Supporting Artists for a Good Cause

Wanted to share this with everyone that reads my blog.  While it doesn't have to do directly with PNE, my friend Victor was one of the students attending the American Institute of Musical Studies that shared his Bible with me and some materials/cds from his church in Baltimore, MD, when I gave my life to the Lord in Graz, Austria in 2004.  Good luck to you, Victor and Mikael!





Kickstarter Link - Supporting Victor and Mikael - Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring"

The "Glory" Cloud

Some may think this is crazy... and trust me, it is truly an individual experience... but have you ever seen a glimpse of the glory of God?  What does this mean?  To some, it's not about God, per se; it may mean reaching a "zen" moment (I do not know much about this), being "one with the universe," or feeling such self-satisfaction at accomplishing something or finally achieving something that the world is completely in the palm of one's hand.  I could remember times before I became a born-again believer, I would have these moments at times and feel so confident, like I could conquer the world.  Every hair was in place, my eyes sparkled with excitement, self-assurance, and pride, my outfit was stunning and flattered all the right places, and most often, that moment was connected to singing.  When I would nail an aria like it was no one's business,  maintain complete, calculated control under a soaring high D, or portray the essence of a piece of lied or mélodié with graceful aplomb, I was in my "glory cloud."  Perhaps it was after an intimate conversation with a significant other, or a dash through the Austrian rain in my bare feet (all precious memories) that I experienced such heightened bliss.  All of these moments have been glorious in their own way; there is nothing on the contrary to say that they were not anything but.  However, since rededicating my life to the Lord God, I have to say with confidence that there is nothing like the cloud of God's glory.

This sounds mysterious.  To even make sense of it myself, I must turn to the scriptures and point a few things out.  Now, by no means am I a Bible scholar.  I am opening up another window and looking this up on www.biblegateway.com 

So after typing in "God's glory," I find this:

2 Chronicles 5

New King James Version (NKJV)

5 So all the work that Solomon had done for the house of the Lord was finished; and Solomon brought in the things which his father David had dedicated: the silver and the gold and all the furnishings. And he put them in the treasuries of the house of God.

The Ark Brought into the Temple

² Now Solomon assembled the elders of Israel and all the heads of the tribes, the chief fathers of the children of Israel, in Jerusalem, that they might bring the ark of the covenant of the Lord up from the City of David, which is Zion. ³ Therefore all the men of Israel assembled with the king at the feast, which was in the seventh month. ⁴ So all the elders of Israel came, and the Levites took up the ark. ⁵ Then they brought up the ark, the tabernacle of meeting, and all the holy furnishings that were in the tabernacle. The priests and the Levites brought them up. ⁶ Also King Solomon, and all the congregation of Israel who were assembled with him before the ark, were sacrificing sheep and oxen that could not be counted or numbered for multitude. ⁷ Then the priests brought in the ark of the covenant of the Lord to its place, into the inner sanctuary of the temple,^[a] to the Most Holy Place, under the wings of the cherubim. ⁸ For the cherubim spread their wings over the place of the ark, and the cherubim overshadowed the ark and its poles. ⁹ The poles extended so that the ends of the poles of the ark could be seen from the holy place, in front of the inner sanctuary; but they could not be seen from outside. And they are there to this day. ¹⁰ Nothing was in the ark except the two tablets which Moses put there at Horeb, when the Lord made a covenant with the children of Israel, when they had come out of Egypt.
¹¹ And it came to pass when the priests came out of the Most Holy Place (for all the priests who were present had sanctified themselves, without keeping to their divisions), ¹² and the Levites who were the singers, all those of Asaph and Heman and Jeduthun, with their sons and their brethren, stood at the east end of the altar, clothed in white linen, having cymbals, stringed instruments and harps, and with them one hundred and twenty priests sounding with trumpets— ¹³ indeed it came to pass, when the trumpeters and singers were as one, to make one sound to be heard in praising and thanking the Lord, and when they lifted up their voice with the trumpets and cymbals and instruments of music, and praised the Lord, saying:

“For He is good,
For His mercy endures forever,”^[b]

that the house, the house of the Lord, was filled with a cloud, ¹⁴ so that the priests could not continue ministering because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of God.

(I added the highlights to the above passage.)  It was so precious what I experienced this past weekend as I sang (ministered) as a soloist and as a choir member at the 5th Anniversary Celebration Concert of The Pittsburgh Gospel Choir.  Not only was I completely humbled that Dr. Jones would take the time to explain to the massive audience a bit of my testimony, about how one year ago this same woman about to sing could not walk or sit without massive pain (not to mention the emotional bondage and turmoil in my mind and heart), but I was just stilled at the Glory of what God Almighty has/had done in my life.  The audience gave shouts of praise for my healing, and marveled when Dr. Jones remarked that I had traveled to Vienna to have surgery and that God would divinely CHOOSE the surgeon as His vessel to bring forth healing in this body of mine!

We always used to remark that "wouldn't it be such a powerful testimony if you were MIRACULOUS healed in a moment, Jessica?"  Surely God could do that.  Even as twinges of a flare still pulse through my body at times, I am still unfortunately led to a place of not trusting wholeheartedly in God's promise of being completely restored.  So -- again, I am lead to study more about fear and how it is the opposite of faith... anyways... back to the original point.

The "Glory Cloud."  As an artist, there is a moment when you are onstage and the stage lights illuminate your face so strongly that you feel completely in your element during the song you sing, the scene you portray, the point you try to get across to your audience.  It's glorious.  It's illuminated.  I can remember one particular time when the beauty of a Strauss vocal line brought me to actual tears when singing the role of Sophie in Der Rosenkavalier.  That is really frowned upon -- breaking that line between true human emotion and portrayed emotion -- but it was simply impossible during the incredible duet,  "Ist ein Traum / Spür' nur dich".   Incredible.

So, developing this deeper, I go back to the Glory Cloud and add "God" to it.  It is a place where you are simply seeing gold auras around people, when there is a sweet heaviness to your immediate environment, and an intimacy and peace that only the Father can bring.  Sometimes, there is stillness and quiet.  At other times there is intensity and evolvement of that intensity into something tangible.

Reflecting upon the miracle done thus far in my life through the healing I have experienced, I can only describe the moment below as "basking in the light of His presence."  I, as a Levite, was set at perfect peace as I set forth to minister Moses Hogan's arrangement of the Negro spiritual, "There's a Man Goin' Round."  To live in that Glory Cloud would be nothing short of being in Heaven at His throne.  And you see why I want to sing.  And to testify about what He took me out of and continues to walk me through.

My brain and why I don't like how it rhymes with "pain"

I really have been doing so much better.  I cannot give God enough praises.  It's like I almost feel unworthy of His blessings.  What a lie from the devil. 

I have been getting so much stronger.  My physical therapist is such a sweet person.  She is more like a friend - but equally phenomenal therapist.  She has the amazing ability to put you at such ease when doing things to your pelvic floor.  For those that may not know what the means, the pelvic floor is, well, your "land where the sun don't shine."  Now that I have explained it to you...

What hurts the most is the connective tissue and scar mobilization.  Scars hurt.  I guess that is why they are scars.  I was born with a very ugly looking birthmark that fully covered the inside of my entire right arm, underarm, half of my right breast, and a portion of my back.  It was not one of those red or port-wine stained birthmarks; rather, it was a raised, flesh colored, bumpy, scaly looking lizard-thing.  When I was 12, I had two surgeries to remove it.  The first surgery is where two skin expanders were placed to expand clear portions of skin adjacent to the birthmark.  I had them injected with saline twice a week, once by my plastic surgeon, and once by my mom, a nurse.  They ended up looking like two huge breast implants: one above my right breast and the other on my back below the shoulder blade.  Not so easy to cover up or explain when I was quite the insecure young adolescent 12 year old.  After six weeks, I went back into surgery where the skin expanders were removed and the birthmark cut out and the stretched skin sewn together in what now (at age 31) looks like a HOT mess!!  Oh, but I've lived with that hideous scar for almost 20 years now.  I wonder what the birthmark would have looked like at this point.  That scar STILL hurts -- not the same of course, as it did 20 years ago, but I still cannot have anyone lift me holding under my arms (like I would a child).

So, the point is, scars stretch, and scars fade.  I am cranky, I suppose, from my brain realizing an increase in pain from the recent scar mobilizations (not to mention jumping up and down like a wild woman at gospel choir rehearsal last night -- but it's really muscle pain, and not nerve pain, from the jumping, that is).  And, the jumping was for good reason -- praising God almighty for the miracle of me standing there singing in ZERO out of 10 pain when one year ago I could hardly walk.

I'm guilty tonight of fear.  In the past 4 weeks, I have not realized pain over a level 5, and I think that was really only on one particular occasion.  But, fear reared its ugly head today after those mobilizations.  The sky was so gray, and the rain so dense... it just set me into an ugly mood.  I put myself to work, accomplishing many things.

But, what comes to mind right now is this:

1 Peter 5:8

New King James Version (NKJV)

⁸ Be sober, be vigilant; because^[a] your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. 

 Isn't that the truth?  Of course, he would want to devour ME --- all I do is give the Lord praise, thank God, try my hardest to walk in holiness (I fail miserably, but, "we fall down, and we get up") raise my child, love my neighbors, be an encouragement, be a blessing, be a witness.  Last night at gospel choir rehearsal, Pastor Kevin said "do you REALLY trust Him (Jesus)?"  We had just finished rehearsing "Trust Me" by Richard Smallwood.  He asked the choir three times.  Each time, my response was "YES!"  How could I not trust Him in that moment?  I was sitting on the beautiful slate floor of the cathedral with literally no pain, having just sung the most heavenly melodies written by the hands of such an anointed songwriter, in the company of my beloved choir family (who prayed and probably still does pray for me without ceasing), practically seeing the cloud of Glory itself fill the space.  But now -- in this moment -- when I am laying here flared up again, "brain thinking pain" once again... 

I am so human.  

Well, isn't that a good thing?  Better to be a human than a robot, or an alien, I suppose!

I am so real.

I am just as fragile as you are.  But in HIM, I can do ALL things.  Only in HIM.  Not in Jessica.  I can do many, many, many wonderful things in Jessica, but not tonight.  My own mind isn't strong enough to fight even a tiny little flare on my own.  You might ask, "why always turn it around to Jesus?  Give yourself some credit, Jessica."  But you see, without Christ in ME, I am really nothing.  For it is He who breathes fresh hope and fullness of joy into each moment of my life. 

Thank you, God, once again.  

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Death has lost its sting

I have never seen a fight so valiant as the one my grandmother has been fighting.  When she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Terminal Neuroendocrine Cancer (tumors in the mediastinum, lungs, and brachial plexus) in the summer of 2009, I was with her at her first oncology appointment.  She bravely took the news and said, "I will do it all.  I will take all the treatments."  And so, she did, and I took her to get her a beautiful wig and watched her brave face, looking in the mirror at her reflection-- all the while, noticing a certain sadness rimming her eyes.  And the jokes that would come after her hair fell out and we just buzzed it off... "so much easier than setting it in rollers!" she would joke.  And then the illnesses due to reduced immunity... the innumerable hospitalizations... then the sadness in her voice not for her failing health but for her granddaughter's failing health and the agony it caused her to watch my young life being taken away by Pudendal Nerve Entrapment.  But, she did not focus on herself.  She would always ask about ME and say how much she was praying for MY HEALING and that all her friends were praying fervently for me, and my physicians, and all the medical trips I went on.  She and I declined together, in our own different ways... the tumors growing but not causing her tremendous pain... yet... her granddaughter... unable to sit or hold her only child.  Oh, the agony on her face as she watched in silence my heart's pain.  But yet, she prayed on.  She stayed on.  She fought through the odds --- even responding to the 3rd line treatment, though the physician stated the response rate as less than 5%.  And the sadness that she felt when, still, I wasn't responding to treatment.  The pain from the cancer started to overtake her right as I was nearing my breaking point, and plans were made to go to Vienna.  She was aware, despite her fogginess from all the pain medications, various other medications, etc., that her granddaughter would travel around the world for her healing, that God promised her, and she laid it all out and prayed for Prof Aszmann and that his hands would be anointed by God almighty.  She never truly understood, (I think) how I really became better, and was continuing to get better, because she rapidly declined.  But, God in His mercy allowed me to be well for such a time as this.... to minister to my mother (her full time caregiver, who moved out of state and quit her job to care for she and my 87 year old grandfather), to be able to DRIVE again to rescue her when she was so weary from taking such impeccable care of her mother.  And I came with the only thing I knew... a song upon my lips, rising from the depths of my being out of the Spirit of God that lives within me.  Now, she is at an inpatient facility, by God's grace, and I had the implicit pleasure of having FOUR generations of women (well, my daughter is only 3) along with my Pastor praying with her, holding her, and me leading us in song -- songs led only by the Spirit of the Lord and the love and appreciation I have for this frail old Ukrainian woman, Irenschka (Irene).  I looked at her in the eyes and said "I am sitting here today because of all the times you hit your knees in prayer for my healing, and God is FULFILLING HIS PROMISE."  I SIT HERE.  Glory to God.  I sang to her in old Slavonic, Christos Voskres (Christ is Risen - by death He conquered death and to those in the graves He granted life.)  Lord, May you continue to be glorified even in our suffering, but in Your divine Mercy and plan, let her eyes open next only in Heaven.

And, reader, if you should read on, read this portion from an essay by John Angell James, 1859, entitled "Christian Hope."

But I now turn with delight to the bright and beautiful contrast, "The righteous has hope in his death." This is one of the few passages in the Old Testament which refer to a future state. "A splendid testimony of the knowledge of the Old Testament believers of a future life. The wicked in his calamity, is agitated with the greatest terror. He knows not where to turn. But the godly, in this last evil, has no fear, he knows to whom to flee, and where he is going. He dies in God's grace, and in an assured confidence of the salvation of his soul, and of the glorious resurrection of the body."

That same hope which sustained the Christian under the afflictions, and purified him amid the temptations and corruptions of life, follows him to the sorrows of death, and the pains of the grave. The same grand and glorious object which had excited his desires and raised his expectations in life, appears still more glorious as it is now near at hand. He rests upon the same foundation, and Christ is still his hope. He may be able, thankfully and even triumphantly, to say, with the apostle, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord the righteous Judge shall bestow upon me in that day." He does not leave the Savior's righteousness to trust his own. The labors, the sacrifices, the holy doings of a whole life, spent in the service of God—add nothing to the entireness and strength of his dependence upon Christ.

Never, no never, do the sins of his life appear more sinful, nor his righteousness more defective and worthless, to the believer, than when he is dying. Never does he appear less meritorious, less worthy—than when he views his character, his conduct, himself—in the light of an opening eternity. It is then, that with a deeper humiliation than ever, he cries, "God be merciful to me a sinner." It is then, that he strips off with a holy indignation the last rag and tatter of self-righteousness, and wraps himself more closely in the robe of Christ's righteousness. And he does hope. Yes. Even the near prospect of his naked soul standing in the immediate presence of a holy God, and with a clear view of all his past sins—does not deprive him of his hope. "I can die," he says; "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded he is able to keep that which I have committed to him until that day."

Then, when all other hopes are extinguished, this remains. The worldling's expectations all die, not only with him—but before him. He sees one after another failing him. As regards his health, he struggles long against the evidence of increasing decay, and approaching death; until at length the last possibility of recovery vanishes, and he sullenly says, "Well, I feel I must die." In that sentiment is included the failure of all other expectations—his flattering prospects in life, his incipient prosperity, his cherished connections—all fade before his eye like some beautiful vision vanishing in thin air—and he has nothing left. Even the Christian is subject to all this; he too, sees every earthly hope about to expire in death. Yes—but as these stars of the night pale before him, they are lost in the blaze of the rising sin. His earthly expectations dissolve in the bright illumination of heaven's eternal day which already dawns upon his soul. To the question, "What do I have left—when wife, children, home, fortune, prospects, are taken from me?" he exultingly exclaims, "heaven and immortality!"

This makes him willing to go. He dies by his own consent. It is a glad surrender—not a forcible ejection. It is a voluntary departure—not an unwilling separation. The Christian mariner weighs anchor, sets the sails, catches the breeze, turns the helm and prow of his vessel towards the shore of eternity, and sails with an abundant entrance into the haven of eternal rest. He is not driven in, as by the force of the tempest, against his will, and half a wreck. He can take death by his cold hand without a shudder, and bid him welcome. "I can smile at death," said a dying saint, "because my Savior smiles on me." He finds it a solemn thing to die, to go from world to world, to plunge into eternity, to meet God face to face—but he can do it with composure, and, in many cases, with triumph. He descends to the dark valley with the triumphant challenge, "O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory? Rejoice not against me, O my enemy, for though I fall, I shall arise; and however unworthy, I shall live and reign through our Lord Jesus Christ."

It is not an uncommon case for those whose hope was feeble all through life, to have it increased and strengthened in their dying moments. The hands that have hung down—have then been lifted up. The knees that were ever feeble—have been then strengthened. The harp, so often unstrung and hung upon the willows, has then been taken down, tuned afresh, and struck to the swan-like song of the dying saint, whose lips, until then, had uttered only strains of doubt and fear. It is marvelous to see in how many cases the timid and desponding have become bold, confident, and rejoicing in the very face of the last enemy, and under his uplifted arm, brandishing the fatal dart—which for anything they knew, would the next hour pierce them through. What an encouragement to the living, to anticipate that they shall be enabled to hope in death.

Go forward, you fearful believer, there is nothing so terrible to a Christian in death, as your perturbed imagination leads you to suppose. Like every other evil, death diminishes in appearance as you approach it. The Sun of Righteousness often shines vertically over the valley of death. The "excellent glory" sends out its beams into that gloomy pass, to allure the traveler onward. The lights are seen in the windows of his Father's house, and Christ will send out the ministering angels to convoy you to his presence; and, more than this—he himself will come to meet you. He has told you so. Believe him. Expect him. He says, "Fear not, I am with you." Respond to the gracious promise, and say, "I will fear no evil, though I walk through the valley, not only of the shadow of death—but the valley of death itself, if you are with me."

But is there no need of admonition, admonition, and rebuke, to many professing Christians on this subject? Is there not a "sinful love of life" to be overcome, and an equally "sinful dread of death"? Is there not a practical denial of their hope of immortality in the dread with which many, yes, most, look on to the hour of dissolution? Do not infidels and worldlings, with cutting irony, sometimes reproach us, and tell us that we do not believe in heaven, or we would be more willing to go to it. We belie our professions of faith and hope, and should have less love of life and fear of death. "If we believed," they say, "as you do, we would be impatient to die." We deserve the rebuke, and let us profit by it. How forcibly does John Howe expostulate with us, in reference to this unwillingness to die, in the last chapter of his transcendently glorious work, entitled "The Blessedness of the Righteous," a work which as a whole is one of the most sublime treatises in the English or any other language. And how earnestly does Baxter follow up the same subject in the words with which I will close this section:

"What was it that rejoiced you all your life, in your prayers, and sufferings, and labors? Was it not the hope of heaven? And was heaven the spring and motive of your obedience, and the comfort of your life? And yet will you pass into it with heaviness? And shall your approaches to it be your sorrows? Did you pray for that which you would not have? Have you labored for it, and denied yourself the pleasures of the world for it—and now are you afraid to enter in? Fear not, poor soul! Your Lord is there; your husband, and your head, and life is there, you have more there, a thousand-fold more, than you have here. Here you must leave poor mourning friends, that languish in their own infirmities, and troubled you as well as comforted you while you were with them—and that are hastening after you, and will shortly overtake you. And there you shall find the souls of all the blessed saints that have lived since the creation until this age. There all are unclothed of the rags of their mortality, and have laid by their frailties with their flesh—and are made up of holiness, and prepared for joy, and will be suitable companions for you in your joys.

"Why should you be afraid to go the way that all the saints have gone before you? Where there is one on earth, how many are there in heaven? And one of them is worth many of us. Are you better than Noah, and Abraham, and David? than Peter, and Paul, and all the saints? Or do you not love their names, and would you not be with them? Are you hesitant to leave your friends on earth? and have you not far better and more friends in heaven? Why then are you not as hesitant to stay apart from them? Suppose that I, and such as I, were the friends that you are hesitant to leave; what if we had died long before you? If it be our company that you love, you should then be willing to die, that you may be with us. And if so, why then should you not be more willing to die, and be with Christ, and all his holy ones, that are so much more excellent than we? Would you have our company? Go, then, willingly, to that place where you shall have it to everlasting; and be not so hesitant to go from here, where neither you nor we can stay. Had you rather travel with us, than dwell here with us? And rather here suffer with us, than reign in heaven with Christ and us?

"Oh! what a brutish thing is flesh! What an unreasonable thing is unbelief! Shall we believe, and fly from the end of our belief? Shall we hope, and be hesitant to enjoy our hopes? Shall we desire and pray, and be afraid of attaining our desires, and lest our prayer should be heard? Shall we spend our lives in labor and travel, and be afraid of coming to our journey's end? Do you love life—or do you not? If not, why are you afraid of death? If you do, why then are you hesitant to pass into everlasting life? You know there is no hope of immortality on earth. Hence you must pass, whether you will or not, as all your fathers have done before you. It is therefore in heaven, or nowhere, that endless life is to be had. If you can live here forever, do. Hope for it, if any have done so before you. Go to some man of a thousand years old, and ask him how he made shift to draw out his life so long. But if you know that every man walks here in a vain show, and that his life is a shadow, a dream, a vapor—and that all these things shall be dissolved, and the fashion of them passes away—is it not more reasonable that we should set our hearts on the place where there is hope of our continuance, than where there is none? And where we must live forever, than where we must be but for so short a time?

"Alas! poor darkened, troubled soul! Is the presence of Christ less desirable in your eyes than the presence of such sinful worms as we, whom you are hesitant to part with? Is it more grievous to you to be absent from us—than from your Lord? Is it more grievous to you to be absent from earth—than from heaven? Is it more grievous to you to be absent from sinners—than from blessed saints? Is it more grievous to you to be absent from trouble and frailty—than from glory? Have you anything here that you shall desire in heaven? Alas, that we should thus draw back from happiness, and follow Christ so heavily and sadly into life! But all this is owing to the enemies that now molest our peace. Indwelling sin, and a flattering world, and a brutish flesh, and interposing death—are our discouragements that drive us back. But all these enemies shall shortly be overcome!

"Fear not death, then, let it do its worst. It can give you but one deadly grasp that shall kill itself, and prove your life. It is as the wasp that leaves its sting behind, and can sting no more. It shall but snuff the candle of your life, and make it shine brighter when it seems to be put out. It is but an undressing, and a gentle sleep. That which you could not here attain by all our preaching, and all your prayers, and cares, and pains—you shall speedily attain by the help of death. It is but the messenger of your gracious Lord, and calls you to him—to the place that he has prepared for you!"

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Safe in His arms

I am so blessed. At Monday night's Pittsburgh Gospel Choir rehearsal, we rehearsed a beautiful song entitled "Safe in His Arms". I cannot express how much this song affected me that night. The beautiful voice of Donna, the soloist, filled the East Liberty Presbyterian Church cathedral space. The lyrics speak to the heart. Everyone at some point in their life will have some (or many) defining moments where the soul desperately cries out to the Lord, for blessing, answers, wisdom, healing, faith, restoration. But, Oh... the Lord!!! Oh, how He is so willing. Let the song minister to you. Believe BELIEVE my friends. And be humbled because of the sacrifice He made for YOU.

Because the Lord is my shepherd,
I have everything I need.
He lets me rest in the meadow's grass
and He leads me beside the quiet streams,
He restoreth my failing health,
and He helps me to do what honors Him the most;
that's why I'm safe, that's why I'm safe,
that's why I'm safe, safe In His arms.

Chorus:
When the storms of life are raging and the billows roll,
I'm glad He shall hide me safe in His arms.

Vamp:
I'm glad He shall hide me.

Ending:
Safe in His arms.
(repeat as desired)

Now, words are beautiful. But a heavenly voice anointed by the Holy Spirit brings much glory to God.