Category Archives: Jesus

What is an idol, anyway?

Idols.  I think it is safe to say that, when talking about idols in the Biblical sense, the image pops into our minds of statues or other man-made things that we choose to worship.  But in the grand scheme of things, those types of idols are only a small part of what is placed before God.  Now, Webster’s dictionary defines an idol as a representation or symbol of an object of worship: a false godso if it is a representation or symbol, it can be many things.  Money, worry, job, children, anger, food, alcohol, sex and a myriad of other things could be considered an idol.  I have, as likely many followers of Christ can say as well, had idols in my life.  I have spent many nights thinking about how I was going to pay my bills instead of giving the problem to God, letting Him handle it, and then praising Him for it.  I have sacrificed many a blessing because I was too busy chasing after something that ultimately could not bring me peace or joy that lasted more than a few minutes, or at best, a few days.  The valley is a place that I am more familiar with than I would like to be.  The mountain is where I prefer to find myself, but without the valleys, how could I possibly know that there was a mountain to be on in the first place.  I’ve spent a good part of my life searching for something and then grasping onto the first thing that made me feel whole, only to learn that the wholeness was only temporary and that the weight of my burdens soon overpowered me again and I would find myself right back where I started.  God doesn’t share.  He won’t give blessings to us when we are giving our praise and adoration to something else.  It took me a long time to come to the realization that there is only one thing I truly need to be at peace with myself, with my life and with the world around me, but once I realized it, it was so simple that I could scarcely believe that I had been looking everywhere for what was in my heart to begin with.  When I asked Jesus to save me, He did and the Holy Spirit took His place in my heart and soul, but, and isn’t it a shame that there always has to be a but … but when I put the stress and failures of my life on a pedestal, then I hinder any blessing that could have been mine.  This whole post came about because I was reading in 1 John, chapter 5 this morning.  The chapter is about love and faith, confidence in God when praying for things that are in His will and the knowledge that He will provide them for us.  But the very last verse says Little children, keep yourselves from idols. Amen. There can be no confidence in God when He is not the center of our lives, if He is not the object of our worship and if He is only an afterthought, so little children, keep yourselves from idols, amen.

1 John 5:14-15:  14 And this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He heareth us, 15 And if we know that He hears us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of Him

Myself ain’t who she used to be

Myself.  One of the first words we learn as kiddos and one of the most damaging ones we can use as an adult.  I can do it myself.  I don’t need any help.  I have everything under control.  I am the master of my universe.  I can handle it.  All of these phrases have passed through my mind and many of them through my lips.  And it is such a lie.   A deceitful, self-defeating lie that is harmful to me on so many levels.  I, on my own, am like one of the chickens my grandparents used to raise.  There was a wire fence that was open on both ends, but the chickens would get behind it and walk back and forth all day and never realize they could go around.  The world, even my tiny, limited part of it, sometimes threatens to overwhelm me, forcing me to try to find someway out besides the door.   But, I can handle it.

I had dinner this week with one of my oldest and dearest friends.  We’ve known each other since we were in second grade.  I only see her a few times a year, but that doesen’t matter.  I know she is there.  At least I do now.  We only recently reconnected after having lost touch for many years.  That is the way with all of my old friends.  There are people that I think of nearly every day, but somewhere along the way, I decided that I didn’t need anybody.  So without meaning to, I lost touch with wonderful friends that I would loved to have known as an adult.  The blames lies with myself and the lie I decided to believe … the one that told me I could handle it.

As I get older and the Holy Spirit continues to guide and teach me, I see things more clearly.  I see that myself is not who she used to be.  That myself died when I gave my life to Jesus.  All these years that I have continued to believe the lie that I can do it myself and don’t need anyone has been my own doing.  Jesus took that along with all the other baggage when I gave myself to Him.  I didn’t have to carry it, but as long as I was determined to, He was going to let me.  When I look past what I let myself believe to what is actually real, I see myself as who I am now, not who I was then.  I find that I can be myself instead of making myself into someone that myself thought I wanted to be.  I am who God wants me to be.  There is power in that.

looking in the right place

This afternoon, following a short nap to recover from an early morning in the field where the deer hang out, I hiked up to the old orchard to see if I could get a glimpse of one of the black bears that call our little piece of Clinch Mountain home.  I’ve heard all about them from dad and others who have seen them, but as a photographer, I have to see them for myself.  I want to know what it will look like through the lens of my camera and if I can capture the majesty of creation and do it justice. God continues to bless my photography and today, though He didn’t let me see the bear, He showed me I was looking in the right place.

In the corners of my mind

The past.  One of the most powerful weapons satan has to use on us.  He takes us down the paths that we have already walked and reminds us, in the wee hours, that our shortcomings and failings are always just a thought away.  He reminds us over and over of things we have said, wished we had said, hurts we have caused and the ones that we carry.  He tells us that our mistakes are never forgiven and urges us to not forgive.  But what he doesn’t remind us is that the past is the past.  What is done is done and cannot be altered.  It is what we do from this point on that makes or breaks us.  We can hold onto the hurts and injustices, the pain and the memories or we can break free.  He only has the power that we give him when we embrace the twisted thoughts and memories that surface when we are most vulnerable.  If we embrace the misery that he offers, then our chances of overcoming what we perceive as the most embarrassing or painful moments of our lives become less and less likely.  But there is hope for everyone who is suffering from having a past, and that list would include every human being.  Even the tiniest baby will, if they live, have a past.  There will be lost tempers, hurtful words and actions, pain and heartbreak.  It is a part of being human and living in a human world.  The world around us is as unforgiving of us as we are to ourselves.  It is beyond our own capabilities to outrun the past… and satan knows this and will gleefully use it to keep us from moving forward.  Each of us has a purpose in this life, a reason to be.  Everything that happens to us as we travel through this journey of life can be either a stumbling block to ourselves or it can make us stronger and more able to recognize the warning signs in others of the effect of their real or perceived imperfections and insecurities and enable us to lift them up.  Jesus was perfect.  He had no imperfections and for some, it is impossible to imagine a perfect person.  Someone who has no regrets or things they wish they hadn’t said or done.  I have a life full of things I wish were different and, in the dark  hours of night when I begin to relive those moments, my strength begins to falter and the darkness becomes heavier as I remember all that cannot be changed.  It is then that the Holy Spirit reminds me that what is past cannot be changed.  Rectification, reconciliation, forgiveness… they can all be given, but forgetting what we have lived, well that is a different story altogether.  The things that we have done, said or survived are all part of what makes us into who we will become.  Whether we use the past for harm or good will decide how we will relate to other people and how our actions will alter their lives.  It is not easy to overcome a past full of pain, and impossible to do it alone.  Trust in the One who understands suffering, who understands what it is like to be alone and abused, to be wrongly accused and tortured, both physically and mentally.  Trust that what you have survived will make you stronger and that you will go forth in hope.  It is these things I focus on when my own darkness threatens to overtake me and smother me with all that I cannot change.  When I need comfort, I know where to find it, but self-suffering and guilt-enabling get in the way.  The light that I know is there could shine through if I let it, but at times when I cannot seem to get past the moment, I refuse it.  But the gentle prodding of the Holy Spirit continues until my defenses are broken and the fog lifts.  I always look forward to those moments and delight in hearing the song that my God sings over me.  And during these long nights when all the things I dislike about myself manifest themselves into the demons I fight, I know that I do not fight them alone.  And therein lies my comfort.  Because no matter where I have been or where I will go… no matter what I have said or left unsaid… irregardless of how often I try to handle things myself, He loves me anyway.

Matthew 11:28 ~ Come to me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest

Double rainbow over Clinch Mountain, Big Moccasin, Nickelsville, VA

Religious? No. Follower of Jesus? Yes

On this day, Good Friday, I woke up, feeling both ashamed and humbled, loved and cherished, thankful and remorseful, hungry and fed, and far more blessed than I deserve.  Why would anyone do what Jesus did, suffer the way He suffered and die a death so horrible that my mind cannot wrap around it.  That question can be answered in one word.  Love.  My love for Christ has nothing to do with religion or gatherings or congregations.  It has no beginnings in tradition or repetition.  It comes because Christ first loved me.  Enough to die a terrifying and horrific death for my sake even though I was a full blown sinner.  There was nothing religious about the death of Jesus.  It was prophesied from way before that a Savior would come.  The lamb to the slaughter. It was a gift from God, who loves at a depth that no man’s heart can understand, even if they know and follow Him.  Religion has taken on a life of it’s own that, in some cases, has little or nothing to do with the teachings of Christ.  There is ritual to complete and rules that must be followed in order to be a part of it.  There are repetitive gestures and misinterpretations of what Jesus has said.   Groups like KKK call themselves religious.  Groups who bomb abortion clinics call themselves religious.  Men, women and children who strap bombs to themselves and blow up others call themselves religious.  Churches who talk about what great things they’ve done and then turn away those who come to them seeking help call themselves religious.  Jesus wasn’t religious.  He was just Jesus.  The Savior, the Messiah, the Holy son of God.  He didn’t conform to the traditions of the world, but set the example for others to follow so that eternal life could be available to everyone.  Everyone.  Not just this church or that sect or this mission or that cause, but everyone.  He gave His life and shed His blood for sinners.  Just going to church or to communion, taking mission trips or giving money does not open the doors of heaven for us to walk through.  There is only one way.  He is the way.  He is the truth.  He is the life.  Without Him, there is no hope of eternal life.  But saying that I know Jesus is not enough.  Proving it is required.  If we walk a good life, give to the poor, help the needy, and show the world how religious we are, we have accomplished nothing if, at the core, there is no love.  Love doesn’t cross the street to avoid a homeless man, a prostitute or a drug addict.  It doesn’t turn it’s back on those in need and it doesn’t just surface on Sunday. When Jesus communed with the people, He did it in the midst of sinners.  He walked among those who had no hope, who had nothing.  And He loved them.  None of us are good.  Not even when we are being good are we good.  Sin is the blackness of evil that follows every step we take, just waiting for the moment when it can trip us and cause us to fall flat on our face.  No matter how devout we claim to be, falling on our face is part of the journey that we are on because unlike Jesus, we are not perfect.  The church can’t save us.  The community can’t save us.  Our family and friends, though supportive and loving, cannot save us, and most certainly, we cannot save ourselves.  No matter where we go or what we try to accomplish, if Jesus is not at the center, then any good that could be done will fall short of what we could do if Jesus was at the center. There is only one way to be saved and that is through the blood of Jesus Christ.  I am a follower of Christ and owe everything I am or ever hope to be to Him… and to Him, not religion, I give all the glory.  For religion, after all, is just a man-made word and I have my hope in that which man has no hand in.  The grave could not hold Him, Satan could not bind Him and He rose, conquering sin and making a way for all people to live in Glory with Him. He lives and He’s coming for us.  What Jesus did, He did out of love and religion had nothing to with it. Praise His Holy Name!

Colossians 2:8 ~ Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.

into the world and back again

I was just watching, for the hundredth time, the movie Twister.  Now, while I’ve seen it many times, I watch it because there are aspects of it that appeal to me.  The dialogue, however, is just shy of adequate.  But the dissection of the dialogue isn’t what prompted this entry.  It was the last scene.  The one where everyone is together.  They are a unit.  A group of friends who share a common interest, are happy when something good happens to any of them and are willing to put their life on the line for their friends.  I never noticed it in that way until tonight.  Isn’t that what we all long for?  People who share our interests, get excited when we do well or receive a blessing?  Someone who is willing to die so that we might live?  We all long for that.  I found it.  In Jesus.  It took years of rebellion on my part.  I defied God and everything that He stood for.  I knew I was living a lie and I continued to do it, not mindful of the consequences or even realizing that the torturous life I was living was the consequence.  Years later, I recommitted myself to God and put my life into Jesus’ hands.  It wasn’t easy.  It should have been, but there were things I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up.  How lame that sounds now, that after all Jesus gave up at the cross, there were things of the world that I would rather have kept than Him.  I was, am and will be, as long as God has a purpose for my life, a work in progress.  There’s no shame in that.  I will fail many, many more times before God is done with me.  But each failure and each loss will bring me closer to Him through the wisdom and teachings He gives through the trials.  I try to use my life to bring glory to my God, though many times, I bring Him shame and disappointment.  It is easy to praise God at the height of the fruits of His blessings, and I want to always do that….  but more, I want to be able to praise Him from the depths of the valleys, for at that moment, my hope is in Him… my hope is Him… and He is always faithful.  I come out of the valleys with a newer perspective, one that is closer to the person God is molding me to be.  And in the meantime, He is with me, always, and He already died for me… and one day He’s coming back for me…  How can I wish for what I already have… Praising God for his merciful blessings…

These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world – John 16:33

Amazing Grace… how sweet the sound

This is a speech that I wrote after being asked to speak at a church in Cleveland, TN.  It was written shortly after Jim died, within a month or so, and was integral in my healing from this shock… God is faithful… and He is worthy.  I wanted to share this, as there may be another new widow out there who needs to know that God will not forsake them… no matter what

 
Hello.  Thank you for having me with you today.  My name is Gina Minton Kearns, and I am, among other things, a Christian, a photographer, writer and greeting card designer.  I live in a very small town in Southwest Virginia, on my parent’s farm.  The fields stretch out in front of the house, all the way to the road, nearly a half a mile.  The mountains loom behind it and rolling hills bypass it on either side.  It is a peaceful place.  I love it there.  I’ve loved it there since the first time I ever sat foot on it, before my Dad decided to buy it and move there.  He later, after my Jim and me were married, invited us to move by him on his land.  We went and that’s where we spent the last few years.  Jim and I would have celebrated our tenth anniversary this year.    He was called home two weeks and two days before our anniversary.  It was an awesome shock and completely unexpected.  I really can‘t think of a time in my life when the shock has literally brought me to my knees.  Coming home, expecting to find him doing something around the house, and find him dead over his coffee instead.  I remember thinking, all in a matter of seconds, “well, he’s fallen asleep at his table” and before that thought was complete “he wouldn’t do that”.  And that was true.  He wasn’t asleep.  He was dead.  Had been dead for the several hours I had been trying to reach him.    I can’t say that I was really worried about him when I couldn‘t reach him.  I assumed that he had gone somewhere and forgotten his phone, or as a worse case scenario, he had fallen or become disabled somehow while tending his peppers.  It never occurred to me that he could be dead.  It never once, not even when I was thinking of all the things that could have happened to him, not once, crossed my mind.

I went through, then, what you’d expect:  weeping, wailing, oh-noing, questioning, screaming, crying.  All of it.  Then the funeral home came and took him away.  He was buried in the little cemetery of our beloved church, in a beautiful place that watches the sunset through one of the most beautiful trees I have ever seen.  It’s like it was sewn there, by the birds or the wind, for Jim.  God knows all things.  

I love trees.  I love the sound they make in the summer, when they are full of leaves and the wind blows them.  I love the sound of them in the Autumn, when the leaves are drying and rustling in the wind – then blowing into the air to  make a colorful rainfall of leaves and falling to a carpet that smells earthy and wonderful… and the lonesome whistling as it weaves through the bare branches of wintertime.  Our lives are very similar to that of a tree through one full cycle of seasons.  We start out new and bursting with life.  Growing strong in the sunlight and the rain and all the other blessings of God… and then a season passes and we are mature, having children, bearing fruit for the next generations.  Thriving on health and fullness of life, dancing wildly in the winds and the rains after toiling in the heat of the day… and then another season passes and the children are grown, the seed mature, and gone to their own lives.  Our strength begins to falter and the winds are much harder to withstand.  By the time another season passes, we will be old and waiting for the final call of God when we can give up our suffering and be with him forever.  Bare and naked before the Lord, yet beautiful in a battle-scarred body and our faith… knowing that after another season, there will be rebirth into the place where there will be no death.  God is faithful.

It was hard losing Jim.  He was a precious gift to me from God… a gift that helped to nurture my spirit and soul as we worshipped the Jesus we loved together.  My heart was heavy, too heavy for me to bear alone, so God sent a blessing to me far beyond my wildest imaginings.   I’d like to share my story with you for it is beautiful to me how God works.  He has no care for time, for He is time… all time.  Anyway, I had cleaned out Jim’s closet as I wanted someone to get some use out of his clothes.  They are too good to waste, taking space, that if allowed, would become shrine-like and sacred.  Nothing short of what is God’s should be considered sacred.  Some of them hadn’t been worn in a long time and they smelled stale, so I washed them.  It was on the way to the clothesline with the washed clothes that God spoke to me.  We often think that we can only hear from God if we are in church or during prayer.  But God is with us always, including when we are not in church and not praying.  He is with us when we are hurting and sorrowful.  When we are guilt-ridden and burdened by the trials of this life.   So on the back porch with a basket full of wet clothes, God reached out to me.  There a blooming flower caught my eye.  A beautiful, perfectly blooming, orange calendula.  All the other flowers in the surrounding pots were dead.  The frost had killed them and they had turned brown and stood in the pots like dead trees that had never fallen.  It was then that I noticed that although the bloom had caught my eye, I could only see a tiny corner of the orange bloom, and I realized at that moment, that was how I felt.  Hidden and lost behind a forest of pain and sorrow… grief and guilt… tears and tears and tears and tears… slumping from the heaviness of the burden I had been given to bear.  I moved forward a bit and could see a bit more of the bloom.  The dead zinnia stalks with their dead seedpods were still the most prominent thing in my sight, yet there was more of the bloom than there was before.  And it was here that my journey started.
 God spoke to me through sights and feelings.  I used my camera and could feel the urging of Holy Spirit as I snapped off the photographs that were coinciding with the moments of my life I was being shown.  All the while, with each new vantage point, the days of my future were running through my head and my heart.  Not the actual day, but the essence of it with the weight of the burden I was dragging.  It was in real time.  I knew what I would feel.  I felt what I would feel.  I felt weightless and free as I lived in the moments that God was showing me. There are many trials that we face in life that drag us to our bellies, with our face in the dirt.  Obstacles that seem unsurpassable and burdens that feel unbearable.  And they are unsurpassable and unbearable if we try to get through them ourselves.  But when we turn to God to lift us up and hold us until we are able to stand, the path becomes clear and the burden lighter.  God showed this to me on that day, on the back porch, with the laundry basket at my feet.   

It never occurred to me that I would have to bear two deaths when Jim passed away.  The physical death paled in comparison to the second death.  Though both were painful, it was second, enduring death that left me shattered, broken and lost as I struggled to grasp the magnitude of enduring the reality of losing that part of him that merged with my spirit and made me feel part of the whole.  It is the knowledge that your spirit, though not broken, is severely bent and seemingly irrevocably sorrowed.  It is now that there is only the slightest glimmer of who you are behind all the pain, sorrow and weeping agony that plagues us through silent, lonely nights and empty mornings…  But after a season, although we will still be hidden behind the shadow of their missing spirit, there will be more of us.  Day by day, week by week, a battle fought hard and bitter, though at times so beautiful, the Father will continue to hold us up until our strength returns.  
 
After another season, those things which made us unique will begin to show.  The loss will still be there at the center of our heart but our spirit will slowly be spreading its wings… then at some point, there will be more of our spirit shining through and less of the pain and sorrow that ravaged it.  Although the pain and sorrow will still be there, we will be able to face it, each time, a little better than the last – for as long as we travel in this world, the sorrows and anguish will come unexpectedly… but by then, we will have become stronger than we’ve ever been.  God will have refined our faith in Him and each refining gives us strength and faith beyond what we had before.  God doesn’t want our losses and sorrows to break us.  Though we may cry, weep, pray, scream, question, beg, bargain and crash, in the end you need to choose to live your life in peace, following the roads and dreams that have culminated over a lifetime to make you special… that part you lost that completed the whole, just like the parts of others you’ve lost over the years never left – it is simply smothered, for now, underneath the grief and sorrow, but it will re-emerge in you, and through Grace, you will begin to feel whole again.  For after all, to everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.  Ecclesiastes 3:1

When we are faced with trials, sorrows, tribulations, temptations and the myriad of other things we will come across as we walk through this life, God doesn’t want us to face them alone.  We are like a candle, whose flame has not been lit.  Once lit, we can either flare out or flare up.  If we flare out, we have noting… but if we flare up, we have hope.  If the trials of life put out our light, we are no good to anyone, especially to God, since with guilt, hurt or betrayal, what more, except those curses, do we have if we have no light.  Instead, we should flare up to God.  Ask him for understanding if it is his will, but don’t give up hope.  For salvation is our hope.  And that is more important than everything else combined.   So as we sorrow or grieve for that which haunts us, we should rejoice as well, for we are children of God and have been saved by the blood of his perfect lamb.  For though this world is just a little while, Salvation is eternal, never ending.  I can’t even imagine never-ending.  I’ve tried.  But in my never-ending, there’s always an ending.  I cannot fathom something without end.  How vast – more than vast- the ocean and earth are vast, but they have ends.  Salvation without end is greater than my mind can bring clear.  Do you really and truly believe all that God has said about seasons, forgiveness, love, everlasting, salvation and eternity?  If so, then flare up for Him so that others can see His light through you.  As God said in Isaiah 1:18-20:  “Come now, let us reason together” says the Lord.  Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they are red like crimson, they shall be like wool.  If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land; but if you resist and rebel, you will be devoured by the sword.

Call on the Father who loves you more than anything…  Enough to watch His beautiful boy die a horrific death so that you could live with Him in glory.  He only asks for your obedience and acceptance of His son.  As we enter the season of celebration of the Holy Virgin Birth, call out to God to be with you.  He will never, ever leave you.  And He won’t, as we have done to Him so many times, let us down.