Rachel Aldous — Thu, 17 Jun 2010 22:08:58 +0000

The other day was complaining to God. I got pretty bold and demanding with my attitude towards Him. I crossed a line and I knew it. I know very well that He loves me and all that but I fear losing the reverence for Him that He so deserves. After all He is Lord of the universe, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, I Am, Jehovah. He created me from the dust and to dust this body will eventually return. How dare I treat Him as a peer or worse as someone that is at my beckon call. It took a couple of days of conviction for me to come to my knees. I asked His forgiveness for my poor attitude and my foolish demands of Him. As I had that conversation with Him I wrote this:

The very air that I breathe is not mine to take
The sun that I warm in I did not make
my flesh held together by your sovereignty
but so often I forget my frail humanity
I do not live because I deserve to
Yet, somehow I make demands of You

Why should the Creator of heaven and earth
stand at attention for the creation He birthed
You don’t need me but I need You
I will cease to exist when you want me to
Like grass that springs up I will wither and die
without your permission no time can I buy

In my pathetic attempt to make this about me
I questioned your justice and ignored your mercy
to fit my agenda I altered your truth
So I could have my “Pet Jesus” to do what I wanted to
I searched to find my warm fuzzy feeling
failing to find true forgiveness and healing

Oh God have mercy on my sinful soul
please forgive me for trying to control
forgive my arrogance and haughty eyes
I know that pride you so despise
Please grant me a contrite heart
In your infinite grace grant me a fresh start

In your presence I bow completely humbled
I stammer and stutter my words fumbled
Thank you for not consuming me now
Though I deserve nothing less you love me somehow

A clip from Voddie Baucham – Evil/Philosophy

Rachel Aldous — Sat, 12 Jun 2010 00:02:52 +0000

I watched this clip from Voddie Baucham. I thought it was great. This guy is such an anointed preacher. I love hearing him. He just tells it like it is.

Why I Love Prison

Rachel Aldous — Wed, 12 May 2010 06:44:04 +0000

A few years back I was invited to sing for a bunch of guys at Donavon State Prison in San Ysidro, Ca. My guitarist was a little hesitant to go with me but with a little encouragement he came along too. My husband was not able to go with me that day. Feeling a little apprehensive about me going to a maximum security men’s prison without him, he insisted that I wear his giant sweatshirt over my outfit. It was a warm day and the sweat rolled down my back as we entered the yard. We had to bring in a sound system, cords, microphones, a guitar and even extra strings. Each item had to be carefully inspected and checked off of a pre approved list. This was a tedious and time consuming task that the guard didn’t seem to happy to be helping with. The extra strings were not allowed for fear that someone may take them from us and use them as a weapon. We were asked to initial a box on the signature log agreeing to the fact that in case of a hostage situation that we would not be ransomed. That gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. As I entered the yard I heard a few whistles and some men across the yard looked like they were trying to get my attention. I thought we would be escorted through with an armed guard but instead we had a ministry volunteer walking us through. While we walked along men of all colors, shapes, and sizes walked along with us. Most were asking about our gear and what we planned on doing there. I just smiled politely and encouraged them to come to the chapel and find out. The jitters I had when I first walked in were fading fast. And the moment I walked into the chapel the jitters were completely gone. Inside men were gathered in excited anticipation of the service about to take place. It was evident by the looks on their faces that this was something they looked forward to all week long. We hurriedly set the sound system up. Before we were done the service had already started. Men were giving amazing testimonies of God’s faithfulness to them while they were living in a tough place. I found my eyes welling up at some of the faith filled stories. No sound check time existed and all of the normal things that I thought were necessary for a good worship experience were not available. After the testimonies were over a group of prisoners came up and took their normal place on the stage. They began to sing. They did not use all of the typical worship songs. Most were very old and obscure hymns or choruses. There was no overhead projector yet most everyone was singing the words perfectly. There were some very enthusiastic but not so talented singers on the front row that must have been considered “second string” worship leaders. What they lacked in musical gifting they made up for in passion and volume.

I worshiped along with them but I must admit I was a bit distracted by the sheer volume in the room.There were about 50 men in the room yet it sounded like a 1,000. It was a cold white room with a very institutional feel yet those men in their fervor made it seem warm and inviting. I found myself just watching in amazement as the service proceeded. Somehow I was supposed to get up in a minute and give these guys something. I felt so inadequate to do that. I prayed for a word and heard God so clearly reminding me of the passage in Luke (7:47) that talks about the woman washing Jesus’ feet with her tears and wiping them with her hair and giving Jesus such an over the top gift as a bottle of perfume that was worth a man’s wages for an entire year. This woman happened to be a woman with a bad reputation possibly a prostitute, yet she was loving Jesus in a way that was certainly loftier than any kind of love the pharisees had offered him.

It was my turn to sing. The anticipation was felt in the air. A few shouts echoed through the room. I feared I was more of a distraction to the sweet praise than a blessing. I got up and spoke for a moment telling them about that passage in Luke. Him who is forgiven much; he loves much. They burst into applause with shouts of amen. I sang and they listened intently. I poured my heart out to them and they received every word I said like it was water to their thirsty souls. Their hunger for God superseded any ability or lack there of that I possessed. The tattoo tear drops, yoked frames, and hardened features became invisible to me as I sang to them. All I saw was a group of men who hungered for a new beginning and many who had already found it.

I and my whole family had been witnessing to my guitarist for 9 months prior to going into Donavon for the first time. We had just bought him a bible the week before we went. He had been doing some serious soul searching up to that point. As he sat through the service he was so moved that tears rolled down his face. It was only about 3 days later that he made the decision to follow God and give himself fully to God! After that I couldn’t get enough prison time to keep me satisfied. I was completely hooked. It beat any church experience I have ever had. Don’t get me wrong I still sing at churches. But now I find myself most of the time in prison facilities or at homeless shelters singing my heart out to the people who have experienced God’s forgiveness in a powerful way and in turn “love Him the most”.

Rachel Aldous — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 01:55:56 +0000