Author: Karen Foster

I'd like to say I've changed, but after decades of living, I still have the same four passions. My relationship with Jesus, spending time with family, attending live theater, and writing devotions & first-person stories about a loving, faithful God who reveals Himself in our every day circumstances.

Stuck in Self-Condemnation?

Three women, two inmates and I, sit around a metal table in jail. Heads bowed, we momentarily take our eyes off ourselves and seek the Lord.

We each thank the Lord aloud for specific blessings in our lives rather than ask for more.

Voices soften, noses sniffle as we mention the good in our lives;

Acknowledge God is good.

After the last Amen, I gaze at two women’s faces, once forlorn, now radiant from meeting with the Lord.

Women forgiven, now able to “go in peace” like the woman sinner who bathed Jesus’ feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, and anointed His feet with perfume. (Luke 7:36-50)

Prior to those prayers, we had discussed our struggle with sin.

“For that which I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15)

We discussed being broken.

“Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death?” (Romans 7:24)

We discussed salvation that only comes “through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 7:25)

However, knowing God’s Word and owning it are two different things.

“I’m a Christian, but I keep beating myself up,” the inmate said, “because I know better, but I keep sinning.”

Just like the “wretched man.”

But unlike the Apostle Paul, this female inmate was stuck in self-condemnation. Like a fly caught in a spider’s web, she squirmed through self-effort to free herself from guilt and shame, powerless to escape.

I’ve been stuck there too.

What to do?

Return to God’s Word: Truth takes precedent over human emotions or understanding.

Claim the facts:  “If we confess our sins He is faithful, and willing to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)

Trust God’s character: “But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved).” (Ephesians 2:4,5)

Rejoice knowing: “There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ.” (Romans 8:1)

And because we can rejoice in the Lord even as we sit in a county jail, we bowed our heads in Thanks giving.

Does a Broken Spirit Hurt?

  I’m done!” I fussed. “I refuse to plant something else in that hole!”

Those angry words, along with the memory of my husband and daughter chopping down my Japanese maple, were like television re-runs in my head a week after the fact (previous blog).

I’d confessed my sin before God and apologized to my family for my emotional outburst, but I’d rewind the tape, stuck in self condemnation.

I knew I was forgiven, but the weight of sin and my inability to walk in a manner worthy of Christ held me captive.

When I shared my sorrow with others, I was told to lighten up. “You’re justified in your anger. I’d be furious too.”

Perhaps, but God used that felled tree to prune my heart and rip out the root of bitterness  that had been growing inside of me long before that autumn day.

And the process was painful.

Not unlike a broken bone whose fracture has to be re-aligned in order to heal properly.

The image of wearing sackcloth and covering my head in ashes as a sign of repentance became a Biblical truth that finally went from my head to my heart. And left me …

Broken.

Which isn’t a spiritually bad place to be.

Because Psalm 51:17 says, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

For that’s when spiritual transformation and healing begins.

Because the Lord “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3).

Not unlike the sinful woman who brought an alabaster jar of perfume to a Pharisee’s house where Jesus was dining. “And she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them…Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” (Luke 7:36-50).

As God restored to me the joy of His salvation, I longed to be like that woman and show my adoration towards Christ who forgives sin and tells me to “go in peace.”

Instead of pouring perfume on His feet, I erased the tape of re-runs in my head.

And where the Japanese maple once stood in my yard, I ate my words and planted a fragrant Italian Cypress.

Ever green; ever a reminder that even in this situation,

Beauty can rise from ashes and mourning turn to joy

When Christ is allowed to be the Gardener of my soul.

Frightened of Sin?

Halloween is this week: Television stations air scary movies. Businesses decorate with cobwebs and spiders. Kids dress up like ghoulish monsters.

When I asked my family what frightens them, my husband responded: “You.”

I don’t blame him.

Last week, our family was working in the yard. I was in good spirits, shoveling gravel with my teenage son and my daughter’s boyfriend. Then I turned around and saw my twelve-year-old Japanese maple lying on the ground. My husband and daughter thought the tree was too close to our house and chopped it down.

Steam didn’t come from my ears, but profanity spewed from my lips. My face didn’t turn red, but if looks could have killed…

Throwing my rake on the ground, I blasted them with my words like bullets from a Tommy gun, and ran away in tears.

Even Jonah from the Bible could not have been more outraged when God appointed a worm and wind to destroy his shade tree.

Why the public confession?

Because a butchered tree may be upsetting, but it does not excuse an ungodly response.

My family apologized profusely; they had no idea. And before the sun set on my anger, I asked them to forgive me. We laugh about my crazed behavior.

But sin is no laughing matter.

It frightens me to know sin lingers in my heart, waiting for an opportune moment to rear itself.

“For from the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, all sexual immorality, theft, lying, and slander” (Matthew 15:19).

Isn’t it easy to walk in the Spirit instead of the flesh when there’s no agitation? But add a pinch of stress, a pound of unmet expectations, or a felled tree and suddenly I’m staring at my flawed humanity.

My hope: “If we confess our sin, God is faithful and willing to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”  (1 John 1:9).

My consolation: “Karen (my emphasis) was washed clean (purified by a complete atonement for sin and made free from the guilt of sin), and Karen was consecrated (set apart, hallowed), and Karen was justified (pronounced righteous, by trusting) in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Holy Spirit of our God.” (1 Corinthians 6:11, Amplified version).

My assurance: God uses even this…a felled Japanese maple…to teach me I’m a work in progress, relying on His grace.

Why a Mammogram?

House phone rings while I’m on the couch in my living room, sipping coffee, and reading my Bible. I allow the message machine to answer.

“Hello, Karen. This is Patty from the Women’s Imaging Center. Please call our office. We need to schedule another mammogram.”

My pulse quickens.

Another? What’s wrong with the mammogram I had two days ago?

I walk to the kitchen and replay the message.

It’s probably nothing, but then again…

There’s a reason October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.

Pink memorabilia such as t-shirts, water bottles, and bandannas are on sale in retail stores. And every grocery store transaction affords me the opportunity to donate dollars towards “Hope for a Cure.”

More than once this month, I gave money in memory of two friends who died from breast cancer, and one who survived.

Because I witnessed their battle for life, I refuse to gamble with my health. Each year, I have a mammogram. I’d rather give blood than have my breasts flattened like pancakes, but early detection increases survival.  

Last week, I went for my annual mammogram. I joked with the technologist; asked for an 8 x 10 copy while she placed my breast on a platform and lowered another platform from above, until there was enough compression to make my eyes bulge. As the digital image of my breast was taken, she told me, “Hold your breath.”

Part of me always fails to breathe again until my test results come back normal.

Even now, as I dial the Imaging Center, I have to remind myself to breathe deep. Ignore the warm tingling on the back of my neck.

Patty is just the messenger. There’s empathy in her voice, but no explanation as she schedules another mammogram.

“Have a nice weekend,” she says, before hanging up.

Sure thing.

I slump on the couch, swallow lukewarm coffee, hoping to drown the worst-case scenarios percolating in my head.

My Bible is open to Psalm 121, the place I paused when the phone rang. “I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from whence shall my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber.”  

I lift up my eyes as I touch my right breast; the one in question.

And wait between today’s imaginary what ifs and the reality of next week’s test results.

Assured that even in this circumstance, God knows, He is my help ….

Even when “what ifs” happen.

Which Church Does God Attend?

Amazing grace how sweet the sound…”

Voices rose in unison, but it was high school students instead of a robe-clad choir that sang the lyrics.

Harmonious music filled the building, but it was acoustical guitars rather than a piped organ that played the notes.

Florescent lights rather than religious fresco paintings stared from the ceiling.

Wooden bleachers instead of mahogany pews,

A plain wooden cross on a concrete wall instead of stain-glassed windows….

This was the scene in a high school gym, chapel service in a Christian school.

No visual match for the magnificent architecture and religious artifacts I’d witnessed on a trip to Europe where Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox cathedrals dominated the landscape.

And yet, in this remote, unassuming school, God’s Spirit was present.

Wooing teenagers; igniting hearts for Christ.

Youthful hands, raised heavenward, proclaimed God’s holiness.

Troubled souls came forward and asked for prayer.

As a parent, I worshiped with the student body; observed a glimpse of God’s grace and glory revealed in “His church” which isn’t made of bricks and mortar.

“Do you not know that you are a temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16)

 Can I wrap my mind around that fact?

Regardless of church affiliation or denomination, as a follower of Christ, I belong to the:

Body of Christ (Romans 12:5)

Bought with His blood (Acts 20:28)

Brought together as one to “worship Him in Spirit and Truth” (John 4:24)

“For we are the temple of the living God; just as God said, ‘I will dwell in them and walk among them; and I will be their God, and they shall be My people.” (2 Corinthians 6:16)

 Surely the splendor of a cathedral is reminiscent of Solomon’s Temple; a microcosm of God’s own beauty and majesty.

But Jesus told a Samaritan woman the place of worship isn’t important. How people worship matters.

“Woman, believe me, an hour is coming when neither in this mountain, nor in Jerusalem, shall you worship the Father. But an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth; for such people the father seeks to be His worshipers. God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4: 21, 23,24)

God is spirit, He is everywhere.

And “the spirit or the soul of man, as influenced by the Holy Spirit, must worship God, and have communion with him. Spiritual affections, as shown in fervent prayers, supplications, and thanksgivings, form the worship of an upright heart, in which God delights and is glorified.” (Matthew Henry’s Commentary)

Even in this place….chapel service at a high school gym.