The "E" Word

A great part of my adult life was spent feeling like if I wasn't a certain size or in a certain physical condition, that I wouldn't be attractive--even in my marriage (where we should feel safe and secure). The twist to this fear or insecurity is that it did not motivate me to do something about it ---by pursuing fitness, etc. Instead, my deep need to be unconditionally loved rebelled against the notion that I needed to constantly change to merit love, affection, acceptance or attention. So, I would not exercise. Whenever I exercised, I felt controlled and defeated.

         Twisted, huh?

I could make all the arguments for being healthy and quote all the scriptures about how we are to take care of our bodies--but it was all undermined in my heart by a wound that required someone to love me as I am (physically). I felt like I was in rebellion against God's word for not exercising, but I was stuck in a literal prison of resistance as I silently demanded "Love me as I am."

It is possible to know 'all the reasons why' and still not obey or change because of the power of a wound!

Believe me----I have head-tripped on this issue for literally decades. I have had seasons when I exercised regularly and, the truth is, I actually enjoy it! (You know, once I change clothes, go to the gym, and actually get going. That is the hard part!) The wound it was tied to interfered with my resolve and resulted in inconsistent efforts.

But bigger than the fact that I enjoyed it; bigger than the understanding that God says our body is the temple of the Holy Spirit; bigger than knowing it is healthy to exercise... was my wound. I could not 'out talk' the wound. Do you have a wound like that? One that defies reason, logical thought, good judgment and even convictions?? One that draws you to behaviors or lifestyle choices that are self-destructive and counter productive to your own goals and desires??

The wound in me defiantly resisted any indication from anyone that I needed to exercise to lose weight. I would try any diet you put in front of me, but don't mention exercising. I recognized this as wrong but could not successfully beat it. To add to my suffering, I have experienced horrible anxiety attacks and low mood swings--both things that are greatly relieved by physical exercise. Still, I was paralyzed. I didn't need another fact of reason. I needed FREEDOM.

Yesterday, as I was listening to some Christian teachings online, out of 'no-where' the Holy Spirit said, "I have called you to live a long life." 

Instantly--in that simple sentence--came the freedom and the release to pursue fitness and health in the context of living a long life so I can serve Him. It is not that I needed Him to 'super spiritualize it'. I needed Him to re-frame it; to put it in another context; to remove it from the entanglement with my wound so I could pursue fitness and deal with the wound separately. One thing caused the other to paralyze me. And round and round we would go.

Maybe you think that answer from the Lord is too simple; 'you could have told me that' or 'I could have figured that out'. Sure, maybe so--but I needed to hear it from Him. The sentence is pregnant with life for me. I read those words and I absorb these things from it:

1. I love you.
2. I accept you.
3. We have work to do together and,
4. Do what is necessary to take care of yourself to sustain a long life.

There is no judgment in it. No rejection. Change is intrinsically involved. I understand what it means to get a body in condition to live a long life--but I don't feel controlled. I feel compelled to cooperate. I feel called, valued and loved.

Whatever your wounded hang-up may be, you are only a God-whispered sentence away from having the key to your release. Press in to Him. Don't be discouraged--regardless of how long you have suffered with your particular pain or hindrance.

I am thankful for His gentle leading. Now, I must put obedience to it and get moving! I love how I don't feel dread about it anymore!  

"Father,
Have mercy on me in my weaknesses. Where walls have been built around wounds, bring them down by the power of your Love.  Help me to hear your voice and empower me to follow your perfect Plan. Forgive me for resisting You in the past and restore me to a right relationship with You. Thank You for your Word that says "A bruised reed you will not break and a smoldering wick you will not extinguish." You are gentle, powerful and know exactly how to help me so I am not crushed. Show me Your ways. Whisper Your direction and give me courage. In Jesus' name, Amen."  (Isaiah 42:3)

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.

 Love,
Marcie Elliott-Smith

That Gnawing Feeling...

I love/hate a guilty conscience.

At first twinge, guilt is a gift. It prompts me to know I have offended grace in some way. Maybe I have offended some person or ignored a leading of God. Maybe I breached a personal standard I set for myself.

We know what to do, right? We take it to the Lord in prayer and humbly ask for forgiveness. If we have wronged a person, we apologize and seek to make things right.

But then, do you ever find that you still have a remaining feeling of guilt?

Guilt and condemnation are nasty things. They absolutely keep you tied to regret of past behavior. They are NOT empowering but rather create a huge downward pull into what we dislike about ourselves. If we ask for forgiveness and still carry guilt and condemnation, we are somehow still walking a life of law and not grace. 

Animal sacrifices in the Old Testament did not cleanse of guilt--they only reminded them of sin.

 (If the sacrifices had been enough...)
"...the worshipers would have been cleansed
once for all, and would no longer
have felt guilty for their sins..."    Hebrews 10: 2

The new covenant in Christ provides for forgiveness AND cleansing:

I John 1: 9 If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins,
and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

2 Corinthians 7: 1 Having therefore these promises, beloved,
let us cleanse ourselves from all defilement of flesh and spirit,
perfecting holiness in the fear of God.

After praying for forgiveness and cleansing, if there is a remaining 'feeling' of being not right, I ask if I am to make something right with someone. If that is not the case,   

                                                            I fight!

One time I had a dream that I was lying on a hospital bed and two dogs came in the room. One was on each side of the bed chewing my hands!  I cried out, "God! Help me! I am being attacked!" The dogs were leaving and one turned and said to me, "Many rebuke us but few submit themselves to God."

  

James 4: 7 Submit yourselves therefore to God.
Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

They hit the worst when you are weak (as in the dream--I was in a hospital bed). They will stop you from working or being effective (as in the dream--by chewing on my hands).

Guilt and condemnation are two enemy agents that seem to travel in a pair.

They are sent by the accuser who still wants us under the Law and not Grace.
With the sacrifice of Jesus--after repentance--there is no more reminder of sin.

Get rid of them and enjoy the freedom that was purchased for you!

 

Love,
Marcie Elliott-Smith

Debt--Stuff Dreams are Made of

Debt. I hate that suffocating word.

There was a time when I was deep in personal debt. I was embarrassed by it. Limited by it. Imprisoned by it. 

One evening, the time came when I needed to spread it all out on the dining room table and look at the cold, hard, black-and-white of it. I was overwhelmed.

I was looking at personal spending that had gone out of control. By some standards, it wasn't much--but it was spending that was beyond my means. I was very aware that I didn't have an obvious stream of income headed my way that was going to bail me out. I felt defeated. Condemned.

I left the mess of paperwork on the table and went to bed. It was late and staring at it--fretting over it--wasn't changing anything.

During the night, I had a dream. Jesus came through our house, went to the dining room and sat at our table. I immediately had a sense of dread and shame. ((OH, I wish I had cleaned up that mess!))

He sat at our table for a few minutes and wrote something. After He finished writing, He left. 

In my dream, I watched Him leave then I slowly went over to the table to see what He had written.

What I saw amazed me. I was floored. Humbled. Broken. Full of joy.

He wrote across all the papers " J E S U S".  He wrote His name -- in beautiful handwriting -- across all the papers!!  I couldn't believe it!

I felt like the woman who had been caught in adultery and He defended her to the crowd and wrote something in the sand. I wonder if He wrote His name that day, too.

John 8: 3 But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger...

What floored me the most is how He didn't judge me. He stooped to identify with me. He wrote His name on it as though He identified with me in my mess and showed love for me in my undone state. He did not disown me in my shame.

I was reminded that this is not the first time He took care of things that were written against me.

Colossians 2: 13-14  He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge
of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us;
he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross.

This was no different. He is the way out. He is the Way. I laid down all the shame and embarrassment and asked for His help. I felt hope.

A check did not come in the mail the next day or the next weeks or months ahead. But little by little, the debt began to shrink as He showed us how to steward what we had. His love empowered me to be brave, courageous, and push through. I needed Him. And He was pleased to identify with me and help me.

Culture and personal conscience can cripple us in condemnation. It is good to be reminded that He is always available to lift us above those lesser messages and bring us into His acceptance and love.

Romans 8: 32 Since he did not spare even his own Son but gave him up for us all,
won't he also give us everything else?

Like my sister says sometimes, "Thank God for GOD!"

Does God Know What You are Wearing??

I was a member of a ladies' ministry some years ago and faithfully attended the monthly gatherings. I was growing in the Lord and did not want to miss a THING!

One night, I was getting dressed for the meeting and NOTHING I tried on seemed right. I thought, "This is ridiculous! Just pick something!" After a few changes of clothing, I ended up with a blue jacket that I was happy with and went on to the meeting.

The speaker was wonderful and I took careful notes of all she was sharing from the Word. At the end, she began to minister to people in the meeting. She called on me to come to the front. I said, "Me?" She said, "Yes, YOU. I saw you in the Spirit a few days ago and the Lord showed me a vision of you wearing that blue jacket!"

I was stunned. So... the Lord knew what I was going to wear tonight? I couldn't even figure it out for myself a few hours ago! This kind of knowledge was too wonderful for me.

Psalm 139: 16 And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me,
when as yet there were none of them.

I went up to the front and she came towards me. I sensed of the Presence of the Lord more strongly than I had ever experienced. She put her hands up in front of me and said, "Be fruitful and multiply!" Without her touching me, I fell to the floor.

Psalm 139: 5 You have hedged me behind and before, and laid Your hand upon me.

I laid there thinking, "Well, THIS is new!" I tried to get up, but I couldn't. I was literally powerless to get up. I was so distracted by this phenomena of being stuck to the floor by the Holy Spirit, that I was not even asking Him what He might want to say to me. I kept trying to get up. Nope. Didn't work. So I just laid there and enjoyed knowing that He was Mighty AND that He knew a few days ago what I would be wearing!

I thought about her words, "Be fruitful and multiply." That was stunning. I wasn't able to have children--but I was beginning to understand that I am still a fruitful person and multiplying many things. No one had told her I had been through menopause when I was 19. She had no idea. Again, such knowledge was too wonderful for me.

Psalm 139: 6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is high, I cannot attain it.

I finally was able to move parts of my body and get up from the floor. I marveled at this experience and still do. That He pinned me to the floor to let me feel totally powerless and know He is Mighty --- absolutely captivated me. People began to rumor that I would conceive and have children. I even pondered, too---what could this mean?

I was content to know I had an encounter with God. Not just an experience--but a tangible awareness. Not just a tangible awareness, but one that clued me in on His foreknowledge of the small details of my life.

I have been forever ruined for the natural---knowing He is Amazing. Alive. And He knows me. I have always loved knowing Him--but He let me know that He knows me, too.

I guess that hadn't really occurred to me so much---that He was in pursuit of me!

Psalm 139: 1 O Lord, You have searched me and known me.
² You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thought afar off.
³ You comprehend my path and my lying down,
And are acquainted with all my ways.

Wonder what I will wear tomorrow... hmmmm...

I give you 4 shirts. You give me $4,000 ??

In 1990, I went to the University of the Nations in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii for discipleship school and cross-cultural evangelism training. Our class had students from all over the world. One couple was from Sweden and I noticed they (and their children) wore the same clothes all the time.

Somehow, I reasoned that this family must not have many clothes or much money. I went shopping and bought each person in their family some new shirts. Being raised poor and being teased about clothes as a child, I carried a hyper-sensitivity about this.

I gave them the shirts one afternoon and they were SO thankful to receive these gifts. I was happy for them and never dreamed I had missed something culturally.

I was puzzled that this family didn't begin wearing their new shirts. It seemed like forever before the shirts made an appearance. When it finally happened, they wore them happily and I was relieved because I thought I might have offended them!

When the instruction part of the school was coming to a close, the outreach portion of the study was presented: two months in a foreign country to serve and reach another culture. Problem: I didn't have money for this part of the training!

There were many students who felt they were to go on outreach, but didn't have the funds. All of those names were put up on a wall for the school to pray over. Guess who paid my fee? Yep, the Swedish couple. 

                              (humble, humble, humble...)

What I learned was giving the shirts didn't meet a 'wardrobe' need for them--but touched them on a friendship, belonging level.  I gave out of one perception and it went to a place I didn't even realize.

What matters is God has His way. Over the years, I have reviewed this life story many times. Sometimes we act out of what we see; other times we act out of what we know. But what is important is that we act; not out of judgment but out of compassion and love.

None of us want to be insensitive or offensive--so there is the risk of being misunderstood. But what legacy awaits those who don't act at all? If we do nothing, we limit what we learn. If we don't try, we don't grow. If we make mistakes---and a list of mine would fill a blogger's universe---we hope those who love us will give us grace.

For all the times I have "missed it", I feel a thud in my heart--and I heave a prayer to God asking Him to make things right where I never could. And for all of you who have shown me grace, THANK YOU!!

If any of you ever need some grace, someone to listen... or a tacky Hawaiian shirt, just let me know. I can hook you up. :)

 

When Forever is Really Only 27 Years

I was so smart, I got married at 19. I was in looooove.

I was so sure this was God's man for me. Sure enough to make the vows and say, "I do." Everything was right: the dress, the cake, the punch, the invitations, the flowers, tuxedos, attendants, gifts, well-wishes. I have to wonder how many guests wondered, "What in the world are they thinking??

As the years passed, we beat all the odds. We not only stayed together, we traveled and served God in various capacities. As the decades went on, we faced challenges like my inability to have children, burying parents, changing careers, owning and selling homes, and starting over every time we left the country and returned after doing mission work overseas.

Then the crash happened. It wasn't on the national news. The stock market didn't feel it. The world kept turning. But the crash of 2003 was real and of epic proportions in my world; the marriage ended.

Forever lasted 27 years. I was a statistic. I felt small.

"I'm going through a mid-life crisis," he said. He was cracked at the core with all that brings a soul to saying something like that in the terms of ending a covenant. "I hope I can begin again with someone who can give me children."

My heart broke for him.For us. How could he not fight for.... us?

Wow. The enemy orchestrated the ending blow using an argument of something I couldn't fix. Counseling wouldn't fix it. I was in my late 40s and my body was past the time of pursuing other options that would allow pursuit of a natural child. It was not a debate.

When your saddest reality becomes a reason in your spouse's mind to justify walking away---it is a blow to the soul and spirit. The Lord had warned me it was coming, but I didn't know the words that would be used. I was stunned.

So, I quietly took all I needed to start over again and moved to Texas to be near family.

"Well, God, You are my Husband. And with You, forever means forever." That was my new mission statement for life.

What did I miss? Where did I fail? How did I lose the very thing I cherished the most--my love and my 27 year marriage? Some of these answers escape me, still. Mostly because things like this are answered when the two people involved have a discussion and bring both perspectives to light. I did not have the gift of this conversation.

Aren't unanswered questions just the worst?? They are the hardest to put to rest. By God's grace, I have been able to lay it down. In compassion, I have begun to understand the weaknesses in that marriage. As best I can tell, they are as follows:

1. Secret sins and longings for something else undermine, erode and decay a marriage.
2. Falling out of fellowship with God and His people---losing accountability and growing cold in love for others breaks down the fiber of a union.
3. Refusal to seek counsel for individual and marriage healing is a sure covenant with failure.
4. Disillusionment with God because of hardships can weaken the soul that is not steadied by a growing, Word-fed spirit. Identifying yourself as a life victim will cause you to forget the faithfulness and power of God. You can be so paralyzed by "Why me?" that you cannot seek "What now?"
5. Believing the lie that you can do 'better' with 'another' and allowing that to grow in your heart until it becomes your 'truth' becomes a false armor of defense against a spouse who still wants to love you.

I was driving one day, before the day of marriage death, and heard a song on the radio that said, "You are the air I breathe; You are the air I breathe; Your Holy Spirit--living in me. And I ... am desperate for You..."  I pulled the car over and cried. I was so desperate for Him. As desperate as we are for breathing. It was the beginning of my return to He Who Never Left Me. And Never Would.

I found the strength to start over. To let go of a love that I had since I was a teenager. The Lord showed me it was like the splitting of conjoined twins. It had to be done carefully so both could live on their own--one without the other. I asked Him to masterfully do this. I was so identified with this union that I thought I would need to change my name from 'Marcie' to something else as I was convinced I couldn't be 'Marcie' without 'Alan'.  People talked me out of it.

I found that I was, am, and always will be 'Marcie'. I returned to my maiden name, Elliott, and restructured my life with my siblings and my father.

When I married my sweetheart, Dudley, I kept the name Elliott and joined it with his name, Smith. This was not as a sign of trendy feminine rebellion, but a sign of I am authentically Marcie Elliott now fully joined to Dudley Smith. I didn't lose myself to do it--but I brought all I truly am with me. All the years in another marriage are not lost or wasted--they are redeemed and they are still my life story.

In order to do so, I had to return to who I was before the first marriage and understand my birthright. I am my father's child: Marcie Elliott. I accept my forever husband, Dudley Smith. And together, I am completely known in a new life... Marcie Elliott-Smith. In our vows, I told Dudley, "You are my home."

I look at the hyphen and it looks like a minus sign to me. Something was removed for this to happen. Something huge. Something that had my entire devotion. And then I look again at the hyphen and I see a bridge. A connector. A path. Something that spans the authentic 'me' to the new life.

The old Christian song says: "No turning back. No turning back."

My ex-husband is a tender soul and I trust he is restored and loving God.

Sometimes forever is 27 years. Sometimes forever is eternity. Eternity swallows it all. Life isn't quite that compartmentalized, after all. The continuum is that God has been faithful to me when others could not. He is my Steadfast; the Ancient of Days; the 'One who looks after me' Genesis 16: 13.

I said, "I do" to Him when I was a child. And what a tried and true union that has been!

Long ago, someone prophesied to me that I would have two adopted children. Here they are:

Marcie, Betty, Crawford, Dudley

Marcie and Dudley

Crawford, Dudley, Marcie

When I Was a Cowgirl in Hawaii

In the late 80s, I was a cowgirl. Well, not really--but I often dressed like one. I was a youth pastor and a lot of our home-town kids were into going to rodeos and cow-stuff.  So, "When in East Texas... do as the East Texans do." I wore Rocky Mountain jeans, had Justin Roper boots (with matching belts, of course) and went to rodeos.

I was good friends with a couple who owned a local western wear store. It was a popular place to shop and hang out--and the man who owned it was a well-known professional rodeo dude. One late afternoon, I was helping them relocate to their new, larger store and he was out in the front trying to raise the big Justin Roper boot sign by the highway. He was attempting to hoist this sign by using a tractor. We heard an awful sound and ran out to find the sign had fallen on him--across his back. He was not moving. He was turning a horrible color and his eyes were desperate and bulging. I will never forget his expression.

I yelled for people to go get help and I put my hand on him and began to pray. I told him he would live and not die. I screamed for him to "LIVE! LIVE!" and kept praying and quoting every scripture that would come to mind. After what seemed like forever, the ambulance carried him away and his wife and I followed to the ER.

He survived--but with horrible breaks in his back and he was in very critical condition for a week in ICU. His wife and I lived on the floor in ICU as we prayed and fought for his life--visiting him whenever we were allowed to see him.

He had to learn to walk again. To care about living again--through all the pain. He was hospitalized for a long time and then moved to rehabilitation. It changed everything for their lives. But he managed to get to the other side and give testimony of God's grace in saving him.

He was interviewed by a pro-rodeo magazine so he could tell his story. He told them that he died but he could hear me shouting for him to LIVE... and he snapped back... knowing he was not to die yet.

(We were good friends--always kidding around and I said, "NO! I was saying 'LEAVE!', not 'LIVE!'"  hahaha That was our joke. He said, "Ohhhhh! You are going to have to repent!!!"  He was right.)

When he was strong enough to manage the store again, he sent me and his wife to Hawaii for 7 days -- one day for each night we spent sleeping on the floor in the ICU waiting room. It was a great trip! The whales were rolling in the ocean, we went out on a private yacht that had been owned by Marlon Brando, we took a dinner cruise, went to a luau, took a small plane to Maui for a hike/picnic excursion, snorkeled, climbed Diamond Head (Yes, I did!), went to Pearl Harbor, saw Mt. Kilauea erupting as we flew over it in a helicopter... Yep, this was no ICU floor!

During the entire trip, as we enjoyed all the wonders that were around every corner, we marveled the most at how God saved her husband's life. We were so humbled and amazed at God's goodness.

And Hawaii wasn't that bad, either!

Orphaned and Twice Adopted

When I lived in Siberia, I met the most accomplished, famous violinist in Russia. His name is Alexander. His story is absolutely remarkable.

During the last world war, he ended up in an orphanage in Poland because his Jewish parents were displaced by the war and the oppression against Jews. His parents were never seen again and Alexander tells of living in the orphanage, hearing bombs, raids, and having a childhood of fear.

At the end of the war, the orphans were to be released from the orphanage--many of them with nowhere to go. A Russian gentleman visited the orphanage asking to meet with abandoned Russian children who were interested in learning music--specifically, the violin. Alexander wanted to learn music, so he found the courage to speak up and ask if he could meet with the man.

The man met with a few children and made the decision to adopt Alexander. Instead of wandering the post-war streets of Poland, he was adopted!  The man took him to his nice home in Russia, raised him as his son and taught him how to play the violin. This man was the master violinist of all of Russia in his time. After some time, the man learned about Alexander's family history.

As The Divine Plan would have it, Alexander's new father had previously tutored Alexander's natural father in music and the art of the violin! Alexander's father had been a brilliant violinist and now Alexander was parented again by another father -- one who knew his natural father and could teach him much more than the violin. Alexander was able to receive a storied upbringing by someone who knew his father!

The brokenness and beauty of Alexander's story can be heard in his music. His music has stirred hearts all over Russia. He was so gifted and accomplished, that he was in great demand and traveled to give performances before audiences he never dreamed would be interested in him. His gift brought him before kings, nobility and people who honored him.

Alexander's wife came to our church in Siberia and invited us to their home for dinner. We listened to his story in awe--and we could not believe we were hearing this amazing story from this beautiful man. Then, to the surprise of our interpreter, Dennis, and my friends, Alexander played his violin for us!

My friend, George, shared with him about the Master. He shared how a beautifully made violin only truly knows its value when it is in the hands of one who understands the instrument. Alexander gave his heart to Jesus, his Heavenly Father, the Skilled Maker of our hearts.

Again, Alexander's gift brought him before a King.

How Divine!

 

Marcie, Dennis (interpreter) and Alexander

I Corinthians 1:

26 For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.  
27 But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong;  
28 God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are,  
29 so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.

He is Wonderful. 

Dolly Parton, an Accordion and God's Humor

In the late 80s, I went to Nigeria. I was not sure I was supposed to go, but was invited with a group of women who were establishing women's ministry groups throughout the nation and launching this effort with a conference. I had no idea what I was getting into.

We were told to bring things from America that would help get these ministries started. I told my friends and family that if they wanted to donate things, I would take them in my luggage. The oddest thing was donated: A large, HEAVY, old accordion--trimmed in mother-of-pearl. (Uh, sure---that'll fit in a suitcase and won't be heavy at ALL!)

I went to my doctor and got all the shots, malaria pills, etc. that were necessary for the trip. I was packed and ready to go.

On the plane, one of the women in charge came around to each one of us, asking what gifts of the Spirit we most often minister in. Hmmmm. "Teaching." That was all I could think to say. I figured all the other missionaries were teachers so I surely wouldn't be speaking and would be available to pray and assist all the others.

Wrong.

I was soon scheduled to teach a workshop on Spiritual Warfare. Really?? How am I to teach that, exactly? I prayed. (I worried.) I agreed. Our team had been fasting and praying--so I figured I was as ready as ever to address these African women.

Wrong, again.

The malaria medicine I was taking upset my empty stomach, so I ate a banana. I had been bitten by a spider during the night and had a red-line of blood poisoning running up my arm. I was weak and sick. "And our speaker on Spiritual Warfare is Ms. Marcie!"

"Thank you very much," I said, as I took the microphone and started talking about freedom in Christ. Suddenly, the room felt like it was moving. I leaned against the wall behind me and pulled the table closer that was in front of me -- so I was pinned to the wall. I kept talking from my notes.

Next thing I know, I am being carried out of the room like a flour-sack by four Nigerian men who are telling me "Sister Marcie!! The devil is a liar!" Seems they knew more about this than I ! haha (My apologies to the lovely Nigerian gentleman who tolerated me barfing banana on his shoes...) A friend of mine, my Mother-in-the-Lord (Martha Knox--who should have been teaching, anyway!!), finished the seminar for me.

I love God's sense of humor.

At the next meeting, a man said, "Are you the lady with the accordion?" "Yes." "We have a musician who has been praying for an accordion. Does it have pearl trim?" (Are you kidding me right now??)

You see from the photo (below) that the accordion was given to the man who had been praying. I was just the delivery person. Now, the trip began to make more sense. An expensive hand-delivery--but WOW--I just got to see that! 

We went to different cities, speaking in churches and groups and I saw worship like I have never seen before.

I didn't rock the nation with my awesomeness (DUH!). I was rocked by theirs. I saw expressions of God's love 'to the one'... as in the experience of delivering the accordion. It was my privilege to love on all those people. I didn't want to speak at meetings; I wanted to touch.

Another night, I was sick in my hotel room and could hear a song playing from down in the alley: Dolly Parton singing "I Will Always Love You".  (Really? I am in Africa and I need to hear THIS??)

I went on this trip to be a helper. A delivery person of gifts. An observer. I came home with a full heart--loving a nation that, before that trip, I had never known anything about.

Nigeria. "I Will Always Love You"

"Ask of me, and I will give you the nations as your inheritance, the ends of the earth as your possession." Psalm 2: 8

(Below: Me, teaching... before I fainted and was carried out of the room!)

Love,
Marcie Elliott-Smith

God Sees Me

I have had several times in my life when it was extremely important that I know that God sees me.

One of the darkest times I survived by God's grace was several years ago. I was very alone in this experience and came out of it with extreme confusion and soul-pain. It took a counselor and people who love me to pray for me to walk in a place of clarity again. I was (and still am) not always able to explain that season very well. It was at this time, I found comfort in this scripture:

Genesis 16: 13  "So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, "You are 'God who sees,' because I have truly seen the one who looks after me."

My heart was so quieted by this verse--to know that when I cannot explain myself or what I experienced--He saw. He knows. The good; the bad; most importantly, the heart of it all. My heart. Thank God.

Have you ever been through something like this? When you don't even know how to capture it all in words because there are so many feelings involved and so much pain? I am so glad that The Word, Himself, is a witness to my life and one day, He will tell me the whole story and I will know as He knows. But right now, I am just so glad He knows. He sees. It settles me down. The One Who Looks After Me.

When I was in Siberia in the 90s, I was walking in the marketplace with a couple of other missionaries. We were talking as we were waiting for a bus. A woman walked up to me and said, "Are you an American?" I said, "Yes." She said, "Do you know Marcie Carter?" (My previous last name. :) I said, "Yes. That's me!!"  She said, "I have a fax for you from your Mother!"

WHAT????

I am in Siberia. In a city of over a million people. Waiting for a bus. Someone hands me a fax from my dear Mother, in Texas. 

I read this fax with tears. It was a letter from God--through my Mother. She was getting the message to me that my niece, Melissa, was born.

For some reason, my Mother was confused about how to contact me. She knew I had been through training with Youth With a Mission a few years earlier, and must have thought that is how she could contact me at this point! She called their central office and got a fax number for a contact in Siberia and sent the fax to them. The woman who received the fax had no idea who I was or how to find me--so she kept the fax in her purse and prayed that we would cross paths. (Yes, that is me... the skinny girl with sunglasses--reading a fax!!)

Wow. God Sees Me. He is The One Who Looks After Me.

A couple of years ago, I was at a women's retreat. The speaker, Linda, was preparing to minister to the group but was overwhelmed with emotions at the last minute. The Lord told her, "Go have Marcie pray for you." She said, "Where is she? This is a large camp ground!" He said, "She is in the meeting room."

I had been wandering around the grounds alone, praying--and felt I was to go to the meeting room and pray there.  Linda came in and found me there--just as the Lord said.

God Sees Me. He is The One Who Looks After Me.

I love Him. I am glad He sees me -- knows me -- and looks after me. Especially when I need to discuss something with Him in my life that I need to change, I am comforted that He truly already knows and is wayyyy ahead of me. I rest in this understanding.

Do you need Him to show you that He knows who you are and where you are? 

Ask Him.

"Father--You are so good. You are a parent who keeps up with all of your children. Of course you know where I am and what I need. I love you for that. Please orchestrate a connection that expresses Your love for me so I can grow in my awareness of Your nearness. I want to be closer to You and know You more! In Jesus' Name, Amen"