A Personal Confession

It's been almost twenty-three years since I was saved, but the wonder and wisdom of God's grace in my life remains fresh to this day. I am in awe of His tender, detailed care of me which shows up in daily provision, instruction, and "This one's for you, Kay!" DIRECT communication from Him. How does this happen? It can be through a dream, the words of another, a closed door... but more often than not, He speaks to me through the Bible. For every question I've faced each day as a mother, daughter, sister, wife, employee, or friend, the balanced answer I need lies within the Word of God.

The Bible is like no other book in existence. It is alive and specific to me for this moment in time through the power of the Holy Spirit. That's why I can read a chapter in Proverbs every day (matching the date with the chapter) month after month and never grow bored with the lesson. This is a practice I've adopted, in addition to my regular morning Bible study, since 1990.

The Bible is INSPIRED, which literally means it was breathed out from God into the men who recorded it. It's a love letter just for me, and the Lord has hidden all kind of treasure within it for me to discover. He delights in revealing the strength and power of his wisdom to me as I strive to work my way out of the complacent cocoon of my humanity and fly by faith closer to Him.

The Word of the Lord is INERRANT: totally accurate in content and prophecies, having no mistakes. The Bible says itself best in Hebrews 4:12, "For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart."

There is NO other book in the world that can make this claim.

I am very intentional when I sit down with my Bible. I expect the Lord to speak to me at any moment and pray that I will have ears to His his voice. Because I am (painfully) aware of my tendency to be an Israelite even after He's made His presence known in a miracle--God? What God?--I take the time to record what I learn or what I think He is saying to me when I study.

Over the years, the journals have piled up. It is astounding to me how much I am capable of forgetting. When I tuck an old journal in my work bag and "snack" on it at the hospital with my lunch, I sometimes think to myself, "Wow! This stuff is right ON! Who wrote this thing?" only to be startled back to reality by the recognition of my own handwriting. How could I have forgotten the eager acknowledgement of such wise precepts and deep truths? I am an Israelite: you part the Red Sea for me today and I will forget all about your faithfulness tomorrow, unless I make a record of it and am diligent to review. Oh, the fraility of man!

So, beloved friends and family members, as the anniversary of my spiritual birthday approaches, I wish to take a moment and make a personal confession to you of my faith in Christ Jesus, my thankfulness for His Saving Grace, my dependence upon His living Word, and my awareness of the Holy Spirit's leading in my life. I am a living trophy of God's mercy and tender love.

I am indeed blessed. Through no merit of my own, He has chosen ME! The freshness of that miracle shines brighter with each passing day.

Kay O'Hara
September 5, 2007

Patents and Perfection

I was waiting for the service elevator at the hospital yesterday when I reflected on the patents that went into creating this modern-day marvel. As I stepped inside, I calculated the chain of events that were required for it to lift me up in the building. The elevator buzzed in warning as I poked my head back out and studied the mechanism that would close the doors. "Going up..." a voice confirmed after I punched a button and stepped back. The doors glided shut and I ascended. Amazing!

Then, it struck me how utterly simplistic the technology of elevators and even grandiose projects like the Panama Canal are in contrast to God's creation of the eyeball, the immune system, or DNA. His designs are AWESOME, and our understanding of them is so limited.

The human race is so proud of its accomplishments, constructions, and intellectualism. We boast about our achievements and confer awards upon each other. This is arrogance. We are like children, clumsily printing out a simple sentence alongside our daddy's completed thesis while believing ourselves to be equal.

Men like Stephen Hawking are undeniably brilliant. But until they become like George Washington Carver and acknowledge God with all humility and reverence and are grateful for the portion of understanding they have received from Him, they will be known as "fools" according to the Word of God. From the revelation of gravity as a Universal Law to the discovery of prions, scientists do little more than reveal the handiwork and presence of a loving and merciful Creator God. Only He is worthy of praise. We are here to simply point the way to Him.

Kay O'Hara
October 8, 2007

 

In Light of Eternity

I love reading worthwhile, inspirational literature. For this reason, Jan Karon remains one of my favorite authors. In her latest book, Home to Holly Springs, she pens the best definition of sin I've ever read.

"Sin comes about because if its middle letter: i. It's the seeking of our own will instead of the will of God."

Why does seeking the will of God matter? Why can't Christians just do as they please after they're saved?

Well, I think the answer may lie in Matthew 7:21. "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father in Heaven." Oh, dear. It would seem that it is not enough to simply think or to say. We must ACT on our belief!

I found myself lying quietly upon my bed last night, and again early this morning, praying to desire the clear will of God in my life. I need courage to draw closer to the Cross and step back farther from the pleasure-seeking nature of my flesh.

After being a Believer for twenty-four years, I know the truth of something that my pastor, Dr. Johnny Hunt, has said on more than one occasion. "There are no tenured Christians. The struggle against temptation does not end until we draw our last breath."

This is the nature of our faith: to deny the sensuality of selfish, human desires, believing that our souls are eternally valuable to Someone we cannot see or touch. Our struggle to choose the will of the Father moment by moment in light of eternity demonstrates how much we value His provision and presence in our lives today.

O, to love Him more!

Kay O'Hara
November 11,2008

Historical Holidays



An ariel view of the
Belleview Biltmore Resort

 

 Fifteen years ago, when our family was on vacation in Florida, we visited Clearwater Beach for the day. As I looked across the Inland Waterway, I caught glimpses of a structure which intrigued me. The sunlight appreared to be reflecting off a massive architectural anachronism reposing behind large grove of trees. Bill, who was always game for one of my adventures, packed up the children and took me across investigate. That was the first time I saw the largest occupied wood frame building in the world: The Belleair Mido. Too intimidated by her elegance and grandeur to do more than drive around the perimeter and gape, we paid our respects and returned to our modest, unimaginative hotel in a daze. What a novel experience!



Though it was built in the same era as the
Belleview, the old Tampa Bay Hotel is a
showcase of Moorish architecture.

A few years later, following Bill's death, when the children and I were again visiting his mom in Florida, I took a morning away from them to tour the old Tampa Bay Hotel, which has been preserved in part on the University of Tampa campus as the Henry Plant Museum. I learned that this was actually a sister structure of the Belleair Mido (which is now known as the Belleview Biltmore Resort), though it was vastly different in design. (Think "Anne of Green Gables" meets "Aladdin!") I spent the better part of that time in open-mouthed wonder absorbing the flavor of a privileged life lived more than a century ago in America's Gilded Age.



The Tampa Bay Hotel
 at night is a sight
 to remember

 

 I have a passion for vintage architecture. Perhaps this is a consequence of growing up in the shadow of The Biltmore House in Asheville. Or perhaps my abiding affection for historic adventuring began the first time my brother arranged for me to have a behind-the-scenes private tour of The Reynolda House in Winston Salem, NC.

No matter what the reason, I am thrilled that in a few weeks, the children and I will actually be STAYING at the Belleview Biltmore

Resort in Clearwater Beach! This will be my last chance to sample that part of American architectural history before "The White Queen of the Gulf" closes indefinitely for rennovations beginning in June. While I am thankful that she will--for the most part--be saved from demolition, some of the character of this Grand Dame will be forever lost after her contemporary facelift.



A beautiful shot of the Belleview
 from across one of its many pools



 Kay O'Hara                                          

 March 4, 2009



The Importance of a Thankful Heart

Twenty years ago, the LORD impressed upon me the importance of a specific passage from Phillipians 2:14-16 regarding complaining:

“Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the Word of Life…”

Since then, I have become a sober student of what these words might mean and how I should apply them in my life. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

“EVERYTHING” means there are no exceptions to this directive. Longing, loss, inconvenience, and even death are included in this term.

The discipline of creating a thankful and uncomplaining attitude is essential towards becoming blameless and pure before God.

I am living smack, dab in the middle of a wretched and depraved generation and am expected to shine for Christ-like a star in an otherwise dark vacuum of attitude. 

The LORD wants to use me to hold out the Word of Life to my family, friends, co-workers, and strangers. Complaining impairs my ability to do that.

From personal experience, I have learned that it is not possible for me to resist complaining without the power of Jesus Christ and a daily commitment to take an intentional stand against this powerful, dark temptation.

I’ve learned that if I am complaining about something, this usually means that I am out of close fellowship with the LORD. I’ve allowed the cares and distractions of the world to paralyze my faith. I have become occupied with the temporal and lost sight of the eternal.

When I complain, I am demonstrating a thankless heart that is ungrateful for the LORD’s present will in my life.

When I complain, I am taking the first, dangerous step onto the slippery slope of sin. “I WANT this and I want it NOW!” I grumble as I begin devising ways (usually outside the will of God) of providing it for myself.

Complaining is an energy drainer for both the doer and the hearer.

I, like the Israelites, am capable of seeing miracles before me one minute and whining in unbelief the next. It is the human condition. To guard against this, I need the manna of the Word and encouraging fellowship and accountability with the Body of Christ every single day.

I am convinced that the LORD loves to hear me sincerely say “thank you!” He goes to great lengths to demonstrate His detailed, expressly personal love for me and delights when I notice His efforts. When I am faithful to cultivate a grateful heart, He is able to use me to share in the ministry of eternity.

Kay O'Hara
February 20, 2010

Myopia

Sometimes, I am so pathetically blind!

For all my years of faith, I keep looking at the flawed human beings in front of me and forgetting that I'm in a SPIRITUAL battle. Duh!

The PEOPLE are perfectly and wonderfully made. It's just the deceptions of the ENEMY that makes them so unpleasant at times. *sigh* The truth of Ephesians 6:12, "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood (friends, family, strangers), but against (the enemy in all his forms)" needs to be constantly projected in front of my eyeballs.

I think this is why forgiveness is so essential to the Christian faith. Why the LORD instructs us to pray for those who hurt us. Why we must be kind to our enemies. They are no different than us! It's just that they have become entrapped in darkness--for a moment!--in an area where we may--temporarily--have received light. To NOT quickly forgive is to pridefully boast by our actions that we believe ourselves to somehow be better than they, when--in truth--our ONLY boast can be that the LORD had mercy on our own pathetic selves, threw us a life jacket, and reeled us in when we were faced with the same situation.

How quickly the enemy can snuff out our OWN torches and leave us stumbling in the dark, selfishly and fearfully wounding many of those we encounter, desperately groping for the Light of the World once again. Suddenly the mirror is before me and I see something altogether hideous and frightful--a person who--despite my own good intentions--has become the antethesis of who I wish to be in Christ Jesus.

The battle for kindness, love, hope, peace, and truth is never ending. The enemy is constantly pressing his advantage, devising clever lies and lures which lead to hatefulness and death. While it is human to want to retreat--to quit the field of battle altogether and hide away from all humankind in a cave, "love never gives up." Therefore, by the grace and power of the LORD, I must also never GIVE up.

I love you. Sometimes I'm an uncomprehending dolt. Please forgive my blindness.

Sable House

March 19, 2010

Planet Earth: On Loan to Humans

They are sea lions, NOT seals.

I took two cameras and those children who were well enough to enjoy a sedate walk down to the pier in order to get a closer look. The sign said "DANGER: BEWARE OF SEA LIONS ON DOCKS." This, of course, was accompanied by sufficient graphic art to insure that anyone not possessed of the English language would be without excuse should they approach and consequently, be maimed by a sea lion.

Ah.

At this point, I scanned the parking lot and waited for a native to show up and give me the inside story. A few minutes later, I hit the jackpot.

Apparently the sea lions migrate down here all the way from Alaska by the thousands (there are only a hundred or so here at the moment--still a bit early in the season) to bask in the relative mildness of an Oregon bay winter. As to the specter of danger, they have been known to take entire chunks out of tourists stupid enough to "go down for a closer shot." The natives treat them with the type of respect one would usually accord a Polar bear. They give the sea lions a very wide berth, timing the morning departure of the fleet until most of them have headed across to a nearby breakwater for a change of scenery.

Now, I find myself wondering how the fishermen get off their boats at the end of the day and back into their waiting cars. With cattle prods? I think I may have actually made that inquiry at some point, but was drowned out by the incessant "ark, Ark, ARK!" in front of us.

Amazing.

Wildlife. Everywhere we have traveled, wildlife! Elk goring golfers at Estes Park in August. Bears chowing down on back country hikers at Yellowstone in September while buffalo toss teenagers up into the trees. Now there are sea lions calling the shots down at the docks here in Astoria. Whew! The Northwest can be a dangerous place.

Of course, Atlanta has its own native hazard.

We call them fire ants.

Kay O'Hara

October 1, 2002

Astoria, OR

Frozen in Time

Dark. Cold. Still. I've stepped out onto the front porch of the farmhouse late at night into the silvery-blueness of a world newly blanketed by snow. I tuck my chin down into the upturned collar of my jacket as my eyes adjust. Pools of golden light shine warmly out of the living room windows behind me, cheerfully reminding me that it's not too late to reconsider my solitary evening walk down the lane. I can still smell the companionable smoke from Dad's pipe that has drifted out into the night air after me. Soon it fades away, leaving me alone with the sharp tang of frozen mountain air. The old wooden screen door settles back into its frame with a creak.

In the following silence, there is an illusion of absolute quiet. Then, like a flower unfolding petal by petal, the unique sounds of the farm after a snowfall begin to whisper their way into my consciousness. The wind sighs in the top of the statuesque hemlock tree that dwarfs the house. It is answered by the hollow rattle of branches in a nearby pear tree. A coyote calls faintly to its hunting mate as my boots carefully crunch their way down the icy front steps into the yard.  No flashlight is necessary. My path is magically illuminated by the few scattered points of light in the cove. They are somehow captured and eerily amplified between the snow-covered ground and the low, drifting ceiling of gray clouds above.  "Shussh, shusssh," the wind whispers in the row of white pines that Dad and I planted in my childhood. They gently loose a veil of snow to lightly drift across my face and hitchhike on my shoulders.

In the middle of the lane, I stop, close my eyes, and breathe in deeply. It's suddenly midnight forty years ago, and I'm dragging my sled back up the lane after a breath-taking plummet down the hill behind the house. Aging kerosene lanterns suspended on tobacco sticks illuminate the danger of the shadowy ditch on either side of the slope. My breath freezes in front of my nose and my cheeks tingle redly in the cold. "H-e-y!" the echo of my brother's voice calls down to me from the hillside, "You coming?" I smile to myself and holler back. I'll be there in a minute.... just as soon as I take another snapshot with my memory.

Kay O'Hara
February 4, 2011