Daddy,
I had such a good day at school
I did my work and tried not to talk
When my teacher was speaking
It was so very hard Daddy,
But I just thought of you
And it helped me to be good
Dad,
College is really rough
The courses are so hard
The temptations are too great
I know how very much you
Have invested in me
So I will try to keep
On the straight and narrow
Remember me in your prayers
Father
Remember when I told you
I could not wait to grow up
I was wrong, I could have waited
A family, a mortgage, a job
It seems too much to bear
But I have always been careful
To listen to your advice
So that is really what I am
Depending on right now,
That and our conversations.
Thanks for being the kind of father
I could always look up to
And never afraid to talk to
Daddy,
It is just you and me now
I won’t be bringing anyone
Else along on this trip
It has been a rough road
At times, but a good one
I have not always made the
Best choices, but you have
Stuck by me and loved me
No matter what I did
I am anxious to see you
It’s been a long time
God, I am ready when you are.
Jo
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
A Snapshot
A snapshot
A snapshot of a man. You do not see what was before or what will come. A man who would be king meets the men who would be his subjects. He places himself before them. All that he is, that he has done, and the promise of what he will be. They accept him based on three things they know.
The book is 2 Samuel 5:5. The man is David, the subjects are the tribes of Israel. They accept him because he is kin, a son of the tribe of Judah. Second, they know he is what they need. He is a military man, with a score of successes to his credit. But most of all God has said he will be their shepherd, their ruler. Divine appointment.
What brought the man to this point? What made the man a king? Was it being a shepherd as a small boy? Was it killing a giant as a youth? Was it being selected by Samuel to be the next king? Was it playing a harp for the moody King Saul? His friendship with Jonathan? The hiding and fighting for his very life? All of the above?
What would take him from here? What would contribute to his rise as King? What would make him the husband or father he would become? What would make him the adulterer, the liar, the murderer he would be? If they had known what the future held, would they have entered the covenant agreement with him? We will never know because they would not have known.
What makes up a man? This week there has been a lot of information about men in the football world that took the accolades they had been given by the public and used them in the direct or indirect abuse of young children. The same thing that brought the attention to their achievements brought the platform that gave them license for the destruction of innocence.
What makes the difference? Is a man his actions or is it his heart? David was a man of good actions and bad actions. Which do we remember him for? His adultery with Bathsheba was sensational but so what his killing of Goliath.
For me it is his psalms. For me they show the heart of the man. Not only his heart for God, but the heart he showed God. As trite as it sounds, he bared his soul. And we have the evidence in print. In blood, in tears, in anger, in passion, in truth.
That is the man I choose to remember…the snapshot I choose to keep….
A snapshot of a man. You do not see what was before or what will come. A man who would be king meets the men who would be his subjects. He places himself before them. All that he is, that he has done, and the promise of what he will be. They accept him based on three things they know.
The book is 2 Samuel 5:5. The man is David, the subjects are the tribes of Israel. They accept him because he is kin, a son of the tribe of Judah. Second, they know he is what they need. He is a military man, with a score of successes to his credit. But most of all God has said he will be their shepherd, their ruler. Divine appointment.
What brought the man to this point? What made the man a king? Was it being a shepherd as a small boy? Was it killing a giant as a youth? Was it being selected by Samuel to be the next king? Was it playing a harp for the moody King Saul? His friendship with Jonathan? The hiding and fighting for his very life? All of the above?
What would take him from here? What would contribute to his rise as King? What would make him the husband or father he would become? What would make him the adulterer, the liar, the murderer he would be? If they had known what the future held, would they have entered the covenant agreement with him? We will never know because they would not have known.
What makes up a man? This week there has been a lot of information about men in the football world that took the accolades they had been given by the public and used them in the direct or indirect abuse of young children. The same thing that brought the attention to their achievements brought the platform that gave them license for the destruction of innocence.
What makes the difference? Is a man his actions or is it his heart? David was a man of good actions and bad actions. Which do we remember him for? His adultery with Bathsheba was sensational but so what his killing of Goliath.
For me it is his psalms. For me they show the heart of the man. Not only his heart for God, but the heart he showed God. As trite as it sounds, he bared his soul. And we have the evidence in print. In blood, in tears, in anger, in passion, in truth.
That is the man I choose to remember…the snapshot I choose to keep….
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
A Little Love In Your Heart?
I have a confession to make. I do not like Paul.
Let me re-phrase that. I did not like Paul, but he is growing on me.
In the lectionary, we have been studying the 5th and 6th chapters of Paul’s letters to the church in Corinth. And I have to admit, Paul has convinced me.
Of what, you may ask?
Of the fact that he is not the boastful, arrogant, self aggrandizing man I thought he was.
Now Paul is pretty black and white, where I am not.. But I can give him that, living in the time and climate of the day. The Body of Christ consisted of a fledgling band of believers, following a crucified messiah and whose leaders consisted of former fishermen, a zealot, a tax collector, and other less than stellar folks. And Paul was not working within that mainstream. He was in the outskirts, preaching and teaching to the learned and not so learned Gentiles. People who had never embraced the Jewish faith from which Christianity had drawn its roots. They were pagans, atheists, magicians, harlots, merchants, and everyday folk that were being asked to join a group that was more times than not being persecuted for its beliefs.
Give the guy a break, you say?
This week, I did just that. I got a peek at the man behind the boast. And believe it or not, I liked what I saw. In Corinthians 6, Paul is talking to the concern he has that the church there no longer carries the affection they once had for him. He starts out telling them of what he and “his” have done in the name of Christ. Imprisonment, beatings, floggings, near drowning. He then goes on to tell them how they persevered and endured much with integrity and purity, for the sake of bringing the gospel to the Corinthian church. But not on their own – he does not take the credit. God was with them, helping them to speak, to work, and giving them the right and left hand weapons to do it. And in spite of this, there were still many that would call them imposters, ingenuous, and trifling. Between you and me, I think he was speaking to his audience...
And the grand finale!
In light of all that, can’t you find room in your heart for me. Paul is not asking for the whole heart, just a small corner. It was as if he was asking me the same question. Can you not find a little affection for me? The scriptures you found in my teachings as a young wife and mother. The ones you memorized by heart, speaking and praying them in times of trouble. Can you not find kindness for me in light of the encouragement I gave you when you were being so hard on yourself. For making wrong choices or failing to live up to what God would have you to be. When you realized how I must have agonized after the Damascus road experience, laying there for 3 days. Blindness a meager blight compared to the pain I felt in my heart for those I had wrongly accused and brought to their deaths. How impressed you were that I did not bemoan my failings, though great, but turned my prior passion against Christ to passion for Him and those He loves. Thanking me for the realization that if I could pick myself up after so great a transgression, surely you could forgive yourself and start anew.
And you know what? I do have room for old Paul!
I have a place for this man who loved God with his whole heart. And I promise, to dig deeper. To read the writings and stories of him and others in the Bible with a grain of salt. To not allow scripture passages that are hard or difficult to scare me away, but to draw close and allow God to remove those scales from the eyes of my heart. To realize there is much in life that I must grow to understand and love.
Praise God for discomfort!
Let me re-phrase that. I did not like Paul, but he is growing on me.
In the lectionary, we have been studying the 5th and 6th chapters of Paul’s letters to the church in Corinth. And I have to admit, Paul has convinced me.
Of what, you may ask?
Of the fact that he is not the boastful, arrogant, self aggrandizing man I thought he was.
Now Paul is pretty black and white, where I am not.. But I can give him that, living in the time and climate of the day. The Body of Christ consisted of a fledgling band of believers, following a crucified messiah and whose leaders consisted of former fishermen, a zealot, a tax collector, and other less than stellar folks. And Paul was not working within that mainstream. He was in the outskirts, preaching and teaching to the learned and not so learned Gentiles. People who had never embraced the Jewish faith from which Christianity had drawn its roots. They were pagans, atheists, magicians, harlots, merchants, and everyday folk that were being asked to join a group that was more times than not being persecuted for its beliefs.
Give the guy a break, you say?
This week, I did just that. I got a peek at the man behind the boast. And believe it or not, I liked what I saw. In Corinthians 6, Paul is talking to the concern he has that the church there no longer carries the affection they once had for him. He starts out telling them of what he and “his” have done in the name of Christ. Imprisonment, beatings, floggings, near drowning. He then goes on to tell them how they persevered and endured much with integrity and purity, for the sake of bringing the gospel to the Corinthian church. But not on their own – he does not take the credit. God was with them, helping them to speak, to work, and giving them the right and left hand weapons to do it. And in spite of this, there were still many that would call them imposters, ingenuous, and trifling. Between you and me, I think he was speaking to his audience...
And the grand finale!
In light of all that, can’t you find room in your heart for me. Paul is not asking for the whole heart, just a small corner. It was as if he was asking me the same question. Can you not find a little affection for me? The scriptures you found in my teachings as a young wife and mother. The ones you memorized by heart, speaking and praying them in times of trouble. Can you not find kindness for me in light of the encouragement I gave you when you were being so hard on yourself. For making wrong choices or failing to live up to what God would have you to be. When you realized how I must have agonized after the Damascus road experience, laying there for 3 days. Blindness a meager blight compared to the pain I felt in my heart for those I had wrongly accused and brought to their deaths. How impressed you were that I did not bemoan my failings, though great, but turned my prior passion against Christ to passion for Him and those He loves. Thanking me for the realization that if I could pick myself up after so great a transgression, surely you could forgive yourself and start anew.
And you know what? I do have room for old Paul!
I have a place for this man who loved God with his whole heart. And I promise, to dig deeper. To read the writings and stories of him and others in the Bible with a grain of salt. To not allow scripture passages that are hard or difficult to scare me away, but to draw close and allow God to remove those scales from the eyes of my heart. To realize there is much in life that I must grow to understand and love.
Praise God for discomfort!
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Aroma for Christ
The Bible is ageless. I don’t mean it has been around for 1000’s of years, though it has. I mean it appeals to all ages. When I was a child, I loved to hear the stories of children. Young David and his bravery in going up against the giant, Goliath. Samuel, in hearing the voice of God and being chosen to be his prophet. As a young woman, I read about the boldness of Ruth, the industry of Martha, and the mindless devotion of her sister, Mary. As a more mature woman, I am drawn to the Hannah’s and Sarah’s. To think of such faith and hope in the light of such insurmountable obstacles. Funny how my perspective has changed.The story of Ruth and Naomi is a good example. I have always loved the love story of not only Ruth and Boaz, but the story of the love of Ruth for Naomi. Whither thou goest, I will go. How many times did I hear that verse at weddings as a young girl. But as I read the first chapter of Ruth this past week, I saw the words in a different light. I could not help but wonder, what was there about Naomi that caused Ruth to leave home and family to follow someone who physically had less than nothing to offer? Widows in that day and age were very vulnerable. Widows with no sons were especially vulnerable. Widows with daughters had their problems multiplied. So why did Ruth not only beg to accompany Naomi into a difficult and hopeless situation, but even swore an oath of death if she could not? I think Ruth saw something in Naomi that went beyond reason.
Even as Naomi tries to dissuade Ruth, bemoaning her estate, even using an Old Testament version of tough love, Ruth is not put off. What was there about Naomi? I have not been in Naomi’s situation, but I have been through difficult times. Times when I felt I had barely enough to keep my head above water, much less minister or provide for others. I had no time, no advice, no resources to offer others, as I was accustomed to doing. I could see no reason anyone would want to come around, I was of little or no use! I even drew apart physically and emotionally. But like Ruth, others were not deterred. Though I had nothing to offer, others drew near to me. Even more, they ministered to me.
What was there about Naomi that drew Ruth by her side and to her aid. What urged her to follow Naomi to a new and foreign land. Full of fear and little hope. It says in 2 Corinthians that
“we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing”.
Perhaps that was the answer. No matter what Naomi had or did not have, she had the aroma that comes from being a follower of the living God. There was something there that pervaded even Naomi’s own demeanor and actions. I think many times we see ourselves as “useful” only when we are doing something for God. If we are able to give, to do, to minister, then we are Christ-like. But when adversity hits or we experience tough times, we feel we are out of commission. We even tend to pull back from our church community, embarrassed or ashamed that we can no longer be what we once were.
This will be a hard lesson for me to learn. Just as I am struggling with the effects and changes going on inside my body as I age, I must realize my use in God’s kingdom may change, bringing with it different opportunities. And knowing me, I am afraid “I will not go gently into that good night”. My humanity will see it as my inability not the ability God has saved just for this time in my life.
It’s going to be a bumpy road for sure! LOL!
Saturday, May 26, 2012
On a Teeter Totter with Christ
Why is it the closer we draw to God, the further we want to draw away from the world. I think this is why we have those folks that cloister themselves into a life of spiritual purity and ascetism. Denying all the world has to offer – good and bad.
Others choose a life of piety. But in doing so, they cannot resist viewing the world from this new perch. With growing disdain and condemnation, they are free with their advice and condemnation.
But, unlike Christ, we are not fully human and fully divine. We have this 50/50 arrangement. As a Christian, I have Christ dwelling within. I think, in my own mind, I have seen it as a struggle. As if I had to beat the human part of me into submission to Him. Or maybe, I pictured myself as living in a house with Him.
I want to see myself as moving out of the master bedroom, taking the smaller bedroom. My dream one day to move to the broom closet, giving Christ full reign of my life. But now, I see, that is not what He desires.
As much as I would love to wrap myself in scripture, meditation and immerse myself in Him, He knows that my address is still terra firma. He moved in to live with me, the human me. He wants to share my life. He wants to have lively discussions of His Word. He wants to view the sunsets and sunrises. He wants to struggle with the stress and strain. He wants to revel in the world He and His Father so carefully fashioned as my residence. He wants to be my roommate. Lord of my life, yes, but also the Love of my life. Maybe until I can love the “me” in me as much as He does, can I truly know how to live in and love in this co-ed arrangement.
It is a balance I am looking for. Child that I am, I want to teeter totter with Christ. He does not want to sit alone, nor I. There is no fun in that. It is only when we both get on, taking turns, that we can soar. And that is where the joy comes.
For until I love me, can I love you. Until I see me through His eyes, can I see you through mine.
Wow!
Others choose a life of piety. But in doing so, they cannot resist viewing the world from this new perch. With growing disdain and condemnation, they are free with their advice and condemnation.
But, unlike Christ, we are not fully human and fully divine. We have this 50/50 arrangement. As a Christian, I have Christ dwelling within. I think, in my own mind, I have seen it as a struggle. As if I had to beat the human part of me into submission to Him. Or maybe, I pictured myself as living in a house with Him.
I want to see myself as moving out of the master bedroom, taking the smaller bedroom. My dream one day to move to the broom closet, giving Christ full reign of my life. But now, I see, that is not what He desires.
As much as I would love to wrap myself in scripture, meditation and immerse myself in Him, He knows that my address is still terra firma. He moved in to live with me, the human me. He wants to share my life. He wants to have lively discussions of His Word. He wants to view the sunsets and sunrises. He wants to struggle with the stress and strain. He wants to revel in the world He and His Father so carefully fashioned as my residence. He wants to be my roommate. Lord of my life, yes, but also the Love of my life. Maybe until I can love the “me” in me as much as He does, can I truly know how to live in and love in this co-ed arrangement.
It is a balance I am looking for. Child that I am, I want to teeter totter with Christ. He does not want to sit alone, nor I. There is no fun in that. It is only when we both get on, taking turns, that we can soar. And that is where the joy comes.
For until I love me, can I love you. Until I see me through His eyes, can I see you through mine.
Wow!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
The Finger of God
My husband was very ill for about a year and required home nursing, three times a week. One of the nurses we had was a wonderful lady who had converted from the Episcopal faith to Buddhism. I am ever thankful for that year of getting to know her and what I learned not only about her faith but the beautiful spiritual discipline of meditation. One day as I sat beside her working, I am not sure even now how it happened, our conversation drifted to why she had converted. She said that she just came to a point where she could no longer believe in a God that would crucify His Son so that He might be reconciled with His creation. I will never forget that explanation and the questions it raised for me.
In the scripture reading for this Sunday in 1 John 4:7-21, that question is again broached and answered, in what I feel, is the only way it can be. God is love, not hate. He did not murder His Son, He sacrificed His Son for us. As I read those words, I thought of Micheangelo’s Creation of Adam, the beautiful painting found on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and the isolated portion of the painting so often reproduced. The arms and hands of God and Adam reaching out to touch. In this case, though, I saw my arm, my finger poised toward God’s. As I struggled toward God, I suddenly felt a hand on my wrist. Looking up I saw it was Christ helping me to reach Him. Just before He guided my finger to His Father’s, Christ placed my finger into the nail rent of His other hand. I was shocked and I wanted to pull back, but He continued to guide me to God and the Father and I touched through that gruesome wound. Isn’t that just awful? But isn’t it so terribly powerful!
In the beginning, God initiatated the sacrificial system with Abraham, even to the point that He instructed Abraham to sacrifice his only living son on an altar in an act of worship. Of course, God stopped him before that happened, but the foreshadowing was powerful. This system of worship was common to the peoples of that time, even child sacrifice, and He continued to use that as the venue for Abraham’s worship of Him, using various animals. Throughout the history of the Jewish people, this type of worship was instituted and followed. Then when Jesus came to the point where He would make the supreme sacrifice, God’s only Son went as a lamb to the slaughter. His demeanor before Pilate was the best picture He could possibly give us of that sacrificial lamb. Then to be executed by the current Roman means of punishing criminals for their sins, was like putting one of those strobe lighted arrows to the glaring fact that He died for OUR SINS!!! Wow!
But back to my visual. As I sat there dumbstruck of the very means Christ used to join me to God, I looked up at His face. But it was no longer Jesus I saw, but the face of Michangelo’s God. And in that face of God I saw the most unbelievable mixture of love and pain. Tears coursing down His face as He looked into my eyes. And a tinge of hope, hope that I would understand just how very much He loves me.
I hope I never forget that feeling. I hope I never forget that face. I hope that in my heart of hearts, I spend the rest of my life not trying be worthy of it or earn it– that would be the greatest waste of my time - but to feel it, and glory in it, and live through it. To reach out to my brothers and sisters in my own feeble way.
I wish I could see that nurse again. In light of the gift she gave our family, I would thank her again, from my heart, for the wonderful care she gave my husband. In light of the gift she gave me in that explanation, I would thank her for that question. Then I would try, somehow, with the very limits of my language to express that God did not crucify His Son. Love did! Love did and hopefully it is doing the same each and every day in my life and the lives of those I call my family in Christ.
In the scripture reading for this Sunday in 1 John 4:7-21, that question is again broached and answered, in what I feel, is the only way it can be. God is love, not hate. He did not murder His Son, He sacrificed His Son for us. As I read those words, I thought of Micheangelo’s Creation of Adam, the beautiful painting found on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and the isolated portion of the painting so often reproduced. The arms and hands of God and Adam reaching out to touch. In this case, though, I saw my arm, my finger poised toward God’s. As I struggled toward God, I suddenly felt a hand on my wrist. Looking up I saw it was Christ helping me to reach Him. Just before He guided my finger to His Father’s, Christ placed my finger into the nail rent of His other hand. I was shocked and I wanted to pull back, but He continued to guide me to God and the Father and I touched through that gruesome wound. Isn’t that just awful? But isn’t it so terribly powerful!
In the beginning, God initiatated the sacrificial system with Abraham, even to the point that He instructed Abraham to sacrifice his only living son on an altar in an act of worship. Of course, God stopped him before that happened, but the foreshadowing was powerful. This system of worship was common to the peoples of that time, even child sacrifice, and He continued to use that as the venue for Abraham’s worship of Him, using various animals. Throughout the history of the Jewish people, this type of worship was instituted and followed. Then when Jesus came to the point where He would make the supreme sacrifice, God’s only Son went as a lamb to the slaughter. His demeanor before Pilate was the best picture He could possibly give us of that sacrificial lamb. Then to be executed by the current Roman means of punishing criminals for their sins, was like putting one of those strobe lighted arrows to the glaring fact that He died for OUR SINS!!! Wow!
But back to my visual. As I sat there dumbstruck of the very means Christ used to join me to God, I looked up at His face. But it was no longer Jesus I saw, but the face of Michangelo’s God. And in that face of God I saw the most unbelievable mixture of love and pain. Tears coursing down His face as He looked into my eyes. And a tinge of hope, hope that I would understand just how very much He loves me.
I hope I never forget that feeling. I hope I never forget that face. I hope that in my heart of hearts, I spend the rest of my life not trying be worthy of it or earn it– that would be the greatest waste of my time - but to feel it, and glory in it, and live through it. To reach out to my brothers and sisters in my own feeble way.
I wish I could see that nurse again. In light of the gift she gave our family, I would thank her again, from my heart, for the wonderful care she gave my husband. In light of the gift she gave me in that explanation, I would thank her for that question. Then I would try, somehow, with the very limits of my language to express that God did not crucify His Son. Love did! Love did and hopefully it is doing the same each and every day in my life and the lives of those I call my family in Christ.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Not Everyone Is a Rocket Scientist!
One of my favorite shows is the Big Bang Theory. I love it because it laughs at itself and enjoys doing it. I think we go through life seeing everyone one dimensionally. I think therefore I am. Well, it is more like I think therefore I think you think the same way I do. Well, folks, not everyone is a rocket scientist. Not everyone is a moron. And believe it or not, not everyone is you.
We know by basic scientific knowledge, that there are levels of human intelligence. Likewise, there are levels of human physical and mental capabilities. Add heredity and nurture and then throw in our cultural and ethnic differences and we might as well be all walking aliens.
What I am getting at, is why do we get frustrated with folks when they cannot comprehend or behave as I do. Why do I view them in light of what I know, what I have experienced, or what I perceive. How silly of me and what a terrible waste of my emotions to vent about persons or situations beyond their scope or area of credence.
Now, what about our faith. Why is it we find ourselves clucking our tongues and shaking our heads over a world that is gone to the dogs. As a spirit filled, Christ centered, child of God I see the world in one way. But a person who does not have the center, that has never experienced the overwhelming, grace endowing, burst at the seams love of a God who values them above His only Son, how can they possible think, act, and react like I do. They cannot! And my grousing and complaining and blaming is a total waste of the time God has allotted me on this earth. If I ever want to make my world a better place, I better get in the habit of spreading His love around. Of sharing heavenly glimpses of hope and joy and grace to a world needing it like a parched ground.
Shut up and show off – that is my new motto!
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Days - Old but Good?
Equality – the American way. Except in high school!
Don’t know about you, but when I graduated high school 40 years ago this month, there was a caste system. It was not delineated as peasants and nobility, but it was there just the same. The jocks, the drill team, the choir, the band, the academics (nerds).
Each had its pecking order. I had my foot in a little of several so I was able to migrate between the groups. More identifiable with some than others.
This past weekend, I had my 40th high school reunion. It was very interesting. We have several folks that have diligently kept the class together and had a good turn out. I have not kept up with everyone, so I was more or less on the fringe. But I did not mind, because I am a people watcher and I had the best seat in the house. Of course, everyone was really old. HaHa! It is funny how we are old as we look, not think. I am a 16 year old trapped in an old body! I looked better than some, worse than others. It was funny seeing folks and how they moved through the room.
One guy caught my eye. I didn’t know him well, but he did not run in the popular groups. In fact he was more or less a loner. But I saw him in the midst of a great group of friends and he seemed to be having the time of my life. I thought my eyes might be deceiving me, but when I got close, it was the same guy. I asked my husband about him and found out in high school this guy had more or less been a tag along. People were nice to him.
But this was not the same. He was smack dab in the middle of the fun and inside, I was a bit jealous. I realized that time had taken a toll on more than our bodies. Our caste system had mellowed to the point that it was not even visible. It was a level playing field. Those above had bent down and those below had reached up. The lowly not worried about being snubbed or ridiculed. The elevated not worried about their reputation or impression. We had all decided to play fair and share. Something we were taught in kindergarten and somehow lost along the way.
But you know what? This goes a lot farther than high school, or work, or even play. It goes to the heart of being a Christian. We see the least, the last, the lost as unfortunate souls that are below us. That we must reach down and offer ourselves to. But what of those above us. I realized that those that rely on wealth or fame or beauty can very well be in the same category. There will come a time when either age or trials or illness will strike and when they do, unless there is a unperishable foundation built, they can be as least and lost as it gets.
So when we spread our reach, let’s remember to reach up and down.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Love Is Not Smart
always perseveres.
Reading this is like taking a trip down a path. It is sunny, but the trees shade your path. The birds are singing, you are smiling, all is right with the world. La-de-da-de-da! Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast. On and on, good words, honorable words, true words. But you get to verse 7 and it is like you are hitting some rocking road. Love ALWAYS protects, ALWAYS trusts, ALWAYS hopes, ALWAYS perseveres???? Wait a minute!! What if the object is not worth my protection? What if the person is not trustworthy? What if the situation is hopeless? What if every ounce of my being is screaming for resolution, but none is found??? The birds have stopped singing, the clouds are forming, and the world is suddenly not right at all.
Love is not very smart if it puts itself out there to be abused. It is not very savvy if it puts all its eggs in one basket just to see them dropped and broken. It is surely not wise if it hopes in someone who is a hopeless cause. Surely it cannot go on when there is nothing and no one to go on with.
But you see, God is just that. If there was a picture next to love it would by God or the physical incarnation of him, Christ our Lord. God always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Okay, I am feeling better now. He has the shoulders to bear under that. He is able to do all those superhuman things.
But my teeter totter has not finished rocking. If my prayer is to grow into His likeness, and it is, then this is me too. Not the perfect form of Love, but shouldn’t I have the ever increasing desire to be all this? How do I do that? I am in a pickle. There are folks in my life that I cannot trust, they have hurt me. There are folks so vulnerable, I do not have enough energy or resources within me to protect them. There are things going on in my life that are trying to snuff out the candle of hope burning in me. And, God knows (literally) that my perseverance tank is running mighty low. So how do I do it?
Is it that in every human being there is a spark of the divine? No matter if they have acknowledged it, no matter if they have denied it. And the love of me, as it grows reaches out, seeks them out and somehow connects in a way that I might not even be aware of. As I grow in Him, do I just do that? Grow In Him! I hope so, I really do….
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Bars and Chains
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 captives
And freedom to prisoners
Isaiah 61:1
Early, this past Sunday morning, as I sat in my empty sanctuary, I could almost picture the people that would fill the pews. As I did, these words of scripture came to mind.
Later as I looked over the congregation from the choir loft, I saw the reality in the faces looking back at me. Had I not been prepared, I would have been picking out the “two-fers”. Those who darken the door of a church only on Easter and Christmas. Before that scripture, I would have hoped they received something from the worship experience. Something that would bring them back or, even better, walk them down the aisle to profess their faith.
But now as I saw their faces, I saw something else. I saw captives and prisoners. Not just in those unknown faces, but also in the familiar faces of my family of faith. It dawned on me that so many of us in that room were being held captive and we did not even realize it. The bars were ones that so many of us shared, they were almost invisible. Cells of addiction to work or play. Prisoners to ill health and financial woes. Bindings of greed, anger, lust, and guilt were so entwined, freedom was barely a distant memory.
Hope was the message preached this past Sunday and it is the message the world of today is dying to hear. Hope in a freedom that seems so elusive. A freedom that must be desired before it can be realized.
As it was proclaimed in our worship, I realized the actual “setting free”was not in a number on our rolls, a trip down the aisle, or even tears on a cheek. It was the ability of His Word to do a work in a heart. Unseen and often unnoticed. But inch by inch, link by link, chains could be removed and there was no knowing if this Easter Sunday was the day when the final link would be shattered or the prison door flung open.
Because, He does nothing without our permission or our agreement. And to make that decision, we must see the prison bars and have hope that it is possible to be set free. That is our mission and our call to preach.
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 captives
And freedom to prisoners
Isaiah 61:1
Early, this past Sunday morning, as I sat in my empty sanctuary, I could almost picture the people that would fill the pews. As I did, these words of scripture came to mind.
Later as I looked over the congregation from the choir loft, I saw the reality in the faces looking back at me. Had I not been prepared, I would have been picking out the “two-fers”. Those who darken the door of a church only on Easter and Christmas. Before that scripture, I would have hoped they received something from the worship experience. Something that would bring them back or, even better, walk them down the aisle to profess their faith.
But now as I saw their faces, I saw something else. I saw captives and prisoners. Not just in those unknown faces, but also in the familiar faces of my family of faith. It dawned on me that so many of us in that room were being held captive and we did not even realize it. The bars were ones that so many of us shared, they were almost invisible. Cells of addiction to work or play. Prisoners to ill health and financial woes. Bindings of greed, anger, lust, and guilt were so entwined, freedom was barely a distant memory.
Hope was the message preached this past Sunday and it is the message the world of today is dying to hear. Hope in a freedom that seems so elusive. A freedom that must be desired before it can be realized.
As it was proclaimed in our worship, I realized the actual “setting free”was not in a number on our rolls, a trip down the aisle, or even tears on a cheek. It was the ability of His Word to do a work in a heart. Unseen and often unnoticed. But inch by inch, link by link, chains could be removed and there was no knowing if this Easter Sunday was the day when the final link would be shattered or the prison door flung open.
Because, He does nothing without our permission or our agreement. And to make that decision, we must see the prison bars and have hope that it is possible to be set free. That is our mission and our call to preach.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Undeserved Love
Undeserved Love......
That is what the Easter message truly is. God reaching down to a hurting, messed up, needy, sinful creation. And in doing so,saying "You are my beloved". And the proof was on the cross.
In thinking about this, I thought about who we love undeservedly. We love our families but that is out of blood connection and somewhat duty. We care for co-workers and friends. But here again, in our busy lives we do not go too deep. There is only so much time and energy left after our day or work and play that can be expended. We seek to invest in those friends that are low maintenance. Much as we choose the shrubs in our landscaping. Friends that require little of our time and energy. That we can pick up from time to time to enjoy. That give as much as take. That reciprocate our care and concern. Needy, high maintenace folks are shunned or at least avoided.
But you see, that is not how Jesus worked. He not only acknowledged the needy and lost, he invested in them. He loved them and healed them. I never thought about it, but I am sure many of those healed and fed were in the group of followers that followed Him from city to city. Still needing to be near Him. To see Him and touch Him. Much like the woman with the issue of blood, I am sure these least of mankind drained power from His very essence.
So as I approach Good Friday and prepare to be confronted with His final act of benevolence, what am I to do with this over the top grace? How do I begin to emulate that in my life and my living? Where do I find the time to "love" as He did? Who do I choose to invest in? What must I give up to do this?
Lord, where do I even begin....
That is what the Easter message truly is. God reaching down to a hurting, messed up, needy, sinful creation. And in doing so,saying "You are my beloved". And the proof was on the cross.
In thinking about this, I thought about who we love undeservedly. We love our families but that is out of blood connection and somewhat duty. We care for co-workers and friends. But here again, in our busy lives we do not go too deep. There is only so much time and energy left after our day or work and play that can be expended. We seek to invest in those friends that are low maintenance. Much as we choose the shrubs in our landscaping. Friends that require little of our time and energy. That we can pick up from time to time to enjoy. That give as much as take. That reciprocate our care and concern. Needy, high maintenace folks are shunned or at least avoided.
But you see, that is not how Jesus worked. He not only acknowledged the needy and lost, he invested in them. He loved them and healed them. I never thought about it, but I am sure many of those healed and fed were in the group of followers that followed Him from city to city. Still needing to be near Him. To see Him and touch Him. Much like the woman with the issue of blood, I am sure these least of mankind drained power from His very essence.
So as I approach Good Friday and prepare to be confronted with His final act of benevolence, what am I to do with this over the top grace? How do I begin to emulate that in my life and my living? Where do I find the time to "love" as He did? Who do I choose to invest in? What must I give up to do this?
Lord, where do I even begin....
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
A Glimpse of Heaven
I enter this Holy Week with a great sadness. A young couple I know has lost their 2 year-old little girl. She had a congenital heart defect and was on the list to receive a new heart. It just was not to be.
This great tragedy is compounded by the fact that her four year old brother died one year ago this month from the same ailment. It was not even known at the time he had the condition until he collapsed at a sporting event and died subsequently.
In praying for the young couple, I was at a loss for words. What solace could there possibly be for the loss of 2 precious children? How could someone ever get over something like that. Even silence, tears, and moans could do no justice to so great a tragedy. But what came to me, in that expression to God, was a plea for heaven. If the young couple could just see a glimpse of the place their children now lived. If they could see the face of Jesus and the love He has for their babies. The heavenly host who have so wrapped their love and their support around these two darlings - perhaps that would be of some comfort.
As the week has progressed, I thought of another parent. How did God perceive this Holy Week we are traveling through? How does a parent watch and wait for what He knows will unfold? How can He know that He will literally sit on His hands and that His will is for His Son to do the same? What pain and agony! A torturous death that could in all actuality be avoided. And for what? A world that would scorn, scoff and curse His name not only in that moment but for thousands of years to come?
Was that glimpse of heaven what sustained them? Did God realize in a few short days, His Son would be released from the earthly bonds He had submitted Him to thirty three years prior. Was He picturing Jesus once again joining Him, sitting at His right hand, ruling with Him over heaven and earth?
And was the fact that this one act of sacrifice on the parts of them both, would open heaven's gates in a way that nothing else had, would, or could. That the division between perfection and imperfection, sinner and saint, good and evil - all would be bridged by the very act of their mutual suffering and pain. The same glimpse of heaven would become a reality for us all.
I am sitting here loved, saved, and sanctified because They did!
Alleluia!!
This great tragedy is compounded by the fact that her four year old brother died one year ago this month from the same ailment. It was not even known at the time he had the condition until he collapsed at a sporting event and died subsequently.
In praying for the young couple, I was at a loss for words. What solace could there possibly be for the loss of 2 precious children? How could someone ever get over something like that. Even silence, tears, and moans could do no justice to so great a tragedy. But what came to me, in that expression to God, was a plea for heaven. If the young couple could just see a glimpse of the place their children now lived. If they could see the face of Jesus and the love He has for their babies. The heavenly host who have so wrapped their love and their support around these two darlings - perhaps that would be of some comfort.
As the week has progressed, I thought of another parent. How did God perceive this Holy Week we are traveling through? How does a parent watch and wait for what He knows will unfold? How can He know that He will literally sit on His hands and that His will is for His Son to do the same? What pain and agony! A torturous death that could in all actuality be avoided. And for what? A world that would scorn, scoff and curse His name not only in that moment but for thousands of years to come?
Was that glimpse of heaven what sustained them? Did God realize in a few short days, His Son would be released from the earthly bonds He had submitted Him to thirty three years prior. Was He picturing Jesus once again joining Him, sitting at His right hand, ruling with Him over heaven and earth?
And was the fact that this one act of sacrifice on the parts of them both, would open heaven's gates in a way that nothing else had, would, or could. That the division between perfection and imperfection, sinner and saint, good and evil - all would be bridged by the very act of their mutual suffering and pain. The same glimpse of heaven would become a reality for us all.
I am sitting here loved, saved, and sanctified because They did!
Alleluia!!
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Do You Feel It?
I mean
“laying on of hands” prayed over?
I have on
a few occasions, but the time I never will forget was when I was in the 7th
grade. We had a
lay witness team come to our church. It was a revival movement of the Methodist Church during the 70’s. A team of
youth and adults would come to a church for a weekend. They
stayed with families within the church and just witnessed through a series of
meetings. For the
youth, it culminated in a prayer circle on Saturday night. A chair
was placed in the center of the circle of youth and anyone desiring prayer came
forward. Other kids from
the circle were invited to come forward and touch their friend and pray for
them.
In the
volatile emotional world of teens, there was a lot of crying and soul searching. The beauty
of the chair and the circle was that there were no divisions. Star jock
had his hand on the biggest nerd of the group. Cute
cheerleader held the hand of the shy wallflower. We cried
and prayed and our youth group was never the same again. At the
altar call on Sunday morning I went
forward and gave my life to Christ. As an
adult, I think it was an acknowledgement of something that had been transpiring
since I was a child, but it was a turning point none the less.
In the
scripture for this Sunday, I think back to that time. Jesus is
praying for his disciples. Put
yourselves in their place. He has
washed your feet. He has
shared bread and wine with you. Saying it
was His body and His blood.
Now He has
told you that He truly is going away and some type of Holy ghost is going to
take His place. And now He
is praying for you. You can
almost feel His hands on your head. Feel that
as you read these words take from John 17:
“Father, the hour has come. Glorify your
Son, that your Son may glorify you. 2 For you granted him authority
over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given
him. 3 Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God,
and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. 4 I have brought you glory on
earth by finishing the work you gave me to do. 5 And now, Father,
glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world
began.
10 All I
have is yours, and all you have is mine. And glory has come to me through them.
11 I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the
world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of your
name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one.
The word that kept coming back to me
in reading this was “glory”. Looked it up in the Greek and it
means to cause the dignity and worth of some person or thing to become manifest
and acknowledged. Jesus was to about to be
glorified.
But don’t you see, we are to enter a
Holy Week that traces the trip to that point. All of Christendom was born on the
cross that Jesus died. Talk about glory!!
He tells God that glory has come to
him through the disciples. Take a look around the table. You have fishermen, zealots,
collectors – a rag tag bunch of men. But men who have given up
livelihood, homes, and family to follow an intinerant preacher. They have glorified Jesus by their
very presence at His side.
But Jesus does not stop there, He
includes us…
20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will
believe in me through their 22 I have given them the glory that you
gave me, that they may be one as we are one— 23 I in them and you in
me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that
you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.
He has given us His glory. He has deemed us worthy by His death
and resurrection. We are to be included. Though we may never have seen His
face, nor heard His words. We are worthy of His blood and His
gift.
Wow!
24 “Father, I want those you
have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have
given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.
Lord, I am humbled by this gift
Because right now, I see all those
that have stood in Your presence between me and this time
I see Christians that gave up their
lives for your Word to be proclaimed.
That were persecuted for a printing a page from your Word
That came to these shores to seek
religious freedom
I feel the hands of my grandfather
and grandmother that took me to their little country church to worship
My parents that insisted I attend
church every week and learn more about you
And the legacy that has burned in my
bones and I have passed on to my children and grandchildren
May the flame never die!
Amen
Amen
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Easter Truth
When I was a young mother, I was torn between two camps. My fundamentalist friends were determined that their pre-schoolers know the whole truth and nothing but the Easter truth. The exact events of the crucifixion and resurrection. All the gory details. Their children had to know, right along with their colors and ABC's, that Jesus Christ died for their sins. How else will they know what a sacrifice He made for them.
My friends that swung a little further the other way, felt that Easter should be a time of little seeds planted in moist cotton balls, deep inside Dixie cups. Watching and waiting for the new life that would emerge from the seed. Or a chrysalis, ready to open, a new butterfly, symbol of metamorphosis - life from death. Not a word about B-L-O-O-D or the C-R-O-S-S. I was torn between the two, wanting to be the good Christian mommy I knew I should be. But somehow, I found my own stand. I came to the realization that if my daughter did not know and love Jesus, His death would be just another sad story. Love first, sacrifice later.
Twenty plus years later, I am again working with children and Easter is again knocking at my door. But I am older and wiser and I see things a bit different. I still feel the children should know and love Him, but they must also know how much He loves them. For that was the gift of Easter. Love came down for us at Christmas. But Love died and rose for us at Easter.
Here is a poem I wrote about my earlier dilemma. A little dark and edgy, I warn you....
My friends that swung a little further the other way, felt that Easter should be a time of little seeds planted in moist cotton balls, deep inside Dixie cups. Watching and waiting for the new life that would emerge from the seed. Or a chrysalis, ready to open, a new butterfly, symbol of metamorphosis - life from death. Not a word about B-L-O-O-D or the C-R-O-S-S. I was torn between the two, wanting to be the good Christian mommy I knew I should be. But somehow, I found my own stand. I came to the realization that if my daughter did not know and love Jesus, His death would be just another sad story. Love first, sacrifice later.
Twenty plus years later, I am again working with children and Easter is again knocking at my door. But I am older and wiser and I see things a bit different. I still feel the children should know and love Him, but they must also know how much He loves them. For that was the gift of Easter. Love came down for us at Christmas. But Love died and rose for us at Easter.
Here is a poem I wrote about my earlier dilemma. A little dark and edgy, I warn you....
Easter
Truth
Should little ones learn
In Sunday School rooms
That their dear Jesus
died
A horrible death
To save
their sweet souls
So with each sweet breath
They can
raise their voices
To sing
Alleluia
Symbols of
that death
As common
to them
As their dolls
and toy trains
Their
burden to tote
Until each
of them speaks
The gory tale by rote
Sweet
voices singing
‘Bout
rivers of blood
Alleluia
Why would you let them
Play with nails from His cross?
Metal and heavy
With sharp pointed ends
Could put out their eye
Or might pierce their
hands
So how could you let
them
Play with nails from His cross?
Alleluia
Or let a little one
Wear a thorny crown
Could you bear to see
Their perfect skin
marred
It’s sure to leave them
Wounded, perhaps scarred
So on those dear heads
So on those dear heads
Please no crown of
thorns
Alleluia
Or dress one so young
In a blood stained robe
Perhaps torn in shreds
They’d surely ask why
And when they were told
It would make them cry
So let’s not dress them
In His bloody robe
Alleluia
In the eyes of a child
Crosses are made of gold
Worn about the neck
And robes made of satin
Or nautical suits
And heels of white
patent
The only thing marred
On a small child of five
Alleluia
For He begged the children
To gather round his knee
His joy to watch them
Play with fuzzy chicks
Or hunt egg’s colored shell
Laugh at pollen touched
noses
From the lilies they smell
His hugs to enfold the
Sweet children He died
to save
Alleluia
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
The Maze
I am sure glad apps were not around when I was young. I had enough issues just keeping my nose out of a book! I just love to play games. Sudoku, Crosswords, Hearts, Spades, Jeopardy, I could go on and on!!
But one I am presently fascinated with is a maze. I just started playing this app, so for now it is pretty simple. I hold my tablet more or less flat and tilt the sides up and down so that this little silver ball moves around corners and down alleys.
Now it is not a maze in the truest sense, because I am looking down and I can trace the ball to the end before I even start. To experience a true labyrinthian maze, you would need to be following one incorporated in a landscape. You can find a few here, but there are quite a number of intricate ones in Europe, particularly in England and France. Hedges are maintained at a height higher than the average person. Twists and turns take you from what seems dead-end to dead-end. People have actually gotten lost in them and have had to wait for folks to find them. Seems funny, but I bet it could be a bit fearful for the person who was lost.
Life is a lot like a maze. We have all been at those points where we don’t know which way to turn. Many times one direction or opportunity seems the same as the other. We pray, asking for God to give us a sign, some answer, but often it seems He is silent. We start off on one path to find ourselves at a dead end. Or go through one of those episodes in life where we know we are traveling the wrong path, and we just don't care.
I belong to a small group of maze buddies. It just happens to be my Sunday School class at church. I have had the privilege of being in that group for the past 20 years. Some of the faces have changed over time, but we are all on this maze called life and I guess their mere presence there tells me that we all want to choose the right path. It's funny, but looking back I don’t know what I would have done without them.
Times when I was just so tired of the twists and turns, they were there to encourage me. When I would get to a dead end for what seemed the "umpteenth" time, I would feel like just sitting down and crying. Sometimes, I literally did. There they would be, putting an arm around me. Many times crying along with me. Times when I was heading down a particularly thorny path, I would find them walking beside me. Letting me know they had been down a tough road themselves and if they could make it, so could I. Their sight extended no further down the journey than mine, but they were there to share their stories, their tears, and their laughter with me. I could not imagine this trip of life without them.
And that has made all the difference. In my maze, or I guess you can say…my life
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Garden of the Mind
"We spend an enormous amount of energy making up our minds about other people. Not a day goes by without somebody doing or saying something that evokes in us the need to form an opinion about him or her. We hear a lot, see a lot, and know a lot. The feeling that we have to sort it all out in our minds and make judgments about it can be quite oppressive.
The desert fathers said that judging others is a heavy burden, while being judged by others is a light one. Once we can let go of our need to judge others, we will experience an immense inner freedom. Once we are free from judging, we will be also free for mercy. Let's remember Jesus' words: "Do not judge, and you will not be judged" (Matthew 7:1)."
The desert fathers said that judging others is a heavy burden, while being judged by others is a light one. Once we can let go of our need to judge others, we will experience an immense inner freedom. Once we are free from judging, we will be also free for mercy. Let's remember Jesus' words: "Do not judge, and you will not be judged" (Matthew 7:1)."
Henri Nouwen
If I had to pick the one sin I struggle with the most, it would be this one. Not that I think I am better than anyone else. I think it stems from being so self-critical as a child and youth, that I have become a professional. Over the years, I have become better, thanks to God – literally! – but I still do it. I still slip and say a few things, but the real battlefield is in my mind. Then, after I make my mental slice and dice on some poor unsuspecting soul, I beat myself up for being such a poor child of God and the cycle continues.
So when I read Henri’s words, they hit home. What if when I started mentally sizing someone up, or thinking critically about a situation, I just said “STOP IT”. I think it is great to seek out the source of why we do things. Rough childhood, low self-esteem, mental/physical abuse etc. But once we find the root of the problem- just uproot it. If I had a weed in my yard (at this time of the year, don’t we all), I would, not ponder why it was there. I would not look up the variety or seek the source or wind velocity that brought this predator to my lawn. I just take ahold of that sucker and pull. Then it is over!!! I certainly don’t turn around and beat myself about why it was there or how I let it creep in, I just keep a look out for that next wascally weed. Then when that demon dandelion raises it white fluffy head, I grab it by the root and pull. I guess since I have you thinking along the springtime theme, you could put prayer, Bible study, and Christian fellowship in the same category as fertilizer or weed-killer. They are pretty much the only weapons I know that are any help in this waging battle I am fighting in my brain-o-sphere.
Wow! I feel like a real garden gal!
Thursday, March 8, 2012
More About Keep the Change
Can't stop thinking about being the limited child of a limitless God....
A few Christmas' ago, my husband and I found ourselves hungry following the Christmas Eve Candlelight service at church. Now not many restaurants are open that time of night, especially on a holiday, but we didn't have a whole lot to eat at home. After a bit of searching, we found a kind of greasy spoon diner that was open. We had never eaten there before and when we went through the door, we knew why. We have non-smoking restaurants now. But back in the day, this was what you called a "smoking" restaurant. You could tell by the nicotine smell that pervaded the carpets and the faint yellow tinge of the white walls. As we sat, my husband looked over the menu, I looked over the crowd.
Really wasn't much of a crowd. A couple or two, but mostly single older men. Probably ate a lot of their meals there. It made me kind of sad to see those folks. Heck, it made me sad to be sitting there. Kind of like being a lot of pitiful folks with nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. We, personally, had a houseful of folks coming over Christmas Day, so for us this was the quiet before the storm. But it looked like for these folks, this was their big holiday dinner.
A few booths over, there was a rough looking man who I noticed to be dressed up, in a rugged way. On his table was a small, hand wrapped present. We shared the same waitress, and from eavesdropping on their conversations (you know you do it), I could tell this man was one of her regulars. They talked about their grown kids and what they would be doing on Christmas Day. It seemed neither had family visiting that Christmas. Both had suffered some hardships and ill health earlier in the year. Toward the end of our meal, I saw him shyly offer the gift to the woman and her hard face light up like a little child. She wanted to take it home to put under her small tree, to save for Christmas Day, but he asked her to open it up. She did and it was a bottle of inexpensive cologne. Evidently that was her "signature" fragrance and she thanked him, giving him a peck on the cheek. He just beamed and in my heart of hearts, I knew that was the most important, if not the only, gift he would give that year.
A few booths over, there was a rough looking man who I noticed to be dressed up, in a rugged way. On his table was a small, hand wrapped present. We shared the same waitress, and from eavesdropping on their conversations (you know you do it), I could tell this man was one of her regulars. They talked about their grown kids and what they would be doing on Christmas Day. It seemed neither had family visiting that Christmas. Both had suffered some hardships and ill health earlier in the year. Toward the end of our meal, I saw him shyly offer the gift to the woman and her hard face light up like a little child. She wanted to take it home to put under her small tree, to save for Christmas Day, but he asked her to open it up. She did and it was a bottle of inexpensive cologne. Evidently that was her "signature" fragrance and she thanked him, giving him a peck on the cheek. He just beamed and in my heart of hearts, I knew that was the most important, if not the only, gift he would give that year.
I suddenly felt like an intruder at an intimate family gathering. As I looked back at this group of mismatched folks, I realized they were a family and we were the strangers. I felt ashamed of my critical spirit and my blatant dismissal of these folks earlier in the evening. I had judged them and assessed them a little "below" my husband and I when we first walked through the door. Now I felt like I was sitting at their feet.
I looked at the fifty dollar bill my husband had pulled out to pay the tab for a couple of sandwiches. Our waitress was back in the kitchen, so I asked him to leave it all. He looked at me like I had lost my head. Not because of the small extravagance of the act; he has always been more generous than I. But perplexed by the fact that I had suggested it. It was so out of my character. I embarrassed him for years, bringing along my calculator so I could figure a 12% tip. Scotch-Irish to the bone! We slipped out before she returned.
Later that night, laying in bed, we couldn't sleep. We thought about what our waitress may have thought when she got the larger than expected tip. We did not feel proud of ourselves. We felt humble and a little ashamed that we had so much and rare were the occasions that we thought to share a little extra like that.
I don't write this to brag, but to give an example of a "keep the change" mentality. Offering time and help to someone that could never in a million years reciprocate. Calling that elderly relative that can complain "til the cows come home", just because of the joy you give in listening to medical ailments for 2 hours! LOL! Knowing you don't need them, you are about to pass up the table of little girls selling their Girl Scout cookies. But stopping, buying several boxes, and then handing them back to the little Brownie, telling her to enjoy. The joy in seeing her eyes grow big as saucers, jumping up and down, excited to tell her fellow scout friends. Those are the kind of "grace-full" acts you will remember and the recipient will never forget.
Leave the change and change lives.....yours included!
Later that night, laying in bed, we couldn't sleep. We thought about what our waitress may have thought when she got the larger than expected tip. We did not feel proud of ourselves. We felt humble and a little ashamed that we had so much and rare were the occasions that we thought to share a little extra like that.
I don't write this to brag, but to give an example of a "keep the change" mentality. Offering time and help to someone that could never in a million years reciprocate. Calling that elderly relative that can complain "til the cows come home", just because of the joy you give in listening to medical ailments for 2 hours! LOL! Knowing you don't need them, you are about to pass up the table of little girls selling their Girl Scout cookies. But stopping, buying several boxes, and then handing them back to the little Brownie, telling her to enjoy. The joy in seeing her eyes grow big as saucers, jumping up and down, excited to tell her fellow scout friends. Those are the kind of "grace-full" acts you will remember and the recipient will never forget.
Leave the change and change lives.....yours included!
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Exact Change
I was pissed off! I had been in line at a local fast food place for what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably five minutes. I had paid for my order and was having to wait for my change. What was the hold up! I was late to work and had a pile of stuff to do on my desk. I hit the steering wheel in a show of disgust. It must of dislodged something in my brain, because I finally thought beyond my frustration.. My change, that amount I was waiting impatiently for, was a whole 7 cents! I was sitting here, food getting cold, wasting all this anger on a measly 7 cents! What an idiot!
I shook my head and gunned my car out of line and into my lane. Waiting on change! I had never really thought about it before. How much of my life had I spent waiting on change. The more I thought about this, I realized it was not always change in the monetary sense, but change none the less. Doing a job over and above what was expected, and then waiting to get my due, the praise I deserved. Then when it was not forthcoming, getting angry, even though I was being paid more than enough for what I did. Giving a gift to someone with that ever so slight thought, in the back of my mind, what they might give me in return? Doing something special at church, trying not to look for the pat on the back, but enjoying it just the same when it came.
Why can't we live life in a "keep the change" mentality? Instead of thinking what is due us, we think of what we can give and give it generously - no strings attached. This may seem a bit trite, in light of Easter, but what if Jesus had thought the way we do. What if He gave His life, then calculated how much that gift was worth? Put a price on it. And then expecting some return on that life giving sacrifice. What if He sat there with His hand out, expecting you and I to live up to that kind of gift. But no! On the cross, He said "I have paid your bill and you can keep the change". Kind of a silly way of putting it, but you get what I mean..
And in light of his great sacrifice, why doesn't that translate to extravagant giving on my part. The recipient of that over the top grace. Right this minute, I feel a lot like the man in the parable who was forgiven an enormous debt and then hunted down someone who owed him a couple of dollars. To throw him in jail. What a jerk!
I don't know about you, but I feel a bit bummed right now....
I shook my head and gunned my car out of line and into my lane. Waiting on change! I had never really thought about it before. How much of my life had I spent waiting on change. The more I thought about this, I realized it was not always change in the monetary sense, but change none the less. Doing a job over and above what was expected, and then waiting to get my due, the praise I deserved. Then when it was not forthcoming, getting angry, even though I was being paid more than enough for what I did. Giving a gift to someone with that ever so slight thought, in the back of my mind, what they might give me in return? Doing something special at church, trying not to look for the pat on the back, but enjoying it just the same when it came.
Why can't we live life in a "keep the change" mentality? Instead of thinking what is due us, we think of what we can give and give it generously - no strings attached. This may seem a bit trite, in light of Easter, but what if Jesus had thought the way we do. What if He gave His life, then calculated how much that gift was worth? Put a price on it. And then expecting some return on that life giving sacrifice. What if He sat there with His hand out, expecting you and I to live up to that kind of gift. But no! On the cross, He said "I have paid your bill and you can keep the change". Kind of a silly way of putting it, but you get what I mean..
And in light of his great sacrifice, why doesn't that translate to extravagant giving on my part. The recipient of that over the top grace. Right this minute, I feel a lot like the man in the parable who was forgiven an enormous debt and then hunted down someone who owed him a couple of dollars. To throw him in jail. What a jerk!
I don't know about you, but I feel a bit bummed right now....
Friday, March 2, 2012
Walking Contradiction
Yeah there a lot of folks out there just like me
We are what we are and we are what you see
We go to the church we go to bars
We read the Word we read the stars
Dixie waves in our front yards
But the stars and stripes are in our hearts
Yeah you might see grey but we’re black and white
Not afraid to love not afraid to fight
We love our Momma’s hell raising Christian
A midnight running
Walking Contradiction
“Walking Contradiction” by James Wesley
Had discussions the last two days with friends, along the same lines, same questions….
“If Jesus came here and now, would I recognize Him”
I would want to say “Of Course”, but I sure have a lot of years of religion under my belt. Now that is not the same as a lot of years as being a Christian. I am an evolved child of God and I am glad for that. But I got a lot of stuff in me that might make it more difficult for me to be as accepting as I would like. I hope my ears, eyes, and heart would be open to the physical incarnation of God, were He/Her to pass my way today, but I am not sure.
I just read Peter’s speech before Caiaphas and the Sandhedrin in Acts. I can only imagine the sun-leathered face, the tousled hair, less than manicured beard. A man who probably dressed the same as when he was hauling his catch out of the Sea of Galilee. Speaking “educated” words, words that astonished and perplexed his hearers. Like someone else occupied his body – and that was exactly it - another One did. Then I think of Paul, a devout Jew. A learned man of Greek citizenry, spouting testimony about a blinding incident on the road to Damascus. About spending 3 days in a room with scales over his eyes, waiting for someone to come rescue him. Then another 9 years spent in and around his hometown of Tarsus, being taught by the spirit of Christ. Sent on a mission to the Gentiles??
Wow! Talk about fanatics! Talk about unbelievable, improbable, to the point of ridiculous men, professing to be apostles of the Messiah! You would have to be a fool to believe them, their stories, or their Savior. Fools for Christ. I think I have heard that before. Walking contradictions for God.
You see, that is what God specializes in. Choosing the least, the last, the lost. I am afraid my eyes may be open but just might not be able to see past the scruffy clothes or long ponytail. Or maybe I will not be able to hear beyond the poor grammar or theology that does not run alongside mine. I am afraid my heart will be so in tune with my expectations, much like the Pharisees and Saducees that watched Christ during those last days on earth. So that it slowly closes shut, missing the opportunity of a lifetime.
God lives and breathes and walks amongst us in contradictions. People that don’t look like us, talk like us, and, God love them, think like us. My prayer today, I hope everyday, is that, as the Body of Christ, we start being on the lookout for walking contradictions.
We are what we are and we are what you see
We go to the church we go to bars
We read the Word we read the stars
Dixie waves in our front yards
But the stars and stripes are in our hearts
Yeah you might see grey but we’re black and white
Not afraid to love not afraid to fight
We love our Momma’s hell raising Christian
A midnight running
Walking Contradiction
“Walking Contradiction” by James Wesley
Had discussions the last two days with friends, along the same lines, same questions….
“If Jesus came here and now, would I recognize Him”
I would want to say “Of Course”, but I sure have a lot of years of religion under my belt. Now that is not the same as a lot of years as being a Christian. I am an evolved child of God and I am glad for that. But I got a lot of stuff in me that might make it more difficult for me to be as accepting as I would like. I hope my ears, eyes, and heart would be open to the physical incarnation of God, were He/Her to pass my way today, but I am not sure.
I just read Peter’s speech before Caiaphas and the Sandhedrin in Acts. I can only imagine the sun-leathered face, the tousled hair, less than manicured beard. A man who probably dressed the same as when he was hauling his catch out of the Sea of Galilee. Speaking “educated” words, words that astonished and perplexed his hearers. Like someone else occupied his body – and that was exactly it - another One did. Then I think of Paul, a devout Jew. A learned man of Greek citizenry, spouting testimony about a blinding incident on the road to Damascus. About spending 3 days in a room with scales over his eyes, waiting for someone to come rescue him. Then another 9 years spent in and around his hometown of Tarsus, being taught by the spirit of Christ. Sent on a mission to the Gentiles??
Wow! Talk about fanatics! Talk about unbelievable, improbable, to the point of ridiculous men, professing to be apostles of the Messiah! You would have to be a fool to believe them, their stories, or their Savior. Fools for Christ. I think I have heard that before. Walking contradictions for God.
You see, that is what God specializes in. Choosing the least, the last, the lost. I am afraid my eyes may be open but just might not be able to see past the scruffy clothes or long ponytail. Or maybe I will not be able to hear beyond the poor grammar or theology that does not run alongside mine. I am afraid my heart will be so in tune with my expectations, much like the Pharisees and Saducees that watched Christ during those last days on earth. So that it slowly closes shut, missing the opportunity of a lifetime.
God lives and breathes and walks amongst us in contradictions. People that don’t look like us, talk like us, and, God love them, think like us. My prayer today, I hope everyday, is that, as the Body of Christ, we start being on the lookout for walking contradictions.
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