Passion

“Passion”, what comes to mind? Some may think of Passion-Sources, a compilation by Peter Gabriel. Others might think of songs by various recording artists, or the British Pop Band from the early 80s, maybe the Broadway musical from the 90s. Maybe my religious friends think of the Passion Plays performed in churches around the Western Hemisphere during the week before Easter Sunday. I am sure all of us think of the emotion, passion. Many of us think about Passion Week, the seven days of remembrance prior to the Easter Celebration. This being Passion Week, I am taking time to evaluate and think about Passion.

It seems our culture’s definition of passion has plummeted from it’s lofty perch. The word passion is rooted in the Latin word pati; to suffer. It evolved into late Latin’s word passio; suffering being acted upon. Sometime in the 13th century Anglo-Saxony borrowed the word from the Land of Fragrant Perfumes and Pungent Fromage, or as we call it cheese. The French and English exchange many things. Hygiene habits and taste in fabulous shoes are not two of these things. Though I must admit the French do tend to have beautiful teeth. It is my assumption that the word passion was minced in France with ambrosial champagne somewhere in the Southern Countryside where the blondes are beautiful and enchanting, thus suffering and love amalgamate, with at times a sexual connotation. I understand many a religious friend’s blushing at the thought of The Passion of Christ having a sexual ideation, as do I. I do however have a thought, and believe the consummation of the two definitions into one word is perfect.

The Passion of My Christ, My Savior was both suffering and intimate love. What He did on the Cross for me is the most beautiful thing a man could ever do for His beloved. God desired deep intimate love with me. This most passionate desire drove Him to the Cross where out of intense love He suffered a horrible death not suited a King but a murderer. My Jesus loves me with such deep intimate love. To be quite honest, the most intimate moments with my future husband could never compare with the utterly intrinsic acts of my Jesus. That is why the conglomeration is absolutely superb.

Just as a husband’s love for his wife draws her respect and admiration, so does Jesus’ demonstration of Passion on the Cross. And I do mean Passion in the fullest sense. His Passion on the Cross in turn causes passion in my heart to bubble to the surface and overflow my life. When I think about His deep intimate love for me I can not help but to feel overjoyed like a bride for her husband. Of course His adoration for me is not in the “sexual” sense of intimacy. It’s something spiritual and truthfully much deeper. My response is the same. It transcends the physical. I do not believe the English language has a word that can possibly do this emotional state of euphoria justice.

To be theologically correct it is not Jesus with whom I have this intimate relationship, but rather the quiet third person of the tri-part God-head, The Holy Spirit. Jesus, in fact, is sitting at the right hand side of the Father. Though I was 4 when I asked the Lord to come make His home in my heart, it is not Jesus in the flesh living in my heart. My passion is for Jesus Christ, the King, but my intimate relationship is through the Holy Spirit. And somehow it pleased the Lord to bruise His only Son, Jesus Christ. It was God the Father’s plan all along to send His Son to die on the cross because of His Passion for Mankind, for me! He knew only Jesus could make holy His bride, His people, His body, His church. Nothing but the Blood of the Lamb could redeem and buy back His bride of harlotry. Oh, how much more do I love Him. I do not deserve His passion for me. How much more do I respect and admire my Jesus because He was passionate and obedient to redeem me and buy me back from death’s grip. Jesus is the Lamb Who was slain and is worthy of my passion. It is His love that has lead my heart to repentance. It is His passion that has lead me to my knees. Not just this Passion week, but every day of my life I will remember His passion for me and the world. I can not keep silent. He has been too kind, too good, and far too passionate toward me. I have been walking with the Lord for 26 years, yet this Passion Week I feel as though I am feeling His Passion for me for the very first time. May He never cease to intimately move in my heart and passionately reveal His gentle loving kindness toward me and His people.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5jWZziTopf0

Jesus, I love you. Thank you for your Passion.

Love Rescue Me

I said love, love rescue me

I said love
Climb up the mountains, said love
I said love, oh my love
On the hill of the son
I'm on the eve of a storm
And my word you must believe in
Oh, I said love, rescue me
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah...

Yeah I'm here without a name
In the palace of my shame
I said love rescue me

I've conquered my past
The future is here at last
I stand at the entrance
To a new world I can see
The ruins to the right of me
Will soon have lost sight of me
Love rescue me

~Bono and Bob Dylan

Recently, I read a blog belonging to a dear and sweet friend of mine, Christopher. He was sharing his thoughts on his present season of transition. It sparked some thoughts concerning my own journey.

Men, this one is for free.... Women have a deep desire to be rescued. It's honestly residual from the fall of mankind in the garden. Had it not been for the fall, women would never have had the need to be rescued. The flip side is true for men. It seems each of my brothers, and both of my sons have a desire to rescue. Even little two year old Isaac plays the hero in imaginary Camelot with his sisters and older brother, Timmy. The less than 3 feet tall, little warrior storms the castle with his foam sword in hand to rescue the fair maiden being held against her will by a sinister rivaling king. The play comes naturally.

In pondering Christopher's thoughts of leaving the old territory of the past and embarking on a journey to as he called it, "New Home", I watched the chivalrous play of the children unfold this morning and I thought of a U2 song, "Love Rescue Me." The song ends well! Love rescues, and the past is conquered. The future has become the present. The ruins of the past are fading into the distance. The New World is in sight! My friend nearly prophetically wrote, "What’s more, these in-between days will themselves come to an end at some point, perhaps sooner than I expect. And in the bittersweet interim, my hope is to forbear, graciously and with a serene attention to the tasks at hand, until the day I may face new glories and challenges: ..." His words and my children all danced to this U2 song and I realized though I am not" Home" yet, nor am I standing on the soil of my "New World", my arrival is inevitable. These in-between days will come to an end. But until I find my feet sinking deep into the sand of my "New World" I have set my mind on the "tasks at hand".

Today, I was reading the first chapter of Isaiah. My task at hand is simply defending the cause of fatherless children. These fatherless children are my children. They are simply joyful and my incredible blessings! In my six little blessings are hidden treasures I will find down the road as they grow older and mature. What a privilege that God has chosen me as the rescuer of my fatherless children. Truthfully, it is definitely tiring, but the reward will be well worth it in the end. The consequence of obedience is tasty and delicious! Whereas the consequence of rebellion is not so yummy. Just as we surely reap a harvest if we do not grow weary in doing good. God is not mocked, and one absolutely reaps what he or she sows. On the topic of reaping and sowing, blessing and cursing, obedience and rebellion, this is what God says in Isaiah 1:17-31,

"17 learn to do right!
Seek justice,
encourage the oppressed. [a]
Defend the cause of the fatherless,
plead the case of the widow.

18 "Come now, let us reason together,"
says the LORD.
"Though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red as crimson,
they shall be like wool.

19 If you are willing and obedient,
you will eat the best from the land;

20 but if you resist and rebel,
you will be devoured by the sword."
For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.

21 See how the faithful city
has become a harlot!
She once was full of justice;
righteousness used to dwell in her—
but now murderers!

22 Your silver has become dross,
your choice wine is diluted with water.

23 Your rulers are rebels,
companions of thieves;
they all love bribes
and chase after gifts.
They do not defend the cause of the fatherless;
the widow's case does not come before them.

24 Therefore the Lord, the LORD Almighty,
the Mighty One of Israel, declares:
"Ah, I will get relief from my foes
and avenge myself on my enemies.

25 I will turn my hand against you;
I will thoroughly purge away your dross
and remove all your impurities.

26 I will restore your judges as in days of old,
your counselors as at the beginning.
Afterward you will be called
the City of Righteousness,
the Faithful City."

27 Zion will be redeemed with justice,
her penitent ones with righteousness.

28 But rebels and sinners will both be broken,
and those who forsake the LORD will perish.

29 "You will be ashamed because of the sacred oaks
in which you have delighted;
you will be disgraced because of the gardens
that you have chosen.

30 You will be like an oak with fading leaves,
like a garden without water.

31 The mighty man will become tinder
and his work a spark,
both will burn together,
with no one to quench the fire."


I have discovered through accepting the call of the Lord to be obedient in rescuing my children, He, my Love is rescuing me. He is healing my heart, and keeping it soft toward Him and the world around me. He is fostering new hope and vision of the "New World" He has prepared for me and my children. Just as in Song of Solomon when the Shulamite is asked to join her Beloved and climb the mountain of Myrrh, I have climbed His Mountain, and He has rescued me on the eve of the storm. I died to my own desires by giving up the ideal I clung to for so many years. I died and relinquished my ideals and dreams so that my children would live in peace, that He would take away all the impurities and call them a City of Righteousness, the Faithful City. I let go of death, and now cling to the Author of the Promise of Life and the "New World" He has revealed through His word. In choosing to be obedient my children have been rescued, and myself as well. The ruins we have left behind, the past, the brokenness and broken relationship with a husband and a father are quickly fading into the distance as His "New World" grows bigger on the horizon. Welcome, "New World"!

Delusion for Reality

I recently shared with my friend, Aaron, that I feel as though I am waking from a ten year sleep. I awake to these little voices calling, “Mommy!” The odd thing about it is they are looking right at me when they call. I feel rather like Rip Van Winkle. But it is these little voices that call me back out from delusion into reality.

I have discovered that the world we live in is full of deception. We easily live the sleepy illusion. I have also found when I live the illusion my emotions are rather delusional. My friend Cass can attest to this. For example, life with Tim was nothing more than an illusion. Tim was an illusionist. Everyone in my family, and all of my friends could see through him. But there was nothing they could say or do to wake me from the delusional slumber of my heart. I was thoroughly convinced that if I did the right thing, said the right thing, looked the right way, or acted the right way maybe he would finally be faithful to me. At one point I would have rather died than let go of the delusion.

In 2003, I was a mere 98 pounds. My nickname was bones. The delusion nearly starved me to death. Yet, I clung to it for dear life. I held on to the very thing that desired to kill me. In 2007 after discovering his 3rd affair, and countless one night stands I risked contracting STDs while I was pregnant with our 5th child, Isaac, all for the sake of the delusion. Thankfully the hand of God protected my health and Isaac’s as well. In 2009, without thoroughly thinking through the consequences, my five children and I left our home, our stuff, our life, our friends, and our family to move across the United States to be with a man that confessed he could probably never be faithful to me but if I ever tried to leave again would kill me. Still, no one could convince me of the reality of Tim Barry. He was my world of deception, simply an illusion and I was living a delusion.

“The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; Who can know it?” Jeremiah 17:9 Who can know it? Who can know the delusion of my heart? God knows it! Outside of His love for me my heart is terribly deceitful. On the outside I keep it together. But on the inside, when my face is not pressed up against His my heart desires the delusion of an illusion. When I’m not smack dab in the middle of His plan for my life, living in grace through Him and His power I become the traitor selling Him for a cheap relationship. When the delusion passes I realize that not only did I betray and sell my King for cheap love, but I also sold myself back into slavery as a spiritual and emotional whore.

The Matrix is one of my all time favorite movies. There is this scene where the traitor, Cypher is meeting with the antagonist Smiths making plans to betray the heroes, Morpheus and his crew. While secretly plugged into the Matrix he takes a bite of steak and says, “I know that this steak doesn’t exist. I know when I put it in my mouth the Matrix is telling my brain that it is juicy and delicious.” He goes on to say, “Ignorance is bliss.” Cypher experienced and knew freedom, but sold himself short for pleasure that is nothing more than shackles on the ankles and chains on the wrists. Yes, maybe the Smiths could plug him back into the Matrix. He could go back to sleep, and forget reality ever happened. When I analyze his character it’s easy to see that love for freedom and his hero was never in him. And that’s what makes me different, and this is what keeps me from going back to sleep.

I finally woke up to the reality of the illusion when I was pregnant with Gabriella and discovered once again Tim had been unfaithful. The divorce was already in the works, but Tim was once again playing the illusionist and pulling out big tricks in order to manipulate the end product. He wanted to keep the illusion going and me delusional as the little woman, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Please don’t misunderstand me, I love my children, and I like baking. But I am a very willful woman. I do not believe that a woman’s primary reason for existence is to simply bare children, cook and clean. Yet, somehow while I was married to him I lost my identity in his illusion, believing these things were all there was in life. Tim would have had his way, and I would have once again sold my King’s plan for me, and my life for the illusion of Tim had it not been for a certain photo shoot with Emily Lewin and God giving me the “red pill”. She did the most amazing maternity set I have ever seen. Gabriella’s middle name is Joy. We wrote Joy on my pregnant belly in bright red. She showed me the preview 4 days before I was to go back to North Carolina to deal with the details of the house and the divorce. Everyone was extremely uneasy with the idea of me going back to North Carolina. They had the feeling that I would be quickly lulled back to sleep. I saw these pictures. And for the first time in my life I heard the Lord say to my heart, “Lenee, this is how I see you. You are precious and beautiful. Joy is written all over you.” This was the little red pill. It is the truth of who I am, and why He made me, and the truth about the illusion. The illusion was replaced by reality. His voice heard in my heart spoke love so deep to my soul that I could not return to my delusional life with Tim. What had once seemed like an illusion, God’s love and faithfulness toward me had just become reality. What previously seemed to be reality, Tim’s love for me though he was drastically unfaithful, had been found out as the illusion. The man behind the curtain had been discovered.

I took the “red pill”. I was aborted into the upside down world of God’s economy of love. Unlike Cypher there is no looking back. Once lines are crossed there is no going back. It is evidence that not only does God know the deceitfulness of my heart, He also is the cure. Yes, my heart at times still feels the familiar tug of a good illusionist. But quickly the reality of God’s love break his enchanting spell. I’m never going back.

Curiously, in context the passage from Jeremiah 17 reads, “Thus says the Lord: Cursed is the man that trusts in man and makes flesh his strength, whose heart departs from the Lord. For he shall be like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see when good comes, but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt land which is not inhabited. Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is in the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river, and will not fear when heat comes; But its leaves will be green and will not be anxious in the year of drought, nor will cease from yielding fruit. The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Who can know it? I the Lord search the heart, and test the mind, even to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his labors.” Though I am trapped in this dying body and all of the world’s deception surrounds me, I am trusting in the Lord and He is my only hope. I have settled inside of myself that I would rather die than give up my freedom. I would rather be alone and misunderstood than trade my King’s love for the unfaithful love of a man.

That being said, as I navigate singleness I am abundantly blessed with the six little voices reminding me of God’s love and faithfulness. I know there are many in the camp that believe divorced women may not marry again, even if they have “biblical“ grounds for divorce. I have dear friends that believe this to be scripturally true. I’ve wrestled over it, and dug through the scriptures and several books. I do believe 1 Corinthians 7 does support remarriage if a spouse departs, (abandonment) and also if there is adultery. I’ve received much pastoral counsel that agrees. Still, with that in mind, I would rather live a peaceful, healthy, fulfilling, life full of His freedom with occasional feeling of loneliness the single life brings than to be married to an illusionist and sleeping in the delusion of cheap and unfaithful love. Rip Van Winkle may not have learned his lesson, but I definitely have!

And just so I am not misunderstood, I do desire to remarry someday only, ONLY, if the Lord has truly planned to give me to another man who is not an illusionist. I won’t accept anything less than His plan for my life. Sleepy delusions and fake steak are just not worth it to me when compared to how much He loves me. John Fitch is right, but truthfully I called him a jerk when he shared this with me. A guy that knows how to dress needs to be with a fashion savvy woman. He's not really that shallow. I know he believes there is more to it than simply fashion and good looks. That’s his idea of being equally yoked. I guess that means I need a man with GREAT hair because I have absolutely incredible hair!

I am Lenee

As the teacher would begin calling roll on the first day of class it never failed that I would experience the all to familiar feeling of wanting to vomit. The first day of school was always at the top of the list of things I hated when I was a kid. It wasn’t the getting to know new people, or the curriculum that freaked me out, it was simply every year the teacher would slaughter my name. I had to make the choice between correcting the teacher, or letting it slide and respond to, “Lynnie”, “Leanna”, or maybe, “Lynna”. It never failed, I always looked like an idiot and corrected the teacher.

I would come home after the first day of school in tears. I would cry, whine and complain to my mother, “Mom, please let me change my name to something like, Laura, Sarah, Samantha, maybe even Jessica.” And she always responded with the same story, “Lenee, have I ever told you about why I named you Lenee?”

“No, Mother, you have not.” I would respond with sarcasm. Of course she had told me the same story since the first day of Kindergarten.

“Lenee, the day you were born, I looked at you and said, ‘Sarah? Jessica? Laura? Samantha?‘ You didn’t respond to any of those names. So I looked at you as I thought about the name Renee. You were certainly too beautiful a baby to be simply Renee. So I said, ‘Lenee’. You turned your head and looked at me. And quite honestly, you smiled! You in fact chose your own name.” She would then smile at me, most likely hoping I would drop the subject and say something polite like, “Why thank you for reminding me, Mother dearest. You are so kind to have allowed me as an infant to choose my own name.”

Instead, being tenacious, I would continue complaining about how everyone else at school had normal names like, Laura, Samantha, Sarah, and Jessica. I would throw my head on the table in frustration and say, “Mom, all my friends have normal names but me.” She would always respond, “Lenee, I know you don’t like your name now. But you will grow to love your name when you are older. You will grow into your name.”

I think that’s exactly what it was. Lenee just felt like such a big name. It felt so serious, but so free spirited at the same time. It is a name that at times is still unfamiliar when it’s spoken. But recently I have grown to love my name, even embrace it! I think I might possibly be growing into it. I am finally becoming familiar with my name.

My name is Lenee Michelle Cook Barry. Lenee basically means New Life. Michelle means Image of God. Cook is my maiden name. Cooks are witty, tenacious, peculiar and polite people. My six children have the last name Barry. So I decided to keep my married name when I divorced in January. I like my little Barries. They are little pieces of fruit that are delectable and light and very colorful!

It is no surprise that my name means New Life. Yes, I have six children. I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian disease when I was about sixteen. I was told by the doctor that more than likely I would never be able to conceive my own children naturally. They were extremely wrong! Six kids is amazing. I was destined for life, new life. It’s a bit of a mystery to me. I had no desire to have children before I got married. I was college bound and had dreams of a career! I am a “Woman’s Liber” at heart. The thought of being a stay at home mom, or domestic engineer turned my stomach sour and my face twisted with pure disgust when I was 18. So regardless of the news that childbearing would be a challenge, I never would have in my wildest dreams fantasized about having six kids. And now, my six kids, my serendipitous New Life is picturesque and amazing. It far exceeds my wildest dreams!

Beyond the kids, there are other desires and things in my life that revolve around the theme of New Life. I am a born again Christian. I was raised in a Christian home. I came to know Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior when I was four. I grew up studying the Bible. I was immersed in Christian culture. But it wasn’t until I was eighteen years old, sitting with my friend, Amy Courts, on her front lawn, sifting through the Bible that I embraced my faith and realized I belong to God. Amy shouted out Zephaniah 3:17, “The Lord your God is with you. He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you. He will quiet you with His love. He will rejoice over you with singing.” For the first time in my life I felt my heart jump when reading scripture. For the first time I felt as though my heart was alive. From that moment forward everything in my life changed dramatically. I went from being a “sure I’m a Christian” kid, to “I love Jesus” young woman.

A few months later I met the man I would marry, with whom I would have six children. I met Tim Barry at church through a mutual friend. He had been recently saved. He was raised quite the opposite of me. His family was rough. I don’t mean "go to church on Easter and Christmas" rough. I mean "his dad was in prison" rough. My parents didn’t approve of us dating let alone getting married. We honestly had very little in common, but his testimony was intriguing. The same friend I sat with out on her lawn earlier that year wrote in my yearbook that I would someday be a missionary or pastor’s wife. She wrote this when I was really struggling in my faith, and spiritually a mess. I held on to her words in the back of my mind. Tim was on the fast track to being a minister simply because of his testimony. I’ve learned it isn’t about a testimony, or a one time experience when we give our lives over to the Lord because we hate ourselves and we want fire insurance. But rather it’s a lifelong journey with Him, dying, and being raised daily to New Life in Him. That’s for free! It cost me ten years of pain and grief to come to that conclusion! Though Tim went to Bible College for one semester, he never followed through. We had a choice between full time missions in Hungary or the Army. Tim chose the Army. Our marriage fell apart at that time. I wrestled with his unfaithful heart for nearly eight more years, three affairs and only God knows how many one night stands. Though I held on primarily due to obligation and fear, I experienced death through what is supposed to be God’s greatest physical blessing, marriage.

But it was through experiencing emotional death that I have come to see the truth of New Life. As Solomon the Wise wrote, “there is a time for all things, a season for everything under heaven.” There is a time to be born, and a time to die. "Turn, Turn, Turn….." I would not be the person I am today had it not been for the poor choices I made in marrying Tim. The world would lack these six specific champions who will one day embrace their faith and run with their Jesus and breath His Life all over the world. New Life, and my children would not be nearly as fantastic had I not experienced first the news of not being able to bear my own children, and secondly had I not experienced the death of the marriage that produced these six children.

I am Lenee. I am New Life. I am His Life. I am Michelle. I am The Image of Him who has given me New Life. I am a Cook, witty, tenacious, peculiar, and polite. The name Barry has matured me. It has been like an oak vat in which wine ages deepening the flavor. Or quite possibly, Barry is the bacteria that has aged the cheese. I am like fine wine and cheese. The death and life I have experienced as a Barry has brought me to a place of beauty and maturity. I am very privileged to be raising six amazing and very delicious Barries. Though my last name, for now, remains Barry, I am not a Barry.

I am a Lenee! A few years ago I began enjoying my name. But it wasn’t until very recently that I embraced my name. A dear friend of mine said my name in a conversation. For the first time in my life it just sounded right. That night, as the name rolled off his tongue, I felt myself step into Lenee. Lenee is a pretty amazing name. And it sometimes takes time to grow into such grand name!

This Blog is dedicated to my life that is picturesquely serendipitous! Much like my name, my life has been so amazing that I have had to take time to grow into it. I, quite by accident, have discovered how truly picturesque is my name, and my life, especially my new life. Here’s to life, New Life. And here is to Lenee Michelle, The Image of God’s New Life.