? Ah, but the new variable will be those ruled. They embody the law. They love the Lawgiver. They need no external pressure or imposing force. “Your people shall be willing in the day of Your power,” Psalm 110:3. The people of the second theocracy will be willing. They will, of their own volition and initiative, and from overflowing love, live righteously.
This is how I boil down the message of the theocracy: If God can’t change the world from the outside, no one can. The only hope for this world is renewal of the heart.
This Tuesday, over 100 million U.S. voters will pour into booths, most of them believing that the right president will restore this tattered nation. He will. But only when He first restores us.
Jesus for president.
Or “Beautiful landscape,” the chunk of property set in savage hills of Suyatal, Honduras. It’s the home of a mission called VIDA International, run by some crazy young friends, and I go there when the urge hits me; like my trip last month.
Let me tell you what I love about it all.
I love bumpy roads. Driving in Honduras renders amusement parks unnecessary. Why spend money for Space Mountain at Disneyland when you’ll receive an equal wallop while simply driving home from the Tegucigalpa airport? Our skilled and trusty driver Olvine (Ol-veen) nonchalantly tiptoed the truck over gashes in the road, simultaneously chatting Spanish with my friend Naomi. Talk about multi tasking. I hung on for dear life.
I love Spanish, even though I don’t know Spanish. While Naomi and Olvine chatted, mind frog-tongued snapped at Spanish words that sounded a little English. Other than these, I could understand their smiles and Olvine’s friendly, playful manner. Once I told Naomi he had a mischievous look on his face. She immediately translated, throwing Olvine into fit of laughter and shouting more Spanish words I couldn’t understand.
I love burros laden with sticks, usually driven by a man in a cowboy hat. The countryside seems full of these lean, blue-jeaned, plaid-shirted men. Sustenance farming keeps them from ballooning out the way we do in the modern world. Ballooning is reserved for people with too many calories, who pretend to run from them on treadmills. Honduras Cowboys don’t have calories to spare. They run to them in the form of sticks to burn. Thus the stick-laden burros.
I love Buena Vista. It’s a burgeoning ministry powered by a bunch of enthusiastic young people. The outpost grows by a building or two every year, thanks to the well-loved “mission groups.” The marriage of VIDA and these groups (why not your church?) form a perfect win-win. The groups receive a wilderness adventure, replete with cold showers, strange insects, heavenly guacamole, and gorgeous mountains; the ministry gets buildings, or programs, or whatever the group wishes to offer.
I love Jose Mario Suazo Franco (it’s fun to say that to a Mariachi-type tune, while dancing around a large hat), the director. Jose has begun to build a cabin (my term: man-cave) overlooking the largest field in the property. Jose sings a little like Luis Miguel, so if while visiting, you hear a sonorous tenor floating over the field, it’s probably Jose in his cave. Unless Luis Miguel is visiting. Which he should.
I love Naomi Jackson. She’s the VIDA International PR girl and the beautiful contralto on their music *CD. And I got to sing with her! Our first Sabbath found us piling back into the truck to bump and tiptoe our way back to Tegucigalpa to perform a concert at my friend Pastor Zaldana’s Rio Grande Church. For the past year, I had been using time in my car to listen to the CD, secretly dreaming of singing with THE Naomi Jackson. Dreams really do come true over the Honduran rainbow.
I love the young adult students at VIDA. They sat patiently through my translated, four-hour classes, pin-neat, obedient, and quiet. Just when I’d begin to wonder how bored they were, they’d noddingly whisper a reverent-sounding “A-meng.” Their deep, serious spirituality didn’t go unnoticed by me.
I love bumpy roads. Oh, I already said that. Well, I guess what I really love is the adventure they provide. For instance, Naomi charged me to fasten my seatbelt at all times, lest we receive a ticket from the ubiquitous traffic cops. Yet five human beings, all tender flesh and blood, could, with full approval of the law, bounce along in the back of the truck. Over bumps. Go figure, but figure in Honduran.
I love cold showers; they force me to get clean and get out. I love no electricity; it forces me to bed by nine. I love scorpions in the bathrooms because women screaming in Spanish sound a little like Italian opera. And I love how Naomi laughs when the big cows walk straight at me. I love fresh tortillas, baked over an outdoor wood stove. I love tamarind drink frozen in plastic bags to be poked open and sucked. I love the seductive perfume of guavas in the air, the songs sung in the dark, the prayers I can’t translate but somehow understand.
Most of all I love this experience: I look in the eyes of someone whose language I can’t speak or understand. They look back, equally language-locked. But then the Holy Spirit starts to translate with groanings too deep for words. Our spirits begin to converse through our heavenly Translator. And suddenly we know that in Christ, we are one. And that if we’ll prepare for His soon return, we’re headed to a place where we will all worship together in one new language; a place where scorpions don’t sting and women sing soaring high notes and all God’s children eat tortillas and guacamole forever, a-meng.
*Send me a donation of any size and I’ll send you their CD. It’s gorgeous, really. And if you wish to visit VIDA or send a mission group, I can arrange that too.
Oct. 5-6- Halifax, PA GYC Atlantic
Oct. 19-20- Rogers, AR
Oct. 25-27- Sacramento, CA AMEN conference and taping
Nov. 2-12- Ontario, Canada seminar and concert with Naomi Striemer
My friend Harold called me about a month ago, asking, “Can you come speak on marriage at our church retreat? We have so many couples in crisis!”
Hummmm, I thought. I enjoy public speaking. The date is open. I can promote my latest book. It’s a great opportunity to share God’s love. Everything checked out perfectly. But even while my mouth formed a “Yes,” my stomach churned a “No!” in the fearful defiance of a child being forced to shake hands with a stranger.
I do marriage counseling. I must be somewhat effective, or the referrals wouldn’t keep rolling in. But something about teaching marriage seminars unnerves me. It must be the vulnerability factor. You see, counseling focuses on the client. The clients could really care less about my personal life. I could be on my seventh divorce, and as long as I helped them, they’d pay it no mind.
But when one teaches, one goes on display. Even the most private public speaker (How’s that for an oxymoron?), just by virtue of addressing a subject as a kind of expert, submits herself to the question: Does it work for her? Marriage seminar presenters could very well live in a glass case on wheels with the placard “Exhibit A” attached to the front. Roll them in, they talk, you watch and see if the water in the fishbowl ever gets frothy with conflict, cold with apathy, or murky with negativity. If so, forget everything they said and go on to the next seminar.
Now that I’ve made you wonder if Michael and I hate each other, I’ll assure you that we don’t. In fact, we love each other more with each passing day. Most of the time we live in sweet peace and harmony. We share many passions, including organic gardening, camping, winning souls to Jesus, and our beautiful daughters. We pray together twice a day, almost without fail. Most of all, our shared history (33 years and counting) flows between us, a powerful, surging river, sometimes shooting up in sparkly moments of reminiscence: “Remember how Alison used to call shampoo ‘bubbles-a-rubbit?’” “I wonder where Marsha and Daniel are now.” “Man, you were so good-looking, why did you fall for me?”*
Okay, enough beating around the bush. My husband and I have struggles. Significant conflicts. Philosophical differences. Without giving you the deets, let me say that, ideologically speaking, it sometimes feels like Obama and Romney under one roof. And those differences have pretty much parked themselves in our living room like a dissembled car that no one knows how to fix. Because neither of us handle differences with perfect love, emotions flare at times and feelings get hurt. Sometimes we go on vacation from each other, not talking much for a few days. Humanly speaking, some consider us a complete mismatch. These realities have kept me from wanting to speak publicly on marriage. We love each other, but we’re not always camera-ready.
But one thing makes me willing to pack my bags next Friday and jet off to Dayton, Ohio to stand in front of people and talk about something I haven’t mastered. It’s that I myself don’t want to hear about an ideal marriage. I don’t want to hear from someone who has never cried herself to sleep or lost his temper and thrown something. It’s not that those in ideal marriages are bad people—in fact they may be really, really good people. And quite possibly their marriages really are better than mine. But I need to hear how God’s love can flow into and around and through even a flawed marriage. As a counselor I’ve watched people wheedle away at a problem only to make it worse by their “fixing.” But once they started to love one another in Christ in spite of the problem, once they accepted their partner as they were,* the problem shrunk like a tumor, into the perspective of agape, which never fails.
I believe we should do all we can to ensure compatibility before we marry and harmony within marriage. But when inevitable differences arise, and when the flow of human love exhausts itself in the heat of the battle, are we to assume that God has withdrawn His blessing? If I know my God, He’s just pulling back one blessing to make room for a better one. And that better one is the love of Jesus, flowing into us and our relationships in fuller and fuller streams until He comes again.
*Jen talking to Mike. Don’t take the past tense to mean he’s not still gorgeous.
*Abuse and infidelity shouldn’t be accepted, ever.
Jen’s gigs this month:
Sept 7-8- Dayton, Ohio area church retreat
Sept 13-21- Teaching at VIDA International in Suyutal, Honduras
Sept 15- Sermon and concert at Iglesia Rio Grande in Tegucigalpa, Honduras
Sept 22- Chestnut Hill in Philadelphia, praise and worship
Sept 28-30- Seattle, WA area women’s retreat
Oct 5-6- Generation of Youth for Christ Atlantic, Halifax, PA
Praise God, folks! Alison Brook met her Kickstarter goal and is on the way to CD number two. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for your help!
I know I’m a terribly doting mother, but I can’t help but be proud of this little songbird, Alison Brook, who happens to be my daughter. She’s planning her second CD after her debut, No Words, which blessed many all around the world.
Instead of my usual blog this month, I’m forwarding Alison’s kickstarter page. This is how kickstarter works: For one month only you can make pledges; if she raises all the money, kickstarter will collect on the pledges. If she doesn’t meet her goal of $6500, she loses it all. Pretty all-or-nothing, huh? Fortunately, we can do this! As Joshua said, “We are well able to take the land!” If we work together, the new CD will become reality this month. Think of it this way: If the roughly 3000 who receive this blog pledge about $2.50 each, we’re golden. If 300 respond with $25 each, or if 30 give $250 each, that’s just as good.
Please, my friends–I’m now indulging in shameless mother hen fundraising–pray about what you can give, then give generously to this sweet singer in Israel.
For just about any donation, you’ll receive a gift from Alison. Free downloads, a homemade craft, or, for the high pledgers, your own personal Alison Brook song or even a house concert. But your greatest incentive is to be on the ground level of a CD that will impact thousands of lives, and to support and encourage a young woman who has dedicated her life to writing, playing, and singing for Jesus.
Okay, mother hen will stop clucking if you start clicking on the links below.