Merry Christmas Eve, readers and friends!
I promise to be short-winded today, really.
I was reading through the Christmas story today. Not out of religious duty, moral obligation, or self-imposed guilt, but simply because I needed the focus. The holidays are lovely and well, but I gotta be honest; they're also demanding, chaotic, and exhausting. I don't want to just survive another holiday this year. I want to really grasp the magic and wonder and joy of the season. I want Christmas in my heart more than I want any Christmas under a tree or in a stocking.
That foundation being laid, I'm going to take you to Luke 1, and we'll start in verse 39:
Now at this time Mary arose and went in a hurry to the hill country, to a city of Judah, and entered the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the baby leaped in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. And she cried out with a loud voice and said, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And how has it happened to me, that the mother of my Lord would come to me? For behold, when the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby leaped in my womb for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what had been spoken to her by the Lord."
Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment. Wow.
I'm not going reiterate the miraculous virgin birth for you, or the beauty of a baby that would deliver the world from sin and death. I'm pretty sure that picture has been amply painted. But what about you? What about your Christmas? What about God's promises to you? What heaven-ordained fulfillments are you still waiting on? Do you still believe?
Christmas is the season of believing, and I'm all for it, but December 26 will be here shortly. Don't let the hope of Jesus die with the tree or the lights. His word is full of promises, and the promises are ours for the taking 365 days a year. Elizabeth was old and barren when John was conceived- I would imagine that hope was a far off feeling. God's word may have appeared null and void, but it wasn't. He didn't forget Elizabeth, He didn't forget Israel, and He didn't forget Simeon, just like He hasn't forgotten us. Let that truth sink into your heart. His personal word and promises to you still stand. He hasn't forgotten you.
Merry Christmas, friends. May hope and peace be yours in abundance.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Sunday, December 7, 2014
An afternoon vocabulary lesson
I think Jesus likes vocabulary; or, He knows I'm a giant word nerd and speaks accordingly. Both are win-win scenarios, so I'm not too terribly caught up in trying to decipher truth from perception. Not this time, anyways.
Undone. Have you ever stopped to consider this term? I hadn't...and then, I heard it approximately 15,000 times in a week's span and decided I ought to give it some thought.
Undone: adjective: not fastened or tied, not done, unfinished, defeated or destroyed
I'll be honest. At first glance, that definition did nothing for my life, spirituality, or other common knowledge. It felt like a waste of paper, so why did "undone" keep pervading my language transactions? I had to dig deeper.
By "digging deeper," I mean I was reclining in an over sized chair, soaking in some Arizona sunlight, and attempting to steal a short nap, but my inquisitive nature wouldn't take a break. It just sounded more introspective and scholarly to phrase it, "dig deeper." I guess that cat is out of the bag. It's okay, though, because it goes to the raw honesty of my interactions with the Father and that which I relay to you as a result. I'm not a Bible scholar. I've never been to Bible school, and I don't claim to be a spiritual superstar. I don't spend a trillion hours a day locked away in a study praying and fasting, and after five and a half years of really loving Jesus, I literally just learned that there were two disciples named Simon. That's important for you to grasp because I don't want you to imagine something about me that is over-exaggerated or untrue. God speaks to me very simply, often times in the day-to-day dealings of my commonplace life. If you take nothing else away from this post, be encouraged that if He can speak to and teach me, He'll certainly be able to do the same for you.
But back to undone. What does it really mean to be undone? Undone in the presence of God even? I initially dismissed the defining word "destroyed," because I thought it lacked value. It felt oppressive and undesirable. The mental image I attached to the term gave me anything but a warm fuzzy feeling. However, the longer I sat, my thoughts were rearranged. Maybe destruction is exactly what I (we) need. I won't speak for you, but maybe destruction is exactly what I crave.
Destruction: noun: the act or process of damaging something so badly that it no longer exists or cannot be repaired
So many things within my heart and mind need a final destruction. A destruction I can't carry out in my own strength, intentions, or efforts, but rather a destruction that comes only through the power of Christ. A tearing down of strongholds (sin, fear, doubt, shame, lust, greed, pride, hate, or whatever other stronghold you battle) that we simply can't manage via our own self-sufficiency. I want the strongholds to be utterly destroyed. Yes, I want to be undone.
Undone carries a hopeful tone, too. I want to undo my patterns of thinking, doing, and living. I want to overhaul my viewpoints and get rid of stupid and religious thinking. Such an undoing is inexplicably and powerfully redemptive. See Romans 12:2 if you want proof.
Finally, I am unfinished business, and such a state delights me. I forever want to keep this truth in the forefront of my thinking and living. I always want to hunger and seek after more. I don't want to live satisfied, because if I lack nothing, than I have need of nothing. May it never be.
Undone. Have you ever stopped to consider this term? I hadn't...and then, I heard it approximately 15,000 times in a week's span and decided I ought to give it some thought.
Undone: adjective: not fastened or tied, not done, unfinished, defeated or destroyed
I'll be honest. At first glance, that definition did nothing for my life, spirituality, or other common knowledge. It felt like a waste of paper, so why did "undone" keep pervading my language transactions? I had to dig deeper.
By "digging deeper," I mean I was reclining in an over sized chair, soaking in some Arizona sunlight, and attempting to steal a short nap, but my inquisitive nature wouldn't take a break. It just sounded more introspective and scholarly to phrase it, "dig deeper." I guess that cat is out of the bag. It's okay, though, because it goes to the raw honesty of my interactions with the Father and that which I relay to you as a result. I'm not a Bible scholar. I've never been to Bible school, and I don't claim to be a spiritual superstar. I don't spend a trillion hours a day locked away in a study praying and fasting, and after five and a half years of really loving Jesus, I literally just learned that there were two disciples named Simon. That's important for you to grasp because I don't want you to imagine something about me that is over-exaggerated or untrue. God speaks to me very simply, often times in the day-to-day dealings of my commonplace life. If you take nothing else away from this post, be encouraged that if He can speak to and teach me, He'll certainly be able to do the same for you.
But back to undone. What does it really mean to be undone? Undone in the presence of God even? I initially dismissed the defining word "destroyed," because I thought it lacked value. It felt oppressive and undesirable. The mental image I attached to the term gave me anything but a warm fuzzy feeling. However, the longer I sat, my thoughts were rearranged. Maybe destruction is exactly what I (we) need. I won't speak for you, but maybe destruction is exactly what I crave.
Destruction: noun: the act or process of damaging something so badly that it no longer exists or cannot be repaired
So many things within my heart and mind need a final destruction. A destruction I can't carry out in my own strength, intentions, or efforts, but rather a destruction that comes only through the power of Christ. A tearing down of strongholds (sin, fear, doubt, shame, lust, greed, pride, hate, or whatever other stronghold you battle) that we simply can't manage via our own self-sufficiency. I want the strongholds to be utterly destroyed. Yes, I want to be undone.
Undone carries a hopeful tone, too. I want to undo my patterns of thinking, doing, and living. I want to overhaul my viewpoints and get rid of stupid and religious thinking. Such an undoing is inexplicably and powerfully redemptive. See Romans 12:2 if you want proof.
Finally, I am unfinished business, and such a state delights me. I forever want to keep this truth in the forefront of my thinking and living. I always want to hunger and seek after more. I don't want to live satisfied, because if I lack nothing, than I have need of nothing. May it never be.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
The wins in life
This is, by light years, probably the most awkward post I've ever scribbled, but I think it's worth the write. I'm not exactly the sharing type. Okay, in fact, I'm the polar opposite. Sure, I clutter up the Facebook newsfeed with silly tidbits from my wild and crazy, almost unbelievable, could-easily-be-a-sitcom life, but I keep most of my own true realities off the world wide web...
...until today, because sometimes, good news is worth repeating. Often times we hear of the struggles and the troubles, but the "wins" in life don't always get much of a stage. I have an opinion concerning that scenario, but I'll save it for a rainy day. So without any further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I bring you some really, really good news.
It's been an odd year. Not too many months in, I noticed weird changes in my body. Subtle, at first, and then gradually, more demanding of my attention. Finally one evening I decided my stubbornness would have to resign to the necessity of being fully alive, awake, and aware of my surroundings.
I made an appointment with my doctor, who ordered a batch of tests and sent me on down the hall to the next doctor. That doctor interpreted the results and suggested I see doctor number three, who then wanted her own set of diagnostics. By that point, it was September, the battle had raged for three months, and I was particularly tired of imaging tubes and blood draws. I was weary of the process, and then one morning the doctor walked in the room and said, "I have bad news. You're going to need surgeries."
I'm a, "break it to me gently," type of gal. You know, the type that gradually wakes up to fifteen alarms in the morning and prefers to exchange niceties and small talk before engaging in deep or serious conversations. When the doctor walked in and said, "I have bad news," straight off the cuff, I was caught totally and completely off guard. I hadn't prepared for that type of conversation, and I couldn't bring myself to focus on anything other than her crooked haircut.
She left me with a referral to Barnes Jewish hospital in St. Louis, and finally, in early November, I saw a brain surgeon there. Much to my delight, he gave me the surgical all clear. I could confuse you with a list of long-lettered words, but very simply put, my brain doesn't look like a textbook example. There's some minor discrepancies between the opinions of the neurologist and neurosurgeon, but at the end of the day, my good 'ole thinker doesn't require any surgical intervention, and I am happy about that!
Having cleared the first major hurdle, I starred at the base of mountain number two. All of my treating physicians were in agreement that an appointment with a spinal surgeon was in order. After having a massive spinal fusion in 2007, I was anything but excited about the possibility of additional surgery.
That catches us up to the last ten days. On a whim, I decided to do some investigative research on the whereabouts of my previous spine surgeon, though I was led to believe he was no longer practicing medicine. Thanks to Google and a few keystrokes, I was able to locate him in Denver. I placed a call to his office, and things fell perfectly into place from the first hello. I talked to a receptionist who was very interested in my story. She talked with the doctor, and he offered to review my latest diagnostics and schedule a consultation in December. A trip to the local medical records office and seven bucks later, all of my latest imaging and treatment reports were en route to a doctor who's not only very familiar with my case, but is also rated one of the top surgeons in his field. I wasn't sure what would come of his review, but I trusted his judgment, and with that, the hundredth game of "hurry up and wait" began.
Meanwhile, I had two more doctor appointments and a blood draw. For the first time in seven months, my lab results came back completely normal. I wish I had sufficient verbiage to explain the magnificence or significance of that victory, but 26 letters just isn't enough. I was indeed quite thankful, but little did I know, the best news was yet to come.
I was tying up some odds and ends at the office yesterday afternoon when my phone rang. Much to my surprise, my Denver based surgeon spoke up on the other end. I'll be honest- my heart skipped a few beats. I figured in the world of medicine, a phone call from the doctor himself probably meant anything but good news. We exchanged niceties and I prepared myself for the worst. He asked questions and explained the last seven months of diagnoses better than anyone I've spoken to yet. After our ten minute exchange, his recommendation was as follows:
This (blah, blah, blah, insert formal diagnostic label here) isn't anything new. In fact, it was present eight years ago when we did the first fusion. The other treating physicians probably haven't seen much of it, hence their cause for concern, but being familiar with your case, it's nothing that alarms me. Your latest imaging looks fair. The best thing you can do is stay healthy, stay mobile, incorporate some strength training into your routine, be nice to your body, and let's do anything we can to avoid another fusion.
Doctor, we have a deal!
He gave a few more suggestions, my heart skipped a few more excited beats, we ended our conversation wishing the other a happy holiday season, and just like that, a giant weight was lifted.
Now, of course, none of this is without provision, but we're talking about the difference between mountains and mole hills. Mountains that would have included multiple hospitalizations, surgeries, home health care, an extended recovery period, and a shaved head and ugly scars as the added bonus. Comparatively, everything else is a walk in the park.
I'd be a total and complete liar if I led you to believe I've walked through the last months with this overwhelming peace and righteous attitude about the trials and tribulations, because that was not always the case. However, I can say with complete assurance and total honesty that God proved Himself faithful over and over and over again.
I'm reminded of one particular afternoon that I was stuck at home fighting a case of the blues when a worship song I wasn't familiar with (Breathe You In by Bryan and Katie Torwalt) came across my Pandora station. The whole thing was good, but these particular few lines flooded my heart with sweet invitation:
And when I don't understand, I will choose you.
When I don't understand, I will choose to love you, God.
And you are good, God.
You are good to me.
Choice. Everything boils down to choice, and I want to choose well.
Psalm 27: A Psalm of Fearless Trust in God
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the defense of my life;
Whom shall I dread?
2 When evildoers came upon me to devour my flesh,
My adversaries and my enemies, they stumbled and fell.
3 Though a host encamp against me,
My heart will not fear;
Though war arise against me,
In spite of this I shall be confident.
...until today, because sometimes, good news is worth repeating. Often times we hear of the struggles and the troubles, but the "wins" in life don't always get much of a stage. I have an opinion concerning that scenario, but I'll save it for a rainy day. So without any further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I bring you some really, really good news.
It's been an odd year. Not too many months in, I noticed weird changes in my body. Subtle, at first, and then gradually, more demanding of my attention. Finally one evening I decided my stubbornness would have to resign to the necessity of being fully alive, awake, and aware of my surroundings.
I made an appointment with my doctor, who ordered a batch of tests and sent me on down the hall to the next doctor. That doctor interpreted the results and suggested I see doctor number three, who then wanted her own set of diagnostics. By that point, it was September, the battle had raged for three months, and I was particularly tired of imaging tubes and blood draws. I was weary of the process, and then one morning the doctor walked in the room and said, "I have bad news. You're going to need surgeries."
I'm a, "break it to me gently," type of gal. You know, the type that gradually wakes up to fifteen alarms in the morning and prefers to exchange niceties and small talk before engaging in deep or serious conversations. When the doctor walked in and said, "I have bad news," straight off the cuff, I was caught totally and completely off guard. I hadn't prepared for that type of conversation, and I couldn't bring myself to focus on anything other than her crooked haircut.
She left me with a referral to Barnes Jewish hospital in St. Louis, and finally, in early November, I saw a brain surgeon there. Much to my delight, he gave me the surgical all clear. I could confuse you with a list of long-lettered words, but very simply put, my brain doesn't look like a textbook example. There's some minor discrepancies between the opinions of the neurologist and neurosurgeon, but at the end of the day, my good 'ole thinker doesn't require any surgical intervention, and I am happy about that!
Having cleared the first major hurdle, I starred at the base of mountain number two. All of my treating physicians were in agreement that an appointment with a spinal surgeon was in order. After having a massive spinal fusion in 2007, I was anything but excited about the possibility of additional surgery.
That catches us up to the last ten days. On a whim, I decided to do some investigative research on the whereabouts of my previous spine surgeon, though I was led to believe he was no longer practicing medicine. Thanks to Google and a few keystrokes, I was able to locate him in Denver. I placed a call to his office, and things fell perfectly into place from the first hello. I talked to a receptionist who was very interested in my story. She talked with the doctor, and he offered to review my latest diagnostics and schedule a consultation in December. A trip to the local medical records office and seven bucks later, all of my latest imaging and treatment reports were en route to a doctor who's not only very familiar with my case, but is also rated one of the top surgeons in his field. I wasn't sure what would come of his review, but I trusted his judgment, and with that, the hundredth game of "hurry up and wait" began.
Meanwhile, I had two more doctor appointments and a blood draw. For the first time in seven months, my lab results came back completely normal. I wish I had sufficient verbiage to explain the magnificence or significance of that victory, but 26 letters just isn't enough. I was indeed quite thankful, but little did I know, the best news was yet to come.
I was tying up some odds and ends at the office yesterday afternoon when my phone rang. Much to my surprise, my Denver based surgeon spoke up on the other end. I'll be honest- my heart skipped a few beats. I figured in the world of medicine, a phone call from the doctor himself probably meant anything but good news. We exchanged niceties and I prepared myself for the worst. He asked questions and explained the last seven months of diagnoses better than anyone I've spoken to yet. After our ten minute exchange, his recommendation was as follows:
This (blah, blah, blah, insert formal diagnostic label here) isn't anything new. In fact, it was present eight years ago when we did the first fusion. The other treating physicians probably haven't seen much of it, hence their cause for concern, but being familiar with your case, it's nothing that alarms me. Your latest imaging looks fair. The best thing you can do is stay healthy, stay mobile, incorporate some strength training into your routine, be nice to your body, and let's do anything we can to avoid another fusion.
Doctor, we have a deal!
He gave a few more suggestions, my heart skipped a few more excited beats, we ended our conversation wishing the other a happy holiday season, and just like that, a giant weight was lifted.
Now, of course, none of this is without provision, but we're talking about the difference between mountains and mole hills. Mountains that would have included multiple hospitalizations, surgeries, home health care, an extended recovery period, and a shaved head and ugly scars as the added bonus. Comparatively, everything else is a walk in the park.
I'd be a total and complete liar if I led you to believe I've walked through the last months with this overwhelming peace and righteous attitude about the trials and tribulations, because that was not always the case. However, I can say with complete assurance and total honesty that God proved Himself faithful over and over and over again.
I'm reminded of one particular afternoon that I was stuck at home fighting a case of the blues when a worship song I wasn't familiar with (Breathe You In by Bryan and Katie Torwalt) came across my Pandora station. The whole thing was good, but these particular few lines flooded my heart with sweet invitation:
And when I don't understand, I will choose you.
When I don't understand, I will choose to love you, God.
And you are good, God.
You are good to me.
Choice. Everything boils down to choice, and I want to choose well.
Psalm 27: A Psalm of Fearless Trust in God
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the defense of my life;
Whom shall I dread?
2 When evildoers came upon me to devour my flesh,
My adversaries and my enemies, they stumbled and fell.
3 Though a host encamp against me,
My heart will not fear;
Though war arise against me,
In spite of this I shall be confident.
4 One thing I have asked from the Lord, that I shall seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the Lord
And to meditate in His temple.
5 For in the day of trouble He will conceal me in His tabernacle;
In the secret place of His tent He will hide me;
He will lift me up on a rock.
6 And now my head will be lifted up above my enemies around me,
And I will offer in His tent sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the Lord.
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the Lord
And to meditate in His temple.
5 For in the day of trouble He will conceal me in His tabernacle;
In the secret place of His tent He will hide me;
He will lift me up on a rock.
6 And now my head will be lifted up above my enemies around me,
And I will offer in His tent sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the Lord.
7 Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice,
And be gracious to me and answer me.
8 When You said, “Seek My face,” my heart said to You,
“Your face, O Lord, I shall seek.”
9 Do not hide Your face from me,
Do not turn Your servant away in anger;
You have been my help;
Do not abandon me nor forsake me,
O God of my salvation!
10 For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
But the Lord will take me up.
And be gracious to me and answer me.
8 When You said, “Seek My face,” my heart said to You,
“Your face, O Lord, I shall seek.”
9 Do not hide Your face from me,
Do not turn Your servant away in anger;
You have been my help;
Do not abandon me nor forsake me,
O God of my salvation!
10 For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
But the Lord will take me up.
11 Teach me Your way, O Lord,
And lead me in a level path
Because of my foes.
12 Do not deliver me over to the desire of my adversaries,
For false witnesses have risen against me,
And such as breathe out violence.
13 I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord
In the land of the living.
14 Wait for the Lord;
Be strong and let your heart take courage;
Yes, wait for the Lord.
And lead me in a level path
Because of my foes.
12 Do not deliver me over to the desire of my adversaries,
For false witnesses have risen against me,
And such as breathe out violence.
13 I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord
In the land of the living.
14 Wait for the Lord;
Be strong and let your heart take courage;
Yes, wait for the Lord.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
A puppy and our hearts: A shared story of relief
I'm a dog lover. If you've ever met me or followed me on
Facebook, this comes as no surprise to you. Quite naturally, then, you might
assume I'm a sucker for strays, and again, you would be absolutely correct.
Yesterday my dad brought me a dumped puppy from his farm,
and as I do, I brought it home to clean it up and love on it a bit before rehoming
the sweet baby. As we processed through the evening, my heart grasped the most
beautiful picture of redemption and restoration. God's timing is indescribably
perfect.
From what I can gather, Mocha (the puppy) was abandoned
and left to die. She came to me starved, sick, shivering, and covered in fleas
and ticks. She didn't know me, but could probably only sense I was much bigger than her,
and resembled that of which previously discarded her. She had no reason to
trust me, and I certainly didn't blame her.
As I placed her in the tub, she didn't initially understand the difference between a
warm bath and a mid-November rain storm. Her previous experiences with water
probably weren't all that great. I knew and well understood the bath was for
her benefit. I had a plan to rid her of the dirt and dust and bugs, but she
only sensed she was about to be wet...again. I literally sat and talked out
loud to this pup about how we were washing away her old life and starting down
a new path. She wasn't trash anymore; she was receiving a new name, a new
identity, and a new start. She was finally going to be clean and warm and wanted. Obviously, she's
a dog, so she didn't comprehend a single word I spoke to her, but her lack of
understanding didn't change the reality of her rescue.
After her bath, I started the seemingly insurmountable
task of debugging her. Some of the ticks were buried so deep that her skin was
tender, swollen, and infected. She whimpered and cried as I dug
the ticks out one by one. Again, she didn't understand my intentions. Yes, I
was inflicting some pain, but it was purposeful. My efforts weren't to cause
her more suffering, but instead to very deliberately take what was hurting,
remove the root cause, and in turn, make her healthy again. It was redemption on a grand
scale, but it didn't come without a price. While she only saw the pain, I saw the payoff.
Finally, I took her through this whole process only
to leave her in the bathroom and turn out the light (she's most likely contagious, and I couldn't risk making the other babies sick). Instinctually, she
probably felt alone and vulnerable...again. What she didn't understand was that
I was just on the other side of that door. She was in my house now, and she was
safe. She could let her guard down. She could rest. She may not have sensed it,
but I was there all the while, listening for her cries. Through her literal,
bathroom light out and door shut darkness, she wasn't alone.
I laid in bed last night overwhelmed at the goodness of God. He knows, and He sees. Wow.
Our lives may often times resemble Mocha's. Maybe we're in need of an obvious rescue from a catastrophic life...or maybe not. Maybe we're just desperate for a less apparent, but equally as profound rescue from our own hearts, minds, or the mundane life. You see, there's this ridiculous misconception that if you're not on drugs, in jail, working the streets, or living under a bridge, that redemption and restoration aren't necessary. I disagree.
Jesus cares about every part of us- even our hearts- our real hearts. Good, bad, pretty, ugly, or indifferent, He's "all in," if you will. We weren't just redeemed once at the cross, though that alone would be sufficient. I truly believe with every ounce and fiber of my being that God is in the business of our continual redemption. Be encouraged by that. Whatever part it is in you that He's calling out, trust Him. He's just on the other side of that door, and I promise you, His intentions are always good.
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and freedom to prisoners; to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord and the day of vengeance of our God; To comfort all who mourn, to grant those who mourn in Zion, giving them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting (Isaiah 61:1-3).
I laid in bed last night overwhelmed at the goodness of God. He knows, and He sees. Wow.
Our lives may often times resemble Mocha's. Maybe we're in need of an obvious rescue from a catastrophic life...or maybe not. Maybe we're just desperate for a less apparent, but equally as profound rescue from our own hearts, minds, or the mundane life. You see, there's this ridiculous misconception that if you're not on drugs, in jail, working the streets, or living under a bridge, that redemption and restoration aren't necessary. I disagree.
Jesus cares about every part of us- even our hearts- our real hearts. Good, bad, pretty, ugly, or indifferent, He's "all in," if you will. We weren't just redeemed once at the cross, though that alone would be sufficient. I truly believe with every ounce and fiber of my being that God is in the business of our continual redemption. Be encouraged by that. Whatever part it is in you that He's calling out, trust Him. He's just on the other side of that door, and I promise you, His intentions are always good.
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and freedom to prisoners; to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord and the day of vengeance of our God; To comfort all who mourn, to grant those who mourn in Zion, giving them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting (Isaiah 61:1-3).
Thursday, October 30, 2014
A little morning glory
I am, by nature, a planner, a critical thinker, and a big fan of introspection.
I think it's vital to our growth as human beings to pause and take an honest evaluation of where we're at, what it is we're aiming for, and by what methods we live out our daily lives. Today as I watched a breathtaking sunrise, the house was caked in flour (it's a long story) and I was soaking in the giggles of a child. I couldn't help but think maybe some areas of my life are deficient. For instance, my more-frequent-than-I'd-like-to-admit- lack of thankfulness.
I woke up with a beating heart this morning, and sometimes, I forget the sheer triumph it is to be alive. Our bodies are these intricately formed miracles that function without conscious effort or awareness. If we, if I, stopped to consider the majesty of that, our perspectives would undoubtedly improve.
Life is full of trials, but yet it overflows with victories, beauty, and raw wonder. I think when we set our hearts on living appreciative, the small wins will become more visible and the big ones all the more glorious.
I am thankful. I'm thankful to be alive. I'm thankful to be loved. I'm thankful to have eyes that behold the beauty of creation. I'm thankful to have ears that can distinguish laughter. I'm thankful to have arms full of nieces and nephews and siblings and god-children that are happy, healthy, and loved. I'm thankful to live in a country that, despite it's failures, allows me the freedom to be and live and go and do. I'm thankful for solid, unadulterated friendships, for truth, for fun, and for flowers. I'm thankful for macaroni and cheese and chocolate soy milk at 2am. I'm thankful for Jesus. I'm thankful for every road trip, airplane flight, and taxi ride I've ever been afforded. I'm thankful for all life's other little pleasures, and dare I say it, I'm thankful for life's displeasures, too, because they've made the "other side" all the more precious.
And with that, I dare you to nourish a grateful heart today. The end.
I think it's vital to our growth as human beings to pause and take an honest evaluation of where we're at, what it is we're aiming for, and by what methods we live out our daily lives. Today as I watched a breathtaking sunrise, the house was caked in flour (it's a long story) and I was soaking in the giggles of a child. I couldn't help but think maybe some areas of my life are deficient. For instance, my more-frequent-than-I'd-like-to-admit- lack of thankfulness.
I woke up with a beating heart this morning, and sometimes, I forget the sheer triumph it is to be alive. Our bodies are these intricately formed miracles that function without conscious effort or awareness. If we, if I, stopped to consider the majesty of that, our perspectives would undoubtedly improve.
Life is full of trials, but yet it overflows with victories, beauty, and raw wonder. I think when we set our hearts on living appreciative, the small wins will become more visible and the big ones all the more glorious.
I am thankful. I'm thankful to be alive. I'm thankful to be loved. I'm thankful to have eyes that behold the beauty of creation. I'm thankful to have ears that can distinguish laughter. I'm thankful to have arms full of nieces and nephews and siblings and god-children that are happy, healthy, and loved. I'm thankful to live in a country that, despite it's failures, allows me the freedom to be and live and go and do. I'm thankful for solid, unadulterated friendships, for truth, for fun, and for flowers. I'm thankful for macaroni and cheese and chocolate soy milk at 2am. I'm thankful for Jesus. I'm thankful for every road trip, airplane flight, and taxi ride I've ever been afforded. I'm thankful for all life's other little pleasures, and dare I say it, I'm thankful for life's displeasures, too, because they've made the "other side" all the more precious.
And with that, I dare you to nourish a grateful heart today. The end.
Friday, October 17, 2014
Be careful, momma mouth, what you say!
Be careful, little mouth, what you say!
Oh be careful, little mouth, what you say!
There's a Father up above,
And He's looking down in love.
So be careful, little mouth, what you say!
I can't be the only one who sings this song. I don't even remember where I first learned it, or who sang it to me, but it's one of those baby lullabies that's permanently engraved in my brain, and every niece, nephew, and god child I have has to suffer through my less-than-gracious singing abilities while I spit out these words, because "Good night, baby," finally got old. Enough of my story.
I'm flabbergasted.
I just left preschool time at the gym, which is dramatic every other Friday all in its own, but this time, momma was the culprit. She outdid every preschooler in the place, put together, and then multiplied. Literally, it was that bad.
I watched the whole scenario unfold. Kid 1 jumps into the foam pit, followed by Kid 2 who gets a little too anxious and lunges into the foam pit with glee, hitting Kid 1 in the mouth and busting open a lip. Kid 1 screams, Kid 2 looks puzzled, and then the world fell apart. Not the kids' world, mind you, but momma's world. Yes, she was panicked. No, nobody wants to see their toddler in pain. Yes, blood makes everything seem more serious. I get all of that, but her reaction...? Inappropriate, to say the least.
She physically confronts the kid, yanks her bleeding child from the pit, and marches off yelling, "You stupid kid!" Mom 1 then shoves Kid 1 into Mom 2 and says, "Control your monster! He hurt my angel!"
Okay, okay, back up. We're gathered in a small space crammed full of feisty youngsters who are experiencing sensory overload at it's finest. You have to be ready for anything momma, including a busted lip.
Anybody who's spent more than sixty seconds with a child between the stages of crawling and graduating high school knows accidents happen. It's almost like the little aliens are born accident-prone. Why do you think there's fifteen different cartoon band aids lining the Walmart isle? Because kids get hurt...all the time.
Kid 1 has a busted lip, and within a week or so, it will heal. Kid 2 just got publicly humiliated, disgraced, and bullied by someone ten times his age. I don't know how long that wound will take to scab over, much less heal. Death and life are in the power of the tongue; a concept much more hefty to grasp than the manners or patience of a four-year-old child.
Wake up, moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, and caretakers of the world! We have to get a hold on our words, actions, and reactions. Those little eyes and ears are watching us, ever so closely, and they will repeat everything we teach them. Let's be gentle in our correction, kind in our chaos, and never ever demeaning or cruel in our words. After all, this big bad world is mean enough, and I think we ought not raise more bullies, yeah?
Oh be careful, little mouth, what you say!
There's a Father up above,
And He's looking down in love.
So be careful, little mouth, what you say!
I can't be the only one who sings this song. I don't even remember where I first learned it, or who sang it to me, but it's one of those baby lullabies that's permanently engraved in my brain, and every niece, nephew, and god child I have has to suffer through my less-than-gracious singing abilities while I spit out these words, because "Good night, baby," finally got old. Enough of my story.
I'm flabbergasted.
I just left preschool time at the gym, which is dramatic every other Friday all in its own, but this time, momma was the culprit. She outdid every preschooler in the place, put together, and then multiplied. Literally, it was that bad.
I watched the whole scenario unfold. Kid 1 jumps into the foam pit, followed by Kid 2 who gets a little too anxious and lunges into the foam pit with glee, hitting Kid 1 in the mouth and busting open a lip. Kid 1 screams, Kid 2 looks puzzled, and then the world fell apart. Not the kids' world, mind you, but momma's world. Yes, she was panicked. No, nobody wants to see their toddler in pain. Yes, blood makes everything seem more serious. I get all of that, but her reaction...? Inappropriate, to say the least.
She physically confronts the kid, yanks her bleeding child from the pit, and marches off yelling, "You stupid kid!" Mom 1 then shoves Kid 1 into Mom 2 and says, "Control your monster! He hurt my angel!"
Okay, okay, back up. We're gathered in a small space crammed full of feisty youngsters who are experiencing sensory overload at it's finest. You have to be ready for anything momma, including a busted lip.
Anybody who's spent more than sixty seconds with a child between the stages of crawling and graduating high school knows accidents happen. It's almost like the little aliens are born accident-prone. Why do you think there's fifteen different cartoon band aids lining the Walmart isle? Because kids get hurt...all the time.
Kid 1 has a busted lip, and within a week or so, it will heal. Kid 2 just got publicly humiliated, disgraced, and bullied by someone ten times his age. I don't know how long that wound will take to scab over, much less heal. Death and life are in the power of the tongue; a concept much more hefty to grasp than the manners or patience of a four-year-old child.
Wake up, moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, and caretakers of the world! We have to get a hold on our words, actions, and reactions. Those little eyes and ears are watching us, ever so closely, and they will repeat everything we teach them. Let's be gentle in our correction, kind in our chaos, and never ever demeaning or cruel in our words. After all, this big bad world is mean enough, and I think we ought not raise more bullies, yeah?
Sunday, October 12, 2014
The great wager
I feel compelled to start this post off with a truthful disclosure: I have absolutely no idea where or how this writing is going to end. My heart is full, but my words are tangled in the spider web of complication. I think they've termed this syndrome "writer's block," but I can't make a definite diagnosis. Anyways, consider yourselves warned.
If I had to adequately describe the last twelve months of my life in ten seconds or less, I would tell you that it was like riding the world's tallest roller coaster backwards and blindfolded after eating cheese tots and winning the lottery, to which you might be compelled to ask, "What does that mean?", and I would further clarify by telling you I have no idea. Our exchange would be among the top ten most sincere conversations I've ever had.
Life is weird (or, at least mine is, anyways). My cousin and I were recently discussing our lives and all the triumphs, struggles, complications, and victories in our journeys. Our ramblings escorted me all the way down memory lane, and I can safely say that life is surprising. Believe it or not, I think that's a good thing.
I am so thankful. In fact, I don't even like the word thankful because it feels overused, cheap, and devoid of value, but Webster's pocket dictionary only offered me blissful, chuffed, delighted, gratified, happy, joyful, joyous, pleased, satisfied, glad, or tickled as synonyms, and none of those fit. I am hugely, extraordinarily, and exceedingly grateful for the daily opportunity to breathe fresh air.
The places God has brought me to and through and around and under are crazy good, to the point of being unbelievable. The paths I've meandered on and down and around are breath-taking and maybe a bit frightening. The sights and sounds and smells along the way are almost too much for human language. This whole being alive thing, it's just really, really, really marvelous. Sometimes I'm afraid we take that for granted.
I don't know what's next. My perfectly laid out, neatly ordered, and firmly established life plan gets jumbled out of order unexpectedly at approximately hourly intervals, so I've pretty much given up on the whole trying to figure out what's behind the next curve thing. Maybe I'll visit the moon, or Paris, or my next door neighbor (that last one is highly unlikely). Or maybe I'll take an early retirement and stay home and write novels while drinking excessive amounts of chocolate soy milk and eating honey nut cheerios with my puppies. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll run an orphan village and turn out like the little old lady who lived in a shoe, except I won't be whipping kids before bed, and we won't actually live in a worn out shoe. The truth is, I don't know about tomorrow, or next week, or a year from now, but I'm all-in. I want to love large and lead people to Jesus. It's really just that simple.
If I had to adequately describe the last twelve months of my life in ten seconds or less, I would tell you that it was like riding the world's tallest roller coaster backwards and blindfolded after eating cheese tots and winning the lottery, to which you might be compelled to ask, "What does that mean?", and I would further clarify by telling you I have no idea. Our exchange would be among the top ten most sincere conversations I've ever had.
Life is weird (or, at least mine is, anyways). My cousin and I were recently discussing our lives and all the triumphs, struggles, complications, and victories in our journeys. Our ramblings escorted me all the way down memory lane, and I can safely say that life is surprising. Believe it or not, I think that's a good thing.
I am so thankful. In fact, I don't even like the word thankful because it feels overused, cheap, and devoid of value, but Webster's pocket dictionary only offered me blissful, chuffed, delighted, gratified, happy, joyful, joyous, pleased, satisfied, glad, or tickled as synonyms, and none of those fit. I am hugely, extraordinarily, and exceedingly grateful for the daily opportunity to breathe fresh air.
The places God has brought me to and through and around and under are crazy good, to the point of being unbelievable. The paths I've meandered on and down and around are breath-taking and maybe a bit frightening. The sights and sounds and smells along the way are almost too much for human language. This whole being alive thing, it's just really, really, really marvelous. Sometimes I'm afraid we take that for granted.
I don't know what's next. My perfectly laid out, neatly ordered, and firmly established life plan gets jumbled out of order unexpectedly at approximately hourly intervals, so I've pretty much given up on the whole trying to figure out what's behind the next curve thing. Maybe I'll visit the moon, or Paris, or my next door neighbor (that last one is highly unlikely). Or maybe I'll take an early retirement and stay home and write novels while drinking excessive amounts of chocolate soy milk and eating honey nut cheerios with my puppies. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll run an orphan village and turn out like the little old lady who lived in a shoe, except I won't be whipping kids before bed, and we won't actually live in a worn out shoe. The truth is, I don't know about tomorrow, or next week, or a year from now, but I'm all-in. I want to love large and lead people to Jesus. It's really just that simple.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Finish with the fear!
I want to paint a picture for you:
Twenty-five year old female stands five-foot-six and tackles the world every day in dress slacks and a pair of four-inch heels. There's the planes, trains, taxis, and rented automobiles, the always pesky airport security, lost luggage, and a team full of people to coordinate. Lest we forget e-mail, snail mail, text message, and a habitually low phone battery. It would appear as though nothing can slow slow her down, right?
Except that spider, who is the size of a dime and her own backyard after dark, because after all, an ax-murderer could be lurking in the shadows and intend to inflict a slow and unusual death upon her as she innocently disposes of the trash on Monday evenings. Legitimate concern, right?
Fear is an interesting concept. It plagues immeasurable amounts of people, but often has no validity. One of my very good friends uses an acronym to describe fear: false evidence appearing real. I've often seen self-help slogans proclaiming, "Fear is a liar," and "On the other side of fear lies freedom." I don't disagree, but with all of these adamant declarations and soothing techniques aimed at vanquishing fear, why are so many people still afraid?
Let's go back to that newly painted picture of yours truly. Admittedly, I'm afraid of spiders and ax-murderers...and drowning, and needles, and snakes, and strangers, and awkward social situations, and dark quiet places, but why? Do fears have any reasonable function or foundation?
For grins and giggles, let's use the words, "function" and "purpose" interchangeably for a moment. Does fear have a purpose? When I posed this question to myself, I automatically thought of the body's fight-or-flight mechanism. In this process, our mind perceives a threat and our body automatically responds by releasing stress hormones, increasing our heart rate, and speeding up our breathing. Essentially, our body prepares for battle. Fear could, and probably would, illicit this fight-or-flight response, which would certainly be beneficial in the event of an actual threat; however, the brain can actually respond with the fight-or-flight process without actually being in any sort of danger. Basically, what we perceive as danger isn't always so.
Let's move on to phase two of this equation. Does fear have any real foundation? If Little Suzie or Cousin Joe had been mauled by a bear, was laid up in a hospital for weeks, and escaped with only one leg and a few fingers, chances are, most people would agree they would have a reasonable cause (or foundation) for fear and intimidation. I would agree, but that doesn't free Suzie or Joe from any of the crippling effects of fear. The bear may have stolen their legs and fingers, but fear could potentially steal a lifetime of adventures from them if they were too afraid to step outside again.
Also important to consider is that fear (or lack thereof) has no bearing on actual danger. Earlier, we established our ability to distinguish between actual and assumed threats is sometimes skewed. On the contrary, consider those bozos on television that play with boa constrictors and wear rattle snakes around their necks like costume jewelry. They claim they're not afraid, and they certainly don't act the part, but that doesn't make handling deadly snakes any less dangerous. Their perception is skewed.
Fear distorts perception and reality. Fear limits, confines, suffocates, and destroys. Why do we continue to allow ourselves to be help captive by such fantasies? Isn't true that we're often confined by the walls we build ourselves?
"Fear isn't a fantasy, Lindsay. You have no idea how scary ________ (fill in the blank) is!" You're right, maybe I don't, but I do very well know what it is to be totally afraid, and I'm saying there is a better alternative. The bottom line is life is scary. Sometimes it's even one big giant mess, but there is a more peaceful, happy, able-to-live-life-again solution. We just have to want it. You and I, we have to want to be free from that which binds us up. And after the wanting, we have to seek it out with everything we have. We have to refuse to give up, give in, or quit.
So here's to you, and here's to me. Here's to happier days, more restful nights, and a life free from fear. It's out there, and it's ours for the taking.
Isaiah 41:10: Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you. Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.
Philippians 4:6-7: Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Twenty-five year old female stands five-foot-six and tackles the world every day in dress slacks and a pair of four-inch heels. There's the planes, trains, taxis, and rented automobiles, the always pesky airport security, lost luggage, and a team full of people to coordinate. Lest we forget e-mail, snail mail, text message, and a habitually low phone battery. It would appear as though nothing can slow slow her down, right?
Except that spider, who is the size of a dime and her own backyard after dark, because after all, an ax-murderer could be lurking in the shadows and intend to inflict a slow and unusual death upon her as she innocently disposes of the trash on Monday evenings. Legitimate concern, right?
Fear is an interesting concept. It plagues immeasurable amounts of people, but often has no validity. One of my very good friends uses an acronym to describe fear: false evidence appearing real. I've often seen self-help slogans proclaiming, "Fear is a liar," and "On the other side of fear lies freedom." I don't disagree, but with all of these adamant declarations and soothing techniques aimed at vanquishing fear, why are so many people still afraid?
Let's go back to that newly painted picture of yours truly. Admittedly, I'm afraid of spiders and ax-murderers...and drowning, and needles, and snakes, and strangers, and awkward social situations, and dark quiet places, but why? Do fears have any reasonable function or foundation?
For grins and giggles, let's use the words, "function" and "purpose" interchangeably for a moment. Does fear have a purpose? When I posed this question to myself, I automatically thought of the body's fight-or-flight mechanism. In this process, our mind perceives a threat and our body automatically responds by releasing stress hormones, increasing our heart rate, and speeding up our breathing. Essentially, our body prepares for battle. Fear could, and probably would, illicit this fight-or-flight response, which would certainly be beneficial in the event of an actual threat; however, the brain can actually respond with the fight-or-flight process without actually being in any sort of danger. Basically, what we perceive as danger isn't always so.
Let's move on to phase two of this equation. Does fear have any real foundation? If Little Suzie or Cousin Joe had been mauled by a bear, was laid up in a hospital for weeks, and escaped with only one leg and a few fingers, chances are, most people would agree they would have a reasonable cause (or foundation) for fear and intimidation. I would agree, but that doesn't free Suzie or Joe from any of the crippling effects of fear. The bear may have stolen their legs and fingers, but fear could potentially steal a lifetime of adventures from them if they were too afraid to step outside again.
Also important to consider is that fear (or lack thereof) has no bearing on actual danger. Earlier, we established our ability to distinguish between actual and assumed threats is sometimes skewed. On the contrary, consider those bozos on television that play with boa constrictors and wear rattle snakes around their necks like costume jewelry. They claim they're not afraid, and they certainly don't act the part, but that doesn't make handling deadly snakes any less dangerous. Their perception is skewed.
Fear distorts perception and reality. Fear limits, confines, suffocates, and destroys. Why do we continue to allow ourselves to be help captive by such fantasies? Isn't true that we're often confined by the walls we build ourselves?
"Fear isn't a fantasy, Lindsay. You have no idea how scary ________ (fill in the blank) is!" You're right, maybe I don't, but I do very well know what it is to be totally afraid, and I'm saying there is a better alternative. The bottom line is life is scary. Sometimes it's even one big giant mess, but there is a more peaceful, happy, able-to-live-life-again solution. We just have to want it. You and I, we have to want to be free from that which binds us up. And after the wanting, we have to seek it out with everything we have. We have to refuse to give up, give in, or quit.
So here's to you, and here's to me. Here's to happier days, more restful nights, and a life free from fear. It's out there, and it's ours for the taking.
Isaiah 41:10: Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you. Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.
Philippians 4:6-7: Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The curse and the rainbow
When's the last time you read the story of Noah? I mean, actually sat down with a Bible and read the four chapters in Genesis that outline Noah's life? I'll be honest- up until two weeks ago, I don't think I had ever read the story, or at least as an adult anyways. I had allowed myself to believe it was a cute children's story God included in documenting early history, and as a bonus, it doubled as a suitable nursery theme. You can imagine (or maybe, like me, you can't) my surprise when there wasn't a single "cute" aspect of this man's story. I was blown away.
Let me back up. A friend and I were having a casual Sunday evening cup of java and discussing our current personal studies, and waaa-laaa, our good friend Noah entered the picture. She mentioned how her pastor was doing a sermon series on the book of Genesis and how intriguing it was. Her statements sent me on the search, and that prompted this writing.
To lay down some basics for you, God created the world and all that filled it in Genesis 1 and 2. Sin entered the world and Adam and Eve were unrepentant, therefore loosing their place in the Garden in chapter 3. Sin continues to flourish and the first murder occurs in Genesis 4, and then the bloodline of Adam is documented in great detail in Genesis 5.
Now that you're caught up, you realize how far sin has evolved in chapter 6. The situation quickly turns tragic.
Genesis 6:5-6: Then the Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. The Lord was sorry that He had made man on the earth, and He was grieved in His heart. The Lord said, "I will blot out man, whom I have created, from the face of the land, from man to animals to creeping things and to birds of the sky; for I am sorry that I have made them."
Just five chapters earlier, "God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good." It only took the human race five chapters to cause God such a disturbing grief in His heart that He was filled with deep regret. God hates sin, period. The wages of sin was death for Noah's generation, and the story remains the same today. Without the shed blood of Jesus Christ and the acceptance of salvation, the wages of sin is still death (Romans 6:23).
Then God introduces Noah...
Genesis 6:8-9: But Noah found grace (favor) in the eyes of the Lord. This is the history of the generations of Noah. Noah was a just and righteous man, blameless in his [evil] generation; Noah walked [in habitual fellowship] with God.
I had to chew on these two verses for a few days. Talk about loneliness! Here's Noah, his wife, their three sons, and their three daughters in law amongst an entire generation of faithless people. I can only begin to imagine the ridicule they received before Noah ever started building the ark, much less afterwards. Noah's family was a family of integrity. I can guarantee they weren't doing the same things or hanging out at the same places as the rest of the block. They had no intentions of keeping up with the Jones'. They were committed to a much higher calling.
It's so easy sometimes as a believer to look around and think of the things we're "missing," and the path can (and does) get lonely sometimes. "God everyone else is [insert complaint here] and they seem to be having the time of their lives!" Maybe I'm the only one who's ever had such a thought, but Genesis 6:8-9 provided a lovely reality check on my poor, pitiful me way of thinking. Discipleship isn't popular.
Matthew 16:24-26: Then Jesus said to His disciples, "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?"
This is a New Testament description of the Old Testament story. I'm sure by the world's standards, the people of Noah's seemed to have the world at their fingertips. My guess is they were seemingly happy and totally indifferent to their sin. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?
Fast forward. Noah builds an ark, God brings the animals, everybody loads up in the boat, God shuts the door, the heavens open and pour rain, everything outside the ark that had breath died, and Noah and his shipmates floated for a year and a few days. Amidst all this trial and tribulation, God is silent. He thinks of Noah, but we don't have any record of God speaking to Noah until Genesis 8:15. Three hundred and sixty five days Noah is on that boat, surrounded by nothing but water and I'm sure an unimaginable stench, and God says nothing. This should give us great hope. Maybe you're waiting on an answer; maybe you're facing a storm. Take heart, friends. Noah waited over a year. Your answer will come, too. Your miracle will happen. God didn't forget about Noah, and He won't forget about you, either. (P.S.- This segment wasn't my original thought. It was part of that Sunday night java conversation I told you about, but I thought it was worth repeating).
Finally, after what probably seemed like the longest year of his 601, Noah, his family, and his zoo of animals exited the boat. Interestingly enough, immediately thereafter, Noah built an altar and offered sacrifices to the Lord. Again, this amazes me. The man had been held captive at sea with seven people and a whole bunch of wildlife. If I were casting the vote, I'd say that outdoes any other sacrifice imaginable, but Noah, being the man of integrity he was, took the time to give back to God.
Genesis 8:21- The Lord smelled the soothing aroma; and the Lord said to Himself, "I will never again curse the ground on account of man, for the intent of man's heart is evil from his youth; and I will never again destroy every living thing, as I have done."
I'm not a Bible scholar. In fact, I have a very limited amount of Bible knowledge, but it sounds to me like Noah's sacrifice changed the heart of God to such an extent that it may have potentially altered the course of history. If that thought process is way off base, then at the very least, Noah ministered to God. Think about that for a minute. Noah's sacrifice ministered to the God of the universe. Everybody thinks about and expects God to minister to people, but when is the last time we stopped to think about how we can minister to God? No, God doesn't need us in the same way we need Him (and thank God for that, because I would certainly fail Him), but any healthy relationship is a two-way street. As believers, maybe we need to focus a little more attention on giving and not be constantly caught up in a cycle of asking God for the next favor or bailout.
And finally, the grand finale. If you've made it this far, congratulations, you are a real trooper. Now let's get to the rainbow segment I promised in my title. The fast-track ending goes like this- God is pleased by Noah's sacrifice, tells Noah and the fam to fill the earth, gives a few commands, and then makes a covenant with Noah that has no expiration date or withdraw clauses.
Genesis 9:12-16: God said, "This is the sign of the covenant which I am making between Me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all successive generations; I set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a sign of a covenant between Me and the earth. It shall come about, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow will be seen in the could, and I will remember my covenant, which is between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and never again shall the water become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the cloud, then I will look upon it, to remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth."
Ahhh, the rainbow. The covenant. The promise. You know, God does what God does, and it's cool. I've been studying these chapters now for two weeks, and Saturday evening, I saw a rainbow. That rainbow changed my entire perspective. It was glorious and beautiful, but it was also weighty in purpose. The rainbow covenant was birthed from sin and God's reaction to that sin. The heart of God broke and the earth was cursed and destroyed, minus a few faithful followers. God made a promise to man, then set a reminder (the rainbow) for Himself.
I wonder how God feels when He paints a rainbow? Does He think back to the pain and regret of seeing sin destroy His creation, or does He go back to the pleasing aroma of Noah's sacrifice? How about us? How about Lindsay Lee? How do we see rainbows? May we never forget the curse before the covenant, and may we too, have the faith, determination, leadership,and integrity of Noah.
Hebrews 11:7: By faith Noah, being warned by God about things not yet seen, in reverence prepared an ark for the salvation of his household, by which he condemned the world, and became an heir of the righteousness which is according to faith.
Let me back up. A friend and I were having a casual Sunday evening cup of java and discussing our current personal studies, and waaa-laaa, our good friend Noah entered the picture. She mentioned how her pastor was doing a sermon series on the book of Genesis and how intriguing it was. Her statements sent me on the search, and that prompted this writing.
To lay down some basics for you, God created the world and all that filled it in Genesis 1 and 2. Sin entered the world and Adam and Eve were unrepentant, therefore loosing their place in the Garden in chapter 3. Sin continues to flourish and the first murder occurs in Genesis 4, and then the bloodline of Adam is documented in great detail in Genesis 5.
Now that you're caught up, you realize how far sin has evolved in chapter 6. The situation quickly turns tragic.
Genesis 6:5-6: Then the Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. The Lord was sorry that He had made man on the earth, and He was grieved in His heart. The Lord said, "I will blot out man, whom I have created, from the face of the land, from man to animals to creeping things and to birds of the sky; for I am sorry that I have made them."
Just five chapters earlier, "God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good." It only took the human race five chapters to cause God such a disturbing grief in His heart that He was filled with deep regret. God hates sin, period. The wages of sin was death for Noah's generation, and the story remains the same today. Without the shed blood of Jesus Christ and the acceptance of salvation, the wages of sin is still death (Romans 6:23).
Then God introduces Noah...
Genesis 6:8-9: But Noah found grace (favor) in the eyes of the Lord. This is the history of the generations of Noah. Noah was a just and righteous man, blameless in his [evil] generation; Noah walked [in habitual fellowship] with God.
I had to chew on these two verses for a few days. Talk about loneliness! Here's Noah, his wife, their three sons, and their three daughters in law amongst an entire generation of faithless people. I can only begin to imagine the ridicule they received before Noah ever started building the ark, much less afterwards. Noah's family was a family of integrity. I can guarantee they weren't doing the same things or hanging out at the same places as the rest of the block. They had no intentions of keeping up with the Jones'. They were committed to a much higher calling.
It's so easy sometimes as a believer to look around and think of the things we're "missing," and the path can (and does) get lonely sometimes. "God everyone else is [insert complaint here] and they seem to be having the time of their lives!" Maybe I'm the only one who's ever had such a thought, but Genesis 6:8-9 provided a lovely reality check on my poor, pitiful me way of thinking. Discipleship isn't popular.
Matthew 16:24-26: Then Jesus said to His disciples, "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?"
This is a New Testament description of the Old Testament story. I'm sure by the world's standards, the people of Noah's seemed to have the world at their fingertips. My guess is they were seemingly happy and totally indifferent to their sin. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?
Fast forward. Noah builds an ark, God brings the animals, everybody loads up in the boat, God shuts the door, the heavens open and pour rain, everything outside the ark that had breath died, and Noah and his shipmates floated for a year and a few days. Amidst all this trial and tribulation, God is silent. He thinks of Noah, but we don't have any record of God speaking to Noah until Genesis 8:15. Three hundred and sixty five days Noah is on that boat, surrounded by nothing but water and I'm sure an unimaginable stench, and God says nothing. This should give us great hope. Maybe you're waiting on an answer; maybe you're facing a storm. Take heart, friends. Noah waited over a year. Your answer will come, too. Your miracle will happen. God didn't forget about Noah, and He won't forget about you, either. (P.S.- This segment wasn't my original thought. It was part of that Sunday night java conversation I told you about, but I thought it was worth repeating).
Finally, after what probably seemed like the longest year of his 601, Noah, his family, and his zoo of animals exited the boat. Interestingly enough, immediately thereafter, Noah built an altar and offered sacrifices to the Lord. Again, this amazes me. The man had been held captive at sea with seven people and a whole bunch of wildlife. If I were casting the vote, I'd say that outdoes any other sacrifice imaginable, but Noah, being the man of integrity he was, took the time to give back to God.
Genesis 8:21- The Lord smelled the soothing aroma; and the Lord said to Himself, "I will never again curse the ground on account of man, for the intent of man's heart is evil from his youth; and I will never again destroy every living thing, as I have done."
I'm not a Bible scholar. In fact, I have a very limited amount of Bible knowledge, but it sounds to me like Noah's sacrifice changed the heart of God to such an extent that it may have potentially altered the course of history. If that thought process is way off base, then at the very least, Noah ministered to God. Think about that for a minute. Noah's sacrifice ministered to the God of the universe. Everybody thinks about and expects God to minister to people, but when is the last time we stopped to think about how we can minister to God? No, God doesn't need us in the same way we need Him (and thank God for that, because I would certainly fail Him), but any healthy relationship is a two-way street. As believers, maybe we need to focus a little more attention on giving and not be constantly caught up in a cycle of asking God for the next favor or bailout.
And finally, the grand finale. If you've made it this far, congratulations, you are a real trooper. Now let's get to the rainbow segment I promised in my title. The fast-track ending goes like this- God is pleased by Noah's sacrifice, tells Noah and the fam to fill the earth, gives a few commands, and then makes a covenant with Noah that has no expiration date or withdraw clauses.
Genesis 9:12-16: God said, "This is the sign of the covenant which I am making between Me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all successive generations; I set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a sign of a covenant between Me and the earth. It shall come about, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow will be seen in the could, and I will remember my covenant, which is between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and never again shall the water become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the cloud, then I will look upon it, to remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth."
Ahhh, the rainbow. The covenant. The promise. You know, God does what God does, and it's cool. I've been studying these chapters now for two weeks, and Saturday evening, I saw a rainbow. That rainbow changed my entire perspective. It was glorious and beautiful, but it was also weighty in purpose. The rainbow covenant was birthed from sin and God's reaction to that sin. The heart of God broke and the earth was cursed and destroyed, minus a few faithful followers. God made a promise to man, then set a reminder (the rainbow) for Himself.
I wonder how God feels when He paints a rainbow? Does He think back to the pain and regret of seeing sin destroy His creation, or does He go back to the pleasing aroma of Noah's sacrifice? How about us? How about Lindsay Lee? How do we see rainbows? May we never forget the curse before the covenant, and may we too, have the faith, determination, leadership,and integrity of Noah.
Hebrews 11:7: By faith Noah, being warned by God about things not yet seen, in reverence prepared an ark for the salvation of his household, by which he condemned the world, and became an heir of the righteousness which is according to faith.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Finding God in the Storm
A few weeks back, a friend and I were discussing the heart of God towards human kind and how His heart must break when sin wounds people. Good people, bad people, innocent people. It's the age old question; the question everyone asks, but no one wants to answer: "Where's God when...?"
How do you look into the tearful eyes of a hurting person and explain the love and mercy of a God who, in their moment, seems far off? This "Where's God?" question used to intimidate me, as if God's character was dependent upon my ability to adequately defend Him. Going deeper, I think I felt as though if I couldn't explain away the sheer terror that abounds on earth, my own belief foundation may shake or shatter. In all of my explaining, I never considered how this same opposition might wound the heart of God, as my friend recently suggested.
Though I've blogged similar thoughts for you before, this writing reflects a new perspective. I've included Scripture references in case you want to do your own study.
We are God's precious, beloved children. He loves us with a love we often don't understand or comprehend, as His love surpasses our limited knowledge (Ephesians 3:18-19). When He first created the world, He glazed down from the heavenly loft and saw that it was good (Genesis 1:31). Imagine a world that was perfect, sinless, and happy. How incredible and vastly different it was from our current reality.
God is a good Father, and because of His goodness, He gave us a free-will. I've questioned Him on this point, too, but if He didn't give us reign over our choices, He would be considered a controlling monster. He knew we would choose to act outside His boundaries, and He knew the consequences of those actions, yet He stepped aside anyways. He wanted us to choose Him out of our own desire, rather than duty or fear. True love is never forced or coerced, but instead is freely given and received.
Yes, we often wonder, "Where's God when...?" I don't think it's our doubts that really wound God. He's big enough to handle our fears, and in His presence, He dispels darkness. I think it's the work of the evil one that we allow in our hearts and minds that upsets God. Satan is a murderer and a liar (John 8:44). When we allow him, he twists our thoughts to deflect blame and rage from himself and vile acts of sin to God, our Father. God did not choose sin for His people, but Satan gloats when believers launch arrows of accusation towards His heavenly places. "Why God, why???!!!" Time and again He invites us to renew our minds and shift old patterns of thinking (Romans 12:2). Instead of asking, "Why, God?", when will His people begin declaring, "No more, Satan!" It's time for the righteous to tremble with holy indignation against the ruler of darkness.
The God of all heaven and earth takes pleasure in His people. He beautifies the afflicted ones with salvation (Psalm 149:4)! He is in our midst as a victorious warrior. He exults over us with joy. He is quiet in His love. He rejoices over us with shouting (Zephaniah 3:17). When will this be enough for us? When will we believe His heart towards us? When will we trust His love?
I truly believe God's heart shatters at the sound of our groaning. I think it agonizes Him to see His children anguishing as a result of sin. I think He trembles with holy rage when the works of the enemy seem to prevail against us. I imagine He weeps as we weep and aches as we ache. It's not that He can't save us from our despair, but that He already did. The moment Adam allowed sin to manifest in his heart, God began working out a plan of salvation for us. We do not have to grieve as those who have no hope! Our hope springs eternal.
We are in a war, folks. Not a war against flesh and blood, but against principalities, powers, and the ruler of darkness (Ephesians 6:10-12). Sometimes, as often is the case in war, the innocent are afflicted and even parish. It's a cruel reality, but so is sin. Satan has no partiality. He'll cast down whomever he can reach and devour (1 Peter 5:8). You see, that's his nature- death, destruction, heartache, abuse, sickness, disease, divorce, debt, abandonment, anger, lust, rage, brokenness, and all other sorts of evil. Make no mistake, Satan joys in our affliction.
However, I assure you that God does not joy in our afflictions. I know His heart aches and yearns for our healing. Our enemy is already a defeated foe!
God is not far-off, uninterested, or uncaring. He is a good Father. He loves us with an unending love (Romans 8:38-39). He yearns for our hearts, and I believe He longs for that glorious day when He will complete our transformation in heaven. He will clothe us with robes of righteousness and we will finally be whole and complete, not lacking anything. Imagine the joy that awaits us if we choose Him, friends. Let us fix our eyes on Him and walk alongside Him as we venture through earth's shadows. He promises we'll never be alone. (Psalm 23:4).
How do you look into the tearful eyes of a hurting person and explain the love and mercy of a God who, in their moment, seems far off? This "Where's God?" question used to intimidate me, as if God's character was dependent upon my ability to adequately defend Him. Going deeper, I think I felt as though if I couldn't explain away the sheer terror that abounds on earth, my own belief foundation may shake or shatter. In all of my explaining, I never considered how this same opposition might wound the heart of God, as my friend recently suggested.
Though I've blogged similar thoughts for you before, this writing reflects a new perspective. I've included Scripture references in case you want to do your own study.
We are God's precious, beloved children. He loves us with a love we often don't understand or comprehend, as His love surpasses our limited knowledge (Ephesians 3:18-19). When He first created the world, He glazed down from the heavenly loft and saw that it was good (Genesis 1:31). Imagine a world that was perfect, sinless, and happy. How incredible and vastly different it was from our current reality.
God is a good Father, and because of His goodness, He gave us a free-will. I've questioned Him on this point, too, but if He didn't give us reign over our choices, He would be considered a controlling monster. He knew we would choose to act outside His boundaries, and He knew the consequences of those actions, yet He stepped aside anyways. He wanted us to choose Him out of our own desire, rather than duty or fear. True love is never forced or coerced, but instead is freely given and received.
Yes, we often wonder, "Where's God when...?" I don't think it's our doubts that really wound God. He's big enough to handle our fears, and in His presence, He dispels darkness. I think it's the work of the evil one that we allow in our hearts and minds that upsets God. Satan is a murderer and a liar (John 8:44). When we allow him, he twists our thoughts to deflect blame and rage from himself and vile acts of sin to God, our Father. God did not choose sin for His people, but Satan gloats when believers launch arrows of accusation towards His heavenly places. "Why God, why???!!!" Time and again He invites us to renew our minds and shift old patterns of thinking (Romans 12:2). Instead of asking, "Why, God?", when will His people begin declaring, "No more, Satan!" It's time for the righteous to tremble with holy indignation against the ruler of darkness.
The God of all heaven and earth takes pleasure in His people. He beautifies the afflicted ones with salvation (Psalm 149:4)! He is in our midst as a victorious warrior. He exults over us with joy. He is quiet in His love. He rejoices over us with shouting (Zephaniah 3:17). When will this be enough for us? When will we believe His heart towards us? When will we trust His love?
I truly believe God's heart shatters at the sound of our groaning. I think it agonizes Him to see His children anguishing as a result of sin. I think He trembles with holy rage when the works of the enemy seem to prevail against us. I imagine He weeps as we weep and aches as we ache. It's not that He can't save us from our despair, but that He already did. The moment Adam allowed sin to manifest in his heart, God began working out a plan of salvation for us. We do not have to grieve as those who have no hope! Our hope springs eternal.
We are in a war, folks. Not a war against flesh and blood, but against principalities, powers, and the ruler of darkness (Ephesians 6:10-12). Sometimes, as often is the case in war, the innocent are afflicted and even parish. It's a cruel reality, but so is sin. Satan has no partiality. He'll cast down whomever he can reach and devour (1 Peter 5:8). You see, that's his nature- death, destruction, heartache, abuse, sickness, disease, divorce, debt, abandonment, anger, lust, rage, brokenness, and all other sorts of evil. Make no mistake, Satan joys in our affliction.
However, I assure you that God does not joy in our afflictions. I know His heart aches and yearns for our healing. Our enemy is already a defeated foe!
God is not far-off, uninterested, or uncaring. He is a good Father. He loves us with an unending love (Romans 8:38-39). He yearns for our hearts, and I believe He longs for that glorious day when He will complete our transformation in heaven. He will clothe us with robes of righteousness and we will finally be whole and complete, not lacking anything. Imagine the joy that awaits us if we choose Him, friends. Let us fix our eyes on Him and walk alongside Him as we venture through earth's shadows. He promises we'll never be alone. (Psalm 23:4).
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Beauty and the Beholder
I have the most precious, fun-loving, energetic, adorable, smart, caring, sweet, ornery 23 month old niece in the whole world, and yes, I am biased. No, we're of no blood relation, but when she runs up to me, arms waving in the air, yelling, "Nea nea, hold you!" blood means nothing. She's won my heart, and I'll forever be her auntie.
This adored niece of mine has taught me quite a lot about life in her short time span thus far. Through her eyes, the world is pure and full of potential. Love is clean and laughter is genuine, just as it should be. She is the epitome of all things lovely.
Today, as we endeavored through a two and a half hour morning marathon process of relatively simple tasks like showering, dressing, and general hygiene, she said three of the most prized words I've ever heard:
Nea nea, so pretty! Nea nea, so pretty!
For clarity's sake, I didn't consider her words prized because they stroked my ego or embellished my vanity. In that moment, I can assure you I fit no widely accepted definition of beauty, if any definition at all. My hair resembled that of Albert Einstein, my breath smelled like something out of a horror story, and I didn't have the first stitch of make-up covering my less than perfect skin...
..but maybe that's the point. Her little 23 month old mind isn't tainted by the North American definition of beauty that fades with a washcloth. She isn't yet stained by a culture that values attraction over attributes. Her perception isn't defined by cheap standards, but she recognizes beautiful things in a raw, unfiltered form that I wish I could comprehend.
She can't articulate that by which she measures beauty, but if she could, I imagine it might be something like this: Beauty is love, snuggling, playing with rocks, sharing half eaten food, and giving a thousand and two kisses. Beauty is the cat licking her paw, the weeds growing along the sidewalk, and a thousand other things that capture her attention and engage her senses. Love isn't a vocabulary lesson to this precious child, but rather an active and growing feeling in her heart that isn't bruised, broken, or jaded.
I think we can all learn something from this oversimplified reality. No, I don't think we have to abandoned cosmetics or start wearing around potato sacks to grasp accurate beauty standards, but I think we ought to examine the what, who, and how of our own adopted, internal specifications of beauty and challenge the voices in our minds that lie. We owe it to ourselves, our friends, our siblings, and our children to expand our definitions beyond that which is temporal. Seek out truth, my friends.
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye."
-Miss Piggy, The Muppets
This adored niece of mine has taught me quite a lot about life in her short time span thus far. Through her eyes, the world is pure and full of potential. Love is clean and laughter is genuine, just as it should be. She is the epitome of all things lovely.
Today, as we endeavored through a two and a half hour morning marathon process of relatively simple tasks like showering, dressing, and general hygiene, she said three of the most prized words I've ever heard:
Nea nea, so pretty! Nea nea, so pretty!
For clarity's sake, I didn't consider her words prized because they stroked my ego or embellished my vanity. In that moment, I can assure you I fit no widely accepted definition of beauty, if any definition at all. My hair resembled that of Albert Einstein, my breath smelled like something out of a horror story, and I didn't have the first stitch of make-up covering my less than perfect skin...
..but maybe that's the point. Her little 23 month old mind isn't tainted by the North American definition of beauty that fades with a washcloth. She isn't yet stained by a culture that values attraction over attributes. Her perception isn't defined by cheap standards, but she recognizes beautiful things in a raw, unfiltered form that I wish I could comprehend.
She can't articulate that by which she measures beauty, but if she could, I imagine it might be something like this: Beauty is love, snuggling, playing with rocks, sharing half eaten food, and giving a thousand and two kisses. Beauty is the cat licking her paw, the weeds growing along the sidewalk, and a thousand other things that capture her attention and engage her senses. Love isn't a vocabulary lesson to this precious child, but rather an active and growing feeling in her heart that isn't bruised, broken, or jaded.
I think we can all learn something from this oversimplified reality. No, I don't think we have to abandoned cosmetics or start wearing around potato sacks to grasp accurate beauty standards, but I think we ought to examine the what, who, and how of our own adopted, internal specifications of beauty and challenge the voices in our minds that lie. We owe it to ourselves, our friends, our siblings, and our children to expand our definitions beyond that which is temporal. Seek out truth, my friends.
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye."
-Miss Piggy, The Muppets
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Music and Jesus
Have you ever really considered music? If you asked my opinion, I would tell you that I think music is one of the most beautiful expressions of the human language. It encompasses moods, conquers emotions, and unites strangers; it can lift spirits and break through even the most rugged of hearts. Music speaks to people, and when there aren't any other appropriate words, sometimes a song can say it all.
Yesterday afternoon I was driving all around town, clinging to any shred of sanity I had left. I had worship music playing quietly through my stereo, though I wasn't much engaged. I got caught at a red light that I didn't have time for and the following song lyrics demanded my attention:
Lord, reign in me.
Reign in your power.
Over all my dreams, in my darkest hour.
You are the Lord, of all I am.
Won't you reign in me again?
This song is probably older than I am, and I've heard it close to a bazillion times; even so, it stopped me in my tracks. It's easy for the believer to ask for the Lord's reign when times are good, life is going exactly according to our human plans, our dreams our big, our bank accounts flourishing, and we don't have a single scenario before us that would require a trust walk. It is, however, not so easy when the opposite is true and we're walking through our darkest hours. Maybe, just maybe, that's when we need this song the most.
Lord, reign in me. Yes, by all means, because even my best laid plans are fizzling. I need your authority to guide my life. I know your reign is far better.
Reign in your power. I feel powerless, but I know you have conquered all. Whatever today brings and despite the situations I'm facing, you are greater still.
Over all my dreams, in my darkest hour. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death... Lord, I need you.
You are the Lord, of all I am. The good, the bad, and the ugly, I give it to you. I am yours. Do what you will. Use me where you can. I may be chipped and cracked and nearly broken, but I am still your vessel.
Won't you reign in me again? And again, and again, and again. I need you, oh I need you. Every hour, I need you.
I don't know about any of you reading this blog, but I don't always feel very spiritual when I'm in the midst of a battle, or battles, as sometimes the case may be, but it's refreshing to know that I don't war alone. It's also encouraging to know that I can sit at an over-timed traffic light and whisper five lines of quiet trust and know the God of the universe hears my utterances. The best news yet is that He'll hear your calls of desperation, too. He's waiting...
Happy Easter, my friends!
Yesterday afternoon I was driving all around town, clinging to any shred of sanity I had left. I had worship music playing quietly through my stereo, though I wasn't much engaged. I got caught at a red light that I didn't have time for and the following song lyrics demanded my attention:
Lord, reign in me.
Reign in your power.
Over all my dreams, in my darkest hour.
You are the Lord, of all I am.
Won't you reign in me again?
This song is probably older than I am, and I've heard it close to a bazillion times; even so, it stopped me in my tracks. It's easy for the believer to ask for the Lord's reign when times are good, life is going exactly according to our human plans, our dreams our big, our bank accounts flourishing, and we don't have a single scenario before us that would require a trust walk. It is, however, not so easy when the opposite is true and we're walking through our darkest hours. Maybe, just maybe, that's when we need this song the most.
Lord, reign in me. Yes, by all means, because even my best laid plans are fizzling. I need your authority to guide my life. I know your reign is far better.
Reign in your power. I feel powerless, but I know you have conquered all. Whatever today brings and despite the situations I'm facing, you are greater still.
Over all my dreams, in my darkest hour. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death... Lord, I need you.
You are the Lord, of all I am. The good, the bad, and the ugly, I give it to you. I am yours. Do what you will. Use me where you can. I may be chipped and cracked and nearly broken, but I am still your vessel.
Won't you reign in me again? And again, and again, and again. I need you, oh I need you. Every hour, I need you.
I don't know about any of you reading this blog, but I don't always feel very spiritual when I'm in the midst of a battle, or battles, as sometimes the case may be, but it's refreshing to know that I don't war alone. It's also encouraging to know that I can sit at an over-timed traffic light and whisper five lines of quiet trust and know the God of the universe hears my utterances. The best news yet is that He'll hear your calls of desperation, too. He's waiting...
Happy Easter, my friends!
Monday, March 31, 2014
Our most valuable assets
Hi readers,
I'm writing with a heavy heart today, but after much pondering, I think what I have to say must be spoken, or written, anyways.
This past weekend, I was taking one of my favorite three-year-olds to the local park for a few hours. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I couldn't fathom staying indoors all day. As I was standing at the base of the play equipment looking up at him, I felt someone grab at my mid-section. I glanced down and behind me to find a small boy who I'd guess to be 4 or 5 years old with his arms wrapped around my legs.
Surprised, I started quizzing the blue-eyed beauty who was dressed in pajamas and smelled worse than my dog after she rolls in the mud. His answers were more heart-wrenching with each question I asked. The truth I gleaned from our short exchange made me sick to my stomach.
He wanted nothing from me but attention, and it brightened his face to know someone was watching him climb up the biggest slide in the park. Eventually, he asked me to hold him. Without any thought, I picked up the child, grabbed the one entrusted to my care by the hand, and we started towards grandma, who was not in the least interested in our exchange. She saw us walking towards her and yelled, "Put him down! He's only a womanizing bastard like his father," and simply went back to her earth-shattering phone conversation.
"A womanizing bastard like his father? Really? He's only a child!!!" I thought to myself. Any words I had to say weren't even remotely appropriate for the little ears that surrounded me, so I said nothing in that moment. Instead, I turned back around with her grandson in my arms, held him tightly, and said, "Honey, you're not a bastard and you don't have to be like your daddy at all. You are precious, do you understand?" He was quiet. I wanted nothing more than to take him home, give him a bath, put him in clean clothes, feed him actual food, and let love wash over his little heart until he actually felt wanted. Unfortunately for him, the law wasn't in either of our favor.
The afternoon carried on, and finally, grandma whisked him away up the hill and out of sight. Nothing I had to say changed her mind, and to her, that child was nothing more than nuisance. That boy was crying out for help that day, and yet he still left as a neglected, and most probably, abused child. The law, the system, the state, his sperm and egg donors, his blood family, and myself all failed the kid. That's a hard pill to swallow.
Where do we go from here? To a world where child abuse and neglect didn't exist, I wish. Instead, let me leave you with some food for thought.
First of all, anyone that might hurt a child will answer for their actions. If not in this life, most certainly in the next. I know the heart of God breaks when children are treated like trash, and I know there is great healing that can be had by any broken person, including the discarded, unwanted, abused, and unloved.
Secondly, treasure the babies around you, whether they're 3 days, 3 years, or 30 years old. God hasn't blessed with me children yet. If He'd give me the go-ahead, I'd have half a dozen stair-steppers, but I'm still waiting. All things fair and that being said, love the ones around you. Kids, grand kids, god-children, nieces, nephews, neighbor kids, school kids, the secretary's kids, whoever. I'm not saying raise them (unless their yours, of course), but love them. Value them. Respect them. Stick up for them. Give them the time of day. Fat, thin, stupid, smart, impaired, fully-functioning, whatever, they are worth it. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight...
Finally, do something to change the status quo. How can you, an ordinary, overbooked citizen make a change?
1. Start with your own family first. If you've made mistakes with your children, make it right. Say "I'm sorry." Be the agent of change in your own home. Quit bullying, stop talking trash, and don't take a single moment for granted. Your kids (no matter their age) don't need perfect parents, but they do deserve your best efforts.
2. Vote for politicians that favor children's rights and common sense laws. Have no misunderstanding and make no mistake, I'm not talking about stripping parents of their right to parent, discipline, educate, make medical decisions, or the like. I'm talking about providing basic human rights of safety and care to those children who aren't old enough or able enough to speak up or fight for themselves. Let's do away with all of the red tape, the thousand foster home placements, the million second chances given to free-will adults who have no desire to change. Anyone can create a baby, but not everyone should raise one.
3. Volunteer. There are countless organizations in Jasper County alone that need your help supporting our youth. Maybe you have a half hour once a week to have lunch with a grade-school child. Call the admin building; they have a spot for you! Maybe you have three afternoons a week to be a TREK coach; call the district and you can start tomorrow. Maybe you have no time at all, but you could easily swing donating a package of diapers to the Children's Haven or a box of cookies to Bright Futures so a child can celebrate their birthday with their classmates. Nobody can do it all, but everybody can do something.
4. Actively fight against injustice. Stand up to the b**ches at the park that think it's okay to call their young grandsons "womanizing bastards." Don't sit in silence when you see a child being neglected or abused. Report said instances, even if your voice isn't heard or well accepted the first time, the second time, or even the tenth time. Eventually, ignoring you, and more important ignoring them, won't be an option.
The end.
Safety and security don't just happen, they are the result of collective consensus and public investment. We owe our children, the most vulnerable citizens in our society, a life free of violence and fear. - Nelson Mandela
A person's a person, no matter how small. -Dr. Seuss
A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child. - Forest Witcraft
I'm writing with a heavy heart today, but after much pondering, I think what I have to say must be spoken, or written, anyways.
This past weekend, I was taking one of my favorite three-year-olds to the local park for a few hours. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I couldn't fathom staying indoors all day. As I was standing at the base of the play equipment looking up at him, I felt someone grab at my mid-section. I glanced down and behind me to find a small boy who I'd guess to be 4 or 5 years old with his arms wrapped around my legs.
Surprised, I started quizzing the blue-eyed beauty who was dressed in pajamas and smelled worse than my dog after she rolls in the mud. His answers were more heart-wrenching with each question I asked. The truth I gleaned from our short exchange made me sick to my stomach.
He wanted nothing from me but attention, and it brightened his face to know someone was watching him climb up the biggest slide in the park. Eventually, he asked me to hold him. Without any thought, I picked up the child, grabbed the one entrusted to my care by the hand, and we started towards grandma, who was not in the least interested in our exchange. She saw us walking towards her and yelled, "Put him down! He's only a womanizing bastard like his father," and simply went back to her earth-shattering phone conversation.
"A womanizing bastard like his father? Really? He's only a child!!!" I thought to myself. Any words I had to say weren't even remotely appropriate for the little ears that surrounded me, so I said nothing in that moment. Instead, I turned back around with her grandson in my arms, held him tightly, and said, "Honey, you're not a bastard and you don't have to be like your daddy at all. You are precious, do you understand?" He was quiet. I wanted nothing more than to take him home, give him a bath, put him in clean clothes, feed him actual food, and let love wash over his little heart until he actually felt wanted. Unfortunately for him, the law wasn't in either of our favor.
The afternoon carried on, and finally, grandma whisked him away up the hill and out of sight. Nothing I had to say changed her mind, and to her, that child was nothing more than nuisance. That boy was crying out for help that day, and yet he still left as a neglected, and most probably, abused child. The law, the system, the state, his sperm and egg donors, his blood family, and myself all failed the kid. That's a hard pill to swallow.
Where do we go from here? To a world where child abuse and neglect didn't exist, I wish. Instead, let me leave you with some food for thought.
First of all, anyone that might hurt a child will answer for their actions. If not in this life, most certainly in the next. I know the heart of God breaks when children are treated like trash, and I know there is great healing that can be had by any broken person, including the discarded, unwanted, abused, and unloved.
Secondly, treasure the babies around you, whether they're 3 days, 3 years, or 30 years old. God hasn't blessed with me children yet. If He'd give me the go-ahead, I'd have half a dozen stair-steppers, but I'm still waiting. All things fair and that being said, love the ones around you. Kids, grand kids, god-children, nieces, nephews, neighbor kids, school kids, the secretary's kids, whoever. I'm not saying raise them (unless their yours, of course), but love them. Value them. Respect them. Stick up for them. Give them the time of day. Fat, thin, stupid, smart, impaired, fully-functioning, whatever, they are worth it. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight...
Finally, do something to change the status quo. How can you, an ordinary, overbooked citizen make a change?
1. Start with your own family first. If you've made mistakes with your children, make it right. Say "I'm sorry." Be the agent of change in your own home. Quit bullying, stop talking trash, and don't take a single moment for granted. Your kids (no matter their age) don't need perfect parents, but they do deserve your best efforts.
2. Vote for politicians that favor children's rights and common sense laws. Have no misunderstanding and make no mistake, I'm not talking about stripping parents of their right to parent, discipline, educate, make medical decisions, or the like. I'm talking about providing basic human rights of safety and care to those children who aren't old enough or able enough to speak up or fight for themselves. Let's do away with all of the red tape, the thousand foster home placements, the million second chances given to free-will adults who have no desire to change. Anyone can create a baby, but not everyone should raise one.
3. Volunteer. There are countless organizations in Jasper County alone that need your help supporting our youth. Maybe you have a half hour once a week to have lunch with a grade-school child. Call the admin building; they have a spot for you! Maybe you have three afternoons a week to be a TREK coach; call the district and you can start tomorrow. Maybe you have no time at all, but you could easily swing donating a package of diapers to the Children's Haven or a box of cookies to Bright Futures so a child can celebrate their birthday with their classmates. Nobody can do it all, but everybody can do something.
4. Actively fight against injustice. Stand up to the b**ches at the park that think it's okay to call their young grandsons "womanizing bastards." Don't sit in silence when you see a child being neglected or abused. Report said instances, even if your voice isn't heard or well accepted the first time, the second time, or even the tenth time. Eventually, ignoring you, and more important ignoring them, won't be an option.
The end.
Safety and security don't just happen, they are the result of collective consensus and public investment. We owe our children, the most vulnerable citizens in our society, a life free of violence and fear. - Nelson Mandela
A person's a person, no matter how small. -Dr. Seuss
A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child. - Forest Witcraft
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Delightful Details
I witnessed the scariest phenomena last week. While partaking in my $0.99 daily dose of raspberry flavored Sonic water, I watched a semi truck make a left turn through a red light. He was succeeded by not one, not two, not even three, but eight additional vehicles who followed with reckless abandon. It took a near head-on collision for anyone to recognize their error.
I am not here to attack less than perfect drivers. If there were a club, I could certainly chair it. I am, however, motivated to implore you not to get so caught up in the big picture (I've gotta make it to my next appointment!) that you miss all the delightful details (red lights) that life has to offer.
It is so inexplicably easy to overbook, over plan, and overexert our schedules that often times, life seems rushed. We can get so caught up in the deadlines that we neglect the ever-so-important details.
Last year, I was caring for a precious four year old who loved nature and all things beautiful. One Sunday morning we were running late for church, and since I oversee the doughnut ministry, timeliness is next to godliness. As I hurried little man out of his car seat and into the store, he was drawn to have his weekly exchange with the elderly people greeter (tick tock, tick tock), investigate the reasoning behind the crying child (who cares, he's not our crying child), and seek out the doughnuts with the prettiest design (oh please! what's wrong with good, ole fashioned plain doughnuts?) After what seemed like an eternity, we made it past the check-out lane and into the parking lot, only to stop, mid-hurried step, to gaze at a momma bird camped out underneath a car feeding her babies off a piece of dropped bread (I am really out of patience now).
Settled in the car and flying to church, I was hit with the big whammy. "We should have stopped and gave that mommy bird some more food for her babies. What if nobody gives them food? The babies won't grow if they don't have food and the mommy will be sad."
The delightful details of life. So caught up in "big picture," I neglected the other puzzle-piece- portions of the day. No, the bird family probably wasn't going to starve because of my lack of time and bird seed, but the truth is, I wouldn't have even noticed the birds if it wasn't for an unhurried child with a big heart.
Let's up the ante. What else was I missing? What else do you miss? In the fast-paced chaos of life, it can be easy to overlook life's biggest blessings: our spouses, our children, our parents, our siblings, and even our friends. What about the beautiful world around us? Have you ever taken a few minutes to watch a sunrise or a sunset? How about a half hour to listen to a soothing spring rain? Ever gone hiking and noticed all the different shades of color amongst the trees, flowers, weeds, grass, or sky? Life is beautiful, and it's ours for the taking!
I leave you with a challenge: Set your eyes on the big picture and run towards your goals with everything you have, but don't neglect the moments. Seek out the delightful details, and be conscious of today. It's so worth it!
I am not here to attack less than perfect drivers. If there were a club, I could certainly chair it. I am, however, motivated to implore you not to get so caught up in the big picture (I've gotta make it to my next appointment!) that you miss all the delightful details (red lights) that life has to offer.
It is so inexplicably easy to overbook, over plan, and overexert our schedules that often times, life seems rushed. We can get so caught up in the deadlines that we neglect the ever-so-important details.
Last year, I was caring for a precious four year old who loved nature and all things beautiful. One Sunday morning we were running late for church, and since I oversee the doughnut ministry, timeliness is next to godliness. As I hurried little man out of his car seat and into the store, he was drawn to have his weekly exchange with the elderly people greeter (tick tock, tick tock), investigate the reasoning behind the crying child (who cares, he's not our crying child), and seek out the doughnuts with the prettiest design (oh please! what's wrong with good, ole fashioned plain doughnuts?) After what seemed like an eternity, we made it past the check-out lane and into the parking lot, only to stop, mid-hurried step, to gaze at a momma bird camped out underneath a car feeding her babies off a piece of dropped bread (I am really out of patience now).
Settled in the car and flying to church, I was hit with the big whammy. "We should have stopped and gave that mommy bird some more food for her babies. What if nobody gives them food? The babies won't grow if they don't have food and the mommy will be sad."
The delightful details of life. So caught up in "big picture," I neglected the other puzzle-piece- portions of the day. No, the bird family probably wasn't going to starve because of my lack of time and bird seed, but the truth is, I wouldn't have even noticed the birds if it wasn't for an unhurried child with a big heart.
Let's up the ante. What else was I missing? What else do you miss? In the fast-paced chaos of life, it can be easy to overlook life's biggest blessings: our spouses, our children, our parents, our siblings, and even our friends. What about the beautiful world around us? Have you ever taken a few minutes to watch a sunrise or a sunset? How about a half hour to listen to a soothing spring rain? Ever gone hiking and noticed all the different shades of color amongst the trees, flowers, weeds, grass, or sky? Life is beautiful, and it's ours for the taking!
I leave you with a challenge: Set your eyes on the big picture and run towards your goals with everything you have, but don't neglect the moments. Seek out the delightful details, and be conscious of today. It's so worth it!
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