Friday, May 26, 2017

May 26th

February 5, 2014 Written three years ago

This time, I decided to trust Him farther and sooner, and so I went to Him there on the cross as Jesus was asking me to do, though I continued not to understand how that was possible and I felt it must be almost wrong, because it already happened and it’s one of the most sacred events- but it must be that I am there in some spiritual way that is outside of time and in a way that only He is aware.

This time, I saw with a great deal more detail and what that meant was, I saw a great deal more gore. It was appalling. I have a Protestant background- if I were Catholic, I would be more prepared for that amount of blood.

His shoulders were streaked and soaked in blood, and His arms and His face. He was covered with blood- dark blood drying, new blood running slowly, bruises and cuts and broken places.

His face was full of bloody sores and bruises and under the blood and marks, His skin was white and sickly looking and the whites of His eyes were blood streaked and yellowish tinged.

I was acutely aware that His entire back and shoulders and even His sides were a mass of raw flesh, and that this open flesh was pressed cruelly against the rough, splintery wood of the cross and beams; His arms were lashed to the cross beams and His body was twisted in a strange, painful way and His body was propped up on a wooden block- that detail seemed horrific to me.

Seeing Him this way, with His own face in the way I know Him, I could not dismiss it.  I am by now too accustomed to seeing Him, to accepting and being within this way of seeing, and so I had no escape from the horror of what I was seeing. I had trained myself too well to be in it.

Also because of this, I could not escape the way I had seen Him before- healthy and whole- “the skilled first-century Palestinian poet,” as Kenneth Baily had described Jesus, with His keen perception and sharp intelligence, and His wit and humor, in the way He played with words, and His remarkable personal courage and integrity, and His courtesy and compassion.

Because I could see those things, the horror of seeing Jesus broken and tortured and helpless and dying slowly, fading out, was so much worse. I was wringing my hands and trying to hold myself together. But almost the worst thing, almost worse than His raw back pressed against the wood, was the sight of His feet, one over the other, and the nail that was driven down through the arches. At that point, I had to make myself breathe slowly and deliberately, to stave off the horror that was so great, it was almost like panic.

I threw my arms around Him and they came back slick with blood and I knew blood was on my face from where I had pressed my cheek to His ragged, bloody beard and cheeks.

“What have they done to You?” I whispered, in this shaking voice. “What have they done? Why would they do this? Why would they do this to anyone? How could anyone do this?”

Jesus raised His eyes and looked at me and I knew He recognized me, but He was weak and dulled. It was like looking into the eyes of an animal that has been pushed and driven and whipped almost to death and is continued to be beaten senselessly, and it can no longer get up, but lies there, suffering and dying.

“I’m here, Jesus, I’m here,” I whispered to Him urgently, but I saw no sign on His face.

I know, Jesus replied, from all around me, strongly.

I wanted to do something, anything for Him, but what could I do? I could change nothing. He having a great deal of difficulty breathing and could breathe only slowly and so shallowly, and I wanted to breathe for Him.

I wanted to breathe for Him and be water for Him and to be anything of comfort. But it was no good- nothing I could do could prevent Him from dying and He went on dying, only so slowly!

And then I knew I didn’t have the strength to stay with Him the entire time; I did not have the strength of the women who were able to wait there the entire time, with Him. I could feel myself fading away and I was crying and crying to Him, “I’m not strong enough! I have to leave You! I can’t stay… I can’t do it.”

Then I was unable to see anything inwardly, too ashamed to go to Him in the inner rooms, where I knew Jesus was waiting, and I felt Him gather me up under His arms and place His hand on my head, and so, after a moment, I went inward with a very heavy heart, only I still couldn’t look at Him and I was crying and the tears were streaming down my face.

Jesus was holding me in His arms in the inner room, but I couldn’t look at Him. I went to wipe the tears from my eyes.

Let me, He said, gathering up the tears with His fingers. These I will treasure.

“I couldn’t stay,” I told Jesus, miserably. “I had to leave You.”

You were there.

April 17, 2014, Written three years ago

“Jesus!” I cried, suddenly, in sudden awe and joy and recognition that went through me like a sudden flaring up of flame within me, to know Him with me, so close to me.

Yes, My sweet? He asked, smiling.

“Give me the faith I need for this moment,” I asked Him confidently. “The faith to be with You now as You wish me to be. There are many kinds of faith,” I continued, thinking about it. “There is the faith that flares up into flame, there is the faith that rests, there is the faith that illuminates, there is the faith that explains, and there is the faith that gives clear sight. Give me just the kind of faith that I need now to be with You.”

You are My glory, Jesus whispered and this time, I did not hesitate to accept- because it has nothing to do with me, it has all to do with Him.

“Let it be so!” I cried. “Let me bring You as much glory as I can! Let as much glory come to You through me as is possible! Let You be glorified through me!”

I saw myself like clear glass, through which His light and glory shown, and I said, “Yes, let it be so, let You shine and be glorified through me, let me be like clear glass so that You and You alone are seen through me.”

January 18, 2017

Tonight, I was reading and came to this verse (John 7:29, AMP): “I know him myself because I come from his very presence and it was he personally who sent me.”

As I read this, I saw both Father and Son, and it was time. Without words They looked at each other with beautiful, settled love- a long look of heartbreaking love, because He was sent and it was time and They love us, so to send and to be sent was without question, but the pain They knew was coming! The unspeakable agony for the Son! The unbearable anguish of the Father and the Holy Spirit. But without question Jesus was going, because They love us. There was no hesitation, only unbreakable, self-sacrificing love.

January 19, 2017

Last night when I went to Him, saw Jesus immediately standing in the water, the water's surface beautiful with light.

“I receive You, Lord Jesus,” I was saying to Him when I was distracted by last night’s dream. Immediately irritated, but I pushed away the irritation and switched to faith. “Thank You for the tempering,” I declared, because I cannot let soulish shame keep me from Him, and I’m beginning to realize that these thoughts that cause shame are not always from me, they are like arrows of annoying distraction. I must immediately hand the thought over with open heart, releasing it and myself to the Lord and return to Him with settled trust. The quicker I do this, the less time is wasted.

I saw Jesus in the tomb, swing His legs down and stride out of there with joyful intent like a lion on the hunt.

Stepping over the threshold again and the again, longing for the day of complete, unbroken presence, and no confused or conflicted soul or clouded, fallen atmosphere to get in the way, only the fullness of His pure, perfect presence, nothing to breathe but that pure air, everything upheld and aligned in peace and righteousness.

“I come to You again,” I insisted, after sight broke apart, as does many times, my spiritual sight being very poor.

Jenny, you ravish My heart, Jesus said, so quietly.

“Bring it together, bring it together!” I cried out to Jesus. “But You are doing all things well,” I added, remembering this.

But you must pray with Me! Jesus reminded me swiftly of His words, strongly in one wordless moment.

I listened for His prayer; it was a throbbing, rising sound vibrating through His heart, resonating through His chest, filling the earth with a call of powerful longing of love. The love of the Creator. When I set my heart in with His, His longing filled me, and grew in great force and intensity, and I had to withdraw.

“Your prayer is a rising sound,” I said to Jesus in awe.

February 15, 2017

“By faith, I hold You, Prince of Life, in my arms.” I was sunk down into the light of His presence, floating in peace, my voice floating easily in these gentle waves. We are the resting place of God Himself! God! Our own Creator! He rests, living and loving, in our very spirits. And our lives rest, living and loving, in Him.

“Here I am!” (This is all that I am, I am nothing more than this, I can only offer You this, because it is all that I have.)

Oh, My sweetheart, Jesus said, deeply moved by love. The confession of my smallness, of my humanity, of my weakness, stirs up His love in this protective and also affirming way.

When I returned to Him, as He was drawing me into His arms, Jesus reminded me of a line from a song about Him, “When I am weak, then He is strong,” and I was glad to remember it.

“May You be glorified!” I cried out, suddenly realizing. “May You be glorified in my life! You are worthy! Receive the glory! Be glorified in me!” Because of all the work, so His glory should show through me, it must! My life must be to the praise of His glory, and whenever something beautiful or something clearly of Him shows throw, that displays His glory and His power to redeem and His authority over my life. So beautiful things must show through, to His glory, because Jesus put in a lot of work! He bore with me in long suffering love for years and now He should get the glory! Now He should rejoice in a harvest, His harvest! He should receive it, it is His by right.

I am not ashamed of you, Jesus told me, as I lifted my eyes to Him and without words, confessed myself to Him.

“You are without flaw, Yeshua,” I whispered to Him, and His answer was the expression in His face, which I cannot describe.

“Jesus, have mercy, have mercy on us, on humanity…”

I do, He replied simply.

May 9, 2017

Jesus showed me two glimpses of the warn nest of the upper space, so I have been returning to Him there, returning to the warmth of His arms and the relief of being with Jesus finally, having confessed all and found peace.

“No, no, having no distraction, none of that, none of that, nothing but a perfectly pure heart,” I cried out, having been caught up in some annoying judgmental thought. In heaven, there will be no such thoughts, never will they occur, never will they happen, never will they bother anyone, and I insisted that such thoughts had no place and no power where I was, by faith, because I wanted to rest in that place by faith. As I was speaking, Jesus pulled me into His love and I blissfully let the entire thing go and simply gave myself over to His love and approbation, until I had to leave to write this down.

I was cradling Jesus in my arms, His whole self at rest and His head nestled down against my shoulder and He is doing nothing but breathing, and I can wrap my arms around His shoulders and hold Jesus warmly and securely and pour love upon love upon love over Him, over His back that was flayed open by the whip, and been hung up so cruelly upon the cross in agony, but now Jesus is safe and sound and loved, completely at rest and breathing peacefully and adored, and no one mocks Him or rejects Him or shames Him, leaving Him in agony, instead, Jesus is sheltered, welcomed, cherished, adored, safe and sound and whole.

And I am not left alone in the dark, torn by terror, terribly, inexplicably hurt, left desecrated, bleeding innocence out into the night, not able to stop this, not able to defend myself or to keep myself from hurt. I am not all the crippling labels I picked up as I grew up; I am not barren. I am melting into light and hidden in innocence and breathed upon by God, I have no identity but what He gives me, which is my first identity, because He made me. And all that matters about my identity is that I exist just to know Him, to be with Him and to love Him.

“All glory to You for this,” I whispered to Him.

I receive it.

May 11, 2017

Yesterday I met with my prayer partner again after a break of a week. So I took over the verses that sit on my kitchen windowsill and opened the Bible to the Isaiah 54 passage, because Jesus pointed that one out to me, and I prayed on my knees for the Holy Spirit to prepare us and to prepare the place.

I had had to repent and repent that morning, because as usual, my flesh was put through the wringer and so I said to Jesus, “Here I am, Your weak one. It is perfectly clear that I can do nothing of myself, but as Your strength is made perfect in weakness, here I am! Do with me what You will.”

As we were praying, my prayer partner began to identify a certain type of problem in our local area. When she said this problem out loud, we both groaned aloud. As soon as I heard the symbolic name of this problem, the Lord was insisting on this passage that has that name in it. Once, twice, He insisted, so I sat up and grabbed my phone and typed in the first verse that I knew from that passage and the link came up and I was flipping through Isaiah to find it.

I found the passage and, moved by impulse, I lifted the Bible off the coffee table and swerving swiftly, placed it flat on the ground, where it seemed to hit with a great, resounding thud, and I fell down before it, my face inches above the page, and began to read the passage.

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was not really reading this passage and the fear of God came over the room. Audibly, this was my voice, but it was resounding and resonating with the Holy Spirit, with emotion and fervor and conviction and courage and authority that was not mine at all, it was my Lord Jesus’ own. With each word my eyes lit upon, His intent and thought and emotion came pouring into me like a stream, saturating the tone of my voice.

The Lord was full of power, absolute authority and purpose and not a shred of fear. Then He was full of yearning love and pity and resolute protection and then yearning love was pouring out of Him. Even my hands were stretched out in some way as I was reading; I was resting my weight on my elbows and my hands were reaching as if trying to call out to them to make peace, to make peace with Him.

When I reached the end of the passage, the heaviest anointing released us, so I was able to pray some in my own words. I prayed that the Lord lift up the flesh and blood from this entanglement, to separate them.

The effects of this prayer have yet to wear off. When I was hearing the Lord Jesus’ authority and fierce intent and the power that He has, it has filled me with the clean, enduring fear of the Lord, but also, because the passage holds His heart in other ways, it has filled me with adoration and love of Him more than before.

Afterward, we poured out worship and adoration to the Lord Jesus, and I thought about how He knelt down and washed the disciple’s feet! How astounding, how breathtaking, is His humility, His love.

All the authority and power are His, this power and authority is without end, beyond human comprehension, because He is God. It doesn’t matter how great the problem. I saw a glimpse, later that evening, of how much power will be necessary to take this world and cleanse it and to bring His church to complete unity, but the Lord most certainly has that power! It will not strain His reserves. He has no fear. He has no doubt. I am like an ant beside Him.

I saw a glimpse of the whole church, the whole temple of the Lord, all together, with all the different periods of history and nations and tongues and tribes, and all brought together from different churches, all made perfect, all put together, all in their rightful place and pouring out worship to the Lord and to His Christ and each being perfectly placed gave Him glory and glorified the whole place.

Everyone was glad for everyone else to be there and everyone rejoiced to see how beautifully everyone else was placed, because it was manifestly right. The Lord will make this happen, and the power He has to make this happen makes me know that I am a small ant, a grasshopper. But very loved.

I was dancing at the edge this huge assembly. I felt so much joy in the Lord that I was physically dancing while I was seeing this. I was like a small butterfly in an endless meadow of much more glorious persons, but I was loved and I was not embarrassed to be so small, but I rejoiced to be there and to have a part.

I am not saying that out of false humility- there were many, many persons there who were glorious and full of the power of the Lord, who were far greater than I am, but there was no embarrassment.They loved me and delighted in me and I in them. I was so glad they were in His Kingdom and had served our glorious Lord and they were so glad I was in His Kingdom and serving Him. I seemed to be on one side of a railing, slightly below and they leaned over the railing to greet me without words. There was joy in our Lord and recognition of family through Him.

Afterward, Jesus told me to look for His goodness, that would keep us from feeling defensive and wondering when the return blow might land. It doesn’t matter, the Lord has outseen and outmaneuvered already and instead has placed His goodness before us. The Lord did show forth His goodness to me, in fresh watermelon and my daughter’s beautiful little face and in the country side dappled in sun and shade, sleepy in the haze of the late afternoon heat.

Finally worked up courage to turn inward after all this.


Sweetheart, Jesus replied, His voice familiar! The same voice! That the Lord who slays all who stand against Him and against His Father’s will is the same One who calls me sweetheart! How is that even possible? But the Lord Jesus Christ who washed His disciple’s feet is the same One who is seated at the right hand of Abba’s throne, for Whom and to Whom all power and dominion were made. He has such a flawless heart. He is the same One who lives in me and I in Him. I am a member of His own Body, His own flesh and blood.

“Lord Jesus Christ, I love You, I love You,” I said, overwhelmed to be in His arms, my face against His shoulder, His own shoulder, the shoulder of flesh and blood that bore the whip that day.

Jenny, oh My Jenny… He replied, in that most familiar voice, full of emotion that I have known and heard in that phrase many times before.

For the last song of my time with Him, all we did was dance. It was floating, joy set free in motion. Jesus is living, warmly living and solid.

“Sing, all you morning stars together,” I called out in joy. “For there is only One God, and He is our God, this is our God, and He made us and we exist for Him!”


In that day

will deliver Israel from her enemies

and also from the rebel powers of evil and darkness.

His sharp and unrelenting,
great, and strong sword
will visit and punish Leviathan the swiftly fleeing serpent,
Leviathan the twisting and winding serpent;

and He, the Lord Jesus Christ,

will slay the monster that is in the sea.

In that day

it will be said of the redeemed nation of Israel,

A vineyard beloved and lovely;
sing a responsive song to it and about it!

I, the Lord, am its Keeper;
I water it every moment; lest anyone harm it,
I guard and keep it night and day.

Wrath is not in Me.
Would that the briers and thorns
were lined up against Me in battle!
I would stride in against them;
I would burn them up together.

Or else, let them take hold of My strength

and make complete surrender to My protection,

that they may make peace with Me!

Yes, let them make peace with Me!

-Isaiah 27:1-5

You are the hope of everyone on earth...
You crown the year with a bountiful harvest...
The wilderness becomes a lush pasture
and the hillsides blossom with joy.
The meadows are clothed with flocks of sheep,
and the valleys are carpeted with grass.
They all shout and sing for joy!

-Psalm 65:5, 11-13 NLT (May 26)

Come, Lord Jesus.