Treasure, Treasure, - Everywhere!!!




My eyes began to flood with tears as I stepped onto the prison grounds. I’ve heard of standing on Holy Ground before, but this was the first time that I literally felt it press against the souls of my feet. I could feel the very power and presence of the Spirit of the Living God behind these walls. It seems strange to find Him in the last place where most people would choose to go. But it’s not strange at all.

As I entered the camp, signs of imprisonment were everywhere – the bars on windows, the chained fences, and guards. These were sure signs that I had entered the other side of the prison system. For three days I walked throughout this facility. I met many inmates while I was there, but I did not see a single prisoner.

I saw beautiful women. Precious sisters. Fellow travelers. Broken people. Victorious saints. Hurting children of God. Best friends. I saw people who are the same as you and me. But I saw no prisoners. With the eyes of Jesus I saw only these precious treasures of God. Beautiful, beautiful treasures.

We were greeted with cheers, tears, and hugs as we entered the faith-based dorm. These women are part of a program based on the Bible. Our meeting with them felt like a family reunion. I recognized the resemblance in our brokenness and I knew that we shared the same blood line. We even looked alike in many ways. The overwhelming presence of God allowed the tears to flow as holy women praised God in their weakness. Their dancing and singing for the Lord proved that no chains on earth were holding these women back. I immediately fell in love with them and we became like best friends during our visit.

It became clear to me how forgotten these treasures are. They hunger for outside contact. Just our presence told them that they were valued. At one point the staff gave our team these tall chairs to sit on – I called them Pope Chairs because they really stood above the common people. It wasn’t long before we abandoned those high and mighty thrones so we could sit among our sisters. It is here in this church-behind-walls where the dividing line between “us and them” is erased. I experienced a simple honesty and brokenness and oneness like I have often yearned for in many churches I’ve attended. We had no pretenses to hold up – no masks to wear. We came together as lost and blind children who had been gloriously rescued by our Heavenly Father, and nothing binds hearts together stronger than that. My prayer is that more “free” Christians who are imprisoned by Satan’s deception will experience this kind of a tremendously liberating experience – perhaps even by going to prison!

Our yard experience was breathtaking. Many precious women were blessed. Some women feared getting out of prison, but no wonder. I remember how I wanted to stay in treatment. The fear of going back to my self-defeating life felt like a prison sentence in itself. The fear of rejection from a world requiring perfection was enormous. The fear of failing and falling short of society’s standards was overwhelming. So my heart broke for these precious women, because I vividly remember being taken from my home because of my actions. I recognized their pain because it had been my own pain. I heard those same hellish lies that screamed, “You are worthless. You are what you did! You are forever condemned.” It was such a joy to see many women set free. Many women came to realize that the very bars they once cursed were actually protecting them and drawing them nearer to their Maker. We saw women receiving a spiritual pardon from Jesus, which is much better than a pardon from the state.

The Word says, “You must lose your life to gain it.” So many of the daughters we visited in prison had gained abundant life by losing their lives in brokenness and humility. This is also my prayer for “free” Christians on the outside – for believers who are going through the religious motions of church, while not experiencing the exhilarating freedom of losing their lives sacrificially for Jesus. I know what that’s like because I wore those hypocritical religious chains for too long. I know of no better way to gain freedom than to lose your life by serving “the least of these” priceless treasures. I am forever changed and beautifully ruined by my visit to Vandalia.

Hemorrhoidectomy ( I think it's a word)


I asked my dear friend, the owner of the brush, to write from her perspective of the whole toilet, paint brush incident. Of course, I wanted you all who were reading to capture the moment, so I decided to recreate the day. So, even though this isn't the original picture, it is very close to what my dear friend saw when she entered my rest room to relieve herself of her coffee habit....... Friends from P31, notice the beautiful pink book. So, enjoy part two of lesson of the day.



Part 2 Lesson of the day!!!








I always enjoy sitting with my friend on her front porch. This particular morning I had one too many cups of coffee and needed to use her bathroom. Rushing in so I could get back to our in-depth conversation on the pro's and con's of owning an ice cream truck, I was immediately grateful that I looked before I sat because there, in the toilet, was my paint brush, extra long handle, sticking straight up from the toilet. My mind went where is shouldn't but I quickly composed myself and pulled the brush from the bowl, placing it ever so cautiously into the sink. Knowing my friend I just sat on the pot and did my duty, not bothering to flush the discolored paint filled water because, quite honestly, the designer in me was curiously what color it would make when I was done. As I sat there contemplating life, my mind, once again wandered where is shouldn't and I began to come up with all kinds of reasons why she put MY favorite paint brush in her toilet. Was she getting back at me for all the innocent sarcasm that had gone between us for the last year? Surely our friendship was stronger than that. I knew she would begin to wonder why I was taking so long so I finished, flushed, and washed, knowing I would never be able to look at that paint brush the same way again, or even my friend for that matter. My hysterical laughter broke into her deep meditation as I opened the door. I told her what I had found and the look on her face was worth the humiliation of almost receiving a hemorrhoidectomy. She gave me some lame excuse about how I had taught her to soak her paint brushes and the beauty of the toilet was that all she had to do was soak and flush. Easy cleanup. I KNOW I NEVER taught her that. Anyway, I was glad to hear that she wasn't mad at me for any reason and our friendship is still solid as a porcelain toilet bowel.

Written by: Christine Joy



Monday, May 12, 2008 (Part 1 for those of you who missed this blog)

Lesson of the day!!!!!

Note to self, don't leave paint brush in toilet when company is coming over. Especially if the company is also the owner of the paint brush. No joke, I did just that and I got totally busted, caught red handed. My good friend, running buddy and fellow book end came by today to join me on the front porch but before she sat down she asked if she could use my bathroom, of course she could, why would there be a reason not to let her?
Reason, I had been painting earlier that day and had everything cleaned up and put away except for one little item, the brush, not just any brush but my friend who was now getting ready to sit on the pot's brush. I could blame her for this, she is the one who taught me to just leave the brush in water until I had time to rinse it out. OK, she used a bucket, I chose the toilet, it was flushed, clean water and it wasn't like anyone was going to eat off the thing.
Needless to say, when she came back out side to join me on my front porch, I was just a tad embarrassed by her question. She wanted to know why there was a paint brush in the toilet, I proceeded to remind her of the lesson she had taught me last summer while painting my daughters room and then informed her that it was her paint brush I was giving a little bath to.
Now, this friend of mine has truly been given the gift of laughter and humor, which made the situation even better. I can't even imagine if someone I hadn't known stopped by and they do and tried to use my john, what would they have thought? I actually thought it was a pretty sticking bright idea if I do say so myself. Though, I think I will buy my friend a new paint brush instead of returning the old one. What can I say, thank God for good friends......

My BFF, a little TLC with a little OMG!!!!!


Today my BFF came over to give me a little TLC and I was so OMG when I realized how much she really loves me. She understands the ministry of the suddenly and when I needed her most, she was there. Today is the day I rejoice in a friendship that has been in the making for years. A friendship that has been tested by fire, almost taken out by pride and restored by the Spirit. I have to say, I feel like my BFF has been given the raw end of the friendship when it comes to the two of us. She is everything I dream I could be, a lady from the inside out and someone I want to be when I one day grow up. She is quiet, I am loud. She is gentle and I am hard. She is soft where I am rough, can any two people be so different? Yet, I have to say we do have away of complimenting one another and I believe that our friendship is a testimony in itself to what God can do with two broken people tired of fixing each other and ready to follow in His footsteps and not the others.... My BFF is always there for me and when she isn't I am proud of her, because I know how hard it is for her not to. Thank you my best friend once removed you Rock!!!!!!!

Lesson of the day!!!!!


Note to self, don't leave paint brush in toilet when company is coming over. Especially if the company is also the owner of the paint brush. No joke, I did just that and I got totally busted, caught red handed. My good friend, running buddy and fellow book end came by today to join me on the front porch but before she sat down she asked if she could use my bathroom, of course she could, why would there be a reason not to let her?


Reason, I had been painting earlier that day and had everything cleaned up and put away except for one little item, the brush, not just any brush but my friend who was now getting ready to sit on the pot's brush. I could blame her for this, she is the one who taught me to just leave the brush in water until I had time to rinse it out. OK, she used a bucket, I chose the toilet, it was flushed, clean water and it wasn't like anyone was going to eat off the thing.


Needless to say, when she came back out side to join me on my front porch, I was just a tad embarrassed by her question. She wanted to know why there was a paint brush in the toilet, I proceeded to remind her of the lesson she had taught me last summer while painting my daughters room and then informed her that it was her paint brush I was giving a little bath to.


Now, this friend of mine has truly been given the gift of laughter and humor, which made the situation even better. I can't even imagine if someone I hadn't known stopped by and they do and tried to use my john, what would they have thought? I actually thought it was a pretty sticking bright idea if I do say so myself. Though, I think I will buy my friend a new paint brush instead of returning the old one. What can I say, thank God for good friends......

Returning back to my roots!!!!!




Returning back to my roots!!!!!!

Friday I returned back to the roots of my recovery, went back to where I started, a place where I had not visited in a very long time. I was asked to be the guest speaker at a recovery meeting through our local hospital. I had not stepped through the doors of a secular meeting in years, the area of my pride is something I had to truly get under control before I placed myself back into the shoes of those I use to wear.

Early on in my recovery I become arrogant and prideful and that had to be broken. So, here I was sitting in a room with woman all around me who had hours, days and months, celebrating there clean date. I remember being in those shoes of early recovery and seeing someone like me today and thinking “they have no idea what it is like, how can they relate to my brokenness?” I had been praying for them and the meeting for sometime and felt like the Lord said go with only me in your heart and the message on your lips.

This was a big request because my training wheels for sometime have been my notes and preparation. I am learning now that the last four years have been preparation so that I do not have to prepare when it comes to sharing the hope I have in Jesus Christ. The immediate connection I made with these woman was that every single one of them in the room had children and were fighting to either keep them or get them back. And my testimony began on Mothers day 2003 when my children almost lost me.

As I sat there listening to the check in going on, each lady going around sharing her drug of choice, clean date and a word feeling for the day I quickly remembered how ugly early recovery actually was. The brokenness is so beautiful and it gives the word ugly a whole new meaning. Ugly in the sense of how the women see themselves and feel about who they are. The ugliness of where we have come from and what we have done is so loud in those early days.
I fell in love with these ladies immediately as I remembered how I felt the very first time I introduced myself as a drug addict with just days clean. Ashamed, guilty and convicted is how I felt and ugly was all I knew…. Early recovery is about learning that we are not what we do, or what had been done to us but rather who we are in the Lord. Praise God for Roots that keep us grounded so that we can give back to others what was given to us.

Perfectly Forgiven


Perfectly Forgiven

My words were harsh and guilt was my weapon. Stuck between wanting to let go and holding so tight that growth would be impossible. It was a typical Monday morning when my twelve year old daughter came into my room to inform me that she did not feel well. Instead of reaching out with a heart of compassion, I flung accusations and criticism into the air in hopes that she would catch them and feel bad enough, guilty enough to try to go to school for the day. I was frustrated once again, not wanting to deal with that phone call. “What must they think of me”? Those calls had become regular over the last couple weeks due to the fact that she had caught a horrible cold over Thanksgiving break. Here is the catch when it comes to school. We are scolded for sending our children there sick and scolded when we keep them home, where is the balance? Where is the grace?

This particular day both balance and grace where definitely lacking in my spirit. Fear of what the school would think, fear of her being home and taking up my time, fear of not getting what I needed done all came disguised as discipline. I looked her in the eyes and yelled what do you want from me? I pushed her hard verbally, I wanted her to make the decision about going to school or not on her own, and I didn’t want to have to carry that weight. I sent her to her room and as she walked away I knew right then and there that she could not make that kind of decision, she was to sick and I was to stubborn.

My pride had gotten the best of me. I was angry, frustrated and discouraged. I gave myself a time out and started to pray. As I was able to stand back and look at my behavior, my reaction and my harshness of the whole situation my spirit became broken. My heart ached for how I had treated my daughter and I found myself once again crying out to the Lord for forgiveness and guidance. Two hearts had been broken, mine and my daughters because of my own selfish pride. I knew right then and there what I needed to do. I stood up, wiped my tears and marched myself straight to her room.

I sat next to her bed and started rubbing her head, crying and asking her to forgive me for the way I had treated her. I told her that all she probably needed from me was a hug and a bit of understanding and with a look of sadness in her eyes, she agreed. I kissed her on the forehead and left her to sleep, as I walked out of her bedroom she called out to me and said, “mommy, you are perfect”. All I could think was “perfectly forgiven”.

I left her to rest and went to make the phone call. My son had come in from the garage playing and said he wanted me to open up one of my Christmas presents. Now if any of you know me, you would know how against this I am. I am all about opening them on the day. But my son was adamant about me opening his gift. I was still broken and raw about what had just happened with my daughter and I didn’t have it in me to try to win this one. I just asked him “why now?” “Why do you want me to open this gift so early”? He looked me in the eyes, straight faced and serious and said, “because you are the best mommy in the whole world.”

He had no idea what had just gone on between my daughter and me, he had no idea how emotional I was to start with. All I could do was sit there with the gift in my hand and cry and cry and cry. I thought to myself and prayed in silence, “I am not worthy of this gift, look at how I have just behaved.” And in my prayer I was quickly reminded about the free gift of salvation. How many times I had I said no to the things that God had wanted to give me because I thought I wasn’t worthy? A light bulb went on, tears continued to flow and I started to unwrap the gift. It wasn’t what came inside that package that day but rather what it represented.

I was qualified for that gift my son had given me because I was his mommy. Plain and simple. I excepted that gift from my son and realized that I am a perfect mommy and the best in the whole world not because of who I am or what I do but rather because of who I know. I was able to except his gift because I had already excepted HIS gift.

I am not or never will be worthy enough to except the free gift of salvation that comes through Jesus Christ. But because I am a daughter of the King of Kings I am qualified. I was reminded by that day about how God deals with His children. He is gentle and kind but quick to discipline. I believe God knew that I would have spent the whole day beating myself up because of my behavior. Even though I had been forgiven. I believe He sent my little boy to me at the perfect time to remind me of the gift that is so freely offered to each and everyone of us not based on my goodness but on His.




God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a GIFT from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it.
Ephesians 2:8-9

Uncomplicated!!!


God made me to be uncomplicated in my faith, to watch children, kites, sunsets, rainbows and enjoy them. To take your hand regardless of who you are or how you look, to listen to you, to accept you right where you are, to love you unconditionally. God made me to be real, to be honest, to be open, to never compare myself to you but to strive to become my own best person.