Crushed Boxes

mermaid purse
“While the king was at his table, My perfume gave forth its fragrance” (Song of Solomon 1:12).

My father retired from a box company years ago. He did maintenance there, and now my brother has the same position. They make corrugated paper. Think about it, everything you buy comes in a container. Boxes and trinkets are things we like to place objects in. We situate jewelry and costly stones in boxes; we place coins, paper clips, tools, fishing bait & tackle and sewing needs. These boxes are protective coverings. Give a child a gift, and they are drawn to the box.

There was a precious box mentioned in scripture—a box made of a substance that is smoother than honey.  Boxes and packaging even happen in the womb. There is a birth that’s not spoken about often, its called a mermaid’s purse. I think you will be surprised to learn about these containers that cover and protect objects, even babies at times.

Placing something inside of something keeps it safe. A gun is locked in a gun case. Money is set in a safe. In the Bible, Adam knew his wife Eve, and they became one. He placed himself inside of her. Christianity fell in love with a saying, “Invite Jesus into your heart.” As literally as possible they mean this. Yeshua said He was the Word made flesh. So how does that work? “Thy word have I hid in my heart, that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11).

The first altar call was created in the early 1900’s by a man named Billy Sunday. He was a baseball player turned evangelist. Billy Graham and others took this “invite Jesus into your heart/ altar call” and ran with it. Before the altar call, there was the mourner’s bench. Salvation has evolved. To learn more about salvation and why Jesus said in Matthew 15:34, “ I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel,” pick up a copy of my teaching book Doctrine of Demons Part #2.

How does this work–this invitation and placing inside of a heart?

I love books. I have a bookcase that has many encased inside of it. I have wicker baskets under tables filled with books. These containers hold the books, but unless I take them out and read them, I do not know what creative stories lay inside the pages. However, if I take down Mary Poppins and read it, I can walk past my bookshelf, look at the cover, and immediately certain verses from the pages that I PLACED INSIDE MY HEART will spring forth in my mind.

“Winds in the east, there’s a mist coming in, like something is brewin’ and ’bout to begin.”

One of my personal favorites is, “Anything can happen if you let it.”

So what am I saying? I placed the story in my heart. I can pull it out if I need it. The Bible is a book that if we hide the Gospels, Proverbs and Psalms and other books in our heart, we can pull out wisdom and knowledge and understanding. We can be smarter and wiser than all our enemies. We can make “right” choices and be righteous.

So back to boxes. . .

There’s a rather peculiar birth called the mermaids sack. Another term is caul.

Maggie Koerth Baker explains it like this,

“Born in the caul” is a phrase that’s connected with a lot of cross-cultural myths and superstitions — Biologically, though, it refers to a baby that’s born with part of the amniotic sac — the bubble of fluid a fetus grows in inside the uterus — still attached. Usually, a piece of the sac is draped over the baby’s head or face. These are called caul births, and they’re rare. But, about once in every 80,000 births, you’ll get something truly extraordinary — “en-caul,” a baby born inside a completely intact amniotic sac, fluid and all.”

Ah, a precious gift inside the veiled fluid. This fluid was often saving the life of a child. Most of the babies born prematurely had a hard time making it back in the day, but one born sealed up in this sack seemed to thrive and live. Protection. His Holy Spirit is a precious protector too.

There were a couple of women in the Bible who had something treasured and protected as well. If you’ve ever heard the song My Alabaster Box by CeCe Winans, then you are familiar with the chorus. “You don’t know the cost of the oil in my alabaster box.”

And you don’t. You have no idea, and I have no idea of how much oil is in your flask or the cost of it, but I know it’s precious and needs to be protected.

Alabaster is a fine-grained, translucent form of gypsum, typically white and similar to marble. It’s easily carved and molded and was used to make the pillars in Solomon’s temple. The ointments that were so very costly such frankincense and myrrh were placed in expensive alabaster boxes or vials in those days to keep them pure. Her perfume was Nard or Spikenard. What do we know about Nard? Spikenard is used as an antibacterial, anti-fungal, anti-inflammatory, and a sedative. It was used in the temple during Shabbat as an incense–a sweet smelling perfume!

Not only was the aroma of these perfumed oils sweet and lovely to breathe in, but they were also healing. The flask was often coated with a seal or heavy wax like you see on specific whiskey or brandy decanters. This heavy seal kept the perfume from escaping and kept the costly oil from spoiling. We are sealed for the day of redemption.

“In Him, you also, after listening to the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation– having also believed, you were sealed in Him with the Holy Spirit of promise,” (1st Corinthians 1:13).

When Mary broke open her box, the whole room breathed in the sweetest perfume ever used. Why? Because it was poured out on the one, who died for us. She poured it on His head. The vial had to be broken. The seal had to be removed to get the fragrance out.

When we are broken like these boxes, it can be overwhelming. Crushing a rose petal brings out the perfume. Crushing olives give us oil. Brokenness before the king brings a sweet perfume—or a putrid bitterness. There are seven churches mentioned in Revelation. One church thinks its rich with this sweet fragrance, but Yeshua said they needed an anointment for their eyes.

“Because you say, “I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing,” and you do not know that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked, I advise you to buy from Me gold refined by fire so that you may become rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself, and that the shame of your nakedness will not be revealed; and eye salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see” (Revelation 3:17-18 NASB).

So back to boxes. What have we been placing in the box of our soul? Our heart? Our eyes?
“The good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth what is good; and the evil man out of the evil treasure brings forth what is evil; for his mouth speaks from that which fills his heart. Luke 6:45.

The Bible says that out of the overflow of our mouth our heart speaks, but if we have Yeshua, the Word hidden so profoundly, etched and engraved inside of our hearts our mouths will be like perfume. So, by all means, invite His word into your heart today and meditate on it.


Caul Photo by Aris Tsigrus


Son’s of Thunder!

I have three sons of thunder,
Sons of lightning, sons of fame.
I have three sons who live in a box on the corner begging for change.

They play trashcan drums and acoustic guitars.

They sing in the churches, and they sing in the bars.

They rise sturdy with strength like Samson.
They have arms of steel and hearts of flames.
They have eyes of knowledge from carrying much pain.
One is a prophet, the other a priest and one will inherit the pen of my ink.
One’s hearts is like Jeremiah,
One’s heart is like Amos,
And one’s heart is a broken stallion on a ride to Venus.
One’s telescope can see all of Jupiter’s rings.
The other has a tongue that can polish anything.
One’s eyes are so childlike and gentle to behold.
One holds a Masters in geology stones.
One’s a poet, ones a plumber, the other one’s a thief,
Stealing the others thunder every opportunity he meets.
One’s a gamer, ones a golfer, ones a runner pounding cement.
One’s a tailor, ones a sailor, ones trying to pay the rent.
One’s a fisherman, ones a comedian, and the other a Seer for the king.
One’s a prophet, ones a preacher, one wears a golden ring.
I have three sons of thunder, and they’ll rise to heaven’s throne.
They’ll storm the gates of hell,
And they’ll run the race steadfast.
No matter how things look right now,
The past is but the past.
HaShem of heaven’s armies will notice their zeal,
Like Hercules, they’ll run,
Like Solomon, they’ll build!
With wisdom and knowledge, they’ll cloak peace upon their backs.
Like David with his sling, they’ll crush every giant that attacks.
I have three sons who live in a box on the corner begging for change.
They play trashcan drums and acoustic guitars.
They sing in the churches, and they sing in the bars.
They fly through the air and sail through the seas,
I have three sons of thunder, and I’m as proud as I can be!


the men


The Taste of Rain

This is a poem I wrote in or around 2007 after losing my health, my home, my career, and occupation. During this dark night of the soul, my ex-husband left the country and never returned. The poem is darkness and light. Finding the light is like tasting the rain.


King David played the golden harp and drove the demons away.

I can’t seem to make the melody come; I’m plucking on strings of pain.
Once upon a midnight star, upon a sailor’s ship. . .
I stood and watched you sail right by, as my captain cried out in distress.

But you were much too busy, looking at the wind, and at sea,
I tossed and turned and waved my arms, but you ignored my pleas.
I’m thirsty, and I need to drink the water that makes one never thirst.
I pray
I wipe the tears that slide and drip off my fingertips
I wish I hadn’t drifted so far into this dark black mist.

The only thing to stare upon is stars and moonlit beams,
They bounce and flutter upon the waters,
but I am so thirsty I could scream.
If only I could quench this cry and heal my parched, parched, soul.
If only the One who delivers would swiftly make me whole!

David came and plucked his harp and angels sang great praise.
My ears heard only screeching cries upon my neck,
I felt a demon’s haunted breath.
I wish that I could die, and forget my tattered past.
After much trepidation, I humbly bow my knees.
And before I know it I’m repenting of all my crimes with tearful, heartfelt pleas.
More and more tears did slide and salted my anguished lips
I clutch my heart and squeeze my eyes and slowly began to slip. . .
Slip into the melody, like flutes and fainted dreams
And after long and bitter moans I hear a delightful sound
Twas king David playing his golden harp, he plucked and pulled each string,
a song only me and the angels hear as I glide through the sea.

Faster into the night, your silhouette I can faintly see.
Just a glimpse of you turning away, turning your eyes from me.
You abandoned me at my blackest hour.
It’s hard to take a breath,
I ride a wave into crashings currents,
Like Job, I beg for death,

But up upon a hill did glow, a light that caught my eye,
The lighthouse swelled with height so tall.
It towered over the sea.
Like a knight in shining bronze, a beacon for all to see.
It glowed into the darkening night and dried up all my tears.
Demons scream and demons fled and I became serene.
Then suddenly the sky opened up and rained a glistening stream.

It washed upon my gown and ran gently through my hair.
My pores opened up to taste its purity.
It trickled across parched, thirsty skin that had cracked, and bled.
It whispered to my spirit be free.

I opened up my mouth and drank,
I drank till was content,
And suddenly you were but a fog upon the outer mist.

The rain pelted all the pain into the black, dark sea
David played his golden harp and angels serenaded me.
I finally close my eyes and sleep under its amber glow,
The stars, the moonlit night, the beacon upon the hill. . .
And angels say they cannot cry, but whisper

Photo by Andrew Mushekov

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