Bonnie J Martin

bonniejmartin

Compassion House

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Compassion House is approaching its 4th anniversary. In August 2013, an overwhelming presentation was made at a small country church that stirred the hearts of some to begin a mission within our very doors. A mission that could be served by those that are called to a mission field but one close to home, not in another state or another country.   So after months of planning, it happened.

Not heavily attended by those in need but a few sought it out. Spiritual counseling and prayer always comes first. Then a trip to the pantry. Items in the pantry limited by household size.

Friendships have been made. Unlikely acquaintances have entered the doors. Rare moments of sharing God’s grace and mercy with a few that would not enter the doors of the sanctuary on a Sunday morning. Friends finding themselves in a moment of need where compassion may be shared unconditionally. No judgement here.

But does the very act of compassion sometimes encourage entitlement. That has been a discouraging thought within the workers. But compassion didn’t pick and choose who among the five-thousand should receive bread and fish. It was given. It was received. The deal was made and the outcome was left to God.

Should the doors of a mission be any different?  Should a mission emulate the very One we are on mission for?  Follow the greatest example of compassion that ever existed?

And leave the outcome to God….

Protection power

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Who are protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.  1 Peter 1:5 (NASB)
My doors get locked.
I wear a seatbelt.
Sunscreen is a must.
I even set an alarm for security.
I watch my surroundings when out and about.
If the dogs bark outside, I look out the window with caution and a pounding heart.
None of these things protect me.  Not really.
The seatbelt may have held tight if that young man on the phone would have rear-ended me last week.  I saw him miles back at a stop sign.  Eyes glued to the tiny screen.  I wanted to stop then and approach his window and ask him just what he was doing. 
Then when smoking tires left black streaks on the pavement behind me I really wanted to stop, get out, and give him a good mama-talking!  Looking over the top of my glasses!!  Jaw clinched tight!!
But I didn’t.
I prayed.  Prayed for his and others protection.  Physical protection.  But then remembering physical protection doesn’t give eternal protection.
The power of those brakes to slow a car wasn’t the only power on display in that moment. 
The saving power of God was there.  At least for me. 
Do you know if you are “protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation?”  Are you ready for that revelation in the last time?  Are you sharing with others that saving power?
There is a protection plan much better than any insurance you can buy.
If you have it, share it.
If you need it, seek it.
 

Memories and ministry

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I grew up in Greenville, Florida.  It is a small town that you could easily miss if you blink as driving through.  It has my roots.  It holds my memories of childhood.
I can’t imagine growing up anywhere else.  And as I remember, I remember the people I really wanted to be friends with and those that never treated me as an outcast.  I remember hurt from the ones that I really wanted to be friends with.  I remember isolation and ugly attitudes.  Bad memories for a childhood, huh?
But those that never treated me as an outcast.  They always treated me the same.  I don’t remember pain from them.  I remember a camaraderie that I didn’t ever seem to quite have with my “friends.”  Strange statement, I know.  But let me explain.
Growing up in the 1970s in North Florida kept me from really experiencing what it was for those that had to live in a time of segregation.  Everyone attended the same schools.  Used the same restrooms.  No one had some predetermined preferential treatment.  Or at least in my eyes they didn’t.  Everyone had the same opportunity as me.  Or so I thought.
I certainly felt no special entitlement.  As a matter of fact, I never felt quite good enough.  Something was missing in me and I couldn’t put my finger on it.  A longing in my heart for inclusion.  To belong.  To have unconditional friends.
Fast-forward 40 years. (Man, time flies!)  There is a little church building in the middle of nowhere.  Yes, isolation is still something I am drawn to.  I call this little building my “church home.”  And it isn’t the building as much as it is the people. 
There have been those in the last 20 years of membership that have reminded me of my “friends” from childhood.  They leave something to be desired from a friend.  I honestly shouldn’t call them friends; let’s say acquaintances.  Then there are those that I know I could call at 2:00 am and they would come running.  There is a difference.  This is segregation.  And it has nothing to do with the color of our skin!
It has everything to do with attitudes and opinions.  And it has everything to do with belonging.
My church home started a ministry outreach 4 years ago.  Spiritual and physical nutrition.  Spiritual first!
But He answered and said, “It is written, “Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.”  Matthew 4:4 (NASB)
Physical nutrition will only take you to the grave eventually.  But spiritual nutrition prepares you for eternal life!
This week may be the final week of that ministry.  But as I look back to the time, I remember my childhood.  And the friendships that have been forged in 4 years remind me of those that never treated me as an outcast.  No segregation in this ministry. 
So, I am here asking you to pray.  Sincerely, earnestly pray over the next few days.  Pray for God’s guidance as decisions are made.  Pray God’s will be done.  Pray that the compassion poured out will be from Him and not from people that feel too busy to reach out and love.
I welcome your thoughts!

Shaking out a measure

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The call came at an unexpected time and certainly from an unexpected person.  It was a call that screamed she cared.  And in the midst of a self-centered pity party that has gone on way too long, she shook me.
She made me think of just one year prior when we all went on retreat.  And we spoke of being shaken. 
“Give, and it will be given to you.  They will pour into your lap a good measure – pressed down, shaken together, and running over.  For by your standard of measure it will be measured to you in return.”  Luke 6:38 (NASB)
Even the house shook.  We felt it.  We commented on it.  None of us will forget the shaking.
We gathered pearls that weekend.  Pearls of goodness.  Pearls of truth.  Precious moments of revelation.
And she shook me.  She reminded me that it isn’t about me at all.  It is about her and you and any other that may need to hear some good news. 
For the ones sitting in the hospital waiting on more tests.  For the ones that received the result of a test and it might not have been what they wanted to hear.  For the ones, like me, that just can’t seem to pull it together on their own.
For the ONE who can meet each one in each moment of need. 
So, she reminded me that there is a greater purpose for each of us.  She reminded me of days gone by.  She reminded me that we are here to serve God.
Such a great measure to share!
Are you sharing yours?

Residence

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I drape a blanket over my shoulders.  It brings comfort from the cool morning air. 
I wake and rise to click keys.  It brings comfort from the jumbled thoughts in my brain.
I pray to God.  He brings comfort to a troubled soul.
And as I pray, I list Who He Is.
Shelter.  Thinking of this old blanket bringing warmth.  This old thing can’t hold a candle to His Shelter.
Provider.  It goes much farther than physical provisions.  He is the Provider of my salvation.
Resident.  Ah-ha.  Yes.  R.E.S.I.D.E.N.T.  His Holy Spirit is a resident inside me. 
I like a clean house.  I enjoy a neat, tidy space to dwell.  Not that my house is a picture of this at all!!  But I do enjoy it.  Everything in its place.  Because there is a place for everything.  When I go to grab a mug for coffee, I want to know that it is in the same place each time. 
I am a resident in my house.  I get to decide if the laundry gets done.  And if it doesn’t there are no clean clothes to wear.  And without clean clothes I just might stink.
Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own?  1 Corinthians 6:19 (NASB)
Am I keeping a tidy space for the Creator of the universe?  Or am I hoarding junk that keeps His residence in shambles?  I have some house-cleaning to do.  What about you?

Continuing…

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So many of these posts seem incomplete. As I read back over my heart and mind and thoughts poured out in letters and words and pictures, many feel unfinished. Like reading one chapter of a book and not continuing to chapter two. What happens next?  There is no way to know unless you continue.

But what importance does that continuing hold. At times it seems completely useless and a silly waste of time. And then other times it seems life depends on it. Like air for my lungs, it is necessary to keep living. 
Which of these words may be life-offering relief?

If only one is rescued from the flood isn’t the effort of continuing worth it?  To that one it is everything. And if that one is rescued it may lead to that one being the one to reach out to another. 

So continuing isn’t wasted.

Finishing doesn’t become vanity.  It isn’t a perilous fight to the finish but it is a journey.  An adventure of sorts.

Seeing what is just around the bend.

Reaching out and taking another step and moving forward. 

Continuing the journey….

Unraveling

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He wanted to know how many t-shirts could be made from that field.  His growing mind always wondering.  Good question, I thought.  I have no clue.  But that white…
Bursting white amidst the still green foliage.  The tender purity of the contents erupting from such a sturdy stalk.  The thick, hard walls of the boll no longer able to contain the pure white begging to be seen.  So much light has been poured into that boll and that purity will not be contained any longer.
Weren’t his words bursting from a place of purity?  He doesn’t yet have the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders and mind.  A mind consumed with the current worry of the day and the day before and the day to come.  His was a simple question. 
Then Jesus again spoke to them, saying, “I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life.”  John 8:12 (NASB)
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.  Matthew 5:14-15 (NASB)
Those bolls of white will be twisted and pulled and stretched and combined.  It has to die to get to its final purpose.  Pulled from that hard stalk so that it can go forth and be seen; be used.
Thin fibers twisted together, tightly woven for strength.
And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart.  Ecclesiastes 4:12 (NASB)
But what if one of those fibers begin to unravel?  What if one of those strands break?
Sometimes the pressure becomes too much.  It overwhelms and that tightly woven cord can find one sliver of fiber unraveling.  Curling and flapping in the breeze.  Experiencing a harrowing ride in turbulence.  Blowing away from the safety of the remaining cord.  Drawing away from the security found in the tightly woven space of strength. 
But if you are flapping in the breeze, you can’t quite find your place in that t-shirt.  The fibers holding tight for their intended purpose.  Sometimes that errant strand has to be cut away.  The usefulness expended fully.  Likely to cause others to come loose.  Best for all to be cut away.
But sometimes that loose thread should be tucked back in.  Allowing the others to surround and hold tight so the unraveling subsides.  A knot tied to keep it in.  So, with future use the knot tightens to keep that one secure.
Fibers of purity woven in a tapestry of life.  Fibers woven into usefulness.  Holding tightly to keep the good form.  Moving in fluid tandem.  Realizing those fibers hold you even when you think you should be cut off.
Was his simple but complicated question stated for that very purpose?  For him to pull me back into security.  Perhaps one day he will know how many t-shirts can be produced from a field of cotton.  Perhaps one day he will know how he pulled his mama back in and tucked and tied an errant strand wanting to be cut off, but not quite expended. 

What are you doing?

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God has plans for each of us.  Paul knew that God wanted to use him to further His Kingdom.  He accepted the plan and made good on the purpose God placed in him. 

We are no different.  Sometimes we may fail to fully recognize His purpose and plan for us.  We may decide His plan is not the path we want to take and completely ignore His calling.  We may dibble-dabble in it at times and find enormous peace about doing His will only to slip away and let fear consume us.

But the calling never leaves.  It sits there waiting.  Longing for us to pick it back up to do that absolute best thing we could ever do.  Obey God.

He provides the grace and the mercy.  It all comes from Him.  There is nothing more we could need when we are in the midst of His will.  Complete sufficiency.  Beyond abundant provision.  Sweet fellowship.

But the world jumps in.  Desperately seeking to devour us, to keep us from living in the space God has for us.  Instead we find ourselves withering in that space because we listen to lies and believe them.  And begin to turn away from that space of peace.  Oh, that sacred space of peace!!!

If you have ever had it, you know it.  If you have ever had it, you want it again.  If you have ever had it, you long for it more than a big refreshing gulp of cold water in the middle of August in South Georgia.  Y’all know what I mean!!!

In Philippians 1, Paul makes the realization that to stay on in the flesh requires fruitful labor.  No different for you and me.

And then in 1 Timothy 1, he proclaims Who put him into service.  The service is not man-made, but Divinely appointed.

What are you doing?  I don’t really need to know.  But you do.

Are you living in the knowledge that the service you “do” is not your own?  Here again, I don’t need to know.  But you do.

Do you know Who placed it in you to do that which gets done every day?  And is that which gets done that which you were called to do? 

Seek Him and know that His plans for you are already appointed.  He desires your willingness to do His plans.  And there we find sweet peace.

Batter-up

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Did I hear what I think I heard?  Did he say those words that disturbed my mind and heart and soul?  Those words shook me.   And then did I just sit there and say nothing?  Even though I wanted to get up and leave and never look back. I did nothing. 

My youngest enjoys playing baseball. He is  one member of a team that had an all-day tournament yesterday. A day full of heat. Boys playing hard and adults mouthing off. What was the reason for the play?  For the boys or for the adults?

And just what is it that we as adults want to show our children?  Is it being right in making a call?  Was he safe or out?  What is more important, having your opinion affirmed or teaching kids fairness and humility?  

And just why do we cheer at a job well done while the opposing team jeers at the same thing?  Seems to me it becomes evidence of the power of good and evil. Both have an agenda and the agenda is very similar. To win. 

The ultimate goal of the game is to win. Or is it?  Is it rather to play the game in such a way as to show your opponents why it is you play?  

“Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord rather than for men,”

Colossians 3:23 NASB

http://bible.com/100/col.3.23.nasb

And did I become as they in sitting back and observing all that was going on with nothing showing different in me?  What would have been the response I should have made when a mom gave evidence of disgust over a well-played move by our team?  And not ten minutes later her son, on the opposing team, was removed from the game with a possible broken bone. 

Oh, dear God in heaven, do we even realize what we do?

And what exactly had the man who set-up tents and fan and food for the team said?  Did the words he spoke line-up with the actions he had taken?  He went above and beyond to provide for the team. But those words. I really hope I heard wrong. Because I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t ask for clarification. Why didn’t I ask for clarification?  Is his church different than mine?  Is the one he worships different from the One I worship?  He talked of his church. 

I am disturbed. By me as much as the words. I did and said nothing. I sat there like some inanimate object and allowed the boys within ear-shot of those words to be influenced by the man that had provided comfort. They look up to him. He has their admiration. He has captured their attention in the provisions. 

“For the lips of an adulteress drip honey And smoother than oil is her speech; But in the end she is bitter as wormwood, Sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death, Her steps take hold of Sheol. She does not ponder the path of life; Her ways are unstable, she does not know it.”

Proverbs 5:3-6 NASB

http://bible.com/100/pro.5.3-6.nasb

I pray I heard wrong. I pray the impression I received was wrong. I pray if given another opportunity I will ask for clarification and encourage a different path. 

Will you pray for me that if I ever hear those words or anything else that disturbs so deeply that I will speak truth in the middle of the situation?  That if a person expresses desire to go to hell that I will say something. 

Anything. 

Life-giving words. 

That when an adult, who has the attention of a child, when making the dark road seem glamorous, expresses pleasures for that journey, that I will boldly speak the words necessary at that moment. 

That I will not be a coward but the warrior I rightly am through the blood of Jesus. 

And will you pray for all the boys that play hard?  That they will know the true reason for living. That they will play the game in testimony of God. 

And pray for parents. That we will boldly speak truth and life into our kids. 

And pray for that man and many others like him. For those that may go about doing what appears to be good but falls short in the execution. 

Because unless you are doing whatever it is you do for the glory of God, you (and I) are doing it in vain. 

Finding Peace

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She has this way of presenting questions that stir the soul to look below the surface.  And it doesn’t take many words.  “Are you picking up your pen?”  That’s all it took to shake me.
Peeling back layers of the unnecessary and swimming through murky waters of confusion that lie between the surface and that place where the soul finds peace.  Situations do not remove that peace, only the one that allows situations to bombard and discombobulate allows the peace to be removed.  Salvation attention deficit disorder.  SADD.
The sacred begs for attention but the world pulls and tugs and grabs the face to look away from the holy.  The neck muscles strain.  Peripheral vision can only reach so far.  To have the greedy hands of the world removed from the face so holy can be gazed upon straight on is where liberty is found.  Peace is found.  An unobstructed view of holy.
Too much exposure to the world binds and enslaves.  A vice-grip constricts and confines.  Chains drag heavy and burdensome.  Because the view of the holy becomes marred in allowing those greedy hands to steal the show.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.  Matthew 5:8 (NASB)
The longing of the heart.  The heart cry.
As the deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for You, O God.  My soul thirsts for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God?  My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”  These things I remember and I pour out my soul within me.  For I used to go along with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God, with the voice of joy and thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival.  Psalm 42:1-4 (NASB)
The greedy hands of the world only hold as long as allowed.  Understanding the diagnosis of salvation attention deficit disorder is the beginning of recognizing the need to refocus perspective.  Shifting the gaze back to the holy and finding the precious gift of peace.
The greedy hands fall away.  The murky clears.  Organization in chaos.  No better muscle relaxer.  Son-block!  Perfect rest.  Perfect peace.  Thanksgiving.