So, in my new, more focused praying in the car (I suppose its the only real reason commuting can be good), I was praying for my Dad, and thanking God for blessing him. I was basically saying to God, hey, I knwo my Dad almost had to go through this really intense deal, but through your Grace, you opened up many opportunities for him to take that burden off of his shoulders. And I thought, hey, how great is that, my Dad is a man of great wisdom and he has defenitely lived a grace-filled life, it's great that you've blessed him like this.
But wait.
what does that say about my world view? That God only blesses people when they're good and have been committed to him? That if you're not like that, like in olden days when you got sick or hurt, you must not be committed to God?
No. Heck no. Please no. I don't believe in a God who has a little checklist before He can bless people. I don't believe in a God with a little calculator, counting up the times I've done things right and done things wrong, and doling out mercy and grace dependent on that.
Absolutely not. Here's what I do believe: God works all things together for the good of those who love him.
So...good. That explains why my dad is being blessed so much, but what about me? What about all the blessing I need and want in my life that have been missing for so many months or years? I was supposed to have passed several major milestones in my life thus far - have a full-time job related to my field; be pregnant with my first child; be at least an acceptable cook; have a kick-butt garden; know how to throw clay on a potter's wheel; own a kayak. For real, these things are on my list.
Aha. There it is. These things are on my list. These things are my definition of good.
I should really listen to what I preach. J taught this weekend in youth group about how if you're on a plane, and a storm hits, and things aren't going the way you hoped and prayed they would, you don't go running up to the cockpit, throw the pilot out of the way and take the controls. That's ludicrous. Who would do that??
But I do it every day. God looks out and sees the whole panorama of possibility as he guides my life, but when i look out my teeny window with the shade pulled down half way, I freak out and think "This isn't what I signed up for. Why am I not being blessed? Why aren't good things happening to me? Let me drive, this is bogus."
But then there's His defenition of good. No, I don't have the things on my list. But here's what I do have: a chance to write for a couple dozen pubications on a regular basis and all kinds of subjects. A chance to live near family and not to far from the rest of my family. A home that is all my own. A porch swing. A job with good health insurance that I can excel at. My very own easel to paint as the inspiration moves me. A yard filled with blooming flowers, if not weeded. A car that will last until my kids are in middle school.
A God who loves me, and knows what's truly Good.
9.28.2009
9.24.2009
Peace because...
So I'm trying to be more intentional about praying, particularly when I have "down" time, such as on a walk to work, driving to the gym, waiting in line somewhere, etc. I was thinking the other day about what God has been teaching me lately, or, what God has been teaching me my whole cognizant life it seems. He's teaching me that He's in charge, and that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him, and that as such, I need to learn to rest in Him. Thinking about my current financial situation, I chuckled at God's intentionality with the perfect math He worked in our budget while my husband is currently unemployed. We're not buying new clothes or going to concerts, but we can pay every single one of our bills on time. Perfect.
And I uttered the words: "Thank you for saving me."
What I meant was, thank you for saving me from my anxious, un-trusting, freaking-out self. For saving me from having to deal with the pain of practical reality, of not having enough money or enough time or enough friends.
But those things aren't really that important. When I said the phrase "Thank you for saving me," I unexpectedly brought up the real reason I should be thanking Him every day. For...saving me. For giving me the freedom to live my life with Him. For deciding I am worth every second of His time, every drop of His blood. To quote the great Jon Acuff: "He recognizes me. He created me. He knows me inside and out, the parts that are ugly and the parts that are beautiful and the parts I don't even know exist yet. And he doesn't see a dope. He sees a beloved daughter...How many times will God take me back when I fall? Again! Again! Again!"
SO when I'm worried about bills or work projects or getting sick or not seeing my family enough, even though those are all legitimate concerns, I need to remember to Rest in Him. Because He saved me - from myself and from my Sin and into His Grace.
And I uttered the words: "Thank you for saving me."
What I meant was, thank you for saving me from my anxious, un-trusting, freaking-out self. For saving me from having to deal with the pain of practical reality, of not having enough money or enough time or enough friends.
But those things aren't really that important. When I said the phrase "Thank you for saving me," I unexpectedly brought up the real reason I should be thanking Him every day. For...saving me. For giving me the freedom to live my life with Him. For deciding I am worth every second of His time, every drop of His blood. To quote the great Jon Acuff: "He recognizes me. He created me. He knows me inside and out, the parts that are ugly and the parts that are beautiful and the parts I don't even know exist yet. And he doesn't see a dope. He sees a beloved daughter...How many times will God take me back when I fall? Again! Again! Again!"
SO when I'm worried about bills or work projects or getting sick or not seeing my family enough, even though those are all legitimate concerns, I need to remember to Rest in Him. Because He saved me - from myself and from my Sin and into His Grace.
9.02.2009
Don't Panic
From John chapter 18:
28Then the Jews led Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. By now it was early morning, and to avoid ceremonial uncleanness the Jews did not enter the palace; they wanted to be able to eat the Passover. 29So Pilate came out to them and asked, "What charges are you bringing against this man?"
30"If he were not a criminal," they replied, "we would not have handed him over to you."
31Pilate said, "Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law."
"But we have no right to execute anyone," the Jews objected. 32This happened so that the words Jesus had spoken indicating the kind of death he was going to die would be fulfilled.
33Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?"
34"Is that your own idea," Jesus asked, "or did others talk to you about me?"
35"Am I a Jew?" Pilate replied. "It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?"
36Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place."
37"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.
Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."
38"What is truth?" Pilate asked. With this he went out again to the Jews and said, "I find no basis for a charge against him. 39But it is your custom for me to release to you one prisoner at the time of the Passover. Do you want me to release 'the king of the Jews'?"
40They shouted back, "No, not him! Give us Barabbas!" Now Barabbas had taken part in a rebellion.
and John 19:
7The Jews insisted, "We have a law, and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the Son of God."
8When Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid, 9and he went back inside the palace. "Where do you come from?" he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. 10"Do you refuse to speak to me?" Pilate said. "Don't you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?"
11Jesus answered, "You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin."
12From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jews kept shouting, "If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar."
13When Pilate heard this, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judge's seat at a place known as the Stone Pavement (which in Aramaic is Gabbatha). 14It was the day of Preparation of Passover Week, about the sixth hour.
"Here is your king," Pilate said to the Jews.
15But they shouted, "Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!"
"Shall I crucify your king?" Pilate asked.
"We have no king but Caesar," the chief priests answered.
16Finally Pilate handed him over to them to be crucified.
Okay, keep that passage in the back of your mind for a moment, both Pilate's conversatinal points and Jesus' reaction throughout this whole process.
In Bible Study last night, which, in no relation to this topic at all, parenting, a comment by the leader on the DVD, Tim Kimmel, really, really struck me. Forgive me for harping on this whole idea, but I feel like when God finally gets through to me I have to stay stuck on it until I feel like it really sinks in.
Tim said: "God is on His throne. God is not panicking."
And it struck me as hilariously funny, for two reasons. One - I truly cannot picture God panicking. Through any stretch of my imagination, I cannot picture him hopping off of his eternal throne and running around with a crease between His eyebrows, wringing His hands and clenching His teeth in worry.
This is a good thing, not because I'm not imaginative, but because I have a foundational belief that God is all-powerful and cannot ever be taken aback and anxious about life.
However, my second reaction, also funny, was "well, if I don't believe God ever panicks, then why do I act like I do?" I often act (I should say with good reason, when my husband looses a job, when some very expensive appliance in our home breaks, when my car is literally about to explode) as if God must be freaking out with this unexpected turn of events, and, as Nipsy would say, "what are we gonna DO??!"
But God is not. he's not sitting stone cold without feeling or action, but He's not freaking out. He's taking it in stride, and, here's the best part - communicating with us on our level.
I write for a living (the bacon bits, anyway), and One of the foundational lessons for a writer is figure out who your audience is. If you can't communicate on your audience's level, don't bother. They won't figure it out. This works for both gifted students and those with disabilities. Gifted students will hardly hear things they aren't challenged by, and vice versa for those with learning or other disabilities. God, go figure, understands this concept to a T.
He meets me where I'm at. He says, look, you're freaking out. I'm not so much, but let's walk this path together and I'll listen to you ranting and I'll send some of My special brand of other-world peace back atcha. Let's talk about what you're going through and think of some practical solutions to let Me handle it. He is gentle, prodding when needed, scrappy and absorbing, each as they are called for by my particular blend of person.
Now back to the gospel of John. This is one of the places we see this solidified as extremely as it could be: Jesus' own death. If there was ever a cause to freak out, it's right now. It's before Jesus is flogged, when He's talking with the most powerful Roman authority in His region, and when He, over and over again, has a chance to save Himself in teh chaos that is erupting.
But he doesn't. Two things are particularly evident in these sections of scripture: Jesus is not panicking. Not even a little. Not even like a drop of sweat accidentally trickling down his face worried.
Not only that, but look at what He's saying to pilot. Not the message of the words, but the manner. Pilot is a regional king. Jesus talks to Pilot in his terms. He talks about being a King, about being of royal descent and of royal responsibility. He talks about things greater than this world, and by displaying a sense of calm and assurance in who He is and what He is called for, Pilot meets Him where he is. Pilot does everythign he can to change the natural course of events. Pilot is often displayed as the man who washed his hands of the One True Christ, but really, Jesus was revealed to Him in the same way Jesus reveals himself to us regularly: God doesn't panic, and God is on His throne.
28Then the Jews led Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. By now it was early morning, and to avoid ceremonial uncleanness the Jews did not enter the palace; they wanted to be able to eat the Passover. 29So Pilate came out to them and asked, "What charges are you bringing against this man?"
30"If he were not a criminal," they replied, "we would not have handed him over to you."
31Pilate said, "Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law."
"But we have no right to execute anyone," the Jews objected. 32This happened so that the words Jesus had spoken indicating the kind of death he was going to die would be fulfilled.
33Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?"
34"Is that your own idea," Jesus asked, "or did others talk to you about me?"
35"Am I a Jew?" Pilate replied. "It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?"
36Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place."
37"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.
Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."
38"What is truth?" Pilate asked. With this he went out again to the Jews and said, "I find no basis for a charge against him. 39But it is your custom for me to release to you one prisoner at the time of the Passover. Do you want me to release 'the king of the Jews'?"
40They shouted back, "No, not him! Give us Barabbas!" Now Barabbas had taken part in a rebellion.
and John 19:
7The Jews insisted, "We have a law, and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the Son of God."
8When Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid, 9and he went back inside the palace. "Where do you come from?" he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. 10"Do you refuse to speak to me?" Pilate said. "Don't you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?"
11Jesus answered, "You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin."
12From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jews kept shouting, "If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar."
13When Pilate heard this, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judge's seat at a place known as the Stone Pavement (which in Aramaic is Gabbatha). 14It was the day of Preparation of Passover Week, about the sixth hour.
"Here is your king," Pilate said to the Jews.
15But they shouted, "Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!"
"Shall I crucify your king?" Pilate asked.
"We have no king but Caesar," the chief priests answered.
16Finally Pilate handed him over to them to be crucified.
Okay, keep that passage in the back of your mind for a moment, both Pilate's conversatinal points and Jesus' reaction throughout this whole process.
In Bible Study last night, which, in no relation to this topic at all, parenting, a comment by the leader on the DVD, Tim Kimmel, really, really struck me. Forgive me for harping on this whole idea, but I feel like when God finally gets through to me I have to stay stuck on it until I feel like it really sinks in.
Tim said: "God is on His throne. God is not panicking."
And it struck me as hilariously funny, for two reasons. One - I truly cannot picture God panicking. Through any stretch of my imagination, I cannot picture him hopping off of his eternal throne and running around with a crease between His eyebrows, wringing His hands and clenching His teeth in worry.
This is a good thing, not because I'm not imaginative, but because I have a foundational belief that God is all-powerful and cannot ever be taken aback and anxious about life.
However, my second reaction, also funny, was "well, if I don't believe God ever panicks, then why do I act like I do?" I often act (I should say with good reason, when my husband looses a job, when some very expensive appliance in our home breaks, when my car is literally about to explode) as if God must be freaking out with this unexpected turn of events, and, as Nipsy would say, "what are we gonna DO??!"
But God is not. he's not sitting stone cold without feeling or action, but He's not freaking out. He's taking it in stride, and, here's the best part - communicating with us on our level.
I write for a living (the bacon bits, anyway), and One of the foundational lessons for a writer is figure out who your audience is. If you can't communicate on your audience's level, don't bother. They won't figure it out. This works for both gifted students and those with disabilities. Gifted students will hardly hear things they aren't challenged by, and vice versa for those with learning or other disabilities. God, go figure, understands this concept to a T.
He meets me where I'm at. He says, look, you're freaking out. I'm not so much, but let's walk this path together and I'll listen to you ranting and I'll send some of My special brand of other-world peace back atcha. Let's talk about what you're going through and think of some practical solutions to let Me handle it. He is gentle, prodding when needed, scrappy and absorbing, each as they are called for by my particular blend of person.
Now back to the gospel of John. This is one of the places we see this solidified as extremely as it could be: Jesus' own death. If there was ever a cause to freak out, it's right now. It's before Jesus is flogged, when He's talking with the most powerful Roman authority in His region, and when He, over and over again, has a chance to save Himself in teh chaos that is erupting.
But he doesn't. Two things are particularly evident in these sections of scripture: Jesus is not panicking. Not even a little. Not even like a drop of sweat accidentally trickling down his face worried.
Not only that, but look at what He's saying to pilot. Not the message of the words, but the manner. Pilot is a regional king. Jesus talks to Pilot in his terms. He talks about being a King, about being of royal descent and of royal responsibility. He talks about things greater than this world, and by displaying a sense of calm and assurance in who He is and what He is called for, Pilot meets Him where he is. Pilot does everythign he can to change the natural course of events. Pilot is often displayed as the man who washed his hands of the One True Christ, but really, Jesus was revealed to Him in the same way Jesus reveals himself to us regularly: God doesn't panic, and God is on His throne.
8.10.2009
“It’s not IS God going to provide for and protect me. It’s How He’ll accomplish that.
Ah, the glories of JCrew sermons. Always visual. Always with jokes throughout. Always with stories that you may wish were not actually true (It’s time…for the bodywash). And somehow, always so applicable. I love the mix I receive as a believer from attending the larger worship services and my life group, with lessons purely aimed at a community of adults, and attending Saturday night junior high, where the lessons are not aimed at me, but rather, at a more basic, clear understanding of the Bible to lay the groundwork for their future lives of serving Christ and others. All that purely means: Josh is awesome, but not anywhere near as awesome as the lessons God is continually trying to hammer into my head. Not with a hammer, mind you, but in a continual method that needs to be hammer-like in order to make it through to me.
Thus the quote above. Now, I’ve professed believing that God will serve and protect me for my whole life, because I am His beloved daughter. Period. Looking back on my life, even, say, just my married life, it’s chrystal clear the ways and times where we needed x,y or z, and God met that need in an exact way that I couldn’t even have dreamed of.
But in the midst of this, I realized something. Though I do trust God, I trust Him in a different role than I should. I trust Him in a sort of distant-grandparent sort of way. As if He didn’t orchestrate my life, but rather, was always in the wings if I need it or to offer congratulations at rising above life’s challenges. Or to offer stories of “when I was a boy…”
Thus, when I hit a crisis, which as anyone who knows me has learned that it is almost exactly every six months. Sometimes to the day!!! Even though I know God can and has and will provide, what I tend to think is something like this:
Aright God, I dunno what you’re doing. In fact, I’m quite upset at the fact that you saw the need to shake up a path that I thought was finally coming to some fruition. But it’s okay. Because I will save this. I will work hard, be aggressive, become exhausted, and save the world. Or at least, save my home and jobs and marriage and dreams. I’ll do it. I’m ready. Okay, I’m taking off now. I’m still not very happy with you. But I know you can provide.”
Not very trusting, is it. Or at least, not in the right person. I trust myself. I am confident, talented, and a hard worker. I trust my husband to comfort me when those other three things break down. I trust most people to let me down, but it’s okay, I can solve my own problems. And, oh yes, I trust God to be there.
But, it’s a question that has to be asked: Why do I trust that God will be there, but that He’s too busy or distracted or determined not to provide for my needs?
Case in point (to prove me wrong, as it were). Three weeks after losing a temp job I’d been told for weeks I’d be gaining full-time status at, I landed a better job, with better benefits, closer to home, with more flexibility and challenges. Tim lands a job, after commuting a half an hour to a job he didn’t really appreciate (or v. versa), literally 2 miles from our home, with a Christian vision and mission and kindred spirits. Even when he looses said job, his pay in the past year at one time was enough so that even on unemployment, we make exactly how much it takes to pay our bills, combined with my two jobs. Exactly enough. How’s that for God’s math skills?
And yet it’s a fight for me. Because I am self-sufficient. Ask my parents, I always have been. I packed my bags to run away and start my own life at about 4 years old. My dad even helped me pack! I’ve travelled internationally by myself, led large groups of people by myself, planned entire campus-wide events by myself, gotten jobs and degrees and leadership positions by myself. Why would I assume that God needs to do these things for me? I’m fine with Him waiting in the wings. I’m fine to “pray continually” for others who are actually in need. I’m fine to receive a high-five from Him when I finally get that interview I’ve been waiting for for two years.
You see where the trouble is. I know there’s about 1,000 Bible verses to prove me wrong. To say that He is the author and Perfector, the Great I Am, mightier than anything I can imagine. I know it. I’ve read it, preached it, taught it, and tried to lead by example of it.
But I failed. I do everyday, it shouldn’t be such a surprise.
I’m going to take a second and pull some quotes from my favorite blog, “Stuff Christians Like.” I actually printed this out (which, if you know me, I never print anything out without express direct from the government for tax purposes).
“Although I fall repeatedly and feel shame at my weaknesses, God will never see that and reject me by saying, “Again? Again? Again?” I think that when Christ rose, the statement “again?!” died…He’s God. He’s bigger and wilder and more loving than we can even fathom.”
And you know what else? He can provide for me. He doesn’t need me to save the day. He loves me, and He loves my help, and He loves my passion to tackle the world, but He doesn’t love it when my pride and determination get in the way of Him doing the amazing things He orchestrates.
He is sufficient.
Ah, the glories of JCrew sermons. Always visual. Always with jokes throughout. Always with stories that you may wish were not actually true (It’s time…for the bodywash). And somehow, always so applicable. I love the mix I receive as a believer from attending the larger worship services and my life group, with lessons purely aimed at a community of adults, and attending Saturday night junior high, where the lessons are not aimed at me, but rather, at a more basic, clear understanding of the Bible to lay the groundwork for their future lives of serving Christ and others. All that purely means: Josh is awesome, but not anywhere near as awesome as the lessons God is continually trying to hammer into my head. Not with a hammer, mind you, but in a continual method that needs to be hammer-like in order to make it through to me.
Thus the quote above. Now, I’ve professed believing that God will serve and protect me for my whole life, because I am His beloved daughter. Period. Looking back on my life, even, say, just my married life, it’s chrystal clear the ways and times where we needed x,y or z, and God met that need in an exact way that I couldn’t even have dreamed of.
But in the midst of this, I realized something. Though I do trust God, I trust Him in a different role than I should. I trust Him in a sort of distant-grandparent sort of way. As if He didn’t orchestrate my life, but rather, was always in the wings if I need it or to offer congratulations at rising above life’s challenges. Or to offer stories of “when I was a boy…”
Thus, when I hit a crisis, which as anyone who knows me has learned that it is almost exactly every six months. Sometimes to the day!!! Even though I know God can and has and will provide, what I tend to think is something like this:
Aright God, I dunno what you’re doing. In fact, I’m quite upset at the fact that you saw the need to shake up a path that I thought was finally coming to some fruition. But it’s okay. Because I will save this. I will work hard, be aggressive, become exhausted, and save the world. Or at least, save my home and jobs and marriage and dreams. I’ll do it. I’m ready. Okay, I’m taking off now. I’m still not very happy with you. But I know you can provide.”
Not very trusting, is it. Or at least, not in the right person. I trust myself. I am confident, talented, and a hard worker. I trust my husband to comfort me when those other three things break down. I trust most people to let me down, but it’s okay, I can solve my own problems. And, oh yes, I trust God to be there.
But, it’s a question that has to be asked: Why do I trust that God will be there, but that He’s too busy or distracted or determined not to provide for my needs?
Case in point (to prove me wrong, as it were). Three weeks after losing a temp job I’d been told for weeks I’d be gaining full-time status at, I landed a better job, with better benefits, closer to home, with more flexibility and challenges. Tim lands a job, after commuting a half an hour to a job he didn’t really appreciate (or v. versa), literally 2 miles from our home, with a Christian vision and mission and kindred spirits. Even when he looses said job, his pay in the past year at one time was enough so that even on unemployment, we make exactly how much it takes to pay our bills, combined with my two jobs. Exactly enough. How’s that for God’s math skills?
And yet it’s a fight for me. Because I am self-sufficient. Ask my parents, I always have been. I packed my bags to run away and start my own life at about 4 years old. My dad even helped me pack! I’ve travelled internationally by myself, led large groups of people by myself, planned entire campus-wide events by myself, gotten jobs and degrees and leadership positions by myself. Why would I assume that God needs to do these things for me? I’m fine with Him waiting in the wings. I’m fine to “pray continually” for others who are actually in need. I’m fine to receive a high-five from Him when I finally get that interview I’ve been waiting for for two years.
You see where the trouble is. I know there’s about 1,000 Bible verses to prove me wrong. To say that He is the author and Perfector, the Great I Am, mightier than anything I can imagine. I know it. I’ve read it, preached it, taught it, and tried to lead by example of it.
But I failed. I do everyday, it shouldn’t be such a surprise.
I’m going to take a second and pull some quotes from my favorite blog, “Stuff Christians Like.” I actually printed this out (which, if you know me, I never print anything out without express direct from the government for tax purposes).
“Although I fall repeatedly and feel shame at my weaknesses, God will never see that and reject me by saying, “Again? Again? Again?” I think that when Christ rose, the statement “again?!” died…He’s God. He’s bigger and wilder and more loving than we can even fathom.”
And you know what else? He can provide for me. He doesn’t need me to save the day. He loves me, and He loves my help, and He loves my passion to tackle the world, but He doesn’t love it when my pride and determination get in the way of Him doing the amazing things He orchestrates.
He is sufficient.
8.04.2009
Dickens of a thing
So I had to use a literary quote at some point, my whole brain is riddled with them. At least I haven't stooped to the irrepressible Lord Byron yet.
"The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of us; but, so far we are pursued by nothing else."
When I first read this I thought it was the most inspiring quote ever. I've never seen language so skillfully handled. It's the closing lines of a chapter from A Tale of Two Cities, one of my all-time favorite books.
I've begun to feel like that a lot recently. In this wierd....hologram. Okay, so the star trek references come out of the woodworks. I can't help that its one of three tv shows I watched as a child! But maybe that doens't make sense to some of you. Here's a better example: a vacuum. not to pick up dirt off floors, but this wierd...clear...nondescript place. And right outside, I am in that scene. The wind is whipping everything, wailing like a hurt child. The moon shine makes everything eerie and blinding in the darkness; clouds roil and boom in anticipation. Looking at it all, I'm crying, I'm terrified. I'm lost and scared and not sure where to go.
But then I blink. Then my eyes focus. and I realize, that I am shuttered away in this place of no harm. In a wierd, glass elevator of sorts. The glass us not breakable. The Savior's wing shields me. In this place that, though the effects of the storm around me are seen, heard, and effective, are not piercing. I was thinking about this before my last post, about how trust and safety are so intertwined. If you trust, you will feel safe, and not feel the need to worry. If you trust, no matter how scary things are, you will remain peaceful. Not in a surreal, serene way, but in a way that we know our foundations will not be moved. That we may be broken, battered, and dismayed, but never pierced. Never shattered. Never left for dead.
It's hard to see past the storm. It's hard to tear your eyes away from the raging sea, the crashing mountains, the inky black clouds and the whirlwind inches away. You can't ignore it. Nor can you fight it. But you can hold tight. You can trust. You can not only feel safe, but be safe.
The only thing I can think of right now is Hannah's song. Its long and gangly in the English translation, but I can just imagine her sitting in the temple, on her knees, singing, as she gave up the only thing she had been waiting her whole life for. May I be that peaceful in my times of worry and woe. May I have my foundations so secure that I sing when in pain and look through the storm to the arms holding me.
"The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of us; but, so far we are pursued by nothing else."
When I first read this I thought it was the most inspiring quote ever. I've never seen language so skillfully handled. It's the closing lines of a chapter from A Tale of Two Cities, one of my all-time favorite books.
I've begun to feel like that a lot recently. In this wierd....hologram. Okay, so the star trek references come out of the woodworks. I can't help that its one of three tv shows I watched as a child! But maybe that doens't make sense to some of you. Here's a better example: a vacuum. not to pick up dirt off floors, but this wierd...clear...nondescript place. And right outside, I am in that scene. The wind is whipping everything, wailing like a hurt child. The moon shine makes everything eerie and blinding in the darkness; clouds roil and boom in anticipation. Looking at it all, I'm crying, I'm terrified. I'm lost and scared and not sure where to go.
But then I blink. Then my eyes focus. and I realize, that I am shuttered away in this place of no harm. In a wierd, glass elevator of sorts. The glass us not breakable. The Savior's wing shields me. In this place that, though the effects of the storm around me are seen, heard, and effective, are not piercing. I was thinking about this before my last post, about how trust and safety are so intertwined. If you trust, you will feel safe, and not feel the need to worry. If you trust, no matter how scary things are, you will remain peaceful. Not in a surreal, serene way, but in a way that we know our foundations will not be moved. That we may be broken, battered, and dismayed, but never pierced. Never shattered. Never left for dead.
It's hard to see past the storm. It's hard to tear your eyes away from the raging sea, the crashing mountains, the inky black clouds and the whirlwind inches away. You can't ignore it. Nor can you fight it. But you can hold tight. You can trust. You can not only feel safe, but be safe.
The only thing I can think of right now is Hannah's song. Its long and gangly in the English translation, but I can just imagine her sitting in the temple, on her knees, singing, as she gave up the only thing she had been waiting her whole life for. May I be that peaceful in my times of worry and woe. May I have my foundations so secure that I sing when in pain and look through the storm to the arms holding me.
7.21.2009
Hope.
Psalm 46:
God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.
...Selah. Forever.
God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.
...Selah. Forever.
7.13.2009
Practicality
So I've been trying to work my way through the new testament in a year. As can be expected, I'm sorely behind at this point (about 9 weeks I think), but its because I keep stopping and mulling over sections or specific verses before I go on.
I was recently reading an overly-familiar story of Lazarus being raised from the dead. Good stuff, all around, and this time, the whole story seemed to center more around Martha than Lazarus. As you can probably guess, I identify with Martha. She's practical. She's got things to do. She worships in action, in compassion and in providing for the needs of those around her. Mary's great and all, and I admire those who sit at the feet of Jesus and calmly stare into his eyes, hanging on every word. But I'll bring some knitting or sketching if you please, while I sit at His feet :) I'm kidding, but you get the picture. (JenAnn knows I can relax, it just usually involves taking up most of someone's floor :)
So right about the middle of the story, we see Martha, who ran out on the road to meet Jesus. That's right, Martha, not Mary, sitting at home, weeping. Martha, obviously in tears, face blotchy, stomach growling, wearing ripped mourning clothes and tired as all get out from running to meet him after crying for three days, says, truthfully, to Jesus, that if He had just been there, her brother would not have died. She hopefully adds, betraying her deep trust in this walking God, "But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask." She hopes. Maybe blindy -- she's never seen someone raised from the dead. but she hopes.
As they weep together, Jesus explains that its okay, Lazarus will be out walking around in a minute. She, completely in context, mistakenly assumes He means the final resurrection. Still with tears running down his face and matching liquid on hers, He makes it plainer, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"
Of course she believes this. Her brother was one of Jesus' good friends. Her sister worships at his feet and stares, wide-eyed, at his every word. He has come to save her world, to save her soul, but not to save her brother's earthly life. But maybe...
That well of hope suddenly shoots up, but she quells it down. Her brother is dead. She saw him. He's behind a massive stone of the family tomb. His body is decaying. It's been not just hours, but days.
Still, she does believe in Jesus. So she answers Him truthfully, ""Yes, Lord," she told him, "I believe that you are the Christ,[b] the Son of God, who was to come into the world."
So they walk to the tomb. To mourn, the sisters (Mary eventually came along) assuming that they were just going to mourn in person, as it were. Jesus is still crying. They are still crying. Everyone, really, is still crying, the pain of losing a loved one is still so fresh.
Then Jesus asks some of the heftier men standing around (crying) to push away the stone. Mary, wordless, watching what her Beloved Lord would do, is still as a statue. Martha, struggling with teh hope that tries to overwhelm her, makes one last try at practicality, what she is so very good at: "by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days." True story. Rotting flesh, I assume, is both pretty strong and pretty sickening.
Both women are crying harder now, out of fear. Out of trust. Out of the impossible.
Jesus, however, is done sniffling. His voice rings out, loud enough, it develops, to wake the dead. There is no doubt that He knows what He is doing.
And the miracle happens. Their brother winks at them from behind his bandages. He does a little jig and hugs Jesus like the brothers they are. Mary cries, somehow, harder, but also laughs. Martha stops crying. She is shouting. She is whooping for joy. She is dancing, and spinning, and laughing and okay, maybe still crying a little. Jesus is still. He sees the celibration. He is a part of the celebration. And the tears come again - as He sees His precious children not only see, but believe. As He unites a family for the work God has called them for. As He gets to see His friend again, gets to grant life, the very thing He was made for from the beginning. The tears slip down his dusty and tanned face, but He smiles through them. And then, He joins the dance, praising His Father Above for the healing power that is before all time, in all time, and beyond all time.
Anyway. Sorry, got caught up in the story there. Martha. Practical. I was struck by the juxtaposition of her declaration of absolute faith, the so obvious desperate hope in her eyes, and the very practical observation that Lazarus is very, very dead. It doesn't make sense that she would say one thing, and after walking a half a mile, would say another. We realize she is ever-practical, but she is also committed. Why say one thing when she will lose her belief moments later.
Because she did not believe the impossible. She did believe in the Christ. She knew Him as only a few intimate friends did. She knew His step, His scent, His hands and His smile. And she believed, without question, in the time of her life that was the most grief and pain-filled she had ever known. God is Sovereign. Praise be to God.
But she did not believe the impossible. She believed in the known. She hoped. Oh, how she hoped. But she did not believe, not with everything she had, not beyond the limits of her sight or her mind or her human-born strength. She believed in what she knew. But she didn't even step into the realm of believing what she didn't know.
I pray that I can believe in what I don't know. For the Glory of God, so often, is displayed in ways that go far beyond what I know, and are weaved into a magnificent plan that I could never have dreamed of. Lazarus is alive. Jesus is alive. God is on His throne.
I was recently reading an overly-familiar story of Lazarus being raised from the dead. Good stuff, all around, and this time, the whole story seemed to center more around Martha than Lazarus. As you can probably guess, I identify with Martha. She's practical. She's got things to do. She worships in action, in compassion and in providing for the needs of those around her. Mary's great and all, and I admire those who sit at the feet of Jesus and calmly stare into his eyes, hanging on every word. But I'll bring some knitting or sketching if you please, while I sit at His feet :) I'm kidding, but you get the picture. (JenAnn knows I can relax, it just usually involves taking up most of someone's floor :)
So right about the middle of the story, we see Martha, who ran out on the road to meet Jesus. That's right, Martha, not Mary, sitting at home, weeping. Martha, obviously in tears, face blotchy, stomach growling, wearing ripped mourning clothes and tired as all get out from running to meet him after crying for three days, says, truthfully, to Jesus, that if He had just been there, her brother would not have died. She hopefully adds, betraying her deep trust in this walking God, "But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask." She hopes. Maybe blindy -- she's never seen someone raised from the dead. but she hopes.
As they weep together, Jesus explains that its okay, Lazarus will be out walking around in a minute. She, completely in context, mistakenly assumes He means the final resurrection. Still with tears running down his face and matching liquid on hers, He makes it plainer, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"
Of course she believes this. Her brother was one of Jesus' good friends. Her sister worships at his feet and stares, wide-eyed, at his every word. He has come to save her world, to save her soul, but not to save her brother's earthly life. But maybe...
That well of hope suddenly shoots up, but she quells it down. Her brother is dead. She saw him. He's behind a massive stone of the family tomb. His body is decaying. It's been not just hours, but days.
Still, she does believe in Jesus. So she answers Him truthfully, ""Yes, Lord," she told him, "I believe that you are the Christ,[b] the Son of God, who was to come into the world."
So they walk to the tomb. To mourn, the sisters (Mary eventually came along) assuming that they were just going to mourn in person, as it were. Jesus is still crying. They are still crying. Everyone, really, is still crying, the pain of losing a loved one is still so fresh.
Then Jesus asks some of the heftier men standing around (crying) to push away the stone. Mary, wordless, watching what her Beloved Lord would do, is still as a statue. Martha, struggling with teh hope that tries to overwhelm her, makes one last try at practicality, what she is so very good at: "by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days." True story. Rotting flesh, I assume, is both pretty strong and pretty sickening.
Both women are crying harder now, out of fear. Out of trust. Out of the impossible.
Jesus, however, is done sniffling. His voice rings out, loud enough, it develops, to wake the dead. There is no doubt that He knows what He is doing.
And the miracle happens. Their brother winks at them from behind his bandages. He does a little jig and hugs Jesus like the brothers they are. Mary cries, somehow, harder, but also laughs. Martha stops crying. She is shouting. She is whooping for joy. She is dancing, and spinning, and laughing and okay, maybe still crying a little. Jesus is still. He sees the celibration. He is a part of the celebration. And the tears come again - as He sees His precious children not only see, but believe. As He unites a family for the work God has called them for. As He gets to see His friend again, gets to grant life, the very thing He was made for from the beginning. The tears slip down his dusty and tanned face, but He smiles through them. And then, He joins the dance, praising His Father Above for the healing power that is before all time, in all time, and beyond all time.
Anyway. Sorry, got caught up in the story there. Martha. Practical. I was struck by the juxtaposition of her declaration of absolute faith, the so obvious desperate hope in her eyes, and the very practical observation that Lazarus is very, very dead. It doesn't make sense that she would say one thing, and after walking a half a mile, would say another. We realize she is ever-practical, but she is also committed. Why say one thing when she will lose her belief moments later.
Because she did not believe the impossible. She did believe in the Christ. She knew Him as only a few intimate friends did. She knew His step, His scent, His hands and His smile. And she believed, without question, in the time of her life that was the most grief and pain-filled she had ever known. God is Sovereign. Praise be to God.
But she did not believe the impossible. She believed in the known. She hoped. Oh, how she hoped. But she did not believe, not with everything she had, not beyond the limits of her sight or her mind or her human-born strength. She believed in what she knew. But she didn't even step into the realm of believing what she didn't know.
I pray that I can believe in what I don't know. For the Glory of God, so often, is displayed in ways that go far beyond what I know, and are weaved into a magnificent plan that I could never have dreamed of. Lazarus is alive. Jesus is alive. God is on His throne.
6.29.2009
air guitar rockin'
So this weekend during the church service, I sat behind a mentally challenged adult. He was about a foot shorter than me, sitting smack in the middle of a section close to the stage...and rockin' out to air guitar like I've never seen before. It probably made his day that the worship band played both an audioslave (I'm serious) and a Paramour song - perfect for air guitar. And it was...exhilarating. Almost laughable. I don't mean because it was embarrassing for him, or embarrassing to those around his flailing arms and jumping up and down, hands reaching to the heavens. I mean that maybe everyone else in the building should have been embarrassed.
Picture it: 2,000 people. lights dimmed. Drummer banging away on his set like there's no tomorrow, soloist wailing out the lyrics with an edge to her voice, lovingn the God we serve. a mound of people standing still, singing, yes, but sort of frozen in time. and this guy, jumping around like you couldn't hold him down if you tried. Nothing held him back. He sang louder than I've ever heard someone sing in church. He rocked better than any classic rock band from the 80s. He had more stage presence than anyone actually up on stage. In fact, though he would be labelled as mentally challenged....maybe, in this instance. he was more mentally present than anyone around him. Myself included.
Because as I stood there, in my skirt, heels, hair done, and, well, rather tame reflection of God in my life during a worship service, he was anything but tame.
He was exuberant.
He was celebrating with abandon.
He was undignified.
More than anyone else I've ever seen during a service, he was full of reckless love for his Savior.
Now I'm not saying that everyone around us wasn't worshipping. They were. you could hear the harmony, see people tapping their feet to the beat. But this guy was way over the edge. Multiple times during the service, I seriously considered climbing over the two rows of seats to rock out with him.
I hope that his exuberance is present in my life. I hope that I worship my God with abandon - maybe not as intensely during a worship service, but as intensely in my daily life. I hope that I remember that though my faith is more serious than anything else I'll ever encounter, it is the very joy that faith embraces that cannot help but well up and skyrocket out like a fountain. I hope that the importance of my message and my lifestyle is coupled with a reckless abandon of my love for my Father in Heaven and His spirit in me. I hope I rock at air guitar.
Picture it: 2,000 people. lights dimmed. Drummer banging away on his set like there's no tomorrow, soloist wailing out the lyrics with an edge to her voice, lovingn the God we serve. a mound of people standing still, singing, yes, but sort of frozen in time. and this guy, jumping around like you couldn't hold him down if you tried. Nothing held him back. He sang louder than I've ever heard someone sing in church. He rocked better than any classic rock band from the 80s. He had more stage presence than anyone actually up on stage. In fact, though he would be labelled as mentally challenged....maybe, in this instance. he was more mentally present than anyone around him. Myself included.
Because as I stood there, in my skirt, heels, hair done, and, well, rather tame reflection of God in my life during a worship service, he was anything but tame.
He was exuberant.
He was celebrating with abandon.
He was undignified.
More than anyone else I've ever seen during a service, he was full of reckless love for his Savior.
Now I'm not saying that everyone around us wasn't worshipping. They were. you could hear the harmony, see people tapping their feet to the beat. But this guy was way over the edge. Multiple times during the service, I seriously considered climbing over the two rows of seats to rock out with him.
I hope that his exuberance is present in my life. I hope that I worship my God with abandon - maybe not as intensely during a worship service, but as intensely in my daily life. I hope that I remember that though my faith is more serious than anything else I'll ever encounter, it is the very joy that faith embraces that cannot help but well up and skyrocket out like a fountain. I hope that the importance of my message and my lifestyle is coupled with a reckless abandon of my love for my Father in Heaven and His spirit in me. I hope I rock at air guitar.
6.23.2009
tattoos are....
not evil. Bet you couldn't see that coming. I was inspired to write this post by a co-worker who was designing her tattoo the other day (after deadline when there was no work left to do).
We were talking about our parent's reactions to our respective tattoos(yes I have a tattoo). Hers don't mind the actual act of getting a tattoo, but want her to be careful at this time of her life to a) not spend unecessary money and b)make sure she puts them in places that she won't regret later. Mine had more of a "why did you ruin your body" sort of reaction, though probably more graceful than mine would be if my just-barely-out-of-teenage-years-daughter got a tattoo. Different perspectives from both sides. I noted that my parents are both conservative because of their generation and because of their faith, two things I admire but on occassion disagree with.
She asked why their faith has anything to do with tattoos. I explained that in the Old Testament, its very clearly marked as something that followers of God did not do. This often mentioned along with braiding their hair, wearing gold jewlery, etc. Things that we don't really frown upon in today's culture (in most contexts, anyway).
Her immidiate question was "why?" which is a very good question that I figured she alerady knew.
So i then went on to quickly summarize that in that time, particularly with the incredibly numerous religions and gods/godesses to worship, followers of different icons would mark themselves with tattoos. Similar to how native americans often marked that tribe they belonged to. It was a basic symbol of their identity. Also going into some detail of ancient preistesses and acolites (sp?) often beign very, very decked out with too much makeup, jewlery, braided hair, etc. forerunners of our modern-day prostitutes.
And then it struck me. God didn't call us just to be different, you know, a heart tattoo instead of a lion, but He called us to be entirely other. He didn't say, hey, this is what these guys over there are doing, we'll do it kinda the same with just a few tricky little twists. Nope. He removed them entirely from the practices of the day. they didn't have idols in their homes and sacrifice humans, they went to one central place and sacrificed the best of their labors. They didn't have ceremonies for each god, they had a life dedicated to one God. they didn't have control, they had miracles.
So I have a tattoo. In today's society, its arguable what that means. But I'd like to strive to live for what God called his children to thousands of years ago: to be entirely other.
We were talking about our parent's reactions to our respective tattoos(yes I have a tattoo). Hers don't mind the actual act of getting a tattoo, but want her to be careful at this time of her life to a) not spend unecessary money and b)make sure she puts them in places that she won't regret later. Mine had more of a "why did you ruin your body" sort of reaction, though probably more graceful than mine would be if my just-barely-out-of-teenage-years-daughter got a tattoo. Different perspectives from both sides. I noted that my parents are both conservative because of their generation and because of their faith, two things I admire but on occassion disagree with.
She asked why their faith has anything to do with tattoos. I explained that in the Old Testament, its very clearly marked as something that followers of God did not do. This often mentioned along with braiding their hair, wearing gold jewlery, etc. Things that we don't really frown upon in today's culture (in most contexts, anyway).
Her immidiate question was "why?" which is a very good question that I figured she alerady knew.
So i then went on to quickly summarize that in that time, particularly with the incredibly numerous religions and gods/godesses to worship, followers of different icons would mark themselves with tattoos. Similar to how native americans often marked that tribe they belonged to. It was a basic symbol of their identity. Also going into some detail of ancient preistesses and acolites (sp?) often beign very, very decked out with too much makeup, jewlery, braided hair, etc. forerunners of our modern-day prostitutes.
And then it struck me. God didn't call us just to be different, you know, a heart tattoo instead of a lion, but He called us to be entirely other. He didn't say, hey, this is what these guys over there are doing, we'll do it kinda the same with just a few tricky little twists. Nope. He removed them entirely from the practices of the day. they didn't have idols in their homes and sacrifice humans, they went to one central place and sacrificed the best of their labors. They didn't have ceremonies for each god, they had a life dedicated to one God. they didn't have control, they had miracles.
So I have a tattoo. In today's society, its arguable what that means. But I'd like to strive to live for what God called his children to thousands of years ago: to be entirely other.
6.09.2009
“They don’t want disciples, they want either converts or dead bodies.”
All right, so that’s an extreme quote, applied to a very radical faith of the Muslim Shi’ite. It is often a true statement of those that hit the news and act in radical ways. My husband has been exploring the faith of radical Islam (not inflicting the more run-of-the-mill, less terrorist-centered Muslim faith in any way), and one of the things he has discovered in his rather thorough research is that one of the pillars of this radical viewpoint is that the subjects of Allah need to hasten His return. There are two main pillars, and that’s one of them. Now, sadly and often shockingly, the method to hasten God's coming is to rid the world of infidels (if they won't convert). Now, this in itself goes against the whole grain of God's grace and choice He offers us, along with Jesus' ministry of peace and healing.
But there's a grain of truth I think we need to glean from that. Radical Shi'ites live like they know God is coming back. Like the know. Like they KNOW. Like every action should speak for the future they are sure of.
Now. I'm not saying that our God is limited by time and by our actions, because He is not. What we do does not drive or even influence they day He picks to return and both save and condemn. BUT. Though we believe Jesus is coming back, though we say we KNOW He is....do we act like it?
You can tell by the actions of many Muslims that they Know their Allah is returning. Can you tell by my actions that my God is returning in Glory and Power and Grace? Can you tell by yours?
It's unnerving, to live like the Kingdom of God is in you. Is here and now, and He is coming again. It's a bit complex to think about. It requires a focus, a main thread that influences everything you and I do.
But it is the light, the shining, blinding, unextinguishable light that we are called to live by. We are called to make disciples. We are called to do so by living with Christ in us and Christ returns
All right, so that’s an extreme quote, applied to a very radical faith of the Muslim Shi’ite. It is often a true statement of those that hit the news and act in radical ways. My husband has been exploring the faith of radical Islam (not inflicting the more run-of-the-mill, less terrorist-centered Muslim faith in any way), and one of the things he has discovered in his rather thorough research is that one of the pillars of this radical viewpoint is that the subjects of Allah need to hasten His return. There are two main pillars, and that’s one of them. Now, sadly and often shockingly, the method to hasten God's coming is to rid the world of infidels (if they won't convert). Now, this in itself goes against the whole grain of God's grace and choice He offers us, along with Jesus' ministry of peace and healing.
But there's a grain of truth I think we need to glean from that. Radical Shi'ites live like they know God is coming back. Like the know. Like they KNOW. Like every action should speak for the future they are sure of.
Now. I'm not saying that our God is limited by time and by our actions, because He is not. What we do does not drive or even influence they day He picks to return and both save and condemn. BUT. Though we believe Jesus is coming back, though we say we KNOW He is....do we act like it?
You can tell by the actions of many Muslims that they Know their Allah is returning. Can you tell by my actions that my God is returning in Glory and Power and Grace? Can you tell by yours?
It's unnerving, to live like the Kingdom of God is in you. Is here and now, and He is coming again. It's a bit complex to think about. It requires a focus, a main thread that influences everything you and I do.
But it is the light, the shining, blinding, unextinguishable light that we are called to live by. We are called to make disciples. We are called to do so by living with Christ in us and Christ returns
5.27.2009
Unpeeling the layers
Luke chapter 14:
25Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: 26"If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple. 27And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 28"Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? 29For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, 30saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' 31"Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? 32If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. 33In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple. 34"Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? 35It is fit neither for the soil nor for the manure pile; it is thrown out. "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."
So at first reading, this entire section does not have a whole lot of flow. At first, Jesus is talking about giving up family and friends to follow Jesus. Then he talks, appropriately, about carrying our cross. Then he switches to building towers, fighting wars, and salt.
What. does that have to do with the other.
Okay, so I tried to strip it down and figure out what these stories and examples have in common. After what ended up being literally weeks of thinking about it on and off, I think I have discovered one of what are probably the many layers of this mini-section of Luke's usually so organized writing:
Commitment. This has actually been coming up a bit in conversations my husband and I have had, both with each other and with other people. Even my coworker, a sworn non-religious person (minored in religion at Temple and decided that none of them "spoke to her") understands that if you're gonna do religion, be real about it. Commit. The amount of times in the Bible that Jesus blasts people for being lukewarm, un-genuine, and fake about their beliefs are many -- he often notes that it would be better to just not believe at all than to be wishy-washy about it. Kind of a scary statement to those of us working to integrate faith into our whole lives, not just Sunday mornings or wed. at youth group.
So that's what I think these verses have in common. The first bit, rather obviously, Jesus talks about putting Him before all else.
But then he goes off into talking about building stuff. How you have to plan for layouts and blueprints and contractors. And its true: you don't start a huge building project without planning, and, more importanly, without committing to it fully. If you half-heartedly committ to building an addition to your house, it may end in mayhem. If you committ to it 100 percent. you'll live to see it beautiful and finished, done right.
The same goes for planning wars, apparently. You don't (or shouldn't) just pick up your uncle's old rifle and go running off into some country to declare war. You should get the best military tactical experts, weapons experts, and leaders you know together in a room and let them plan out the strategy. It's not something you do half-way. If you're willing to bet your life and the people who you serve's lives on a violent endeavor, you better committ to it all the way. You better pour the money, the resources, and the blood into that war to be victorious for whatever just cause you have sat down and decided to fight for. You half-ass it, send in half the troops needed, don't bother training them, give them poor equipment and even poorer leaders, and you'll be devoured by the enemy. You'll fail. You'll fall. You'll 'be spit out.'
And then...salt? be salty? be like...little grains of spice that comes out of the ocean? heh? We understand the metaphor, but what the heck does it have to do with fighting wars and building towers?
The same. Committment. You can't eat food that has completely lost its flavor. Well, unless you like the Dutchy style of my current home county. If you want to live like Jesus, and to live so that people know and see and hear you acting like Jesus, you have to maintain that committment, that flavor. If you're a dim light in a room that flickers and sometimes goes out, what good are you? We want a truckload of salt. We want to be those crazy bright flashlights that almost blind people, we're so bright you can't miss us if you try. No luke-warm, mushy, tasteless food. I'm talking Mexican chile sauce, the kind Tim shoveled on his pork and felt his lips burning for 48 hours afterwards. That's committment. Who would use spices in their kitchens if they thought they might lose flavor? Who would buy flashlights not guaranteed to work when you need 'em?
25Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: 26"If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple. 27And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 28"Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? 29For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, 30saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' 31"Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? 32If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. 33In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple. 34"Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? 35It is fit neither for the soil nor for the manure pile; it is thrown out. "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."
So at first reading, this entire section does not have a whole lot of flow. At first, Jesus is talking about giving up family and friends to follow Jesus. Then he talks, appropriately, about carrying our cross. Then he switches to building towers, fighting wars, and salt.
What. does that have to do with the other.
Okay, so I tried to strip it down and figure out what these stories and examples have in common. After what ended up being literally weeks of thinking about it on and off, I think I have discovered one of what are probably the many layers of this mini-section of Luke's usually so organized writing:
Commitment. This has actually been coming up a bit in conversations my husband and I have had, both with each other and with other people. Even my coworker, a sworn non-religious person (minored in religion at Temple and decided that none of them "spoke to her") understands that if you're gonna do religion, be real about it. Commit. The amount of times in the Bible that Jesus blasts people for being lukewarm, un-genuine, and fake about their beliefs are many -- he often notes that it would be better to just not believe at all than to be wishy-washy about it. Kind of a scary statement to those of us working to integrate faith into our whole lives, not just Sunday mornings or wed. at youth group.
So that's what I think these verses have in common. The first bit, rather obviously, Jesus talks about putting Him before all else.
But then he goes off into talking about building stuff. How you have to plan for layouts and blueprints and contractors. And its true: you don't start a huge building project without planning, and, more importanly, without committing to it fully. If you half-heartedly committ to building an addition to your house, it may end in mayhem. If you committ to it 100 percent. you'll live to see it beautiful and finished, done right.
The same goes for planning wars, apparently. You don't (or shouldn't) just pick up your uncle's old rifle and go running off into some country to declare war. You should get the best military tactical experts, weapons experts, and leaders you know together in a room and let them plan out the strategy. It's not something you do half-way. If you're willing to bet your life and the people who you serve's lives on a violent endeavor, you better committ to it all the way. You better pour the money, the resources, and the blood into that war to be victorious for whatever just cause you have sat down and decided to fight for. You half-ass it, send in half the troops needed, don't bother training them, give them poor equipment and even poorer leaders, and you'll be devoured by the enemy. You'll fail. You'll fall. You'll 'be spit out.'
And then...salt? be salty? be like...little grains of spice that comes out of the ocean? heh? We understand the metaphor, but what the heck does it have to do with fighting wars and building towers?
The same. Committment. You can't eat food that has completely lost its flavor. Well, unless you like the Dutchy style of my current home county. If you want to live like Jesus, and to live so that people know and see and hear you acting like Jesus, you have to maintain that committment, that flavor. If you're a dim light in a room that flickers and sometimes goes out, what good are you? We want a truckload of salt. We want to be those crazy bright flashlights that almost blind people, we're so bright you can't miss us if you try. No luke-warm, mushy, tasteless food. I'm talking Mexican chile sauce, the kind Tim shoveled on his pork and felt his lips burning for 48 hours afterwards. That's committment. Who would use spices in their kitchens if they thought they might lose flavor? Who would buy flashlights not guaranteed to work when you need 'em?
4.20.2009
Regressing progress
Oh. To be Amish.
Yes, I really said that. I have a tattoo, several piercings, enjoy my 2009 Hyundai, and probably couldn't live without electricity. But in a recent seminar about some basics of Amish beliefs and histories, I stumbled upon what, I think, is one part of the answer of the "problem" of our culture.
I've been discussing in recent weeks the struggle teenagers and middle-school kids have with purity. purity of thought, speech, interactions, respect for the opposite gender, sexuality, dress, etc. And we've got a great message: Jesus calls you to be an example in purity. And the best part - the Holy Spirit can give you the power to actually combat all of the cultural bombardments that tell us otherwise. Great stuff. But, still insanely hard. Why? main reason for young girls (read: those who engage in sexting) is because they are missing fathers, mothers, are products of divorce, step-parents, second and third marriages, and so on. Thus, with their disconnected and often self-centered parent(s) or guardian(s), they feel the need to be loved. Girls, being so emotionally centered, feel it very acutely in their junior high years. They may or may not know it, but they search for someone, anyone really, to say "I need you. I love you. I want you. I can't resist you, you are beloved and you are mine." with any sort of intonation behind those words. If they're lucky, and maybe a little determined, they'll hear Jesus whispering that through connections with churches, nature, mentors, and so on. If they're the majority, they will look for those words in guys without their best interest in mind, in relationships in general, in unfortunate addictions such as alcohol and drugs, sometimes pornography (junior high girls are the fastest rising market for porn), and many, many more places.
How do we stop this? Often, girls realize that they need to live better lives, that there has to be something beyond the drama,the gossip, the boys touching them, the parents and fighting and abercrombie, etc. something. anything. anything to save them from this havoc-creating world.
My husband preaches that we have to cut off problems at the root. Any good psychologist/counselor would say the same. Not that we can just uproot our entire culture and say "its time for a change, lets head back into the direction of our puritan roots," but that if we strive to live selflessly, the way God meant for us to live, these problems will, literally over time, start to evaporate.
Here's where I see the root of the problem, and why I brought the Lancaster County phenomenon up: Broken families. Yes, I'll even say it, Jesus says it, and Paul says it: Divorce. Its the result of living focused on one-self, not focused on your spouse, as God designed it to be (note: I'm not barring legitimate, biblical reasons for divorce, namely adultery and/or abuse. Check out Gayle Haggard's response to even this one exception: Gayle: "I know your hearts are broken; mine is as well ... What I want you to know is that I love my husband, Ted Haggard, with all my heart. I am committed to him until death "do us part." We started this journey together and with the grace of God, we will finish together."Source: NewLifeChurch.org 11/5/2006).
Its an ugly truth. Ugly to our culture, ugly to the direction we've been going in for literally centuries. But God's pretty clear about this one. We don't like to hear it. Divorce is a nice option when you realize you're not "compatible," sexually satisfied, the center of the relationship, the one calling the shots, and on and on and on down an endless and fatal road. Its nice to know you can date other people, maybe even remarry.
But its wrong. And you know why I think this - other than the very obvious biblical statements? Because I can see the Amish community.
Fact: The Old Order Amish in Lancaster county (black buggies, no electricity, home churches, no state or national overarching organization) retain 9 out of 10 of the kids and youth that grow up in their culture. 90 percent. 90 PERCENT. Show me ONE church that claims to do that. The Catholic church comes close, or used to anyway, because of their youth catechism classes and their ritualistic practices ingrained for life in their parishioners. Not anymore.
And its not like its a blind following here. Every teen gets like four years to go out and do whatever they want, and they will be welcomed back with open arms if they choose to join the church and be baptised around the age of 20. They taste our culture. And not once, not some sort of American streamlined shock, but for years! and they choose to go back to their life. Why? arguably, its simpler with less drama. But there's less individual focus, less privacy, and face it, more hard labor!
Here's why: family. With an average of 7 kids in each family, the Amish children aren't neglected or left to fend for themselves. They grow up spending their entire lives knowing that they are loved. Individuals in Amish communities often have their own special nicknames. They are part of a collective whole that live and move and support each other in everything they do, and they are treasured individually, from birth, for the part they play in that. There is no divorce (or only on the rarest and often rough occasions). Death is a part of life. Hard work is a given, frugality is a must, caring for one another is the bottom line. Widows are loved like mothers, orphans are embraced like biological children. Hurts are healed, pain is born, connection is uppermost.
The Amish are the American puritans before the industrial revolution. A family that prays together, stays together, lives together, loves together. Their love is not, cannot be self-focused. There is no place for that. There is no teaching for that (I'm not undermining self-confidence, that's a whole 'nother topic that I happen to think being a beloved child both at birth and forever after contributes positively too). There is no premise for choosing self over family, siblings, or friends in the community.
Not that its utopia. There are many glitches and inconsistencies in that community. But their basis of culture maintains the family structure as God created it in perfection to be: whole.
So, yes. In many ways, I wouldn't mind being Amish.
Yes, I really said that. I have a tattoo, several piercings, enjoy my 2009 Hyundai, and probably couldn't live without electricity. But in a recent seminar about some basics of Amish beliefs and histories, I stumbled upon what, I think, is one part of the answer of the "problem" of our culture.
I've been discussing in recent weeks the struggle teenagers and middle-school kids have with purity. purity of thought, speech, interactions, respect for the opposite gender, sexuality, dress, etc. And we've got a great message: Jesus calls you to be an example in purity. And the best part - the Holy Spirit can give you the power to actually combat all of the cultural bombardments that tell us otherwise. Great stuff. But, still insanely hard. Why? main reason for young girls (read: those who engage in sexting) is because they are missing fathers, mothers, are products of divorce, step-parents, second and third marriages, and so on. Thus, with their disconnected and often self-centered parent(s) or guardian(s), they feel the need to be loved. Girls, being so emotionally centered, feel it very acutely in their junior high years. They may or may not know it, but they search for someone, anyone really, to say "I need you. I love you. I want you. I can't resist you, you are beloved and you are mine." with any sort of intonation behind those words. If they're lucky, and maybe a little determined, they'll hear Jesus whispering that through connections with churches, nature, mentors, and so on. If they're the majority, they will look for those words in guys without their best interest in mind, in relationships in general, in unfortunate addictions such as alcohol and drugs, sometimes pornography (junior high girls are the fastest rising market for porn), and many, many more places.
How do we stop this? Often, girls realize that they need to live better lives, that there has to be something beyond the drama,the gossip, the boys touching them, the parents and fighting and abercrombie, etc. something. anything. anything to save them from this havoc-creating world.
My husband preaches that we have to cut off problems at the root. Any good psychologist/counselor would say the same. Not that we can just uproot our entire culture and say "its time for a change, lets head back into the direction of our puritan roots," but that if we strive to live selflessly, the way God meant for us to live, these problems will, literally over time, start to evaporate.
Here's where I see the root of the problem, and why I brought the Lancaster County phenomenon up: Broken families. Yes, I'll even say it, Jesus says it, and Paul says it: Divorce. Its the result of living focused on one-self, not focused on your spouse, as God designed it to be (note: I'm not barring legitimate, biblical reasons for divorce, namely adultery and/or abuse. Check out Gayle Haggard's response to even this one exception: Gayle: "I know your hearts are broken; mine is as well ... What I want you to know is that I love my husband, Ted Haggard, with all my heart. I am committed to him until death "do us part." We started this journey together and with the grace of God, we will finish together."Source: NewLifeChurch.org 11/5/2006).
Its an ugly truth. Ugly to our culture, ugly to the direction we've been going in for literally centuries. But God's pretty clear about this one. We don't like to hear it. Divorce is a nice option when you realize you're not "compatible," sexually satisfied, the center of the relationship, the one calling the shots, and on and on and on down an endless and fatal road. Its nice to know you can date other people, maybe even remarry.
But its wrong. And you know why I think this - other than the very obvious biblical statements? Because I can see the Amish community.
Fact: The Old Order Amish in Lancaster county (black buggies, no electricity, home churches, no state or national overarching organization) retain 9 out of 10 of the kids and youth that grow up in their culture. 90 percent. 90 PERCENT. Show me ONE church that claims to do that. The Catholic church comes close, or used to anyway, because of their youth catechism classes and their ritualistic practices ingrained for life in their parishioners. Not anymore.
And its not like its a blind following here. Every teen gets like four years to go out and do whatever they want, and they will be welcomed back with open arms if they choose to join the church and be baptised around the age of 20. They taste our culture. And not once, not some sort of American streamlined shock, but for years! and they choose to go back to their life. Why? arguably, its simpler with less drama. But there's less individual focus, less privacy, and face it, more hard labor!
Here's why: family. With an average of 7 kids in each family, the Amish children aren't neglected or left to fend for themselves. They grow up spending their entire lives knowing that they are loved. Individuals in Amish communities often have their own special nicknames. They are part of a collective whole that live and move and support each other in everything they do, and they are treasured individually, from birth, for the part they play in that. There is no divorce (or only on the rarest and often rough occasions). Death is a part of life. Hard work is a given, frugality is a must, caring for one another is the bottom line. Widows are loved like mothers, orphans are embraced like biological children. Hurts are healed, pain is born, connection is uppermost.
The Amish are the American puritans before the industrial revolution. A family that prays together, stays together, lives together, loves together. Their love is not, cannot be self-focused. There is no place for that. There is no teaching for that (I'm not undermining self-confidence, that's a whole 'nother topic that I happen to think being a beloved child both at birth and forever after contributes positively too). There is no premise for choosing self over family, siblings, or friends in the community.
Not that its utopia. There are many glitches and inconsistencies in that community. But their basis of culture maintains the family structure as God created it in perfection to be: whole.
So, yes. In many ways, I wouldn't mind being Amish.
4.13.2009
Wine spilling everywhere
From Luke Chapter 5:
33They said to him, "John's disciples often fast and pray, and so do the disciples of the Pharisees, but yours go on eating and drinking."
34Jesus answered, "Can you make the guests of the bridegroom fast while he is with them? 35But the time will come when the bridegroom will be taken from them; in those days they will fast."
36He told them this parable: "No one tears a patch from a new garment and sews it on an old one. If he does, he will have torn the new garment, and the patch from the new will not match the old. 37And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the new wine will burst the skins, the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. 38No, new wine must be poured into new wineskins. 39And no one after drinking old wine wants the new, for he says, 'The old is better.' "
The new living translation of that last verse reads: But no one who drinks the old wine seems to want the new wine. ‘The old is just fine,’ they say.”
I was intrigued by this parable over the weekend. Partly because I was sitting in an Easter Sunday service that included a rendition of “You Found Me” by The Fray, rather than the marchy-nazarene song “Up from the grave he arose!” and partly because I usually find Jesus’ parables both so profound and so cryptic that I love to try to take them apart and explore the context. This one is interesting. Jesus just went around healing bunches of people. Each time he heals them, he says not to say anything to anyone. Either a clever marketing ploy or a genuine strain towards secrecy: it doesn’t work. No matter where he goes, people know who He is and the power He has. Both those who have faith and wish to be healed, and those who lack faith and don’t think they need healing. The Pharisees and saducees, namely. So sometimes, Luke tells about the person who comes up and says “if you are willing, heal me.” But other times, Luke writes very blatantly about how church leaders questioned Jesus outright.
This case is of the latter. Self-important people (for this is not an inquisitive-type question, this is a challenge question) ask Jesus why everyone else who is supposedly religious fast and pray, but Jesus apparently nourishes himself all the time. His direct answer confuses them. He basically says “party with the King, dude, why mourn when you’ll have time for that later.”
But His parable is the real answer to the question. The parable, talking about very practical things like clothes and wine, two staples of Jewish life, discusses the quality of each. No one decides to half-heartedly update and old, holey garment with a shiny new patch of fabric. It looks stupid. If you are going to patch an old garment, use old cloth. Ah, but if you are going to have a new shirt, then have one! Don’t do the job half-way.
Same with the wineskins. This example is a little more graphic. If you pour new wine into old wineskins, it will literally burst the old skins at the seams, and wine will spill everywhere. If you want to do it right, you have to get new skins to hold the new liquid. There’s no two ways about it, no shortcuts. New goes with new, old goes with old.
Gentle though it is, this rebuke is still explicit. You cannot say to Jesus, Yo, why aren’t you doing everything the way we always did things. The way we’re supposed to do things. The way it makes sense to do things?!
And Jesus said – because you can’t fit new stuff into old clothes. The skins will burst. The outfits will be ruined. The reputation will cease. If you want new stuff, and believe you me, He came with some new stuff in His mission statement, you gotta go the whole way. 100%. New. Not old. You can’t just hang on to that old pair of pants and replace the shoes and the shirt. It’s gotta be all new.
And here’s the cool part.We don’t have to be or get the new stuff ourselves. It doesn’t outline in the Bible where sinner have to change their ways, and then Jesus can take a look-see, maybe set up camp. It doesn’t say we have to use our own willpower and goals list, be our own heroes and change the world (see post later from my husband about the mis-step in the Men’s Frat teaching), and when we’re good enough, humble enough, successful enough, missional-minded enough, sacrificial enough, then Jesus will hang out with us.
Nuh uh.
It says, He’ll go ahead and give us all the new stuff Himself!! Because, lets face it, we can’t be all that. We can try really hard, and we can make resolutions and to-do lists and suffer through, but we will never be as Christ-like as Jesus Himself without letting Him commit and do the cleansing. (Note: I’m not for the “I’ll lay on the couch and think Christian thoughts and let Jesus figure out how to fix me” at all, I’m all for going out and serving and sacrificing and building relationships. I just want to make the point that we can’t do it ourselves and then sometimes talk to Jesus. It’s a God-thing. He’s all over it.)
All that to say. I hope I can become the kind of person who doesn’t stick to “the old is just fine,” Parts of the church, my soul, and my life. Because, the old isn’t just fine. The old has gone, the new has come. I want to live like that’s the reality in my life.
33They said to him, "John's disciples often fast and pray, and so do the disciples of the Pharisees, but yours go on eating and drinking."
34Jesus answered, "Can you make the guests of the bridegroom fast while he is with them? 35But the time will come when the bridegroom will be taken from them; in those days they will fast."
36He told them this parable: "No one tears a patch from a new garment and sews it on an old one. If he does, he will have torn the new garment, and the patch from the new will not match the old. 37And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the new wine will burst the skins, the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. 38No, new wine must be poured into new wineskins. 39And no one after drinking old wine wants the new, for he says, 'The old is better.' "
The new living translation of that last verse reads: But no one who drinks the old wine seems to want the new wine. ‘The old is just fine,’ they say.”
I was intrigued by this parable over the weekend. Partly because I was sitting in an Easter Sunday service that included a rendition of “You Found Me” by The Fray, rather than the marchy-nazarene song “Up from the grave he arose!” and partly because I usually find Jesus’ parables both so profound and so cryptic that I love to try to take them apart and explore the context. This one is interesting. Jesus just went around healing bunches of people. Each time he heals them, he says not to say anything to anyone. Either a clever marketing ploy or a genuine strain towards secrecy: it doesn’t work. No matter where he goes, people know who He is and the power He has. Both those who have faith and wish to be healed, and those who lack faith and don’t think they need healing. The Pharisees and saducees, namely. So sometimes, Luke tells about the person who comes up and says “if you are willing, heal me.” But other times, Luke writes very blatantly about how church leaders questioned Jesus outright.
This case is of the latter. Self-important people (for this is not an inquisitive-type question, this is a challenge question) ask Jesus why everyone else who is supposedly religious fast and pray, but Jesus apparently nourishes himself all the time. His direct answer confuses them. He basically says “party with the King, dude, why mourn when you’ll have time for that later.”
But His parable is the real answer to the question. The parable, talking about very practical things like clothes and wine, two staples of Jewish life, discusses the quality of each. No one decides to half-heartedly update and old, holey garment with a shiny new patch of fabric. It looks stupid. If you are going to patch an old garment, use old cloth. Ah, but if you are going to have a new shirt, then have one! Don’t do the job half-way.
Same with the wineskins. This example is a little more graphic. If you pour new wine into old wineskins, it will literally burst the old skins at the seams, and wine will spill everywhere. If you want to do it right, you have to get new skins to hold the new liquid. There’s no two ways about it, no shortcuts. New goes with new, old goes with old.
Gentle though it is, this rebuke is still explicit. You cannot say to Jesus, Yo, why aren’t you doing everything the way we always did things. The way we’re supposed to do things. The way it makes sense to do things?!
And Jesus said – because you can’t fit new stuff into old clothes. The skins will burst. The outfits will be ruined. The reputation will cease. If you want new stuff, and believe you me, He came with some new stuff in His mission statement, you gotta go the whole way. 100%. New. Not old. You can’t just hang on to that old pair of pants and replace the shoes and the shirt. It’s gotta be all new.
And here’s the cool part.We don’t have to be or get the new stuff ourselves. It doesn’t outline in the Bible where sinner have to change their ways, and then Jesus can take a look-see, maybe set up camp. It doesn’t say we have to use our own willpower and goals list, be our own heroes and change the world (see post later from my husband about the mis-step in the Men’s Frat teaching), and when we’re good enough, humble enough, successful enough, missional-minded enough, sacrificial enough, then Jesus will hang out with us.
Nuh uh.
It says, He’ll go ahead and give us all the new stuff Himself!! Because, lets face it, we can’t be all that. We can try really hard, and we can make resolutions and to-do lists and suffer through, but we will never be as Christ-like as Jesus Himself without letting Him commit and do the cleansing. (Note: I’m not for the “I’ll lay on the couch and think Christian thoughts and let Jesus figure out how to fix me” at all, I’m all for going out and serving and sacrificing and building relationships. I just want to make the point that we can’t do it ourselves and then sometimes talk to Jesus. It’s a God-thing. He’s all over it.)
All that to say. I hope I can become the kind of person who doesn’t stick to “the old is just fine,” Parts of the church, my soul, and my life. Because, the old isn’t just fine. The old has gone, the new has come. I want to live like that’s the reality in my life.
3.30.2009
Love everlasting
This post is dedicated to my simply amazing junior high life group - I think they teach me more than I teach them most of the time!!
We've been working through a series describing and exploring the week before Jesus' death in church for about a month. We picked up the story at the triumphal entry, discussing his peaceful entry, followed it through his accusing the Pharisees to stop being hypocrites, through being honest and genuine, and this week touched on forgiveness in the form of an intense narrative of Peter's last days with Jesus.
After these lessons, we had discussion as a group of what the girls' had learned in the past few weeks.
A couple of girls presented some incredibly deep thoughts. One in particular described a bit that the pastor had said in his monologue:
"When Peter denied Christ the third time, he said that Jesus looked right at him when he swore to God that he'd never known the man before, and Jesus' eyes weren't full of disappointment, hate, or anger. They were full of love."
I have no words for that. because she captured the essence of grace in that moment. The story that we live every day. We make the wrong choice. We choose to undermine, to not give our best, to look to ourselves instead of to Christ. And He looks back at us, even in the moment when he was bleeding, failing from pain, dying, falling. and He sees his child, His beautiful one. He loves in the midst of betrayal. He extends mercy in the moment of blackest sin. He looks right at us, and there is not one trace of rejection in His eyes.
Sam, you brought it to the table. you opened my eyes, and probably several others. Way to be like Jesus.
We've been working through a series describing and exploring the week before Jesus' death in church for about a month. We picked up the story at the triumphal entry, discussing his peaceful entry, followed it through his accusing the Pharisees to stop being hypocrites, through being honest and genuine, and this week touched on forgiveness in the form of an intense narrative of Peter's last days with Jesus.
After these lessons, we had discussion as a group of what the girls' had learned in the past few weeks.
A couple of girls presented some incredibly deep thoughts. One in particular described a bit that the pastor had said in his monologue:
"When Peter denied Christ the third time, he said that Jesus looked right at him when he swore to God that he'd never known the man before, and Jesus' eyes weren't full of disappointment, hate, or anger. They were full of love."
I have no words for that. because she captured the essence of grace in that moment. The story that we live every day. We make the wrong choice. We choose to undermine, to not give our best, to look to ourselves instead of to Christ. And He looks back at us, even in the moment when he was bleeding, failing from pain, dying, falling. and He sees his child, His beautiful one. He loves in the midst of betrayal. He extends mercy in the moment of blackest sin. He looks right at us, and there is not one trace of rejection in His eyes.
Sam, you brought it to the table. you opened my eyes, and probably several others. Way to be like Jesus.
3.25.2009
Relaxi cab
Anyone get the reference of the title? Okay, I'm a friends fanatic. Anyway.
I don't actually have too much to post about, except the ongoing miracles of God's grace. As usual:)
I discovered two things on my recent vacation: 1) it takes at least 48 hours until I can actually relax. EVEN on a vacation with nothing else to do BUT relax. 2) it takes me 48 hours to stop freaking out once I've relaxed and then have to go back to real life.
In the first instance, I couldn't calm my mind or body from my constantly moving, reading, list-making, task-checking-off, communicating, chore-doing, errand-running, idea-shooting, deadline-writing self. The entire first day, on an empty beach, with a dos equis, in Mexico, for crying out loud, all I could think about was how I needed to find an atm, maybe cash in those travelers checks, figure out what we were having for dinner, make sure to remember to take pictures, etc. I'm not even kidding here.
With the help of my husband, some Mexican tequila, and the sweetness that is God's spirit saying hold on my daughter, i really didn't design a life to be sprinted through, I figured it out.
However, the entire day of traveling back, I began to get more and more nervous. I have two jobs, one self-employed job, and a lot of friends and responsibilities to keep up with. Though anyone I regularly interact with knew I'd be gone, I still knew that all three of my inboxes would be simply overrun. and with a 12 hour workday starting at seven a.m., I was not anxious to plunge into that. Much less including the fact that I didn't fall asleep until after 1 a.m., there is nothing in the house to eat, no laundry has been done, and so on. I literally couldn't sleep because I was stressing so much about this. Granted the day that began with very few hours of sleep, and then 18 hours of travel probably didn't help my anxiety levels.
All that to say. God works in both earth-shattering and tiny, nearly imperceptible ways. I managed to both sleep in, calling in to my first job of the day, and also go through the emails in two of my inboxes in less than 8 hours - in between other projects. But still. I figured I'd have days of follow-up ahead of me.
I should add the silly note that I also tried to cook a conventional oven frozen pizza in the microwave today. I put it on high for four minutes, and though it didn't explode or anything, it was nearly inedible. Which is why I had a backup muffin :)
Sometimes i start to think that God doesn't care about the pathetic teeny details of my life that seem to be the biggest stresses to me. But then, I see His hand doing exactly what needs to be done. Not erasing pain, highlighting my faults, or displaying my shortcomings. Rather, holding my hand. And, as I discovered on a rather seasick-tinged boat ride, often, holding someones hand (particularly, I might add, either your husband's, father's or the Creator of the Universe's), makes all the difference in the world.
P.S. for photos of our trip - feel free to take a look at my facebook page. though you should probably wait until later this evening when I finally get off work :)
I don't actually have too much to post about, except the ongoing miracles of God's grace. As usual:)
I discovered two things on my recent vacation: 1) it takes at least 48 hours until I can actually relax. EVEN on a vacation with nothing else to do BUT relax. 2) it takes me 48 hours to stop freaking out once I've relaxed and then have to go back to real life.
In the first instance, I couldn't calm my mind or body from my constantly moving, reading, list-making, task-checking-off, communicating, chore-doing, errand-running, idea-shooting, deadline-writing self. The entire first day, on an empty beach, with a dos equis, in Mexico, for crying out loud, all I could think about was how I needed to find an atm, maybe cash in those travelers checks, figure out what we were having for dinner, make sure to remember to take pictures, etc. I'm not even kidding here.
With the help of my husband, some Mexican tequila, and the sweetness that is God's spirit saying hold on my daughter, i really didn't design a life to be sprinted through, I figured it out.
However, the entire day of traveling back, I began to get more and more nervous. I have two jobs, one self-employed job, and a lot of friends and responsibilities to keep up with. Though anyone I regularly interact with knew I'd be gone, I still knew that all three of my inboxes would be simply overrun. and with a 12 hour workday starting at seven a.m., I was not anxious to plunge into that. Much less including the fact that I didn't fall asleep until after 1 a.m., there is nothing in the house to eat, no laundry has been done, and so on. I literally couldn't sleep because I was stressing so much about this. Granted the day that began with very few hours of sleep, and then 18 hours of travel probably didn't help my anxiety levels.
All that to say. God works in both earth-shattering and tiny, nearly imperceptible ways. I managed to both sleep in, calling in to my first job of the day, and also go through the emails in two of my inboxes in less than 8 hours - in between other projects. But still. I figured I'd have days of follow-up ahead of me.
I should add the silly note that I also tried to cook a conventional oven frozen pizza in the microwave today. I put it on high for four minutes, and though it didn't explode or anything, it was nearly inedible. Which is why I had a backup muffin :)
Sometimes i start to think that God doesn't care about the pathetic teeny details of my life that seem to be the biggest stresses to me. But then, I see His hand doing exactly what needs to be done. Not erasing pain, highlighting my faults, or displaying my shortcomings. Rather, holding my hand. And, as I discovered on a rather seasick-tinged boat ride, often, holding someones hand (particularly, I might add, either your husband's, father's or the Creator of the Universe's), makes all the difference in the world.
P.S. for photos of our trip - feel free to take a look at my facebook page. though you should probably wait until later this evening when I finally get off work :)
2.24.2009
drowning in ignorance
‘Faith is believing God and asking no questions,” reads a letter to the editor written in to the newspaper I work at.
When I called the gentleman who penned it to inquire about the source of the quote, which he had indicated was from the Bible, he explained that he read a book on faith years ago and he carries that quote around with him.
Pardon me while I scream and slam down the phone.
Now, I don’t know the name of the book, or of the idiot author who is either very messed up or does not know how to communicate well. Either way, please, please, please, never fall into this blind conservatism trap (or stay in Lancaster County, Pa. For too long).
Close consideration and exploration, the only kind, really, needs to be delved into in the scriptures. Not some book. Not some biased, self-shoving beliefs un-based in scripture book.
Lets take a look at a couple of stories. Some logically provided by my brilliant-as-ever husband.
First, my favorite: Abraham. Great Guy. Went from a two-syllable name to a three-syllable name, very significant with the whole God changing your name/identity bit there. God hung out with him, appeared randomly to him, promised him basically the world.
And yet, repeatedly, Abe questions. And not even the philosophical, debating, weighing options type of questions, shouting at the sky and all that (though I’m sure much of that was involved). He openly acted in doubt. He impregnated a concubine, doubting the very word of God from the Dude’s own lips! And this is not some stranger who God freaked out by appearing in a long-forgotten dream. This is a guy who knew God, personally, conversed with him, was hand-selected to build an entire nation of the world by Him. Seriously.
Next example: Joseph. Poor dude, this guy’s life story is rife with conflict, muckyness, and downright depression. Now, the moral of the story is that he trusted God to do what was best for him. The reality of the moral? You better believe when he was thrown down the well, left for dead, sold into slavery, sent to prison, etc., that he had some shouting matches with God. Joseph, though young and apparently colorful, was no pushover, he rose to be the second greatest commander in Egypt, a very power-hungry place! There is NO WAY Joseph didn’t question God’s plan. Not one iota of way there.
Lets skip to the new testament. What better example than Jesus himself? He trusted God, absolutely. He had faith. But he did not live his life as a door mat (pacifist, but not doormat). He literally said to his own father “please take this cup from me,” Hows that for questioning. Hey, the one thing you want me to do in this world? I’d be okay if you would just leave off, lets not and say we did. Wha…?! Yes, Jesus himself, man and God, questions his own destiny, his own faith in his own mission, the only mission to ever be able to save the world!
I am abstaining from the fourteen exclamation points now.
And those are just the stories with examples. That’s not even considering the directions specifically stated in scripture, like 1 Thess. 5:21, “prove all things; hold fast to that which is good.” Or Acts chapter 17, when it talks about the church searching the scriptures to find proof for what they were being told.
People. Faith is trusting without concrete, tangible evidence, yes, but faith is not, and is not meant to be, trusting without conversation. Without asking, without exploring, without THINKING about what you believe. Heavens no, as my mother would say.
Faith is real. And real is dirty, gritty, doubtful, joyful, painful, fearful, triumphant. Faith is not believing and asking no questions. Faith is believing amidst the questions.
When I called the gentleman who penned it to inquire about the source of the quote, which he had indicated was from the Bible, he explained that he read a book on faith years ago and he carries that quote around with him.
Pardon me while I scream and slam down the phone.
Now, I don’t know the name of the book, or of the idiot author who is either very messed up or does not know how to communicate well. Either way, please, please, please, never fall into this blind conservatism trap (or stay in Lancaster County, Pa. For too long).
Close consideration and exploration, the only kind, really, needs to be delved into in the scriptures. Not some book. Not some biased, self-shoving beliefs un-based in scripture book.
Lets take a look at a couple of stories. Some logically provided by my brilliant-as-ever husband.
First, my favorite: Abraham. Great Guy. Went from a two-syllable name to a three-syllable name, very significant with the whole God changing your name/identity bit there. God hung out with him, appeared randomly to him, promised him basically the world.
And yet, repeatedly, Abe questions. And not even the philosophical, debating, weighing options type of questions, shouting at the sky and all that (though I’m sure much of that was involved). He openly acted in doubt. He impregnated a concubine, doubting the very word of God from the Dude’s own lips! And this is not some stranger who God freaked out by appearing in a long-forgotten dream. This is a guy who knew God, personally, conversed with him, was hand-selected to build an entire nation of the world by Him. Seriously.
Next example: Joseph. Poor dude, this guy’s life story is rife with conflict, muckyness, and downright depression. Now, the moral of the story is that he trusted God to do what was best for him. The reality of the moral? You better believe when he was thrown down the well, left for dead, sold into slavery, sent to prison, etc., that he had some shouting matches with God. Joseph, though young and apparently colorful, was no pushover, he rose to be the second greatest commander in Egypt, a very power-hungry place! There is NO WAY Joseph didn’t question God’s plan. Not one iota of way there.
Lets skip to the new testament. What better example than Jesus himself? He trusted God, absolutely. He had faith. But he did not live his life as a door mat (pacifist, but not doormat). He literally said to his own father “please take this cup from me,” Hows that for questioning. Hey, the one thing you want me to do in this world? I’d be okay if you would just leave off, lets not and say we did. Wha…?! Yes, Jesus himself, man and God, questions his own destiny, his own faith in his own mission, the only mission to ever be able to save the world!
I am abstaining from the fourteen exclamation points now.
And those are just the stories with examples. That’s not even considering the directions specifically stated in scripture, like 1 Thess. 5:21, “prove all things; hold fast to that which is good.” Or Acts chapter 17, when it talks about the church searching the scriptures to find proof for what they were being told.
People. Faith is trusting without concrete, tangible evidence, yes, but faith is not, and is not meant to be, trusting without conversation. Without asking, without exploring, without THINKING about what you believe. Heavens no, as my mother would say.
Faith is real. And real is dirty, gritty, doubtful, joyful, painful, fearful, triumphant. Faith is not believing and asking no questions. Faith is believing amidst the questions.
2.23.2009
Hold my Hand
This has come up a lot recently in my devotional-esque thoughts. Holding Jesus’ hand.
So often, and I’m chatting with God throughout the day, the very needy and fearful thought returns to my mind again and again – hold my hand, Jesus. I know I’ll fall, I know I’ll fail, but if you just hold my hand, you can pull me back up and we can keep on walking down this road together.
I wrote a short devotional about this in my journal sometime in college. The story goes something like this:
A man and a little girl are walking through a slippery, crowded street. She is in her best dress, with her hair done up and shiny new shoes on her feet. She is ready to put her best foot forward.
Next to her, her dad holds out his hand, ready to hold hers as they push through the crowd.
At first, she doesn’t need his hand. She walks carefully, looking down, making sure her new shoes don’t get scuffed up, dodging knees and pants.
Then, she falls on her rear.
Tearing up a bit, and panicking because of all of the people around her, she squeeks a little and cries. She’s afraid her dad walked on, didn’t notice that she fell, or thought to himself “serves her right for showing off her new shoes and not paying attention.”
But she blindly, hoping, throws out her hand anyway, reaching as high as she can with fingers outstretched.
He grabs her hand with his big, solid warm ones. They are calloused and scarred, but they’re the strongest, most gentle hands she knows, and she trusts them.
He pulls her up, murmering and wiping away her tears.
They keep on walking.
This time, she holds his hand tightly.
But then, she starts getting impatient and uncomfortable. Repeatedly, she begs him to lift her up on his shoulder so she can see what’s ahead, and take the weight off of her feet for awhile.
Gently, he says no, he cannot do that. Not because he is incapable, but because that’s not what’s best for her, what his plan of their time includes.
She stomps her feet in frusteration and lets go of his hand, almost immediately flying face-first into the ground.
You see the point.
I was entertained by this as I listened to a sermon I had missed at church by John Wilkenson, our teen pastor, and possibly one of the greatest speakers I’ve ever heard. He told the story of how he went to a big farm shor in PA (because that’s what we do for fun here), and he and his family with three children got stuck in a bottle-necked crowd heading out of one section of the event. While there, a lady started screaming about how she had lost her son in the crowd, and she was shoving and yelling in desperation. At the same time, about every ten seconds, his son was asking, “where are we going? What’s up ahead? Can you see? What’s going on?” and John just held on tight to his boy, not letting him go, but not taking the time to explain every thing, just saying, sit tight, it’ll be all right.
Then, this morning, I was reading a devotional by my favorite Christian author, Max Lucado. He is discussing the phrase “lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from evil” in the Lord’s prayer. Here’s what he has to say:
“Imagine a father and son walking down an icy street. The father cautions the boy to be careful, but the boy is too excited to slow down. He hits the first patch of ice. Up go the feet and down plops the bottom. Dad comes along and helps him to his feet. The boy apologizes for disregarding the warning and then, tightly holding his father’s big hand, he asks, “Keep me from the slippery spots. Don’t let me fall again.”
This example, to me, never gets old. It helps that I have a great relationship with my dad, and can perfectly picture these examples as they were played out in my own life. But I cannot think of a more simple, clear, and touching way to depict our relationship with Christ. All theological intricacies aside: we are children, holding the hand of the Father, trusting him to hold on tight, not leave us behind, and to be tall enough to see what’s ahead and be with us through it.
So often, and I’m chatting with God throughout the day, the very needy and fearful thought returns to my mind again and again – hold my hand, Jesus. I know I’ll fall, I know I’ll fail, but if you just hold my hand, you can pull me back up and we can keep on walking down this road together.
I wrote a short devotional about this in my journal sometime in college. The story goes something like this:
A man and a little girl are walking through a slippery, crowded street. She is in her best dress, with her hair done up and shiny new shoes on her feet. She is ready to put her best foot forward.
Next to her, her dad holds out his hand, ready to hold hers as they push through the crowd.
At first, she doesn’t need his hand. She walks carefully, looking down, making sure her new shoes don’t get scuffed up, dodging knees and pants.
Then, she falls on her rear.
Tearing up a bit, and panicking because of all of the people around her, she squeeks a little and cries. She’s afraid her dad walked on, didn’t notice that she fell, or thought to himself “serves her right for showing off her new shoes and not paying attention.”
But she blindly, hoping, throws out her hand anyway, reaching as high as she can with fingers outstretched.
He grabs her hand with his big, solid warm ones. They are calloused and scarred, but they’re the strongest, most gentle hands she knows, and she trusts them.
He pulls her up, murmering and wiping away her tears.
They keep on walking.
This time, she holds his hand tightly.
But then, she starts getting impatient and uncomfortable. Repeatedly, she begs him to lift her up on his shoulder so she can see what’s ahead, and take the weight off of her feet for awhile.
Gently, he says no, he cannot do that. Not because he is incapable, but because that’s not what’s best for her, what his plan of their time includes.
She stomps her feet in frusteration and lets go of his hand, almost immediately flying face-first into the ground.
You see the point.
I was entertained by this as I listened to a sermon I had missed at church by John Wilkenson, our teen pastor, and possibly one of the greatest speakers I’ve ever heard. He told the story of how he went to a big farm shor in PA (because that’s what we do for fun here), and he and his family with three children got stuck in a bottle-necked crowd heading out of one section of the event. While there, a lady started screaming about how she had lost her son in the crowd, and she was shoving and yelling in desperation. At the same time, about every ten seconds, his son was asking, “where are we going? What’s up ahead? Can you see? What’s going on?” and John just held on tight to his boy, not letting him go, but not taking the time to explain every thing, just saying, sit tight, it’ll be all right.
Then, this morning, I was reading a devotional by my favorite Christian author, Max Lucado. He is discussing the phrase “lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from evil” in the Lord’s prayer. Here’s what he has to say:
“Imagine a father and son walking down an icy street. The father cautions the boy to be careful, but the boy is too excited to slow down. He hits the first patch of ice. Up go the feet and down plops the bottom. Dad comes along and helps him to his feet. The boy apologizes for disregarding the warning and then, tightly holding his father’s big hand, he asks, “Keep me from the slippery spots. Don’t let me fall again.”
This example, to me, never gets old. It helps that I have a great relationship with my dad, and can perfectly picture these examples as they were played out in my own life. But I cannot think of a more simple, clear, and touching way to depict our relationship with Christ. All theological intricacies aside: we are children, holding the hand of the Father, trusting him to hold on tight, not leave us behind, and to be tall enough to see what’s ahead and be with us through it.
2.05.2009
For better or for worse
Have you ever turned your back on Christ?
This was a question at our small group this week. I didn’t say this then, so as not to offend anyone gathered, but here’s what I think is tied in with anyone’s answer to that question.
Personal relationship. (see RGB)
I know several people who’ve turned their back on God, because He didn’t take care of them like they wanted, because He ‘let’ someone suffer and/or die, etc. Some have come back, some have not.
But the deciding factor of those who either come back, or don’t turn away in the first place, seems to me to be the personal relationship.
Why do I think this? Well, because of some examples that were given. Friends of a couple in our small group had their 5-month-old daughter die from a rare heart disease. They don’t hate God: they hold on to Him more strongly. I’ve seen people lose children, be diagnosed with cancer, live through their parents dying in a shocking or degrading manner, and though they may be angry, express doubts, and really wrestle with their faith, it just makes them cling to Him more closely.
This is true in my life. In answer to the original question, I think: no. Whenever crap happens in my life, I look up at the sky and say two things: Bring it on.
And, You’d better know what’s going on up there, because I don’t, but I’m going to have to trust You through this pain.
Why? Because I have a personal relationship with my God.
I think of two examples of people close to me who have turned their back on God. And I think, though I cannot know for sure, that it was because their relationship with God was piggyback-style. Based on someone else’s relationship. Based on what they were told they should believe, but never discovered for themselves. Based on knowledge or upbringing, not a relationship.
Talking about this in bed last night, Tim, my smart-as-heck husband, brought up a good point. We often think of God as doing things in reaction to what we do. Which may sometimes be true – but not in the way we think of it. We see our kid get sick, crash our car, get our gps stolen, and we think “what did I do that God decided I deserve this?”
That, my friends, is entirely wrong. God is a constant, not a wobbly reaction chemical. He doesn’t wait for us to act and then magically make a decision based on what we’ve said or done. He’s got the rules of the universe already in place: His Grace and Mercy (and Justice).
However, this is so often what we project. I think it’s partly because of literally centuries of this weird, ingrained thought process. Remember in medieval times, and in early American puritan times, when if you got sick it was because you did something and God decided to punish you? Rough way of life I think.
And, in a flip-flop view, to take what Tim said a step further, I think this is what we ourselves project onto our relationship with God, if and when we decide to turn away from him. We act in a reactionary way. We say: if you’re going to treat me (or x person) like this, then I’m done with you.
Now, lets be honest, that’s just being human. That’s how we respond with our sense of justice, and perhaps our training on consumerism and customer service laws. If I don’t get what I deserve, then I’m done with you.
But again, this forgets the aspect of a steady, personal relationship. God is not a yo-yo. We should not react to him as if we don’t have a relationship with Him, as if he were some vending machine that we kick because it doesn’t give the correct change. We should react like we should to a friend or mentor that we trust. I don’t know why you’re doing this, or why this situation is unfolding like this, but I figure you’ve got it under control. Yell if you need help. I’m here, I don’t understand what’s going on or why, but we’re together on this.
That’s the way it should be.
This was a question at our small group this week. I didn’t say this then, so as not to offend anyone gathered, but here’s what I think is tied in with anyone’s answer to that question.
Personal relationship. (see RGB)
I know several people who’ve turned their back on God, because He didn’t take care of them like they wanted, because He ‘let’ someone suffer and/or die, etc. Some have come back, some have not.
But the deciding factor of those who either come back, or don’t turn away in the first place, seems to me to be the personal relationship.
Why do I think this? Well, because of some examples that were given. Friends of a couple in our small group had their 5-month-old daughter die from a rare heart disease. They don’t hate God: they hold on to Him more strongly. I’ve seen people lose children, be diagnosed with cancer, live through their parents dying in a shocking or degrading manner, and though they may be angry, express doubts, and really wrestle with their faith, it just makes them cling to Him more closely.
This is true in my life. In answer to the original question, I think: no. Whenever crap happens in my life, I look up at the sky and say two things: Bring it on.
And, You’d better know what’s going on up there, because I don’t, but I’m going to have to trust You through this pain.
Why? Because I have a personal relationship with my God.
I think of two examples of people close to me who have turned their back on God. And I think, though I cannot know for sure, that it was because their relationship with God was piggyback-style. Based on someone else’s relationship. Based on what they were told they should believe, but never discovered for themselves. Based on knowledge or upbringing, not a relationship.
Talking about this in bed last night, Tim, my smart-as-heck husband, brought up a good point. We often think of God as doing things in reaction to what we do. Which may sometimes be true – but not in the way we think of it. We see our kid get sick, crash our car, get our gps stolen, and we think “what did I do that God decided I deserve this?”
That, my friends, is entirely wrong. God is a constant, not a wobbly reaction chemical. He doesn’t wait for us to act and then magically make a decision based on what we’ve said or done. He’s got the rules of the universe already in place: His Grace and Mercy (and Justice).
However, this is so often what we project. I think it’s partly because of literally centuries of this weird, ingrained thought process. Remember in medieval times, and in early American puritan times, when if you got sick it was because you did something and God decided to punish you? Rough way of life I think.
And, in a flip-flop view, to take what Tim said a step further, I think this is what we ourselves project onto our relationship with God, if and when we decide to turn away from him. We act in a reactionary way. We say: if you’re going to treat me (or x person) like this, then I’m done with you.
Now, lets be honest, that’s just being human. That’s how we respond with our sense of justice, and perhaps our training on consumerism and customer service laws. If I don’t get what I deserve, then I’m done with you.
But again, this forgets the aspect of a steady, personal relationship. God is not a yo-yo. We should not react to him as if we don’t have a relationship with Him, as if he were some vending machine that we kick because it doesn’t give the correct change. We should react like we should to a friend or mentor that we trust. I don’t know why you’re doing this, or why this situation is unfolding like this, but I figure you’ve got it under control. Yell if you need help. I’m here, I don’t understand what’s going on or why, but we’re together on this.
That’s the way it should be.
1.30.2009
Safe?
I think we all have levels of our lives that we need to consider to be "safe."
X dollars in the bank
school loans paid off
car loans paid off
gas costing less than $2/gallon
not fighting with your spouse
knowing your kids can go to college
good smoke detectors
cars that don't break all the time
jobs that pay enough to save some money
good health
medicine/doctors when health isn't so good.
good insurance (life, health, home, etc.)
neighborhoods/cities low in crime
The list goes on and on. And, to be fair, I made up this list because these are some of the things that make me feel safe - not just other people.
But here's the thing - safe is not a state of consumer peace. We think it is. We somehow get sucked up into the tornadoe of endless dissatisfaction with the state of "safety" in our lives. As my husband says, "we always need a back-up, get out of here quick plan," in case your current life patter/situation/trajectory doesn't work out.
Jesus never said all of those things would bring us peace.
Jesus never said any of those things was even remotely important. not to our physical bodies, our mental bodies, our emotional frames, and especially our spiritual temples.
Jesus. is safe.
"Come to me, those who are weary and laden, for I will give you rest."
Jesus doesn't keep us safe from all that we fear in our every day lives. Jesus keeps us safe, "in the shadow of his wings," about everything that matters. Eternity. Eternally safe. There will be no more tears, pain, or grinding of teeth.
Safe. is Jesus.
X dollars in the bank
school loans paid off
car loans paid off
gas costing less than $2/gallon
not fighting with your spouse
knowing your kids can go to college
good smoke detectors
cars that don't break all the time
jobs that pay enough to save some money
good health
medicine/doctors when health isn't so good.
good insurance (life, health, home, etc.)
neighborhoods/cities low in crime
The list goes on and on. And, to be fair, I made up this list because these are some of the things that make me feel safe - not just other people.
But here's the thing - safe is not a state of consumer peace. We think it is. We somehow get sucked up into the tornadoe of endless dissatisfaction with the state of "safety" in our lives. As my husband says, "we always need a back-up, get out of here quick plan," in case your current life patter/situation/trajectory doesn't work out.
Jesus never said all of those things would bring us peace.
Jesus never said any of those things was even remotely important. not to our physical bodies, our mental bodies, our emotional frames, and especially our spiritual temples.
Jesus. is safe.
"Come to me, those who are weary and laden, for I will give you rest."
Jesus doesn't keep us safe from all that we fear in our every day lives. Jesus keeps us safe, "in the shadow of his wings," about everything that matters. Eternity. Eternally safe. There will be no more tears, pain, or grinding of teeth.
Safe. is Jesus.
1.12.2009
P P & E
Emptied.
So often, I cautiously admit to God that I would be okay if he taught me to be more patient. I am always scared of this, partly because I’m a rather impatient person in general, and partly because I am an incredibly decisive, driven and passionate person. Often, to me, patience = doing nothing. Patience means losing that drive, falling into apathy, giving up emotional connection and basically sitting on my hands, humming to myself in an effort to be entertained.
I can’t deal with that kind of patience. I see those of you who know me well smiling at that sentence.
So. Recently, I had a job interview for pretty much my dream job. Cons were it was a 45 minute commute each way, was only evening hours, and some of the benefits were kind of sucky (2 vacation days for the first 12 months). That aside, best job possibility I’ve come up against in two years. Not even joking.
Interviewed on a Tuesday. Though this was quicker turnaround than most, I was told I’d hear back by the following Monday at the latest. In the meantime, I spent literally hours agonizing over how to adjust my life to evening hours, working a part time job during the day, when I’d go to the gym, how I’d manage my time especially with a commute suddenly going from two hours or less/week to almost ten, especially with a part time job added. How to rearrange our budget with current salary, etc.
Wednesday went by. Lots of emails back and forth with my husband. Thursday went by with them calling me to check the phone number of a reference, so I know I’m still in the running. My references love me, so shouldn’t be a problem there. Friday comes and goes Saturday comes and goes. At this point, I’m somehow growing more and less sure that I’ll be offered the job. I have an entire speech prepared if I am offered it. I have no idea what I’ll say if I’m not.
This whole time, I think to myself: be patient, be patient.
And, surprisingly, instead of getting more and more tense, I do start to relax. I’m still ridiculously anxious, but not at bursting levels. I’m still just as passionate about the opportunity, but not so much that thinking about it makes me want to cry.
That’s my kind of patience. Within the excruciating desire to find, know, succeed NOW, a peace. Not that changes my drive or personality, but that blends with it. Is patience the same quality as peace?
Sunday comes and is on the way out. I get the phone call with “we went in another direction.” They say they really liked me and they’ll keep my resume at the front of the file. Good news in some ways.
Only problem now is that I don’t know how to combat the emptiness that’s left behind.
So often, I cautiously admit to God that I would be okay if he taught me to be more patient. I am always scared of this, partly because I’m a rather impatient person in general, and partly because I am an incredibly decisive, driven and passionate person. Often, to me, patience = doing nothing. Patience means losing that drive, falling into apathy, giving up emotional connection and basically sitting on my hands, humming to myself in an effort to be entertained.
I can’t deal with that kind of patience. I see those of you who know me well smiling at that sentence.
So. Recently, I had a job interview for pretty much my dream job. Cons were it was a 45 minute commute each way, was only evening hours, and some of the benefits were kind of sucky (2 vacation days for the first 12 months). That aside, best job possibility I’ve come up against in two years. Not even joking.
Interviewed on a Tuesday. Though this was quicker turnaround than most, I was told I’d hear back by the following Monday at the latest. In the meantime, I spent literally hours agonizing over how to adjust my life to evening hours, working a part time job during the day, when I’d go to the gym, how I’d manage my time especially with a commute suddenly going from two hours or less/week to almost ten, especially with a part time job added. How to rearrange our budget with current salary, etc.
Wednesday went by. Lots of emails back and forth with my husband. Thursday went by with them calling me to check the phone number of a reference, so I know I’m still in the running. My references love me, so shouldn’t be a problem there. Friday comes and goes Saturday comes and goes. At this point, I’m somehow growing more and less sure that I’ll be offered the job. I have an entire speech prepared if I am offered it. I have no idea what I’ll say if I’m not.
This whole time, I think to myself: be patient, be patient.
And, surprisingly, instead of getting more and more tense, I do start to relax. I’m still ridiculously anxious, but not at bursting levels. I’m still just as passionate about the opportunity, but not so much that thinking about it makes me want to cry.
That’s my kind of patience. Within the excruciating desire to find, know, succeed NOW, a peace. Not that changes my drive or personality, but that blends with it. Is patience the same quality as peace?
Sunday comes and is on the way out. I get the phone call with “we went in another direction.” They say they really liked me and they’ll keep my resume at the front of the file. Good news in some ways.
Only problem now is that I don’t know how to combat the emptiness that’s left behind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
