A Cup of Jo

Judge?

2012-01-21T08:46:00.000-08:00

For in the way you judge, you will be judged
and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.....
Matthew 7:2

Scripture has to be the most fascinating thing in the world. I mean really! It changes with you - no matter where you are in your faith walk, it walks with you....

You are this prim and proper little legalist and in this brief passage, the only words that pop out at you are judge, standard, measure. Good God, it is about time You asked for my help!

Then someone gets in your faith, I mean face, and asks you who made you judge and jury. And then you realize, that is not a law degree hanging on your thelogical wall. Once that gets through your thick skull, you realize Jesus was not giving you the right to judge. In fact, bluntly, you really don't know what right means. You are clueless and you want to know.

And the journey begins. You are relentless. In fact you are fanatical in your pursuit of this knowledge. First you dissect the words themselves - you study verb tenses and the Greek. Next to the context - the history of the times, nuances of the language, even the sardonic wit of the culture. You peruse Augustine and Wesley. You throw in a little Barth and Nouwen, for good measure, no pun intended. And you realize, though a little wiser, you are not much closer to knowing what He means. What does he want me to do?

And, in a moment of weakness, an epiphany, it comes to you. What if this is not all about me. Am I my brother's keeper? Though ill-used, that was a pretty good question. And slowly but surely, the glass clears, just a bit,. You realize that judge is another word for unjust condemnation. Measure is a heinous label used to keep folks where we want them. And
standard is just an edict of my narrow-minded perception. Wow!

But wait there is more. Just when you are settling into your "I've got this all figured out" chair, you realize it is not all about the other guy. It is about you! What is up with this! I have just turned to the next chapter. But no, it can't be left alone. It can't stop with you, fellow guy, because it is also about what being judge, jury, and executioner does to me. It shrivels the heart, impairs the sight, and muffles the voices of humanity. And you don't even want to think of what a small heart, blindness, and deafness does to your relationship with God.

Because, you come up lacking. You are judged, my friend, and the verdict is - EMPTY. And in the bounty and extravagance of His grace, you want your cup open and waiting. Heck, you want to trade in that cup for a bucket, make that a barrel.

So what comes first the chicken or the egg? Does my judgemental spirit spill over from my criticism of my fellow man to myself? Or does the belittling of myself splash onto my fellow man? Or is it just a vicious cycle, each adding kindling to the other? LIke two wolves in a circle chasing each others' tails, until they are a blur

How to stop the madness? Maybe it is to realize His heart grieves with my dilemma and though I may be helpless, He is not.

Ah, as always, my first step. Admission of my ignorance and helplessness.

Second step - STOP the voices......Negativity has met its match (I hope)

Thanks be to God!

Hallelujah?

2011-12-22T10:12:00.000-08:00

Our church choir did Handel's Messiah this week. There was a note in our program providing a little background information on George Frederic Handel.

It seems "ole Handel" was somewhat "earthy", in fact, someone described him as "a tub of pork and beer". He was not a particularly religious man to begin with, but it was said that he received a spiritual epiphany and that it took him a mere three weeks to compose the whole piece. He did not leave his room during the entire time. His servants must have been disturbed by the fact that he took very little food or drink during the writing. He told a friend that at the time of writing the Hallelujah chorus, it was as if all of heaven opened up to him and he saw God Himself. I am sure those of us who have sung the piece can testify to that probability.

Basking in the afterglow of the performance, I could not help but ponder about it's author. There were surely other composers that were more spiritual and in essence more deserving of the great honor of penning such a work. Bach for one. What if the religious right of his day had deemed his lifestyle a factor in the acceptance of this heart work and had rejected it from publication or performance. What a loss the world would have suffered!

Being in a mainline, declining denomination, I am can't help but be worried about the church as a whole. We can pull out all the bells and whistles, contemporary music, user-friendly services, but until we see and accept people as they are, we will surely perish. The work I do studying His Word and following His disciplines are for naught, if it only serves to swell my head or chest. What is the purpose of what I do if not to clear my heart and soul to be a channel for Him. Is it my choice or His who receives the love He imparts through me? I think His! Is grace something I earned? No! It freely came to me and it must freely pass through me to a hurting humanity.

I must have His eyes to see the pain and His ears to hear the suffering of those around me. I can only do that if I am open to Him. Please let it be. Please let it be me!

Then There WereTwo

2011-12-21T21:03:00.001-08:00

Two women greet, only years separate them

Both of their wombs divinely seeded

They embrace; one part joy, the other shame

Their tears speak volumes, no words are needed

The cries of the mothers herald the births

Clothed in crimson robes, babes come into sight

One destined to call men from darkness

The other one to bring them His Light

In a river, two men face each other

Hands of one placed on the other’s brow

One gives, one receives this symbol of grace

Spirit anoints as God’s blessing avowed

See the crowds gathered, once to greet them

Praise turned to jeers, their spittle to adorn

The prophet’s head honored on silver platter

A Prince’s coronation by crown of thorns

Two men, linked by purpose and lineage

Fulfilled God’s plans through different roles

Death tried but failed to contain them

One lives in His Word, the Other our souls

Pregnant?

2011-12-18T18:15:00.000-08:00

Amidst the scurry and flurry of the holiday rush, I had to deal with a questionable report on my yearly check-up. After a series of further testing, it culminated in a "procedure", a very inocuous word for something quite painful.

At the end, I found myself in an ultrasound room, waiting for my specialist. While waiting, I happened to glance at the screen to my left and saw the black and white outline of a fetus. Now the test had not begun, so I knew this was not my uterus on the screen, but for a split second, I had rather a shock. Images started flashing before my eyes of what it might be like to receive that news. You are pregnant! Diapers, baby food, and assorted baby things kept popping in and out of my mind.

The doctor entered the room shortly thereafter and I had gathered my wits enough to jokingly inquire about the monitor. He sheepishly told me that most women having ultrasounds in this room were indeed pregnant, so the reason for the picture. I joked with him, but deep inside I was a bit unsettled. Of course, I did not want a baby in this season of my life, but the very fact that I could not, was a little sad.

Since my focus has been on Mary this Christmas season, I could not help but think of her. Of course, she did not have the benefit of ultrasound, but the slow rounding of her abdomen, the cessation of her menses - all the signs were there. I also thought of Elizabeth. Not unlike myself, in the fact that we were both past our childbearing years, but the evidence was there for her as well. The swelling abdomen and tenderness of her breasts, both signs of something once felt dead, now miraculously alive.

Between the two women, there were a myriad of feelings. Shock, joy, shame, peace, pain. Repeated over and over in their lifetimes as they nurtured, loved, and then watched as their sons followed the paths God had sent them to take. More food for thought. I will get back with you.

Alleluia!

God in a Bottle

2011-12-07T04:08:00.000-08:00

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. (Matt 7:8)

As a child I came to think of God, early on, as a sort of genie. He did not live in a bottle but up in the sky. And if I was good enough and said my prayers morning and night, made good grades, and minded my parents - He would grant my wishes.

Now mind you, our family suffered a tragedy when my little brother was severely burned at the age of 6. Odd, but in looking back, I was 9 at the time and I never saw my Genie God at fault. Nor, for that fact, did I see our family as having not asked for the right wishes, nor the subsequent calamity as some type of penance for wrong-doing. As you can see my early theology was not only flawed but inconsistent. :)

As I grew older, my concept of God changed. Thank God - literally! I no longer saw him as this Great Granter of Wishes. I became a little more jaded or wiser, and realized that He was not a genie (I am sure He appreciated that). However, with so much practice, the cloak of people pleasing or, in this case, Deity pleasing was way too comfortable. So I continued to wear it.

As I sit here, 50 something, my viewpoint has changed dramatically. God is not stagnant and neither am I. Ask, seek, find is a process. It is God's never changing desire for my greater good and my gradual metamorphosis into someone who can realize that. God never changes but because of my human myopia, He continues to use life, people, and events to bring me into focus. I, in turn, still have my moments of victories and struggles. Some days I feel I am in the groove, seeking and asking, hungry for His attention and His answers. Other days, not so much.

Sometimes I feel like a mule. Legs apart, daring Him to pull on my reins. I am content to sit and munch oats. Or at other times, I flat out turn around and backtrack. All this to say my asking and seeking has changed for the better. Because I do so with expectancy. I have finally realized that what I am seeking is not always what I think I am seeking. Confused yet? If not let me continue...

For I have just emerged from this Doris Day period "Whatever will be, will be". Picture a kind of head to the brow, reclining me, suffering servant picture. That is the purgatory you live in from time to time when God puts an "under renovation" sign over your theology, to that point. You know that theology. The complete and "never to change" theology. When you have finally figured it all out - HA!

So let's go to the dessert scripture. Which is the whip cream on the top, cherry included....

For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.

Before you get too comfortable, it does not say for everyone who asks receives what they ask for, and they who seek find what they were looking for, and they who knock, the exact door they knocked on will be opened. God is the giver and He is the one to be found and it is His door of choice to open. The closer I grow to Him, the more I know of Him, the greater my love grows for Him. Makes me pretty darn excited to see what He has in store for me next!

I can only imagine the Wise Men entering the home of Mary and Joseph, seeing the object of their journey. Were they amazed, dumbfounded, disappointed? I don't know. But they left their gifts, acknowledging Christ as the One they sought. If they were truly "wise men" they too had figured out the way God works.....

Mary

2011-12-04T12:42:00.000-08:00

I have a hard time wrapping my mind around Mary this Christmas. It happens every year. There is just one thing in the Christmas story that I have heard time and again that just sticks out and demands my attention. Mary has become my focal point.

It is amazing! She is to become the mother of the Christ - what a blessing, what an opportunity. But then the gravity of the situation just starts to creep in and you go a little crazy. There is a relatively new Disney film based on the childrens' story of Rapunzel. It is called Tangled and having a 2 year old granddaughter, I have only seen it about 20 times. Now the weird thing about it is that I have enjoyed watching it 20 something times. It is lovely and the music is good and it has a wonderful lesson. In the film, Rapunzel has found someone to take her to the see the "lights" (I will not spoil the story) and she is torn between leaving the tower/disobeying her mother and doing the one thing she has always dreamed of. It is very humorous, but I can almost see Mary in the same situation. Yipee, I am the mother of the Messiah. Ooooh, what will people think! What a miracle, I am having a baby! Hoooowwww am I going to tell Joseph! It could go on and on.

The other thing, that bugs me about Mary was how do you keep something like this a secret. It is hard for me at my age. A young girl the age of Mary. Was alot of divine intervening going on!

She is really a puzzle this Christmas......

Serenity's End

2011-12-01T19:58:00.001-08:00

OK, so this is the end of that prayer we were talking about......

That I may be reasonably

Happy in this life

And supremely happy

With Him forever in the next.

Amen.............

So how does that work?

Who do you know that has gotten on his hands and knees and asked God for reasonable happiness. The movie is called "It's a Wonderful Life", not "It's an OK Life".

No one buys a lotto ticket to get a few dollars. Noooo, you want the 40 million, please. So what is up with this word reasonably. Within reason. Whose reason? Not my reason. My reason far exceeds my means in all cases and I want to be rip roaringly happy.

I once heard a local celebrity talk before a group once. He said that everything he thought he wanted to achieve, was never enough. There was one more thing, one more item that would bring that total happiness. But that next item still left him wanting.

I think in my own life, as I grow wiser, I grow less excited about more. In fact simplicity is looking more and more attractive. When I was younger and poorer, I used to have one good pair of black slacks or one pair of blue jeans. I always knew where they were. I kept up with them because they were all I had. Now I have a closet full of clothes and I can never find the one piece Iwant. Why? Because, individually, they are not that important. If I lose one, I have another one. If I can find it.

I look at all the things that are really important to me and I realize when I am gone, they will cease to be important. Unless there is monetary value, my kids and grandkids will not even realize how important it was to me. And even if they do, even out of respect for me, it can never mean as much to them as it did to me.

Lusting for the next thing, means the present thing is not what I want. Reasonably happy is sounding better and better each time I hear it.

And being reasonably happy, makes me peaceful. Makes me appreciate the now and not pine for the future. Not see everything in shades of "could have been's" or "what if's". And if I obtain reasonable happiness, won't heaven in contrast, be blow your socks off, top of the mountain, better than best?

Yeah!!!!

Over My Shoulder

2011-11-28T19:14:00.001-08:00

Talking about Joseph this past Sunday in my class....

Several of us thought the same thing. What would it be like to be the father of God's son? After having to get over the shock, anger, and then relief that Mary had not deceived him, the gravity of the situation must have struck Joseph at one point. In my family alone, there are all sorts of relational issues due to divorce and re-marriage. I know this is not a good illustration, but bear with me. A stepfather is stepping into the life of a child that already has a father. Parenting, good or bad, is on display and at the critique of all parties involved - ranging from in-laws, out-laws, wife, ex's - you name it. There is a lot of pressure on all parties.

In the case of Joseph, I don't think I would particularly like God looking over my shoulder, evaluating my parenting skills. Top it off with Holy Mother Mary as wife and the closest thing to perfect for a son. Whew!
Glad it was him and not me. But in the next breath, I had another thought. In the same way it was threatening, it had to be comforting as well. God not only wanted you to do a good job - a vested interest for sure - but He loved you as well. Mary was chosen and given to you as a helpmate. And to have Jesus as your child, your Son. Can you even come close to comprehending the love and respect you would receive from Him?

Then I started thinking about myself. Many times I feel as if God is looking over my shoulder. Judging me for what I have failed to do. Sizing up the opportunities and gifts I feel He has given me and how short I fall. But why? Can't I understand that He is not breathing down my neck, but walking by my side. Protecting me and loving me along the way. To add to that, He has given me a divine Holy Spirit GPS system, that can guide me in the way of knowledge and wisdom. And the cherry on the top? Jesus completes the picture, interceding for me, putting in a good word for me. Letting God know the obstacles I face are real because He faced them as well.

Wow!! How blessed am I? And before I start feeling guilty for either taking this for granted or ignoring it completely, I will just stop here, take a deep breath, and rest in the Holy Power of the Holy Three

Amen and Amen!!

Thanksgiving Day

2011-11-24T07:59:00.001-08:00

I have been to my local grocery store 3 times in the last 12 hours. I never get everything I need in one trip. Especially for Thanksgiving.

This morning, I made my first trip for the day @ 7:00 AM. I added too much milk to the cornbread for my dressing (I don't cook on a regular basis these days) and so I needed to replace it. When I was checking out there were a group of young men standing around the cash register. One slightly older young man was standing behind the one checking and was giving him pointers on how to classify, where to find codes, etc. I assumed he was like a head cashier. All of the young men seemed to be taking it in and were fairly respectful.

It dawned on me that the slightly older, somewhat balding young man was probably in this position as a job choice. He might continue in this field, work up to store manager one day. Or he might be satisfied with where he was and continue working jobs of this type. Limited by intellect, education and opportunity, his options might be somewhat narrow as well. The other young men looked like high school, perhaps college students and you could tell this was not their dream job. A paycheck, a means to an end, an appeasement of family to get off the couch and do "something".

Okay, I know this sounds like physical profiling, but give me a minute. My point is, this early job experience for the young men was valuable. Due to a tragic injury to one of my siblings, I started taking a very large role in our household at the age of nine. At 16 years of age, I worked a 28 hour a week job in addition to high school. Life for me has been hard work and perseverence. I have done well in a self-made woman sort of way. But you see, in doing that I depended on the knowlege of folks along the way - folks that might never move from their position but they gave me what I needed for my journey. Now my journey is no more important than theirs and to be frank - I probably would not be where I am today without them. And I pray to God, there might be others that are where they are in life today because I came across their paths.

Then why do I still find it hard to see that every person I come into contact has a potential to add or influence my life? Why do I look around for those I might influence or bless? God chooses the least, the last, the lost and if I am not careful I will miss them and the lessons God has for me through them.

A forgotten can of mushroom soup, may be the venue He chooses to place you or I in the path of someone or something special He has for us today! One way to rationalize my failing memory! LOL

Serenity IV

2011-11-21T11:46:00.001-08:00

Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will

And the sky will always be blue and birds will forever sing.

Yeah, right....

Exactly! That is the word He used - RIGHT!!

So the question is whose right? His, mine, yours, the majority, the white, the black, words spoken in Spanish, or English words only please. Right is an odd word. As an adverb it means to the farthest and complete extent of degree. As a noun it means morally correct, just, or honorable, the opposite of wrong. As a verb it means to restore to a normal or upright position. As an exclamation it is used to denote agreement. You can also be politically right or conservative.

But it all boils down to MY right! OK, I said it. I want to be healed, and my husband's job to be restored, and my nineteen year old unmarried daughter not to be pregnant so she can finish college and make a good living and have all the things I never had or could not provide for her. And the thing is, if my life is such a mess and I had my eye and thumb on it, how can I possibly surrender it all to Your will, without your express promise you will make it right? Promise?

If we leave it to Him, there is no promise of healing, or a new job, or miraculously that the 19 year old will not be in a delivery room in 8 months or so. But I can tell you it is all bound up in those words SURRENDER & TRUST & WILL. Right becomes a balance, a harmony. Maybe tentative and sometimes dissonant, but it is there and He is the master who writes - pardon me - rights the score, trusting that I will place myself in His will. Surrendering to the Song.......

Serenity - Part 3 "Ohmmmmm"

2011-11-21T09:45:00.001-08:00

I left you hanging, I know.....

That is the thing about these blogs. Life interrupted I call it. Funny, but when there is a long pause I kind of wonder about the author. Like when you haven't heard from a good friend. Are they sick, on a trip, tired of writing, etc. Well, I guess for me it was a little of all, but enough of that....

I was dissecting the Serenity Prayer, the full version. To recap:

God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

So the focus of this post is

Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;

Now your first response to this would be, "No way - He came to save this world!"
But you see, He came to save those in this world. When He was born these many years ago, there was a Roman occupation of the Jewish homeland. When He left, there was still a Roman occupation of the Jewish homeland. He did not abolish sin, or slay the wicked, or bring the literal heaven to earth. He did not take an opinion poll and ask folks the way they ought to see things run or how they wanted to live. No - He came to set us free. Freedom from sin and death, but only if we choose it. But you see, he did not come in a way that was easy for men and women to see. He was not born into a proper family, heck he was born in a stable. He did not live in the best neighborhood, he lived in Nazareth - nothing good comes from Nazareth! He was a carpenter by trade and an intinerant preacher after that. He was ultimately accused of blasphemy and sedition and died a criminal's death on a cross between two thieves. He was not free financially, socially, and in the end even bodily, but He did all that so we would be free.

So where do I get the idea that I know how things work. How folks should act and react. Can I realize that not everyone operates on the same Holy Spirit system? But that does not mean I love them any less. And those that have the same internal, make that eternal navigation system are not always going to operate the same way I do? And the best is yet to come.......

At Mary's Breast

2011-11-19T23:22:00.001-08:00

At Mary's Breast.....

I am using the book/DVD The Journey: Walking the Road to Bethlehem by Adam Hamilton, in my Sunday School class for Advent. Just started, but I am enjoying it and hope my classe will as well.

The first chapter is on Mary, and in preparing, I came across the following sentence....

"When Mary finally gave birth to Jesus and suckled him, the Son of God was fed and sustained by the milk from her breasts."

Now I know that is totally natural and in Mary's day and age the most probable means of feeding a newborn infant, but I had not really thought about it. I had tried to imagine giving birth in a stable, with the only means of support her husband (don't get me started on that) but I had not really focused on the actual suckling of the newborn King.

I remember being a young mother and breast-feeding. I was not overly confident or fond of the mechanics. It was somewhat difficult, but I loved the closeness I felt to my daughter. To sit there, knowing that she was taking from me and that what I was giving was literally life-giving. In reflecting now, I realized there was no way, at that young age, I had any idea how beautiful that experience would come to be. What I am writing, at this moment, comes not only from that experience but also from the knowlege of her life and the woman she has grown be. To see her with her children and to know that all of that began out of my body. I am sure a few years from now, her birth and the time she spent at my breast will grow even more special.

I doubt Mary, as a girl of 13 or 14, would have understood all of that. Of course, saying yes to such a role said alot for her maturity. But I cannot imagine all she faced in that tiny cave of a stable, lent itself to much time pondering the joy of birth or nursing. You never know though. God in His infinite mercy and, hopefully, in gratitude for the willing gift of her body as incubator for His Son, may have given her the wisdom and knowlege far beyond her years. To see and experience the wonder of the moment. I hope so. But if not, I imagine Mary, at a much older age, must have reflected back on those first days as His mother. What would it have felt to look back and see all that had happened because she said, "Let it be with me"!

More On Spiders

2011-11-16T20:03:00.001-08:00

Now this is something I did not know....

Which makes me feel somewhat foolish, for exactly what did I think spiders did when their webs were damaged? The culprits being weather, humans, or the day to day incoming supply of food.

I came out of my door this morning and to my astonishment, the web, I had waxed and waned about so eloquently a few days ago, was repaired - good as new. I don't know what I expected to happen. For the spider to sit idly by, hoping his lunch came flying near the intact part of the web. And throwing a little arachnoid fit when it didn't. Nope, where there is a hole, you repair it. In fact, garden spiders sometimes re-ingest the torn, old parts of the web to use as repair materials. No great theological riddle there. But I can pretty much find "God" in about everything. Not always noteworthy, I will admit, but that is my fault, not His.

I know I have just gone through a period where I was pretty much overwhelmed with the rent in my web. It just felt good to hole away (no pun intended), tucked in, fetal position, and ponder my woes. Sad thing is, a lot of the joy, He intended for me, pretty much whizzed through my web and now, looking back, that makes me sad. However, sometimes you just don't feel like making the repairs. In fact, some folks never make the repairs. Aptly illustrated by the blue plastic tarps, still adorning some of the roofs of some of my Gulf Coast neighbors after Hurricane Ike.

However, I am starting to slowly piddle around in my emotional and physical life and that feels pretty good. But you know what? I was not ready until at this very moment in my life to start rebuilding. And no amount of pushing, prodding, or cheery advice would have gotten me to this point. In fact, I think it probably would have made me a little mad and might have cause more damage than good. I might still be tucked in with my thumb in my mouth. In fact, knowing me, I would have waited even longer, just out of spite. People first have to either get tired of the hole itself or what they are losing by stalling. Then they will "pull themselves up by their boot straps and git to gittin' "as my grandfather used to say. So it was with me.

I am a fixer-upper by personality and this has been a hard lesson to learn. But I am trying. It is so much easier when you finally realize it. My job is to love them and to make sure they know it. If I just can't stand it, I could check to be sure they are safe and their needs are met during the hibernation. Then just wait. For them to grieve, be angry, stomp a foot or two, and eventually come out of their cave. I have to remember as much as I love them, there is One that loves them so much more and I just need to sit tight and listen. And and an added bonus - I have time to mend my own web.

So we have time to repair our own webs!

Perception

2011-11-15T20:35:00.001-08:00

To see or not to see, that is the question.....

Don't mean to mess with Shakespeare, but it is true. What we see and how we perceive it is our choice.

I am reading a book, Mighty Be Our Powers: How Sisterhood, Prayer, and Sex Changed a Nation at War by Leymah Gbowee. Gbowee is the winner of the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize, political peacemaker and women's activist. In the preface to her book, she states that the perception of African women is ragged depressed-looking women with sagging breasts, when in fact they are not.

In the minute I read that statement, I realized sadly that it was true. How stereotypical my view of folks can be by the visuals or even the written words that I take in daily. As a child, I loved reading National Geographic magazine, of places far and away. That visual was imprinted in my mind and is to this day. I cringe to think of the perception the world has of American women, seeing them through the media by-products my country circulates. Celebrity escapades, frivolous wealth, waste, and pollution to mention a few. I am not any of those things, but I am lumped into that boiling view vat of disgusting humanity.

No! I will not allow it! But who am I saying that to. A person who has already discounted me and does not want to acknowledge me much less listen to what I might have to say in my defense?

No! That word is for me. I must not be numbly led into that herd of the non-thinking, non-caring media audience of prejudiced and pre-judged indifference. Thank you, Leymah Gbowee. For your life and work as a peacemaker and for that one reflection that awakened the sleeping apathetic giant in me. I can't wait to read more!

Spider

2011-11-15T03:17:00.000-08:00

I love spiders.

Let me rephrase that, I love spider webs. I love when the light is just so and coming out my door, I suddenly see a web hanging from my eaves. That all this industry has been going on without my knowlege. That on this very day, at this very minute, the time was right, the light was right, my thoughts were right, and God said "Enough! You will notice this thing of beauty created in your very space"
That the minute creature of black and brown, sitting within her lace living room, is the very person who created all of this.

Amazing! A few days ago, I found a new web, but sadly there were so many rents or tears in the web, I was somewhat disappointed. It was not a perfect web, as I would have hoped for, but one that was not very pretty.

As my day progressed, my thougths returned to that web again and again. I remembered the bits of remants of insects scattered throughout the web and realized that this was not just web of beauty, but a successful web. The spider was rather large and easy to find, because she was well fed. This little web designer had picked a great spot, laid a great web, and the rents and tears were signs of her success. This web was not solely created for my pleasure but as a tool for the survival of its creator.

As I grow older, I feel much like that web. My body has its share of wounds and tears, and I realize, sitting here writing my experiences, that that is a sign of a successful life. Not measured by the world's success, for sure, but by fact that my Creator has blessed me with food for the journey. And I have received and devoured and each and every scar is a memory of a well fought fight. Whether it be a deepening of my faith or a tool received to fight the next, I have a successful web.

More About Serenity

2011-08-17T21:38:00.001-07:00

A follow-up to the Serenity Prayer. I like bite-size bits that I can chew on. This line in the complete Serenity Prayer, caught my eye.....

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace

Accept

No whining or belly-aching. Take your medicine like a man, stiff upper lip and all that stuff. Accept - period.

Hardships

What else do you do with them? I guess you can just say no. Maybe like Job you can sit down, tear your clothes, pour ashes over your head, and scrape your scabs with a potshard. I have done that figuratively on several occasions. But then I got up, washed my face, changed my clothes, dabbed my sores with some antibiotic ointment and faced and/or dealt with them head on. The alternative is to lay down and let them roll you over.

As the pathway to Peace

Had to think about that one. For those visual folks, I pictured a guy toting a small designer backpack, tripping down Peace's path, sidestepping the ugly, painful, and tragic. Finally he arrives at Peace's front door, ready to enter the blessed rest.

But that is not how my life has worked - don't know about yours. If Mr. Niebuhr lived in this day, what other words might he use. Wilderness trail, forging forward. Maybe a tunnel. Hacking your way through the stone of indifference and heartache reaching finally to the spot where you see that small glimmer of gold. Knowing it is gold only by the difference of it and the surroundings.

A spotlight in the dark of night or maybe a cool drink to a thirsting man. Is it not so much a pathway as a before and after picture. I will never fully appreciate that cool drink like that parched man, because I have never in my life been that thirsty. How can I fully appreciate that gold if I have not spent years and years, panning and tunneling through the rock and shale. The ink of total darkness allows us the thrill at seeing that shaft of white light.

Peace cannot exist without hardship. Peace is the absence of......

Serenity

2011-08-16T05:04:00.000-07:00

God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

Caught you, didn't I? How many of you started to read this and pulled out the hand to catch the yawn that would come from hearing this old but true prayer yet one more time? But, you were surprised when it continued, weren't you perhaps even amazed at the words that followed.

This prayer was written by Reinhold Niebuhr, theologian and political activist, in 1937. It was a preface to a sermon he preached and eventually was picked up by a few newsletters, some even to servicemen in World War II. Of course, most of us know the first few lines. They became the byword or by-prayer for the group Alcoholics Anonymous.

I have a friend that is going through professional and financial upheaval during a downsizing of his industry. To top it off, his 17 year old daughter is having serious health issues. In my prayers for the family, the serenity prayer came to mind and I searched the internet to double-check the words I remembered. I was jaw-dropped amazed to read this original and complete version. I decided to bring it before the class I teach on Sunday's and some interesting comments and discussion followed.

I don't want to make this too long, so I will feed it to you in little bites - one or more over the next few days. Open wide!

Lost Prayers

2011-08-06T14:50:00.001-07:00

Lost: Prayer -

If found, please return to me.....

This has been my motto for the past few years. The first thing you do when you lose something is to re-trace your steps. So that is what I did. I re-visited my favorite places to pray. Then I dug up old prayer formulas I had used:

A Adoration
C Confession
T Thanksgiving
S Supplication

Still not finding the key, I re-read books that had been like small doors that opened to my original search for this furtive concept of prayer. Nouwen, Yancey, Swindoll, C.S. Lewis, Tozer, Brother Lawrence, Bounds, Murray, St. Augustine, St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila. I was no respector of century or gender - I pursued the Desert Father and Desert Mothers. I sought the prayer disciplines in other faiths - Jewish, Hindu, Moslem, Buddhist. Throughout, I read and read the words of scripture concerning prayer, diving deeply into the Greek and Hebrew.

But I am sad to report, I came out empty. I don't even think empty is the proper word for it. I came out unfulfilled.

I was not so much put off by prayer itself, but of my part in it. I am in a point in my life where I am fully OK with what God has planned for me. I trust Him implicitly. I find that sharing my concern, care, and presence with loved ones in times of trial and tribulation are the best things I can offer. God will lead me into offering more if and when needed.

But somewhere deep inside me I know there is more. I know there is more for me to experience and I have, at times in my life, passed into that realm. But this too seems half empty - as if there is a "thing" I must join God in doing. Part of my mind says He is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent so of what use am I. But my heart tells me that God chose to come to this earth and through His actual death and resurrection, vanquishing sin and death, came to dwell within me in my human form. I think as Christians we have become so self-centered. What we feel in worship, what music speaks to me, what sermon benefits me - those are our main concerns. God does not dwell within my heart to give me warm fuzzies. There is some purpose in our symbiotic relationship and as exemplified in the example of the selfless life of Jesus Christ, it should be not be at all about me. If Satan is truly the Prince of this Earth, might I not be the living, breathing, praying, human vessel of God's spirit at work. Is my prayer, joined with my His Holy Spirit, a blazing sword against the injustice, illness, and evils of this world. As I pray for others am I clothing them in the armour my my intercession and standing before them with a shield against the Fiendish Foe of this earth. A foe that seeks out weakness and distress so easily, that only my diligence and His protection can save those from the Evil One.

The more I think and, you could say intercede, I realize that prayer is not a "nice" or "proper" thing to do. It is not about "me" but "God in me" and that is exactly what I have been searching for.

The more I seek what I lost, the more I realize it can never be found. Because it does not exist any longer. It is as if I was looking for something that was so important to me when I was a child and finding it, I realize it longer has the draw or function it once had.

It will always be precious, but there is so much more to see and do.

Prayer

2011-08-06T14:10:00.001-07:00

Lost: Prayer -

If found, please return to me.....

This has been my motto for the past few years.
The first thing you do when you lose something is to re-trace your steps.
So that is what I did. I re-visited my favorite places to pray.
Then I dug up old prayer formulas I had used:

A Adoration
C Confession
T Thanksgiving
S Supplication

Still not finding the key, I re-read books that had been like small doors that opened to my original search for this furtive concept of prayer. Nouwen, Yancey, Swindoll, C.S. Lewis, Tozer, Brother Lawrence, Bounds, Murray, St. Augustine, St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila. I was no respector of century or gender - I pursued the Desert Father and Desert Mothers. I sought the prayer disciplines in other faiths - Jewish, Hindu, Moslem, Buddhist. Throughout, I read and read the words of scripture concerning prayer, diving deeply into the Greek and Hebrew.

But I am sad to report, I came out empty. I don't even think empty is the proper word for it. I came out unfulfilled.

I was not so much put off by prayer itself, but of my part in it. I am in a point in my life where I am fully OK with what God has planned for me. I trust Him implicitly. I find that sharing my concern, care, and presence with loved ones in times of trial and tribulation are the best things I can offer. God will lead me into offering more if and when needed.

But somewhere deep inside me I know there is more. I know there is more for me to experience and I have, at times in my life, passed into that realm. But this too seems half empty - as if there is a "thing" I must join God in doing. Part of my mind says He is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent so of what use am I. But my heart tells me that God chose to come to this earth and through His actual death and resurrection, vanquishing sin and death, came to dwell within me in my human form. I think as Christians we have become so self-centered. What we feel in worship, what music speaks to me, what sermon benefits me - those are our main concerns. God does not dwell within my heart to give me warm fuzzies. There is some purpose in our symbiotic relationship and as exemplified in the example of the selfless life of Jesus Christ, it should be not be at all about me. If Satan is truly the Prince of this Earth, might I not be the living, breathing, praying, human vessel of God's spirit at work. Is my prayer, joined with my His Holy Spirit, a blazing sword against the injustice, illness, and evils of this world. As I pray for others am I clothing them in the armour my my intercession and standing before them with a shield against the Fiendish Foe of this earth. A foe that seeks out weakness and distress so easily, that only my diligence and His protection can save those from the Evil One.

The more I think and, you could say intercede, I realize that prayer is not a "nice" or "proper" thing to do. It is not about "me" but "God in me" and that is exactly what I have been searching for.

The more I seek what I lost, the more I realize it can never be found. Because it does not exist any longer. It is as if I was looking for something that was so important to me when I was a child and finding it, I realize it longer has the draw or function it once had.

It will always be precious, but there is so much more to see and do.

Standing on the Promises

2011-07-29T04:22:00.000-07:00

In the Bible, is there any more "human" human than Jacob. In fact many of us would think we come out smelling like a rose in comparison. Grabber, thief, trickster are just a few of his names. Yet in the 32nd chapter of Genesis, starting at verse 9, there is a prayer that is the essence of what our soul should and would if it could cry out for....

"O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, the Lord Who said to me, Return to your country and to your people and I will do you good, I am not worthy of the least of all the mercy and loving-kindness and all the faithfulness which You have shown to Your servant, for with [only] my staff I passed over this Jordan [long ago], and now I have become two companies. Deliver me, I pray You, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau; for I fear him, lest he come and smite [us all], the mothers with the children. And You said, I will surely do you good and make your descendants as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude"

First, Jacob starts out naming God by His name. Second, he reminds God of His promise. In other words, "I am just doing what You told me to do". Then Jacob's soul literally gets on its knees and lays out the unabashed truth. Just how undeserving he really is. Next he goes into gratitude for all he has been blessed with. He starts with remembering his meager beginnings and speaks of an awareness of how much he has now in comparison, thanks be to God. Then he states his request,what he needs from God. Lays it all out on the line. After this Jacob prostrates himself on the proverbial ground and says "I am afraid" He names the fear - his brother Esau - and I can imagine the anxiety is heightened because he more or less deserves what he is about to receive.

Then he he throws in the mothers and children, which many readers see as a bargaining tool or manipulation. Good old Jacob - back to his old tricks! Perhaps, but maybe it was one of the first times Jacob saw beyond himself.

And then the grand finale. God, you take away my children, and where does that leave your Promise. The nation to be fashioned through and by You. You ordained it would go from Abraham, through my dad Isaac and then through me, flawed and undeserving as I am. What happens to that if I die this day? What happens if my kids go with me?

That to me is amazing. I think we jump right over this prayer in our rush to get to the wrestling match Jacob had with the Angel (Lord), and we disregard this passage. His words, to me, prove that Jacob had already wrestled with himself and "cried Uncle". He was no match for Esau physically. Esau was coming with an army of 400 men. Jacob definitely could not stand on his stellar character. But in this prayer, he becomes the man God wants - no needs, him to be.

For folks that have made a mess of their lives, it is difficult to come up against a wall of your bad decisions, missed opportunities, and just plain screw-ups. For those folks who have tried their best, more or less, they come against their walls, as well. Talk about disheartening. But the key in both cases is to name the wall and admit your inability to scale it.

How very hard is that to do, especially for the good guys. Decisions with the best of intentions, circumstances totally out of your control, life sucking events - all make up the mortar and stone of that wall. It is so easy to sit at the base of the wall and just give up and have a pity party of one. But there is a way over that wall and it is a really fairly simple. Name it (the wall) and claim it (your weakness) and rely on Him.

In this case, Jacob slept. No better advice can be given to any of us. Wait on the Lord and He will provide not only the wisdom but the means to deal with the situation. In this case, Jacob drew from the resources God had provided him. He took his blessings and offered them to Essau. Only in praying did Jacob put himself in a place where he could not only see his illness but the remedy thereof.

In my life right now, I am being faced with what seems insurmountable obstacles. Most, not of my doing. A few born of my apathy and/or neglect. And then of course a few bad decisions scattered in for good measure.

I have only one thing to say. Thanks be to God, His help is not based on my worthiness.

Tag You're It

2011-05-21T19:27:00.001-07:00

1 Peter 2:5, 9-10
9-10But you are the ones chosen by God, chosen for the high calling of priestly work, chosen to be a holy people, God's instruments to do his work and speak out for him, to tell others of the night-and-day difference he made for you—from nothing to something, from rejected to accepted.

Choseness has been a prevalent thread through my reading lately. It is a hard word for the me to assimilate. I don’t know if it stems from my feelings of “unworthiness” or that most of my life is based on my “choices”. My spouse, my vocation, my education. Even my family size – all more or less choices made on my part. Even my church “work” involves things I choose to do. I sing in the choir and teach a class. My choices, hopefully, based on my talents or gifts, as I see God has equipped me.

But God has “chosen” me. No matter how much I think it – I did not choose God, He chose me. What stands between me and that realization? For one, getting my mind around it. That definitely comes from my basic feelings of unworthiness. A lifelong need to be accepted and always feeling I fall short. I have recently been jarred into coming to grips with exploring the expanse and depth of God’s love for me. Scary and intimidating endeavor for someone whose specialty is humble pie, of the more or less artificial variety.

I think the other problem I have with this choosing thing is that I did not apply for it. Now I don’t mean that I don’t love God and have not accepted Christ’s gift of His life, but there again, I still more or less feel I am in the drivers’s seat. In this scripture, my choseness and special-ness are out of my hands. He has chosen me and given me my title. I am a holy priest and part of a holy nation. A lay minister among many others. Now the stretch might not be so far for me, as I have had a teaching role in the church most of my life. But everyone is in this role, no matter what you do or don’t do in the Body. The name plate is there, your choice is to be in the office or out to lunch, indefinitely.

I am His instrument to do 2 things – work for him and speak out for him. Now, it is clear he needs you and me to do this. He has no voice but ours. He has no body but mine. But what to do and what to tell. He has that covered as well.
Our work and our voices should be a living example, a story of the day and night difference He made in and for for me. He surely did that. From heaven to earth via a manger in a stable. From earth to heaven via a cross. He went from something to nothing, from accepted to rejected.

All this so I could do the opposite. This nothing could be something. Something only because He sought me and bought me, as the old hymn says. His night and day, death and resurrection was for me. So this rejected mound of clay could be molded in the purity and righteousness of His life and death, placing me squarely in the hands of the Potter. To be molded and made into His likeness, giving me His voice and His life. So that I might share it with others.

Rock On!

2011-04-25T10:57:00.000-07:00

This Easter season, something jumped out at me. Rocks. You may say it is a reach, but I noticed the word throughout the traditional scriptures of the Easter story. The rocks that would rejoice if his disciples did not, along that palm-strewn entrance to Jerusalem. The rocks that split in pieces when Jesus breathed his last. I could go on, but I want to visit about those first.

Rocks singing hallelujah! Can you imagine. Once I had a close friend that was seriously ill, close to the end of his life. He suffered Alzheimers and I had said my good-byes some time back. However, I had a trip planned out of town to the beautiful hill country of Texas and I hated to leave him and his family at such a difficult time. They urged me to go and I did. My prayer along the way was for God to "nudge" me regularly to pray for my friend and those he loved. I just knew I would get caught up in the beauty of the landscape and forget these folks. But it was just the opposite. Everytime I saw a sunset, viewed a valley, a craggy rock formation, or sat amidst a field of wildflowers, they just screamed at me. I am not exaggerating. They literally praised God and I could not help but join in, lifting the name of my friend and family to Him in the chorus. It was an incredible experience. So I can imagine singing rocks!

The rocks in pieces, I can see that too. If rocks could sing, why wouldn't they be able to grieve. To mourn and wail in the sounds of an earthquake, fracturing and flinging their stony arms abroad, bemoaning the pain of His death. An earth that so celebrated His coming, now so distressed by our ignorance and neglect of its Prince of Peace. Yes, I can see rocks grieving.

Rocks - who'd have thought it. Maybe pet rocks were not such a stupid idea after all.

Sounds of Scarlet

2011-03-07T18:16:00.000-08:00

Someone attempting to describe the color scarlet to a person born blind declared, “It‟s like the sound of a trumpet"

I came across this comment by Phillip Yancey in the preface of a book he wrote with Paul Brand, "Fearfully & Wonderfully Made". It hit me like nothing has in a long, long time. How do you describe anything visual to a person blind from birth. But with a sound, or a touch, or a taste. I see scarlet not as a vibrant, piercing sound of the trumpet, but more like the slow deep voice of a cello as the bow is drawn across the strings. What would I pick for touch? I am thinking a deep aching pain. And for taste, I can only think of a tart bing cherry.

As I pondered this question, I found I was stumped. In fact, I was frustrated that someone would describe scarlet as a trumpet sound. As I have explained, I think otherwise. Then it dawned on me, isn't that what we do with religion. We see the writings of those who long ago experienced and loved God in the best way they could at the time. They were limited by their culture, knowlege, and history. But when I read their words, I see them trying to tell me who He was. It was not wrong or right, it was their experience. In my time, I am doing the same thing. I am trying to figure Him out and trying to speak Him in my words, my life, my faith. It too is limited by this age I live in and this place I find myself.

So where do I or any other Christian come off telling anyone they are wrong!! It's ludicrous. I am blind and can't see it. I am deaf, and don't know it. I can only and should only tell someone else what I feel and what I know. That really is something, isn't it!

Two Wolves

2011-02-21T11:01:00.001-08:00

A Cherokee Legend

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.

"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego." He continued, "The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

Probably heard this at some time, but never thought about it. If you were raised as a kid in the 50's and attended church, you had a pretty good idea of what was right and what was not. But that is not exactly true. You had a pretty good idea of what moral society said was right and what was not. I loved it.

You got on the bus on Monday morning and every kid there had been to church the day before. You never did anything on Sunday because nothing was open that day. You did get to play outside but that was usually because your mother wanted a nap.

But you see I was a kid, and pretty much didn't bother with anything out of my scope of self. I did not know that Mrs. Jones was a secret alcoholic. Or Mr. Lester the scoutmaster was a little too friendly with the boys. Or Widow Barnes had a few too many late night callers. Out of sight more or less made it only slightly out of right. It's a new day. Our sins are much the same, just more out in the open. And society has deemed them less embarrassing.

So why did reading this simple story seem like a slap in the face? I literally had not even thought about having these two wolves, but I do. Most of my life I did most the right things and refrained from doing most of the bad things, so was this battle one I guess I felt I had won? The greater light bulb going off in my mind is that it is I can literally not win. No matter how good I try to be. As long as I am human and live on this planet Earth, the war wages.

True, prayerful confession is not merely tatteling on the bad wolf as much as it is encouraging the good one. How critical is it that I feed the good one with what I take in - whether it be visual, auditory, emotional, or sensual. The bad one is there and it too will demand to be fed, because as much as I wish he did not live in me, he does. On good days, he just gets table scraps, but there are occasions when he gets the choicest cuts of meat.

And I haven't had a pet in almost 30 years! Well, I guess I need to get some books on wolf behavior. Woops, there I go again!

Be

2011-02-18T09:57:00.000-08:00

Our church is doing an on-line book study/discussion. Has been very interesting. Doing the book, Everything Belongs by Richard Rohr. In the book, he mentions a scripture he uses in contemplative prayer. I used the scripture this week and had the most interesting time with the phrase. His migration is as follows:

Be still and know that I am God
Be still and know that I am
Be still and know
Be still
Be

It was funny, but after a day or so of this, I could not leave "Be" alone. I had to add....

Be Me

Now, being more like God is not a bad objective, but it again points to my inability to leave something well enough alone. I must be "doing" something. I have a hard time just being.

This morning as I prayed the scripture, after I finished (with my new ending) it was as if God added his own couplet...

Let Me be
Be

I know a father longs for a child to grow up in His image, to follow in His footsteps. I have for most of my life tried to either please, worship, follow, fear, imitate, contain, blame, love, or "something" Him . Thank God (literally) I have survived through the process I have concocted.

In the recent years, I have fervently worked to remove the boundaries and limits I had set around Him through childhood concreteness, teenage adulation, adult pre-determination, and mid-life consternation. I have opened the divine gates and allowed Him to roam freely in my life, my intellect, and my soul.

But, lately, He has really started meddling. Not merely satisfied with my new and improved outlook of Him,He wants me to address the limits I have placed on myself as well. All those things that I had pretty well tamed or felt at least corralled, insecurities, feelings of inferiority, pride, need to please, guilt, bitterness, hate, pity, etc., are in a good place. Now I feel Him asking me to open those gates and disburse those fairly civilized demons. As overwhelming as it was to start the journey to the real "Him", this seems near to impossible. Where do I start. I find I have an entire set of armor to work my way through and then I only reach the layers of outerwear. And He has pretty much set down the law. No deals. He will settle for no less than vulnerability. I cannot exchange my gas mask for a lighter allergy one. He wants me naked. This is probably the scariest thing I have ever faced.

But as I think of this, maybe there will be one more line to my scriptural progression.

We will Be

Salty Enough For You

2011-02-07T10:39:00.000-08:00

Our minister quoted some disturbing statistics on Sunday. He said the percentage of folks today believing in God, stating they are Christians, believing Jesus is the Son of God, etc. were in the high 80's. Higher than in some of the more "God-fearing" decades like the 50's, etc. Now that gave me pause for thought. He suggested maybe we are having more influence on the world than we know. My immediate thought was "I doubt that". But as I thought about it, I said "Hmmmmm...."

I think "we" have changed. I don't look like the Christian I was 25 years ago. I used to be straight and narrow, drawing the line between me and you. I am not the same person. I hope now a line exists, it is drawing us together, not separating us. But I still claim the same name as I did back then - Christian.

Second, has the idea of God changed? Does He no longer scare us with a whiff of sufphur. Is He more accepting and open? And if so what does that mean anyway?

Maybe it is our idea of salt. Does our saltiness not play out in a dividing line we call the church, with good guys on one side and bad guys on the other. I hate to tell you, but I don't think Christians play a big role in society as a whole. It will swing like a pendulum between the two extremes - let it all hang out or keep in all tucked in. It always has, it always will. Jesus was salty but His life and His ministry did not have a great impact on the Roman government at the time. He was a nuisance, they had to deal with in the end, but their empire was not affected by Him. Before you get a bee in your bonnet, I said Him. His physical 3 year ministry. But His life is another story. Leaven, salt, light. These are things that cannot be hidden, toned down, or hid. And the ripple of His life is affecting us today.

Salt is not something we can hoard or sprinkle on whom we please. It is what we are and if we truly do our condiment best, our immediate world cannot remain tasteless.

Running on Empty

2011-01-30T17:20:00.000-08:00

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule. Matthew 5:3

End of your rope.

Only two things you can do at this point. Climb up or let go. If you find yourself at the end, it is probably because you have slipped down. So your ability and/or energy to change your situation is more than likely depleted. If you let go and drop, no telling where you'll land. The best scenario is that someone pulls you up. And you hope that Someone is God.

I wasted alot of time trying to make life clean enough for God. I didn't want Him to live there, just drop by for a visit. Maybe an extended stay if times got tough. I did not need him on a regular basis. Just when I got close to the end of that rope.

More of God, less of me. Funny, but that has been my by-word, my prayer for a long time. In reading this scripture,though, I realize I have been going at this bassackwards. Beating myself up, being critical and self deprecating. These are not the ways to reduce the me in me.

What if I infuse more of Him in me. If there is more of Him, there is automatically less room for me. I have been acting on the opposite premise for most of my life. I have been lessening me, when I need to grow Him. Hmmmm.....interesting.....

The problem is, I have to get out of this crisis mode. It has to be an everyday relationship. I need Him to move in - become my roommate. I am tired of this crisis kind of love relationship we have been living in. Time for a change

Humility. That is the other word I have been grappling with. A state of humility. Not groveling and crawling but just a frank and honest estimation of how we stand. He is God - I am not. Can't get any clearer than that. And if that is the case...what am I doing hanging around on a rope in the first place!

Resolution or Resignation

2010-12-31T10:59:00.000-08:00

I used to live for New Years.

Being a Type A personality, I would make a detailed list of all the things I would accomplish in the next year. I went through a phase,in which I focused on life areas. Physical, intellectual, recreational, spiritual, etc. I would set goals and daily/weekly/ and monthly chart my growth. Looking back, I am sure I developed some good habits, but in essence that was what they were. Habits. Ways in which I had trained myself to do what I had chosen to accomplish. When achieved or tackled, I would give myself a mental high five and look toward the next obstacle to defeat.

As the years passed, I began to realize there was only one person pleased with me. Me. Sure there were things I pledged to do that have added to my life enormously. Taking out time for family, studying the Bible, teaching, honing my vocational skills. But the success or reward was hollow for some reason.

As time went on, I mellowed and life's lessons taught me far much more than I cared to learn. The all important New Year's Resolutions were forgotten and I started trusting God for more and me for less. It was not a thunderbolt type of thing. Just that the more I pursued Him, studied His word - the less of me I found within. In the last years, I have found that less of me is not enough. I want more of Him.

A few months back, God and I had a talk and I told Him I would like to follow in the footsteps of my spiritual forefather, Solomon. Let me rephrase that. Not his footsteps, but in his request. I asked God for wisdom. I wanted to grow older AND wiser. In the beginning I could see myself years from now, rocking on the front porch,friends and family stopping by, just to talk to me. To ask me for a pearl of wisdom or a tidbit of knowlege. I was not so much worried about one day being lonely, but irrelevant. That scared me.

So I prayed and I waited. When things did not seem to change, I mentally drew on some ideas I had about wise people and figured emulation might be the road to success. Of course it quickly became just another thing on my To Do List and I quickly realized wisdom was not something I was going to hone. So I more or less left the request in my petitions, but did not actively pursue it.

That was the key - I did not do anything but ask. That was when it happened. Gradually, I could see things from a different perspective. I had never thought I had tunnel vision, but my scope was definitely becoming alot broader. It was not me or you, this or that. I could see the whole and how my part fit into it.

I dealt with folks in a different way. I found mentally, I was isolated. There were folks above me and below me. Not in regards to economics, race, sex, or education. Just that there were some folks that intimidated me and I subconsciously cowered and tried to please them or be like them. The folks "below" me were folks that were outside of my radar. My thinking just did not include them. They could be invisible for the care, concern, and/or compassion I gave them. I took them for granted.

Now with my burgeoning wisdom, I saw folks as they were. Up there folk were not all THAT. They were human just like me and I even began seeing the cracks in their facade. They did not drop "below" me, they just joined me on my playing field. What about the below folks, you may ask. I just began to notice them. That was the first step. This is an ongoing processe. I can see care working its way in there and I pray, literally, that care will ultimately lead to acts of compassion. Wow!

The important things in my life went through a fruit basket turn over. The things I thought the sun rose and set on, did not command that same place. I worried at first that I had a no care attitude, but it was not that. I just was not going to turn into stone if something did or did not happen. Another biggie for me.

Finally, I am way more peaceful. That is what is scaring me a little now. I began to trace the road of my life and found that the numerous trials and tribulations I have experienced have made me and the journey far better. So what I am going through now is not as scary or oppressive. I am too busy looking for the good stuff. I have to admit this is going to take alot of getting used to.

The New Year? I think on this day, the last day of 2010, it is a toss up between a a grateful heart or a gracious attitude. Since the root word of both is "grace" I am thinking I might get two for one. What do you think?

Little Child, My Child

2010-12-25T19:44:00.000-08:00

Little Child

Little child, my child, what do you see?
I see a star shining high above me
The face of a woman, tired yet elated
Our destiny’s joined, already fated
Head bowed, the man burden weary
Eyes fixed on mine, gentle and teary

Little child, my child, what do you hear?
Rhythm of animals as they draw near
The woman cooing, humming a song
Even the breeze begs to sing along
A chorus of doves, the lullaby complete
Good news! Heaven and earth finally meet

Little child, my child, what do you know?
Father, I know how you love Me so
Carefully placed in a world so unsure
Your Light enters by this baby so pure
A gift of grace, wrapped in my being
Some will not believe, even seeing

Little child, my child, who do you love
All of your children, My Father above
These earthly parents, of course on the list
But my love is so much greater than this
For people I’ll reach and heal as I go
Love to spare for those not yet born to know

Little child, my child, I do love them so
I sent You because I want them to know

Merry Christmas
Jo

Remember Me

2010-11-19T22:14:00.000-08:00

I cannot place myself in the shoes of the three men on the cross at Golgotha. Besides the fact that they were not wearing any, I have no way to identify with them. Christ, my desire, my want, my unobtainable goal, is unattainable. But I can't even see myself in the places of the other two. I have never committed a crime of any magnitude. I have never feared for my life, justly or unjustly.

In studying the passage, though, one thing jumped out at me. Three men having a conversation, each hanging from a cross. Wow! This was not a chat over a cup of coffee or on a street corner. These men were in pain, beaten, near death's door. Would I have even been speaking?

The good thief and the bad thief. What a hoot! A thief is a thief, but I understand where folks are coming from. It is a way to differentiate between the two. I really think the "bad" thief gets a bum rap. I don't think he was just joining in with the crowd, jeering at Jesus. It is kind of like a cell mate of someone about to make a jail break in an old Western movie. He was gung ho for Jesus to make an exit and he wanted to be on board the train when he did.

The good thief just got It. He saw in Jesus something other than himself or his world. Jesus was living in a different dimension. Something that operated not of this world. And it was. It was the heavenly kingdom. He wanted it and Jesus knew it. He spoke to that thief because He was ready to hear the words. To enter the Zone.

Remember me. The words have haunted me. I realized for the first time that this was a prayer from the cross. Remember me. So simple, but yet so powerful. The thief wanted Jesus to see beyond what he had done wrong. To see him for who he was meant to be.

I think in my life, I want Him to see me for just what I am. Not all the vain attempts to be holy, or right, or righteous, or godly. Not for all the man-made initiatives that fell short of what He created me to be. He tells me he sees me and I will be with Him. In relationship.

Because that was what Jesus was about. At the wedding, in the boat, on the mount, at the tomb, at the temple, and last but not least, on the cross. Between two friends.

For All the Saints

2010-11-02T19:24:00.000-07:00

For All the Saints

Same weekday, same church, same sea of faces
Same group of ladies in their favorite pew
But something is wrong, someone is missing
Not another loss from their beloved crew!

How do I bear another saint’s death?
Gone before my need of them fades
I gave no thought to a future without them,
Their presence expected through the decades

The film of my memory begins to roll
Scratched and faded, black and white
Those I once loved, yet are no longer here
Images welcomed as my thoughts invite

Little girl tugging at a woman’s apron,
A taste of pudding, attention seeking?
More than meals made in that church kitchen,
Like Naomi to Ruth, wisdom was speaking

Placing tiny seeds in the cup’s moist cotton
Signs of New Birth, the teacher extols
Unaware of her second crop growing,
The sowing of her faith in my young soul

The scent of wood as the campfire crackles
Counselors and teens, praise songs inspire
Our tear stained faces reflecting the flames
My passion for God fueled by Spirit’s fire

Older woman seated by the young mother
Holding her new baby, loving her soul
A simple cradle cross held in the mom’s palm
Sweet words of compassion made the gift whole

Did I perceive these models of Christ?
Promises at my baptism fulfilled.
Recognize the legacy as it passed,
The faith of saints, future’s hope instilled

Memories of my parent’s regrets
Of those that passed, names I barely knew
Now it is my turn to feel their sorrow
To finally understand how that love grew

The saints did not lose their lives in an instant
They spent lifetimes investing them in us
Passing not merely from life unto death
They passed on their faith and with it their trust

Please accept these, our humble gifts of thanks
Your lives remembered, your absence mourned
For not only in your living, but in dying
Is the hope and future of our Church re-born

Jo

What Was and Is to Be?

2010-11-02T03:25:00.000-07:00

Most of my life I have lived and worked within 5 minutes of my church home. I was always there. Literally. I ate there, prayed there. I ministered there. For most of my life I was either tithing or sacrificially giving to the church

Life has changed in a big way. For the last 5 years, I spend 11 hours a day traveling to, from, or at work. I have little or no time left. My once immaculate house is a cluttered mess. I long to join in ministry but I am too tired or not here. I do not have the energy to work 8 hours non-stop and make calls to patients to and from and then go to church for a function. Add to the mix, I have family now living with me due to job loss.

So what is my response. Many Sundays I come in the back door, and skirt up the stairs. I teach, some times I sing in the choir, but most of the time, I travel out the doors as quickly as possible. Why? Because the people I see I cannot serve as I did. Hurting people, I cannot love and hold as long as I did. The needs of the church cry out to me and I financially do not have the resources to help as I did.

So I retreat from the place and the faces of those I love. At work, I keep the perfect desk and am the perfect employee. I work hard and smart. I am appreciated and stroked.

But I have come to a realization. An epiphany, of sorts. That I cannot live in the past, cannot grieve for what was and may never be. My church is a sending forth. It is as if She is my parent. She has groomed and loved me and now I am sent into the world, beloved and encouraged to be Her in a world that so needs Him. The homeless are living with me. The hurting and grieving are not only in the patient room I enter but the cubicle next door. The sick and disabled sleeps beside me every evening. The children lie on a twin bed in my room.

Oh God catch me before I slide into a new dimension of grieving and remorse over my blindness and let me truly see what you have primed me for.

How many folks in the church are like me. How many of the missing and the lost are not there because they cannot give as they did - presence, gifts, time, or service. What if the Church became His Source. Equipping folks to live in the world instead of berating them because they are not within the physical walls. Walls that remind them of what they should but cannot be.

Wow! And wouldn't That Place be the Place I would want to be as much as I could to receive what only He can give. Wouldn't He draw others to me and therefore to Him. To find the hive where I return to week after week to receive His spiritual nourishment, His heavenly manna.

Father, your church today is not a community of faith within brick walls, no matter how beautiful. But a terminal of sorts, where folks are given rest and restoration and fuel for their sending forth in mission to a world so needing and wanting of Your affirmation, peace, and hope. Help me not to shy away from those around me, afraid I have nothing to give, but excited in that very fact. Then and only then can I be a conduit of You and You alone.

Amen

Wee Little Man

2010-10-31T19:31:00.000-07:00

Zaccheus was a wee little man
A wee little man was he
He climbed into a sycamore tree
For the Lord he wanted to see
The Lord was walking by that day
He looked up into the tree
"Zaccheus, you come down!
I am going to your house today

This is an excerpt from an early Bible. You think not! You are wrong, then. Children's Sunday school songs are the first scripture small children hear. It influences them all their lives, more than you know. Picture the phrase "Zaccheus, you come down!" with a 4 year old shaking their finger and you definitely get the idea that Zaccheus was a naughty boy. And I guess he was.

However, as I studied the scripture for this week, I saw many things about Zaccheus that I had never seen before. Jesus was passing through Jericho and he was gathering a crowd. Pretty big hurrah, folks were gathering along the street, thick enough that Zaccheus could not see. Zaccheus was desperate to see Jesus, so much so, that the rich tax collector, lowered himself enough to climb into a tree. Just to see Him.

Details are like clues in the scripture. They are not there for nothing! Small in stature was not mentioned casually. It was not reveale simply to set the stage for a bit of climbing. Short people are either very comfortable with their size or extremely not. When they are not, they compensate. Whether it is shoe lifts or being the class clown, they do something.

Zaccheus, tired of being looked down upon (literally) put himself in a place where he could look down on the folks who had disrespected him. Top honcho - kind of like a mob godfather. But in this story, he was not beyond risking embarrassment to get a look at Jesus.

What I love is the fact that Jesus looked into the tree and did not miss a beat. "There you are Zaccheus, been looking for you! What's for dinner?" Wasn't that incredible! Has that ever happened to you. You are in an embarrassing situation and someone steps in and helps you save face. To the crowd, it looked like Jesus came to Jericho just to dine with him. Wow!

Zaccheus was taken aback, but delighted. In that encounter, something happened. Zaccheus was extended scandalous grace. Scandalous in that he did not deserve it. Scandalous in the fact that Jesus was immediately condemned for doing it.

Jesus stated to one and all that Zaccheus was a son of Abraham. No matter what he had done, or how tall he was, or what he would continue doing - he was still and always would be a son of Abraham. God was no discerner of persons and boy did that make alot of folks mad. But it did not matter. Because of that extension of the hand of God, Zaccheus found what he was seeking. And it changed his life.

The life of one wee little man.

Constructive Criticism

2010-10-19T18:44:00.000-07:00

What is ever constructive about criticism?

Does it ever "build" anything? I mean other than the purveyor's idea of him or herself. Criticism means there is an assumed ideal. And the ideal is in the eye of the beholder. So it is, in fact,the author of the statement.

So where did the ideal originate. Who was the first authority and where did the concept come from? I love to watch dog shows and it is interesting to see exactly what is considered a "true" breed. There are a few really weird and kooky looking dogs. Who originally said that is a whatcha-ma-call-it and this is the most perfect one there is. Where did their authority come from?

As "Christians" we feel we have the ideal in front (or back) of us. In the embodiment of God incarnate, Jesus Christ. But when we judge, we are not using Him as the plumb line, but ourselves. If He came as the form of unconditional grace, any conditions we place on others are truly ours, not His. And if there is any standard we hold, it is ours. That is where the rub is. If it is do-able (we have proven that) then anything less you do is not up to par, which means you did not give it your all, therefore you are unworthy. But unworthy of what? Love that has no conditions?

You can't see it but I am scratching my head.

Open Wide

2010-10-03T12:26:00.000-07:00

Spoon feeding
In actuality, during the first part of my life I was spoon-fed probably 7% of the Bible over and over and over. Taken out of the Bible “bowl” and fed to me by caring teachers, preachers, parents, youth counselors. Heck, up until about 20 years ago, I did the feeding. Taking a popular passage or theme and neatly dicing it into manageable, tasteful bites for my adult class.
Lately though, using the lectionary to teach from, I have faced some pretty challenging passages in the Bible. Now it was tempting to take that bite-size morsel and dress it up with some new twist or take and feed them the same verse again, but I couldn’t do it. It was not the text or the verse, it is me. My tastes have changed.
At first, I would leave the verse where it lay and try to work out the surrounding scripture into some type of acceptable compliment. You know, make it behave and mean just exactly what I had always felt the central verse had always meant to me, traditionally. But that did not work. Like a cowlick in your hair, I just could not make it lay there. It just kept sticking out.
It was so tempting to sweep the tough parts under the spiritual carpet, but I could not do that either. So I served up the dish at the first of the week and just mulled it over with God. No commentaries, no former ideas, no throw down lessons from the past. Just let it sit and ferment. And it always (so far) comes out good. No better than good. God always shows me something I had failed to see before. In fact, He shows me that the best stuff is found in the hardest to reach. Like a hard pecan shell that you have to crack and then dig out the soft moist nut meat because that is the only way you can get to it. So worth the work and the wait.

How They Loved Me

2010-09-27T19:45:00.000-07:00

I love to personalize scripture and hymns. May not be correct or right or legal, but I like to do it. I love to speak the words of the Psalmist or hear the words of God spoken to me. Not the same situation, not the same time, not the same promise, but oh how I love hearing the words. This is "my" version of Psalms 91.

Psalm 91
1Whoever lives under the shelter of the Most High
will remain in the shadow of the Almighty.
2I will say to the LORD,
“You are my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.”
3He is the one who will rescue me from hunters’ traps
and from deadly plagues.
4He will cover me with his feathers,
and under his wings I will find refuge.
His truth is my shield and armor.
5I do not need to fear
terrors of the night,
arrows that fly during the day,
6plagues that roam the dark,
epidemics that strike at noon.
7They will not come near me,
even though a thousand may fall dead beside me
or ten thousand at me right side.
8I only have to look with your eyes
to see the punishment of wicked people.
9You, O LORD, are my refuge!
You have made the Most High your home.
10No harm will come to me.
No sickness will come near my house.
11He will put his angels in charge of me
to protect me in all my ways.
12They will carry me in their hands
so that I never hit my foot against a rock.
13I will step on lions and cobras.
I will trample young lions and snakes.
14Because I love Him, He will rescue me.
He will protect me because I know His name.
15When I call to Him, He will answer me.
He will be with me when I am in trouble.
He will save me and honor me.
16He will satisfy me with a long life.
He will show me how He will save me.

I prepared this Psalm for this Sunday's lesson. I diced and sliced. Read about the meanings of all those words not as common now as then. How their perception of might is right and evil loses though not entirely accurate was their way of looking and dealing with God.

Early Sunday morning, I took a walk at the neighborhood track. It is located in a great field with a glorious view of sunrise or sunset, depending on the time of day. I was there for the morning show and it was absolutely beautiful. I more or less told God I was just there to listen. To the beauty, to His Words in the Psalms, and any extra commentary He wanted to throw in there. I walked and walked, tossing the scripture around. Thinking how my relationship with God had changed during my life. How the very words of the Psalms had meant so many things during each stage of living.

As I started to impart my words of wisdom and discernment about His Psalms, He stopped me somehow. It was not audible, not in anyway. But God has a habit of stopping me mid sentence. I think it is the only way He can get a word in edgewise.
He said "It was how they loved me" It was not a doctrine of theology, it was a man's expression in the best way he knew to tell the world what God meant to Him.

I could pare away at it or I could just glory in the beauty of those verses. I could join him or her in the depths of their love for our mutual Father. Sing the song with him, for Him. Wow!

My Hiding Place

2010-09-24T19:41:00.000-07:00

When I was young, I was greatly moved and formed in a way by the book "The Hiding Place" by Corrie Ten Boom. She, her father, and her sister hid Jews during WWII. They were arrested and imprisoned at the concentration camp Ravensbruck. Only Corrie survived the time there and she went on to become a missionary to the world, fairly late in her life.

I read it at a time when anxiety and worry were the mainstay of my life. The idea of this woman, living in such horrible conditions, with only death and despair surrounding her - finding a place of peace. A place where she could dwell with God - a sanctuary, a hiding place - amidst the evil. Maybe that is why Psalms 91 is one of my favorites...

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!"

For a young woman, afraid of her own shadow, I needed that shelter, that shadow, that refuge and fortress. I saw it in a home to live in, money stretching to the end of the month, car repairs that cost $50 instead of $500. All gifts from God, all signs of this protection, this refuge.

As I lived my life, I was somewhat confused about the difficulties life brought. I saw incredible Christians experience and survive some of the most horrible of events.
I became somewhat shaky in my belief, but still held firm. After a "horrible" event of my own, I changed.

I realized that the dwelling place was not lack of trouble, but a zone smack dab in the middle of it. Sitting outside in the cardiac care waiting room as my husband struggled for his life day in and day out, I realized it was a form of spiritual shock. A protection not from the pain, but my companion through the pain. As I spent a year nursing him day and night, He was my mind's filter. Not allowing me to think one thought beyond what He had given me strength to deal with.

I long to feel that again, but I do not long for the situation that made it imperative. As Christians, the "zone" is our dwelling place. If we will just step inside and rest within the wings, the arms that are greater than ours. My prayer for you and I is that we will take advantage of a gift so precious, so available, ours! Please Father, help me to see it, feel it, and live within it day by day.
Amen

More Tim

2010-09-23T02:06:00.000-07:00

Testify!!

Don't hear that much anymore. Don't know why. I remember traveling on lay witness missions as a youth. I would give my testimony, all the time secretly hoping I had a little juicier one. Like a Hells Angel who saw their wicked way and came to Jesus! Much more dramatic.

In this verse from Timothy, Paul is doing just that. He is literally testifying to the love of God in his life.

However, I was treated with mercy because I acted ignorantly in my unbelief.

Father forgive them, for they know not what they do. How powerful is that statement. How exciting. That is what the world is waiting to hear. You are a prostitute - I can make you white as snow. You are a murderer - let me wash your hands. You are disfigured - you are beautiful in my sight.

Everyone you know wants to hear that. Daily we struggle under the secular messages of this world. You are too young. You are too old. You are too inexperienced. You are over-qualified. You are too fat. You are too thin.

So why is it so hard for us to say?

Trust

2010-09-21T16:37:00.000-07:00

Trust is something hard to come by and almost impossible to regain. It is taking a flying leap into someone's arms. Hoping that their honesty and integrity are solid enough to catch your trust in them. When they let you fall, it is hard to try again. You remember the pain too well.

I thank Christ Jesus our Lord that he has trusted me and has appointed me to do his work with the strength he has given me. 1Timothy 1:12

Paul's persecution of the Jews in his earlier life was something many folks could not get over. I think I would personally have had trouble meeting with him, much less accepting him into my group. I think "trust" was the one thing he was ever grateful to Christ Jesus for extending to him. If anyone deserved "not" to be given a chance, it was Paul. If there was anyone less likely to trust, it was Paul. Yet Christ Jesus put not only His trust but the lives of early Christians and the church in his bloodstained hands. Wow!

But the second part of the statement is what blows me away. "He has appointed me to do his work with the strength he has given me". I think it would be better said, "And I have finally realized that the job He has given me can be only done in his strength"

In our lives, it is not always that we are too weak to do the task. I think sometimes we are too strong. We take the fragile balance of life and we tip it over. We take the delicacy of human relationships and we stomp them. We take the china parlor of His love and like a bull charge through destroying all in our way. Sometimes the things we do are more a stumbling block "in the way" of what He means for us to do.

In the name of God? I wonder.

When Old Meets New

2010-09-18T18:38:00.000-07:00

I have a dear friend that co-taught my Sunday adult class for many years. He was an excellent teacher, we had complementary styles. Bringing more questions to the table than answers. He was loved by everyone, kids and youth especially

I frequent a local coffee shop in the morning, before work. Kind of my sit and think place before hitting that crazy, tell you what it is world. On two different occasions I have seen him sitting there with a young man at least 20 years his junior. My friend is a successful businessman and fine Christian and I discovered that he mentors young men in our community this way. I teasingly asked him what he was up to - he said it kept him young.

I can imagine Paul being much like that with Timothy. Older, wiser - one coming to the end of the journey sharing what he knew and believed with one just starting his. From associated writings and history, it is felt that Timothy was not fatherless, but his father did not play an important religious role in his life. His mother Eunice and grandmother Lois were strong Christians and from them young Tim received his spiritual legacy.

Second to sitting at the feet of Jesus, I would have liked to have heard Paul. Amidst all his bravado, conviction, and correction it must have been like sitting near a powerhouse of spiritual energy. No wonder Timothy was attracted.

It Just Keeps On Giving

2010-09-13T19:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my grandson and I went to the museum. He "loves" science and I am ever ready to stir the flames of a 10 year old interest in something other than video games.

Of course no trip to the museum would be complete without a trip to the museum store. A few polished rocks were selected and then he saw it. The giant Pixy Stix. It was a 3' plastic tube of mouth-watering delight to be created. I say that, because you were able to select the flavor of powdered dextrose you wanted to fill it with. Of course, we had to have some of each. Extremely disappointed when the root beer was stuck and would not pour. A day later, he is still working on it. Conveniently hidden from his grandmother because he knows how much I love sour stuff. I could wipe out an entire flavor layer without batting an eye!

The scripture from Timothy this Sunday was just like that. Mouth-watering. Just chock full of good stuff. In fact I think I gave my class a little spiritual indigestion yesterday. So, I will not make the same mistake twice. I will give it to you in a few more bites.

The letters to Timothy have always been some of my favorites. Many of the epistles had little to say to me as a child or youth, but Timothy has grown with me. Like a pair of pants with a seam that could be let out and let out and let out. When I was a youth and overwhelmed with the faith I professed the the faith I lived, I read Timothy and felt loved and special. As a young adult working side by side some of the patriarchs of our church, I felt capable. And as a mentor to young women in my last few years, I have gained wisdom. A scripture for all seasons of life.

Have you ever had someone look up to you? It is a scary feeling. Lots of pressure to live up to their unreasonable expectations. Afraid to let them see the foibles and defects you possess. I can even remember the light fading in one young woman's eyes when I told her some of the escapades of my youth. I could almost see my pedastal crumble. But after the dust settled, I was on her level and our relationship took on new meaning.

This is where Paul takes a flying leap off the lofty heights of his. He lays down the dirt on who he was and what he did. Took a lot of guts. It is a "tell all", but I think it reveals more of the love Paul had for Timothy. Timothy's spiritual maturity was more important than his perception of Paul.

That is enough for today. We will chew some more on the next blog entry..

Chewing your Cud

2010-09-11T05:06:00.000-07:00

Ever watch a cow chew their cud. I spent alot of my weekends, growing up, on my grandparents farm in East Texas. They raised cattle and when I was young, I was fascinated watching them chew their cud. They chew with their mouths open, so they have this slimy green mess in and around their lips. Contented cows chew their cud for about 8 hours a day. They graze and then regurgitate a bolus or cud and chew on it.

Not very appetizing, but that is the way I study scripture. I teach a class of adults every Sunday and I enjoy using the lectionary to pick the scripture. It seemed even when I didn't try, the preacher and I usually matched on topic or scripture (God thing) so I decided to try to do it, giving the folks in my class the opportunity to "chew" and discuss what they had heard in service. I don't always pick the same scripture now (gospel, epistle, Psalm, Old Testament readings each week) but it is fun to read and chew on the scripture the week long. I used to study all week, commentaries, articles, blogs, etc. But now I chew on it during the week and as the weekend approaches start my study.

I find my chewing makes me see things from the point of view of a 1st century Christian. Either those hearing the words from Christ or about Him from the original hearers. We tend to pick and choose scripture according to our need at the time. We make it fit our circumstances and apply it how we think it should go. I found out a while back, that God will surprise you everytime. As I have chewed on scripture, God will relate it to something I would have never thought to do.

So, you can teach an old cow new tricks. I am just content to chew.

The Cost to be Counted

2010-09-07T03:42:00.000-07:00

A couple of posts ago, I expounded on the hard scripture found in Luke 14:25-31. Jesus is talking to his group of followers and telling them this is not going to be an easy road they are following. Not sure if it was a "get tough so you can keep going" or a "it is going to get tough so you might think about leaving" speech. But it gave me a lot to think about.

I have an adult friend, about 20 years my junior, that is what we today would call mentally challenged. He is a savant and has an incredible memory for names and numbers. He has very strong obsessions and Academy Award winning movies are one of his. He constantly seeks to see each and every one, whether they are appropriate for him or not. He easily gets discouraged and depressed and some of these movies do nothing to help. He attended our church for a time and sat with my family every Sunday. His friendship was high maintenance to say the least and when he moved onto another church that had more "fun" things to do, I missed him but was sadly a bit relieved as well.

So I received a phone call from him a few weeks ago, telling me his step dad had died. This was after an extended illness and the loss was very hard on my friend. He lives with his mom and has a part-time job at the local library, shelving books. This weekend, I got another message from him on my answering machine. The lady that more or less was his mentor and supervisor at the library passed away as well. To add to this added grief, my friend had been laid off from his job. I can assume she more or less had something to do with the protection of his position. I could hear the anguish in his voice, as he left the message.

So I am faced with a dilemma. My plate is more than full right now. My daughter and her husband both were laid off within a few weeks of each other and they and their two children have moved into my modest-sized home, for hopefully what will be a short period of time. I am slightly overwhelmed with the change in my way of life and now am faced with the need of this friend. It is not a small plea for help. He is in a terrible position and I feel I must do something to help.

But do I understand the cost. Am I ready to jump back into that relationship and sacrifice what little time I have for myself? Do I have the energy and compassion he needs right now in this time and this place? If monetary resources are needed, can I find something for him and his family amongst the strain on our finances, stretched even further by our recent move-ins?

Is it God calling me to take up my cross and follow Him? Is He telling me the cost will be worth it? Or that the effort in itself will be my reward? Can, when we are in the greatest of needs, be fed and filled only by reaching outside ourselves and giving that which we do not have, but He can supply? I will let you know.

Love Lifted Me

2010-09-05T05:16:00.000-07:00

When I was in my 20's, my husband and I were youth counselors for my church. I was born in that church, so the teens of this group were youngsters I had watched grow up. Little brothers and sisters of my friends. Children of adults I knew and loved. Along with older adult counselors, we took a group to New Braunsfels, TX. It is a town known for its river and the rapids produced. Tubing on a hot summer day is the very best.

Now "in the day" we pretty much let kids take off and ride the rapids. No adults taggging along, just the honor system that they would "play" within the campground we were staying at and just limit their activities to the part of the river contained within. Being there as a young married couple, looking back, we more of less were along for the fun and a cheap vacation. At the evening meal, everyone gathered together, ate, and told tall tales of the days events.

However, that night there were a couple of girls missing. Now, I knew the girla and was not really worried. They had probably found some cute guys and just lost track of time. This was in the day when there was not a pervert believed to be lurking behind every boulder.

However, the older adults were in a frenzy. They were looking high and low and being "persons of responsibility" we did the same. They turned up later, saying they were "witnessing" to two boys they met. I didn't believe it for a minute, but I do remember being glad and relieved they were found.

Years later, a counselor again in the same church, I was with another youth group going to New Braunfels again. However, now I was one of the older adults. In fact, I was large and in charge and add to that mix, a parent of one of those kids. It was a totally different set of circumstances. Not really, but I was, and therefore the mix. I had seen too much, felt too much, been responsible for too much, been a parent too much. I was not the person I was 15 years earlier. I could see the big picture, heard the horror stories, felt the weight of all those kids and my friends, their parents. I worried from the minute we left the parking lot til we set foot on terra concrete once again.

It reminded me of the story of the prodigal. Not so much the end or the beginning, the leaving or receiving. But the middle. My first trip I was the brother. Not really caring about what happened to my brother(s), or sisters. Just focused on me. The only effect I probably saw, was the workload I had to carry due to his absence. Though, I am sure it had it's upside. Like two siblings that share a room. When one is gone, there is a little loss, but your thoughts quickly turn to "what is in it for me". Because that is the center of your world - YOU - DUH! The dad on the other hand, thought about that prodigal day and night. A see saw of hope and despair. Knowing the worst of the world paired with the immaturity of his son. Knowing the match was not even, nor fair in any form or fashion.

So when younger brother returns, there was no way the reception would be the same for dad or big brother. Not the same person, not the same place, not the same relationship. Funny how agape love can change a person. It matures us, provokes us, worries us, emotes us. It takes a strong man and turns him into a weepy baby. It is a love that is beyond our ability to comprehend.

That is what God feels for us. At this point in my life, I no longer think of God as a parent. I think of Him as a grandparent, much like me. A grandparent is the closest thing on earth to an unconditional, agape-loving parent. They look beyond flaws and tantrums because they have this third generation-removed myoptic vision. They cannot see them any other way. I think that is the way God sees us. In the grand scheme of things, it is probably not really the best parenting, if you think about it. But who are we to say! He invented parenting, loving, and all that other good stuff. In fact, why am I trying to put another spin on the love He has for me and mine. It is indescribable. So I will stop it, already

Count the Cost

2010-09-02T19:22:00.000-07:00

As I travel this journey to God, I realize how very self-centered I have been. Somehow, in the scheme of things, I subconsciously feel that every scripture passage was written just for me. The loving ones embrace me. The hard ones confuse me. And the harsh ones convict me. I know they speak to me, but I have not, nor will not have exclusive rights to them.

Kind of like these. You must take up your cross. You will hate your father, mother, sister, brother. If you build a house or fight an enemy, you must place your assets along side your liabilities. You don't go in unprepared. Cost too great, you pull out before you lose it all.

For me, these passages just stir visions of inadequacy, righteous fervor, or self and family sacrificing. They dance in my head and make me feel less and less worthy of the calling I feel I heard Him make. Fears - of inferiority or hardship - making me question myself and my very relationship to Him.

But as I study this week's scripture from Luke 14, I realize the crowds Jesus was speaking to were not those that had gathered to hear Him teach. No, these folks were the ones traveling with Him. Kind of like holy groupies. They were there to see the traveling show. I can just imagine the mix. The passionate on-fire youth, the downtrodden, the zealots, the poor, maybe outcasts. Many folks there for what they could get for themselves; what was in it for them

But He tells them, honestly, you have no clue. You have no idea how this is going to end up. The crowds, the attention, the fame - it is all going to be short-lived. If you go the distance, it is going to cost you. And if you are not here for the right reason, you are going to come up short. You are going to be left with wilted party hats and half inflated balloons. And the guest of honor will not be around. Well, mot in the way you imagine or would want Him to be.

Do you have what it takes? And if you do, are you willing to sacrifice it? This was not a showdown between them and Him. It was a compassionate Savior speaking to those that were getting on board; that this just might be the wrong bus.

I feel like one of them sometimes. I feel like I don't really get it. That I am in the crowd - holding up the signs and yelling the slogans. But I am not fully behind my Candidate. That in theory, I am on His team. But will I be when the going gets tough. What if, in fact, I have already deserted Him. Not by way of the sinful paths - like rejection and pride. But by more subtle and devious exits - apathy and detachment.

I would hope I would be the one who said, "You can count on me because I have what it takes. I'll gladly pay the cost. I am willing and able to play all the way. Count me in."

Anyway, I would hope I so.

The Eyes Have It

2010-08-27T03:48:00.000-07:00

Of all the features on the face, I think the eyes are the most expressive. They are the gatekeepers of the light and windows on the world. They can express fear, tears, and cheers in a way that is remarkable for minimally moving parts of the body. Side to side, up and down. Basic motions necessary for our vision, but they are indicators of so much more.

In Proverbs, eyes are mentioned at the top of the list of abominations. Haughty eyes that is. Haughty is a word we don't hear anymore. Prideful, snobbish, arrogant are all words that come to mind, but I think haughty is the best one to use in describing eyes. When I hear the word haughty, I can see the eyes peering straight down the nose at someone or something with half lidded look of detest for effect. I have looks like that called chilling or belittling. As if the look in itself can put the other person in "their place". That "place" being where the haughty person chooses to place them in "their" scheme of things.

And in the same breath, the eyes can totally take you out of your place. A friend of mine was going through treatment for breast cancer. She was being treated at a world renown cancer treatment center. As I accompanied her through the halls the hospital, there were so many people with masks. During chemo, at times your immune system is weak and you are very vulnerable to infections. So folks wear masks to ward off communicable viruses, colds, etc. Being at the start of her treatment, it was a sad reminder of what might be facing her in the near future.

Everyone avoided looking at the folks in the masks and subsequently the masked folks avoided making eye contact. I am sure, when they first started wearing them, they tried but all they saw was pity and pain, especially from those they loved. That was the last thing they wanted to see, so they just avoided it altogether. That really made me sad, so I just started smiling at them. Of greeting them and noticing that they were there, even saying "Hi".

It was amazing to see them smile. No - I did not see the upturned mouths or brightness of their teeth, but I could see it in the eyes. The crinkled skin at the corners, the light that emanated from the eyes themselves. It became a game for my friend and I. A wonderful relief from the sadness and pain that surrounded us all. That there was truly a life not only after cancer but in the very midst of it. That you could smile again. And again. And again.

Joyful Shame

2010-08-22T11:31:00.000-07:00

The gospel lesson from the lectionary this week was again from Luke. A woman, possessed by a spirit, was healed by Christ as He taught in a local synagogue. The main symptom of the possession was the fact that for 18 years she had been unable to straighten up. Now from the sound of it, a modern diagnosis would possibly be congenital scoliosis, probably complicated with osteoporosis or malnutrition. A condition worsened by the labor intensive day to day routines in that time period. Jesus calls her to come to Him and He heals her. Subsequently, a leader of a crowd in the synagogue, chastises Jesus for healing on the Sabbath.

I think today, the indictment would be more or less phrased, "Geez Jesus! You have six other days to do that kind of thing. Why pick today and interrupt the service?" It would be like today, a minister extending the invitation at the end of worship. A weeping, wailing, hard core biker, responds to the call, coming forward to confess his sins and give his life to Christ. You say to yourself, "Great - this is going to take awhile" And all of us have been there. You check your watch, stomach growling, imagining the line at the local restaurant growing longer and longer.

This is an incredible miracle by Jesus. I can only imagine the impact this miracle had on the woman physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Of course Jesus' response to the church leader did not pull any punches. The usual hypocrite speech. But instead of the leader and crowd walking off angry, plotting future revenge, they respond in a different way.

The scripture says that everyone that opposing Him, felt bad about it. Is that incredible or what? The folks that had been mumbling about the rude interruption one minute, now remorseful for feeling that way. Every one of them! Consensus is hard to achieve even in a pleasant situation, but rarely achieved when it comes to shame. Then to top it off, the entire group was really happy Jesus was going around doing miraculous healings

This hit home with me because God has been teaching me a lot like this lately. Been seeing a lot of stuff in the third person. Kind of an "out of body experience". Now before you freak out, I am speaking theoretically. It is as if I can see myself from someone else's point of view. And I hate to admit it - the picture is not always pretty. In fact, I sometimes can identify with the shame the crowd felt that day in the synagogue.

But my fatal flaw is that I am not progressing to that "feel good" part easily. I tend to wallow in the shame too long. Instead of saying "Thank you God" for the new course coordinates and making my necessary adjustments, I tend to sit there blaming, shaming, and basically paralyzed by the guilt. What a waste! Of time, energy, and days of what I could be doing for Him, in Him, and with Him. Kind of like old Job when he sat there with pottery shards, scraping his sores, bemoaning his bad luck.

So my prayer is to be quicker on the rebound. To see the blessing in being able to see yourself through His eyes. Grace-filled, constructive criticism. To appreciate my good fortune in that I only received a divine attitude adjustment. And realizing that if I don't get over it, a heavenly kick in the pants might be a little harder next time to pick myself up from . LOL!

Earning the Kingdom

2010-08-07T17:00:00.000-07:00

Jesus was the master of shock and awe. In the Gospel lesson from Luke for this Sunday, he talks about a master coming home from a wedding feast and finding his servants diligent, waiting up for him. With the lights on, no less. The master is excited to see them, so he sits them down and serves them a late night snack. To the first century hearers, that would be the shock and awe.

I think we lose a lot reading the scriptures and living in the 21st century. Masters and slaves still exist but only from our easy chair, seen from our wide-screen HD TV. I wonder if we truly "get" the scriptures regarding service and servitude. None of us serve because we have to. We do it for a paycheck, a pat on the back, or in response to a need. More or less, we have a choice.

In the United States, there are some that have lost their freedom. Inmates in prison are not free but most of them were, at some point, free to make the decisions that landed them there. Servants, in Jesus day, were the property of their masters and were more slaves than employees. They were obligated to take care of the needs of their master and, in turn, the master provided them room and board.

I think because the parables do quite often use the roles of servant and master, we get a slightly skewed perception. So I ask this question. Do we get joy out of serving or is there a motive behind it. Are we looking to gain Brownie points in the Divine Game? Maybe we feel service is a payback for His grace or a proverbial jewel in our crown. Maybe a foot up on that ladder rung to heaven?

How are we transformed in this service to God and others? Does just "doing it" make us eventually not only want to, but ultimately change us to do it for the right reason? Or should we sit back and wait until we feel like it, for the Spirit to move us?

Looking back, I can definitely see for me it came in stages. Being a people-pleaser most of my life, I started out more or less trying to please God. Surprisingly I found there was an added bonus. I pleased lots of people that way. Who-hoo! Then life overwhelmed me, pulling me away from serving others to serving my husband during a long illness. It lasted a year and coming out of it, I realized I did not want to return to my former life. I saw what I had been, had done, and most of all why I did it. I realized I was not that person anymore.

So I did nothing. Oh, there were a few things I returned to - teaching my weekly Sunday School class, singing in the choir - but nothing major. I was not where I wanted to be, but was too sapped to think about anything else.

Now, I am in a different place. I decided to make myself available. Not to my church or other organizations, but to God. I have to admit I was a little disappointed when He did not use me right away. Kept waiting for the nudge or feeling. That little "ah-ha" I have felt in the past. Kind of like a person waiting for that phone call - the one saying they have the job.

But slowly, I realized if I was truly different, then I might not hear Him in the same old way. In fact, there were changes already taking place. I was seeing and responding in the ordinary. Without even noticing it. Seeing needs or places where I could "be" not necessarily "do". Feeling gratitude to the lady that cleans my office building and expressing it. Hearing the emotion in a person's voice and listening, instead of stepping over it to express my next brilliant remark.

I like this spot, it feels like a groove. No not a groove, because that is a "place". Maybe I am no longer a location but a moving target. I think I am living for short time periods in the "kingdom zone". It is not a destination, not even a journey. I can't describe it and you know what? I think that may be the way it is meant to be.

Nobody Knows Your Name

2010-07-29T19:07:00.000-07:00

Years ago there was a sitcom called "Cheers". Very popular and well-known.

It was about a bar and the group of regulars that met there. Their lives played out on the barstools of this basement tavern. Rarely did any scene venture outside of this single room. Funny and poignant - one of my favorites. The theme song is one I can almost sing from memory, with the lyrics describing it as a place "where everybody knows your name"

This past week I reconnected with a young woman I had not seen in some time. She was in a small group I was facilitating at church. In asking about her family, I found out her small son had been treated for a malignant tumor and was in the midst of a long series of chemo that had followed a hard regimen of radiation. I was totally taken back at the news and overwhelmed by the pain and suffering of not only the small child but the mom as well.

In the midst of our group discussion, a question was asked - I don't even remember what it was. The young woman started talking about an odd sleep habit she had and proceeded to tell a long, humorous, and somewhat disturbing story about an incident she had one night. As a discussion leader, I could tell this was traveling way off course and, usually, I would start trying to reel her back in. But there was a look in her eyes that made me stop myself. For a few brief minutes, the limelight was on her and she was the center of attention. It was for just a little while, totally about her, something that rarely happened anymore. This was about a physical quirk she had, not a serious malady her child had suffered. It was totally indulgent and totally meaningless in the larger than life realm of life she lived day by day. But she was there in that zone and I just let her go with it. We laughed, we asked questions, we commiserated with her -about her. Many in the group did not know her total story and in that anonymity there wsa comfort. In that small span of attention, she was the unattached center.

It truly was a place where "nobody knew her pain". It was good and just what the doctor ordered.

Falling In and Out of Love

2010-07-28T01:21:00.000-07:00

Talking with a group of close friends last night. Touched on the word relationship. When I was a teenager, I had a friend that had been sexually abused as a child. In the day, society was not as open as it is now about such things. It is easy to look at and long for the "good ole days", but as I grow older I see that the days were good in part to the fact that I was young and naive. Also due to the realization that personal secrets and tragedies were not easily discussed or out there. There were family "secrets" and most of us were affected in some degree or another by them.

My friend had a problem with the word "Father" in addressing God. You see it was her father that was molesting her and drawing a connecting line between the two authority figures was abhorrent to her. Just recently, I had someone express the idea that the "relationship with God" was just as difficult for them. Relationships are tenuous as well as fraught with a myriad of emotions. Temporary, volatile, insincere - are just a few words they associate with that word. Evidently their experience in "relationships" was less than desirable and this was the last link they wanted to their eternal Being.

Today, my Relationship is supercharged. I am in love with a wonderful God. I can't get enough of being with Him, in Him, or reading about Him. I crave the company of like-minded friends and my fingers fairly fly over the keyboard as I write, discuss, or theolophisize (my word)with you on this page. I am diving in the depths of Him and I do not want to come up for air.

But that is this moment, this hour, this day. I know too well from past experience that this will not last. I will soon be sitting here, reading this blog, lackluster and remorseful. Where did it go? The passion of relationship, the joy of delving into the mystery of Who He is. It was here just a minute ago and I have misplaced it somewhere. I would really like to look for it, but I just don't have time right this minute. I have a new job, my husband, my children, my church are all pulling at me and I tell Him I will be right back. I place a bookmark in our relationship with all the conviction of returning after a brief respite but you know what they say about good intentions. They pretty much pave an entire freeway system with my name on it.

But the passion is still there - buried in the mire of making a living, paying bills, settling conflicts, listening to problems, resolving issues. And thank God that He does not leave me totally responsible for the unearthing. Something on the radio, a word or two from one of you, a squirrel swirling up my oak tree. All these things kick at the soil covering my passion and it still burns. It is under the debris, a few smoldering embers, that can be fanned into scorching flames by His Breath. And for a short while I am in love again.

Above the Love

2010-07-06T19:01:00.000-07:00

I love to look up the origin of colloquial phrases. It is so amazing how words that once were used as a criticism are now a compliment. The story of the Good Samaritan, for one. The Samaritans were half-breeds, no accounts. A people not even good enough to worship with the Jews in Jerusalem.

My how that identification has changed over the years.

It reminds me of the children's song we sang when we were small, "Ring Around the Rosies". A few years back I found out it was a ditty derived during the time of the Black Plague in Europe. Folks would keep a pocket full of rose petals in hopes of warding off the illness and/or possible death. "Ashes, ashes, we all fall down". When I hear those words now, I "gets a shiver in me timbers"

I think it is also ironic how in the gospels, words such as Sadducee and Pharisee have become a moniker of evil when in reality they were the Jewish good guys. In the lectionary gospel passage, the Levite and the Priest are the low down good for nothings that pass the beaten man by. How many times has it been cussed and discussed why they did not offer their aid. The cleanliness laws, fear of being robbed and beaten, busy schedule. No one knows. But Jesus was very specific in describing them by their vocations. They were folks that "should" have stopped. They had no excuse, they were men of God. Heck, if anyone had an excuse not to stop, it was the Samaritan. In fact if the man had been conscious, he might have declined any assistance from such a person

So what is the point? Is it that I should stop and help travelers on the road when they have a flat tire? Or maybe I should realize that my neighbor may be the homeless guy sitting next to me on the bus. Maybe it is just to look at my life and see all the things that I do that are out of line. And if I am not doing them, then start.

What if I was intentional in doing things no one would expect of me. Like let someone in front of me at the check-out. Letting the guy into my traffic lane, even when I know he is cutting and not waiting his turn at the back of the pack like I did. Instead of thinking the good things about people and saying the critical things, turning it the other way around. Being transformed from Minimal Mamie to Magnanimous Mary Ann. In a world that does not expect kindness and graciousness, and just laying it on thick.

Talk about shaking things up a bit. They will wonder, why I did what I did. And then they will want to know who put me up to it. And I might just have to tell them.

Don't you love keeping folks on their toes! Have a good one...

Freedom

2010-07-05T07:06:00.000-07:00

On this official holiday for the Holi-day before, I wish you a Happy Independence Day. I think that is cool. Having a day after to enjoy the freedom from work, the freedom from care.

I remember 4th's as a kid seeing fireworks being such an awesome thing. All day long you would think about it. My mom was a big decorator and everything was red, white, and blue in our house. It may be some corny fold out accordion centerpiece but we were true blue, literally. As kids, it seemed like the dark would never come. It is even tougher for kids today. With daylight savings, 9:30 is the firework seeing time in Texas.

And I remember the smells. The smell of mosquito repellent spray or the burning incense of the "coil". Charcoal smoke and the smell of slightly charred weiners, clinging to your seersucker short set. Proudly wearing your badge of mustard and sweet relish stain down its front.

Sitting on the ground on an old quilt at the feet of your parents and their friends. Learning as much about life from listening to them as the things you lived. The soft hum of crickets and a radio or two set on a station playing Stars and Stripes.

And the sights! The blackest black you could see, split by a shooting meteor of light, exploding with a sound of thunder filling the sky as our "oohs and aahs" joined the barking of neighborhood dogs. Unlike today, there was plenty of time between launching's to comment on the beauty of the colors or the shapes made by their residual puffs of smoke.

Nothing to compare to the displays of today, because the displays of today were nowhere to be found to compare with. Isn't that about the coolest things.

Today's best is the best because there is no tomorrow to compare it with. And it works the other way as well. Today's worst cannot compare with tomorrow's. For the simple fact, it ain't here yet. So why do I let myself get down in the dumps over something that may not happen or pin my hopes on some event that may never be. When the present is what He gives me, day by day. I can waste it away by wishing or longing. I can ruin it by regrets or fears. Or I can sit back and just enjoy what He has for me today. And have it to reminisce about tomorrow.

To top it off, if I have trouble living in the present, He can help me do just that!

Wise Cracker?

2010-05-07T19:45:00.000-07:00

If you asked me the one thing I covet, I would have to say it is wisdom. Now if you asked me my definition of wisdom, it would be totally different from what it would have been a few years ago.

I always loved the stories of Solomon. Of all the Old Testament figures, I think he was the most interesting. After his father, King David, died, God more or less asked him what he desired. His response was wisdom and God granted it. As a child, my favorite story was about two new mothers fighting over a sole surviving infant. Solomon, in all authority, offers the child to be split in two, a supposed means to satisfy them both. He knows the child is safe, in that the real mother would give the child up before she would see it slain. Now that was savvy!

So wisdom has also been my prayer. In the beginning, I think I desired it for the ability to see beyond the struggles and dilemmas of my youth. As an adult, I pictured myself as one day being the benevolent,gray haired,little old lady rocking on her porch, friends and family flocking to her, seeking her sage advice on matters of life and God.

But I am beginning to see there are different shades of sage. Wisdom most often comes in the ability to "unpack" life. To search the memories of adolescence, seeing the hurt you carry were as much a result of your actions as the "bad guy" who wronged you. It is growing into adulthood, realizing the thing you teased your mother about is happening to you; feeling somewhat ashamed for the snide comments you and your siblings made behind her back. Remembering what it felt like to be in love and newly married - when all you saw was a new house and never yourself at 50+ paying off a 30 year note. And as in the case of my friend, Solomon, I think it was seeing with your heart. To see the fear and anguish a new mom suffered in light of losing her child. But just as wisely seeing the blind grief and anger of another mom who had already lost hers.

Wisdom is remembering, or if that word is not exactly accurate, then maybe imagining. To see the person not from the eyes of age or experience or even wisdom. But to see the person where they live, as they are. In the skin they are in. To revel in their passions, righteous or reckless. To cry with their sorrows, major or insignificant. To be accepting of their decisions, wild or prudent.

But most of all to thank God that we do not live in sameness. Whether that be age, maturity, or culture. That we are all different and that is a result of His very wise plan. Whether it be by hook or crook, we are not the same and by God, literally, that is a great thing.

Seeing the Hem of God

2010-05-04T03:44:00.000-07:00

I have been very uneasy with the passages in scripture regarding Jesus "cleansing" the temple. I have heard folks use those words to promote activism, call me to righteous holiness, or ritual cleansing. But they have never been what I would call "comfortable". Now that I have realized, "comfort" is not what God is after, most of the time, I have pulled it out to study a bit.

In my world of questions, I have one for you. What if the incident was not Jesus letting go, but Jesus not able to fully contain the Divine within? As much as we would like to, we cannot dismiss the omnipotent, angry, jealous side of God. I cannot imagine how He must have felt seeing, through Jesus' eyes, the defilement of the Holy Place. The place He had built, through human hands, to house His heart. Where the people might come to meet and love Him.

The more I think about it, I am thinking maybe the fury we saw in Jesus was His attempt to hold God back. As close as God is to me, maybe I must learn to respect that side of Him that knows no bounds. His love is easy - the other? Not quite so much.

Jesus was the containment for the boundless-ness of God. In so many more ways than one.

Loose and Release

2010-05-02T12:20:00.000-07:00

Loose the cords of mistakes binding us, as we release the strands we hold of others' guilt.

In my previous post I included an Aramaic version of The Lord's Prayer. The entire translation is very powerful, but this one line came back to me time and again. I shared it with a small group today and we spiritually "chewed" on it for awhile.

It is such a visual image, it almost overpowers. Of being bound with no recourse but a plea to the Lord Father to loosen the cords. As we worked through the verse, we came to the "releasing the strands that hold others' guilt" part and the air in the room suddenly had a tangible tension. In a gathering of only nine people, three of them had brothers that had been in prison for addiction-related crimes. This is a "middle" group. Middle age, middle income, middle class. Anglo living in a fairly peaceful suburb, yet this pain had touched one-third of the group. As we talked about releasing the strands, they told of personal violation and physical threat they received at the hands of these brothers, during their drug and/or alcohol induced frenzies. Two brothers were "clean", one for a year the other had been clean for several. The third was no longer alive, killed in a motor vehicle accident while drunk. It was as if I could almost feel the strands. Strands of fear for self and family. Strands of mistrust and anger. Strands of prejudice and inability to accept rehabilitation.

If we must ask for help in loosening the cords that bind us, aren't there many times we also need help releasing the strands we hold of others' guilt. The strand that not only strangles the other but imprisons us just as surely. One stronger that the others, because the chance for release has passed. I had no answers for my friends. I could only sit there in sadness for their pain. My only hope is that sharing the burden lightened it a bit.

The Lord's Prayer

2010-04-29T19:28:00.000-07:00

I recently experienced a Christian meditation group. The word or mantra suggested was "maranatha" which in Aramaic means "Come Lord Jesus" I am told. I did a little research on the internet, looking for maybe a personal word or phrase I might use. I came across The Lord's Prayer in Aramaic. I do not know Aramaic so I cannot vouch for it's authenticity. But I am thinking this might be closer its English cousin.
It is beautiful and so very rich

Abwoon d'bwashmaya
O Birther! Father-Mother of the Cosmos/ you create all that moves in light.
Nethqadash shmakh
Focus your light within us--make it useful: as the rays of a beacon show the way.
Teytey malkuthakh
Create your reign of unity now--through our firey hearts and willing hands.
Nehwey sebyanach aykanna d'bwashmaya aph b'arha.
Your one desire then acts with ours, as in all light, so in all forms.
Habwlan lachma d'sunqanan yaomana.
Grant what we need each day in bread and insight: subsistence for the call of growing life.
Washboqlan khaubayn (wakhtahayn)
aykana daph khnan shbwoqan l'khayyabayn.
Loose the cords of mistakes binding us, as we release the strands we hold of others' guilt.
Wela tahlan l'nesyuna
Don't let us enter forgetfulness
Ela patzan min bisha.
But free us from unripeness
Metol dilakhie malkutha wahayla wateshbukhta l'ahlam almin.
From you is born all ruling will, the power and the life to do, the song that beautifies all, from age to age it renews.
Ameyn.
Truly--power to these statements--may they be the source from which all my actions grow.
Sealed in trust & faith. Amen.

by Neil Douglas-Klotz in Prayers of the Cosmos

Right and Right

2010-04-28T18:54:00.000-07:00

Personal theology is a funny thing. My belief system is in a constant upheaval. Which is a good thing. Because it means that I will not allow it to congeal or harden. To form into something, which I must break to change.

World religions. A lot of talk about them all leading to the same God. But do they?
It doesn't feel right, but neither do the alternatives. One authentic God and lots of pseudo-Gods. Or one holy God and lots of evil ones. Or one right God and lots of wrong ones. Is my God right because the culture I grew up in said so? Is it wrong because the culture you grew up in says it is?

Am I the keeper of the flame or a witness to it? Am I the purveyor of the truth or it's distributor? Does my faith have a club with dues or codes or initiation. And if you are not in, you are out?

Does there have to be a right and a wrong? What if we are both right?

Peace

2010-04-28T04:12:00.001-07:00

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you: not as the world gives, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. John 14:27

Jesus was leaving.

But though He would be gone in person, He was leaving something behind. Something to bridge the gap between when He would leave and when He would return from the tomb. His peace. How precioius! How necessary. When I think of all they would experience. The confrontation in the garden. The trial and subsequent denial. Judas realizing what he had done. The hiding, the fear, the guilt, the remorse, the disillusionment. Then the beatings their Lord suffered and then the crucifixion! Not only did their Master die on that cross, but with Him all the dreams and expectations. I can only imagine how selfish they felt, thinking about themselves when their Lord was dying, but it was difficult not to. Mortal and spiritual survival was at a premium. How wise Jesus was. He had to make them realize that the peace He gave was not tangible, provable. In the darkest times of our lives, there is no proof sometimes that He is there. There is no evidence of His being, but He is there. Working, planning, conforming, and transforming to bring about His will amidst the mess we create. We must not confuse physical comforts and security with the peace Christ offers. Two tall orders follow to the frightened few. And in each, He is stating we are the gatekeepers. We have the strength and ability to keep anxiety and fear from infiltrating and poisoning our lives. But how? By remembering His words. His precious, powerful, energizing words.

Illegal Contraband

2010-04-18T18:53:00.000-07:00

It has been so interesting coming from my traditional-charismatic-fundamental-evangelical life to where I am today. I don't want to put a name on where I am now, because I am through with labels. I will tell you it is a place of freedom, where the works and writings of sages of all religions are no longer taboo. Literally, because I say so.

The funny thing is that I am finding that what I had been taught and warned about, is not happening. I am reading from the Buddhist, Hindu, Moslem, Jewish, and Native American traditions. And lo and behold, I have not been transformed into a follower of any of them yet. The warnings of the evil they contained is not true. Are my fundamental beliefs that strong or are the stories of contamination somewhat embellished? I am not sure.

What I have found is a person or people who are looking for the same thing I am. A relationship with God. They may call Him a Her or The Truth or The Consciousness. But whatever the name or the angle of trajectory, they are trying to find their way just like me. And in each and every thing there are jewels I glean. I do not pick up everything I see, just as I do not retain everything I have been exposed to in my Christian faith. But, oh, the things I will experience and the places I will see!

The journey is made all the sweeter by finding fellow travelers on the highways and byways of this life.

Hope Really Floats

2010-04-15T20:03:00.000-07:00

Hope is a flighty word. It is pie in the sky or wish upon a star or genie in a lamp. But it really isn't - if your hope is in Something.

But we don't consider that Hope. Hope is what we place in the stock market, or in a spouse, or in a job, or in our children. All notoriously unreliable. So why do I do it? Because these things give me identity, they give me joy, they give me security. They also disappoint me, hurt me, kick me out, and desert me. So is my hope misplaced or not hope at all. I think I will rename those. They are wishes like when you blow out candles on your cake. Gone with the smoke that whispers from the wick.

Hope is something I place. In hands sure enough to cup me in them. Arms strong enough to lift me up. And love that will never let me fall. Because it never fails. Hope assured.....

Beggars

2010-04-13T05:14:00.000-07:00

"Could it be that beggars know how to open their hands trusting that the crumbs of grace will fall?"

Sue Monk Kidd in When the Heart Waits

Emptying our hands because we cannot receive unless they are. How willing are we to do that? Are they really empty and we just can't see it. That we do not hold them out because we think we own what we imagine is inside it. Maybe I have to get to a point that I could empty them, before I realize they contain nothing but the next thing He will place there.....Hmmmmm

Peace Squared

2010-04-11T20:22:00.000-07:00

My brother's clothes caught on fire when I was 8 and he was 6. He was burned very badly, but survived. I guess the trauma of that day made me very fearful of fire. In the day, open flames were a part of life. There were space heaters and wall furnaces. Fireplace were more open than not. So fire was not something you could totally get away from. Late at night, was the worst. I would stay awake worrying about another fire. Sometimes crying myself to sleep.

I remember my mom coming into my room and holding me. Just her presence was enough. It stayed my fears and allowed me to fall asleep. When Jesus came to the upper room to see the disciples, he said, "Peace be to you". I am thinking that was more a greeting they were used to. But I can only imagine the tangible peace of his very presence in that room. I am here, they did not kill me, I am still alive. Don't worry.

After he showed them his hands and side, he said again, "Peace be to you" Jesus was not one to repeat himself without reason. The men in that room had betrayed him. In the garden when they could not stay awake. Peter in the courtyard, denying he knew him. The others, who were not even there to do that. The second peace was for that part of them. To take away the guilt of what they did not do - their sins of ommission.

Peace squared - way cool.

The Trial

2010-04-08T20:27:00.000-07:00

Guilty

His death, our sin

Convicted of murder

The Judge pronounces the sentence

Life

jo

Old Clothes

2010-04-08T18:55:00.000-07:00

I just finished the course I am taking,"Living the Questions". The teachers of the course are my dear friends and the direction of this series was to look at what we believe and more or less question. I have thought of myself over the last year as a progressive, and these friends were the same.

However in the course of lectures, I was uneasy. There were comments about "those folks" that believe in rapture, once saved always saved, literal heaven and hell, creation. They were snidely made and we even laughed at their expense. But it was like being in a crowd of people, picking on a kid with thick glasses and acne and you know you are just one set of contacts and a dermatology appointment from that guy. You are not him anymore, but you don't want him picked on. You have literally been in his shoes.

Several folks in the class mentioned these same feelings to me, afterwards, and I started to think about it. I don't want to go back to the way I believed before, but I don't want to be classified with the other side. A new, more progressive group. I finally realized, I don't want to be on a side. I want to be me.

Kind of like wearing a suit of clothes and they no longer fit. So you change into something more comfortable. And then they grow too short, so you strip and put on another set. This is right. For awhile. And then you change again. The process continues again and again. And then one day, you notice a picture of someone wearing the stupidest set of clothes you have ever seen and you realize you are looking at an old picture of yourself. And you wonder how in the world you could have ever thought that was fashionable or right. And then suddenly, you look down and realize in a few years you will be looking at a picture of yourself with the clothes you are wearing and you will think the same thing.

I don't want to wear another set of beliefs. I don't want to make fun at the other guy - the old me. I don't want to be identified with any sect, tribe, or belief system. I am slowly seeing that I am a free thinker and that God really likes that in me. I can wear or not wear whatever I want,it doesn't have to own me. I realize in my heart of hearts, I really want to be naked so He can clothe me. With Himself. So that when I look in the mirror, all I see is Him in me.

Ahhhhhhh......

Mary M.

2010-04-03T09:33:00.000-07:00

Today I am thinking about Mary Magdalene. Whenever I have pondered the cross, I have thought Of Mary of Jesus. Being a mother, I cannot imagine what it would be like to sit at the cross, seeing your child suffer and die. As mothers, we can filter out all the pain and anguish they may cause in our lives and love them in spite of it. How very painful to see one so pure and spotless, the flesh of your flesh, dying so inhumanely and so unfairly. It boggles my mind and I can't go there today.

But I can go to Mary M., commonly called Mary Magdalene. Just as Jesus was called a Nazrene because he hailed from the town of Nazreth, Mary received her surname from the town she originated, Magdala. I guess it would be like calling one person Mary Blue for her eyes or Mary Blonde for her hair. Something to differentiate between the two. In the gospel of Luke, Jesus exorcised seven demons from her. Prior to that she was said to be a notorious sinner. I heard a preacher call her a disciple of Christ, and for the first time I realized that there were more disciples than the twelve. Joanna, Salome, and the Mother of Jesus were the ones to go to the tomb that Sunday morning after the Sabbath to care for Jesus' body.

The scripture in John tells of the visit of Mary M. to the tomb. After the disciples come and then leave, discovering the tomb empty, Mary is left in the garden. She is asked by, who she sees as the gardener, why she is crying and who is she looking for. She explains she is looking for her Lord. He says one word, "Mary" and she knows it is him. We discussed this in my class this past Easter Sunday. Why did she not realize it was him and why did she suddenly recognize him.

There is something about your name. I have heard more than one NDE story (near death experience) describing the person who is dying going toward the light and he/she hears the voice of a loved one that has passed before them. They say the person's name, many times coupled with words like, "It is not your time yet". They recognize the voice, maybe in the way the person said their name.

Mary perhaps had heard it as he called forth the demons from her ravaged body. As he showed her mercy where none had before. As he thanked her for her support of her ministry. As he might have acknowledged her from the cross. She knew his voice when he called her name.

Oh, to hear him say my name. I can almost hardly wait.

Little Cross With the Man on It

2010-03-28T19:59:00.000-07:00

So......you know what that is

A crucifix. A cross displaying a dead/dying Christ on it..I never liked those crosses. As a Methodist, we don't put the little man on our crosses. The closest we get to having something on the cross is our trademark flames shooting from it. During Lent, we drape it in dark purple and if we are truly bold, we drape it in white on Easter - ooooooohhhhh - very daring.

I am teasing, but we really don't like to see a suffering Jesus. And I really wonder if the religions that do have him affixed, have become somewhat desensitized to the whole thing. I heard the sermon of Adam Hamilton from his blog, Seeing Gray, the other day. He showed a old black and white picture of a slave that had been beaten severely for trying to flee his master. His back is a massive collection of rough scars, crisscrossing top to bottom. Much like Jesus' back might have been, had he lived long enough to tell the tale. I had never seen the picture of this man, much less the story that followed. Evidently the slave was successful in one of his attempts and did reach freedom. A journalist took this picture and circulated it widely throughout the northern states. Complacent northerners were incensed and the picture did much to excite and promote the anti-slavery sentiments already brewing there.

What did the picture of Jesus dying on the cross do? Did it have any affect on those who saw it. The soldiers, the friends and family, the disciples. How about the people that heard about it from Paul and Barnabas or Peter and John. After a moving message, did they describe the pain and agony of Christ as he slowly died on the cross. That the pure, sinless Son of God died for the miserable sinners they were. I can only imagine.

No, I will do one better. I have been there. I have heard the story of his death and suffering and been moved to tears, moved to guilt, and then moved to grace. Moved along the flow of the blood from his precious, bleeding side. Amen, brother.

To be or not to be

2010-03-26T01:52:00.000-07:00

In November of 2003, my husband suffered a heart attack and almost left this earth. Literally he came back from the dead, and is living still today. The year 2004, was one fraught with complications and healing. As his caretaker, I was immersed in the operations of our company and the day to day routine of his care. I did not check out that year, but I can only describe it as the year of "auto-pilot". God allowed me a type of aftershock, that provided a coccoon of security and peace amidst the struggle. It was an incredible year, and that is meant in the very worst and best way.

The person I was after that year was not the person I had been. I laughed, but no longer with quite the same freedom. I lived, but it did not seem laced with the same abandon. I hoped, but it was not with the hope was slightly colored with loss and grief experienced. I was not a better or bitter person. Just a different person.

I somewhat liked where I was. The pressure to be the life of the party, the rock of Gibralter, the Pollyanna of the family was no longer there. I was me, in all my raw glory - you get what you get. I longed for the person I was. But I could not find me. I was nowhere to be found and I did not know how re-organize or re-make myself.

A very wise woman told me this past week, that perhaps that person does not exist any longer. I was totally caught offguard. How could that be? She is in the mirror and I see and feel her in the small joys and struggles of life. She is there - isn't she. She suggested that I have entered a different season of my life. That the advent was not only camoflauged but ushered in through the crisis of that year. That the last half of life is one of being, not doing.

But what was I to do with this new life, I asked. What ministry would this result in? What would I be able to do for God? How would this work out? But even as I said the words, I realized how redundant they sounded. Being is not doing. It is just being. I am not comfortable with that. I am a do-er, not a be-er. My worth, my abilities are caught up in the doing of things, not the being of a person. But by whose standard am I measured. Mine, others, or God.

She suggested, now get this, that God was pleased with just me. Devoid of action or ministry or purpose. That just as I loved my grandchildren with a love that was not dependent on their goodness or performance, so was the love of God. God as a grandfather is a picture of benevolence beyond the Father image. It is one that embraces the prodigal, that finds the lost sheep, that forgives Peter for denial, that gives Paul that second chance on a Damascus road.

It is one that says, "It is OK, you are OK. And I love you"

A Child Shall Lead....

2010-03-14T19:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I attended the funeral of a baby - a preemie and one of two little boys born to a young couple in their twenties. So very sad, not in that there was not a chance that the baby or babies might not survive, but in the fact that this baby was never really known. How do you remember a child that is less than 2 pounds, that never even opened its eyes, nor uttered a sound?

The young couple expressed their hopes that in the loss of this little one, we would embrace the children we have or those we know and love. That each and every life is precious and to be treasured. How difficult this must have been for them, yet they could look beyond the pain to those around them.

They were so appreciative of those surrounding them, loving them through this. I thought how many times in my life I have been brought to my knees by the pain and suffering this life has dealt me and mine. How these tragedies brought me to a new awareness of the fathomless love of my God and those who claim kinship. I think it is hard to not "assign" the tragedy or trauma to God's will because the outcome so many times is far beyond our ability to comprehend. The depth of love, the peace amidst turmoil, the jewel of wisdom or understanding that we might never have known had we not walked that way.

But God does not choose to be labeled or slandered, given credit or discredit for the things of this life. He holds, caresses, and comforts us through the ordeal. He suffers and shares the burden of our pain and grief. How does it work, I know not, nor do I want to.

I just know that in that funeral yesterday, He sat beside us and cried.

Good vs Evil

2010-03-09T20:16:00.000-08:00

By now you can figure that Tuesday night is the evening I take the Living the Question course. Evil and Suffering was tonight's hot topic. They are not one for tiptoeing through the tulips.

God and Satan. Good and Evil. Black and White. Either/Or. You/me. One side or the other. The premise was put before us. What if good and evil reside in me?

To fan the flames, if I my blessed to have children, is a barren woman cursed. If my prayer is answered but yours is not, am I preferred. What exactly is a blessing? You get the point - more questions than answers. In fact I am beginning to think there are no answers.

I sat with a dear, dear friend during her last hours of life. I picked up her Bible to read her some of the hi-lited scriptures. Passages that were so near and dear to her. Ones we quoted and memorized and recited through chemo and radiation. Her favorite was in Jeremiah.

"For I know the thoughts and plans that I have for you, says the Lord, thoughts and plans for welfare and peace and not for evil, to give you hope in your final outcome"

I suddenly realized that the very words we prayed so fervently were answered. That these very words were so true. His plans were for her welfare and peace, not evil, in the eternal and greater sense. He had given her the greatest Hope in the final outcome. I felt more at peace reading them in light of her death than I ever did in her struggle.

I realized there were tears coursing down my face. What was the true blessing? What was the true Hope? But in Him.

It's not Him? Is it?

2010-03-04T02:59:00.000-08:00

Is it?

The beginning of the end of what you knew as your staid, tried and true theology. It is like the proverbial crack in your spiritual dyke. You run out of fingers and finally, you sit and just let the water rush in, over your head and through your hair.

You knew it was coming. The more you came to know Him, the less some of it matched. Then the less of what you read or saw made sense with what you knew was the truth. First you were a little stressed and then you thought, OK, it doesn't really matter.....does it?

Then you realized it did matter, because if it is not Him, then it is man describing his experience of Him. Not to be negated, but to pull back a teeny, tiny corner of Who they saw. It is never wrong.....it is their perception in another time, another place.

Same Father, but speaking a slightly different language or version. Because, believe it or not, those folks never heard of our 21st century. It did not exist and in their wildest imagination they could not have perceived it.

So is it wrong that I feel He is speaking to me in an updated version. Is it hypocrisy? Or heresy? Or sacrilegious. He wants to be known, by me. He left His thumbprint on the words of my faithful fathers, for me to find. But He did not do it so I would set up an altar and worship the print. He wants me to search for the Hand that made it. He wants to leave more thumbprints in the lives of me and my peers.

So fellow NCIS & CSI-er's. Get out those magnifying glasses and happy hunting...

Creation?

2010-03-02T20:41:00.000-08:00

Taking an abbreviated few sessions on a course of study "Living the Questions". Somewhat radical for my little ole Southern Methodist Church. Many of the sessions can be found on YouTube. Worth looking at.

Tonight we discussed the two accounts of Creation in Genesis. I have not been a literalist when it comes to Creation for a very long time. But in the course of discussion tonight, it was more or less presented that I needed to make a decision. You see, I am not ready to make that. I am perfectly ready to look at the flaws in one, but not ready to swallow the other, hook, line and sinker.

I have had a 360 degree turn around in my views. Kicking and screaming I might add, but nonetheless, I have changed. But you are not going to now tell me what I should think - again. It is as if I have recently been widowed and I am not ready to start dating again. In fact, I am sitting here quite nicely, not having anything figured out. I don't want to go through this grief again, thank you.

I am extremely disillusioned with the evangelical/fundamentalist camp, but I am finding the progressive/emergent church is just as hoity toity. Both find their need to attack the other. Stop that! Go to your respective corners and believe in peace! You will definitely draw more flies to your camp with this type of accepting honey than the vile water you are spewing now.

Not all about me

2010-03-01T19:27:00.000-08:00

Duh!!

But let me explain. I visited my parents this weekend with my grandson. They live in a small East Texas town, retired from the big city. This little town was the place of their birth, their childhood, their courtship. They returned to live near my grandparents and do a little ranching/farming. Life is slowing down a bit for them and each time I go, I realize it a bit more and more. When we see someone on a daily basis, it takes a photo from the past to make us realize how they have aged. When our "photos" are taken by our visits from time to time, we seem to notice it a bit more and I feel it saddens us somewhat. Especially when it is our parents.

In my earlier life, I felt it was my duty when visiting to "do something" Keep the conversations going, take them somewhere, do something with them, etc. But on this trip it was cold and wet and we pretty much stayed in. We each had a recliner and a flannel throw and we just hibernated and watched the Olympics and chatted. My grandson of course had his needs, but they were things that I knew my parents would enjoy doing with him. He helped my mom make dinnner. He made a flannel throw with her help. He and my dad went riding around in their little green Polaris. And what was I doing while all this was going on? Taking a nap.

I do not have to be the center for the world to revolve on its own. I am not the source, heck, I am not even a close second. Life can be better without my input. That is a scary thing to come to grips with. But how freeing.

Touching the Sides

2010-02-10T21:05:00.000-08:00

As I journey, I am finding it difficult. I had a barometer in the past. The feelings of others, the acceptance of friends and familty, the affirmation of my faith community. All more or less formed the "side" of my journey. As a person might walk down a long hall, holding your hands out to feel the walls along your way.

But now, I am really out there. I do not have anyone or anything to bounce this off of. Instead of the freedom I should feel, I am starting to question myself. Who I am now - now that I have disrobed and left the clothing of my old theology along the way. Who now tells me I am on the right path. I don't even know the right path anymore. I am getting more comfortable in this nude body of mine, but it is still so not firm, stable, and concrete.

But I think that is the most amazing thing of all!

Confession - Ugh

2010-01-24T12:47:00.001-08:00

I do not like the word confession. It ranks right up there with the word sin. It is so us and so bad and so black and so evil.

Confessions are tear-laden sobs of misdeeds and conduct. Penitent hearts crossed, that ne'er will evil thought or action cross this feeble mind. But are they?

Where is it written confession is always of a negative origin. There are ardent confessions of love. There is confession of a secret, luscious, life-changing secret. These are not bad. Why, on the contrary, they are extremely good.

So if confession is part of my relationship with my Father, and I accept that fact, why do I limit it to this litany of do's and don't's. The monolithic drone of sins of ommission and commission. The hangman's gallows I build stick by stick by my guilt. Or as adding tender to the righteous fire of His anger.

What if confession is none other than the murmuring between best friends. The whisper of hope and anticipation for things too good to be true. The tearful sorrow at a friend lost for a time or forever. The hesitant, heart-felt confession of wrong done and wrong to be forgiven. The things truly soul friends can hear and say without one smidgen of fear that they will not be accepted, even enfolded for their utterance.

I like that better

More of the Same

2010-01-04T19:08:00.000-08:00

Had a good discussion with a clergy friend of mine. Discussed my questions about the questions my pastor raised. She too is fearful for the church but not in my spooky "dark will overtake light" scenario. Her fear is that the church will exist but become totally irrelevant. She said her comments do not come from someone on the outside throwing rocks, but from within.

Very interesting, because my fundamental/charismatic/conservative/evangelical journey in life to this point sees relevancy in a totally different way. Irrelevant is not having a contemporary worship service with a band. It is a children's ministry that does not have techno-aided object lessons. Or maybe no flat screen TV screens on the sanctuary walls.

What is relevancy and how can we know if we are, if we never address the tough issues out there? Or if we do, we are like a child with his fingers in his ears, repeating over and over, "I'm not listening" As I sat through that sermon yesterday, I realized I have not come as far as I thought. Some of the questions asked, made me uncomfortable. Subconsciously, because my pastor asked them, I assigned her to a specific side. Good grief - it was just a question. She never committed to either side. She expressed the views of both. What harm comes from just asking why?

When a child asks a question, we don't automatically mark them with a number and assign them to a group. No, we understand that they are inquisitive, seeking to understand. Why as Christians, can we not let each other ask why? How can I say undeniably a theological thought is so, when 5 years ago, I totally disagreed with my present view. Was I wrong 5 years ago? Will what I am saying or standing up for right now, be untrue 5 years hence? Is the problem, not in what I am thinking but in taking the stand. Taking the stand that only I and those I choose to identify with know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

What If?

2010-01-03T20:15:00.000-08:00

Heard a very thought provoking sermon from my home church pulpit. It was about the wisemen and the star and the light coming into the world. Usual Epiphany spiel but with a bit of a spin.

The premise was, is the church of today a part of the darkness, much like the church in times past. Times when it opposed such ideas as the abolition of slavery, when it opposed the idea that the sun was the center of the universe. I am sure you could write a book (and they have) of all the terrible things done in the name of God - Spanish Inquisition and Holy Wars thrown in for good measure. The correlation in the sermon was concerning the cutting edge technology and social acceptances of today. Stem cell research, homosexuality, ordination of women. Those things that the stricter mainline denominations stand firmly against.

I understand where both sides are coming from. I was once one of them and am now one of the others. I would have been on the committee to run our pastor out on a rail for the dribble she was preaching. But today, I am different. I am not as quick to judge and hopefully quicker to love.

But where is the line drawn? Is there even a line? In the Old Testament, King Josiah ordered the renovation of the temple, and while it was being cleaned out, a book was found. It was the Book Of Law and this was shown to the King. He sat down and read it and was so overcome with remorse and shame, he went into mourning. I am talking the full gamut - sackcloth and ashes. That story has always had a profound effect on me. How could the Noah ark riding, Joseph in charge of Egypt, Moses Red Sea parting, David killing Goliath Book of Law be totally forgotten? Were there no Bible stories passed down. No namesakes for the mighty warriors like Deborah and Joshua. How did it happen? Like walking into a ghost town and wondering what the people were like that used to live there. Even more, what happened to them.

How do we love, not judge, be light - all that good stuff and not be mindful of the darkness. Can't the light be just as dangerous if it is not handled with care. Fire can provide warmth. cook food. and light the way. But the very same can also destroy 1000's of acres, burn down homes, and even kill people.

Is the key, perhaps, in realizing we are not the Source of the light. We are only the bearers. We must trust and be true to His light and be careful not to manufacture or generate our own. Heavy responsibility or Heavenly responsibility?

A Psalm for the New Year

2010-01-01T06:15:00.000-08:00

O, my Father, open
My eyes to your beauty
My ears to your wisdom
My mouth to your praises
My heart to your mercy
My hands to your service
May I never close
my eyes to the hurting
My ears to their cries
My mouth to their defense
My heart to their anguish
My hands to their healing

Jo

Surprise Ending

2009-12-31T07:58:00.000-08:00

Reading verses from Job. Job 19:1-27 to be exact. Starting to read this out of context, I thought it was Job talking to God. I have had those conversations. Why me? I am good, faithful, I read my Bible, I even teach Sunday School Why am I going through so much stuff.

But, I realized this was Job talking to his supposed friend, Bildad It dawned on me, the Book of Job is not God testing Job, but Job coming to the same realization that I am just now starting to get. I don't deserve anything. Anything I have done of any worth is out of the kindness of His heart and/or the work of His hands in, out, on, and through me.

The other day, I was pretty overwhelmed with the financial struggles we were going through. I started to go into the litany of why is this happening to such good folks and why He should hear and answer my prayers. But those words would not come. Out of my mouth came the words, "Have mercy on me". Now to me, that was some type of communion liturgy, not something us common folks would utter. But utter the words I did. In a most dramatic and soul-wrenching way.

It was freeing. It was as if I was a lawyer with my evidence on the table in front of me and in an instance, it disappeared and I had nothing. I was about to start my arguments, and I had not one shred of evidence. Not one thing of worth that would prove I was worthy. The only thing I had and could cling to was His nature, His grace, and hopefully His mercy.

I think that is what God wanted Job to experience. Job was blessed with so much and in that day and age, that translated to muy righteousness. As human beings, we just weren't built to handle that. What we have, the "good" things that come our way become the proof of our worth, the object of our attention, and ultimately the sign of our righteousness. Whether we plan it that way or not. Heck, we may not even
see it that way.

What is so cool about the Book of Job, is that even though it seems to be a betting match with the devil, God is doing what He does best. He uses evil to produce good. Job, after his fall, was twice the man he was before. With a leg up from the devil. Bet there was some snickering in heaven when that story ended.

The Least,

2009-12-25T04:25:00.000-08:00

This morning, I fed the homeless......

This morning, the homeless fed me.

I have never been this close to poverty. I have contributed to our church pantry, bought the occasional turkey dinner for "those less fortunate". But today, I was in their midst. A church in Houston has been feeding the homeless since 1981. Every morning, they have over 200 men and women show up at their door, hungry and anxious. Yesterday, I was one of the many that joined them to open that door, greet them, and say "Come on in"

I talked to them, as I cleaned tables. They commented on the weather last night. A horrific electrical storm with strong winds. As I talked with them, it was hard to remember I spent it huddled in a nice warm bed. If they were lucky they might have found room under the bridge. We both knew the forecast of the weekend. For me, it would help me know how to dress. For them, it would help them know how to survive.

I was told there were over 18,000 homeless in Houston. In this country, many retired folks migrate to the warmer states to spend the winter, usually in RV's or to homes they keep here. We call them Winter Texans. I found among the homeless, there are Winter Texans as well.

I spoke with a Vietnam vet. He spoke of the discrimination by the city against the homeless. He said this with a mouthful of biscuit and gravy, provided by the kindness of the hearts of that same city.

I talked to a newbie. I found that although, this is a time for plenty, it provides special inconveniences. If newly disconnected, you still looked normal. You could blend in at the library or spend time in the unemployment office to warm up. Holidays closed many of those warm spots down.

Others, like me, feeling the pull of their hearts and responding in kind, brought little treats of snacks, Bibles, and rain gear. I realized that a lot of folks choose this life. There is a hobo trail that leads from churches to shelters. From meal to meal. From hand-out to hand-out. Some of them have it down, even to their demeanor. The humble posture, the downcast eyes, the shuffling steps.

But there are so many others, that for them, this is life. Life as they know it. Life as I see it, this one Christmas Eve morning. When I found time in my busy holiday schedule to pop down and wipe a table or two.

I left with a new perspective....a new humility. I left with a strong resolve to do this again, more often. Knowing in my heart of hearts, I probably won't.
I left, realizing that no matter what the reason, Jesus said "Come" and they did.

And I got to see it.

Heck,I got to play "Him".

The Next Thing

2009-12-23T04:53:00.000-08:00

Tough Times

This is the first Christmas that I have really felt the pinch of hard times. I have been in them before, but I guess my youth and exuberance shielded me from the entire blow. Not so this year.

In saying that, this is one of the most blessed Christmas' I have ever experienced. I think I am getting the hang of focusing on "The Next Thing".

I love to play games. Crossword, solitaire, puzzles, sudoku - you name it, I love it. Computers and the internet have opened a myriad of opportunities and to those of us who have a little OCD to contend with, it is either a blessing or a curse.
Free cell solitaire is one of my addictions.

I woke up this AM in a funk. All the serious and possible ramifications of our present financial situation came down in full force on my sleepy and vulnerable mind. I pulled up a hand of free cell to engage my scattered thoughts. In this state of mind, I could not focus on the next cards available for play. My thoughts and sight followed up each row and I saw all the possibilities of future moves, etc. At the same time, however, I saw all the improbabilities. This did not improve my state of mind.

I realized that my favorite verses in Philippians 4 were twofold. In times of stress and turmoil, we must allow God to guard us from worry and things that might pull us down, interfering with our ability to see His hand and present guidance. However, in other times, we must ask for an equal share of wisdom, not to switch gear and lean on our own understanding. We must live in the moment. It is not a cop out, as sometimes I fear, but the only way I can live in His Light.

If I look up the row of days ahead and start estimating all the dire possibilities, I will get myself in a pickle. But if I make my best decision, with God's help, in the present day, the present hour, the present minute, I can leave the rest to Him.

Why? For the simple reason He knows what lies ahead.

I do not.

This Baby

2009-12-20T03:23:00.000-08:00

This Baby

Why is this baby
Asleep on the hay
Who let this happen?
A manger to lay

Stable’s no nursery
What could be stranger
Animals too close
Posin’ a danger

And such young parents
There’s somethin’ amiss
Who gave them care of
A babe such as this?

Hmph! Silly baby gifts
Myrrh and frankincense
See those sharp edges?
Just don’t make no sense

Look at this company
Shepherds and their sheep
Too much noise in here
A child needs His sleep

I know a bedtime story
About a little boy
A mama just like yours
That Son, her pride and joy

Became a preacher man
No place to lay His head
Healed the sick, fed the poor
Til’ news about Him spread

Then some folks got angry
Tho’ He’d only come to save
Tried and crucified Him
Laid his body in a grave

Such a sad cradle song
Makes a body weep
Don’t worry, sweet baby
Rest and get your sleep,

I’ll make up a new story
That one needs mendin’
Leave out that mean ole cross
Give it a happy endin’

Jo

Emmanuel

2009-12-20T03:11:00.000-08:00

God with us

I think of all the Christmas "names" that is my favorite. Counselor, King of Kings, Prince of Peace, Lord of Lords. All so dear and near, but none come as close as this one.

God with us

At this time of year,like all the Christmas's of my life, I spiritually stand at the manger. I have touched the manger, looked lovingly at the young couple, and cooed and gurgled with the baby. But in the recesses of my mind, I have always had an ominous feeling that I would have been one of those that would have said "How silly". The hopes of the world, born in a stable, on a cold winter's night? Hmph!

But this Christmas is different. Because I am different. I do not stand on what I know but am falling free among the wonder of what I don't. I don't think I have ever experienced Christmas before. Not really. I have not one decoration in my home. Not because I am a Scrooge, but because I am letting Christmas come to me on soft little cat paw's. It has slinked around the back of the chair and pounced on my heart. I give up, I am His. Forever and ever and ever. And He is mine

Emmanuel

It's A Wonderful Life

2009-12-13T20:21:00.000-08:00

I watched a colorized version of the Christmas classic, "It's A Wonderful Life". I did not plan to, but I did.

I was expecting some brash, fake, colorization, but was pleasantly surprised. The color was subtly added and did not detract from the film. In fact, I saw things I had never seen before.

At the beginning of the story, George and Mary dance right into the school pool, and are walking home in borrowed clothing. Mary loses hers and ends up in a hydrangea bush. Never noticed that before.

Later in the story, due to a mishap, George and Mary spend their honeymoon in their delapidated new, old home. Mary and friends make it into a romantic getaway. A vase of flowers in the corner, just happens to be blue hydrangeas. What a special and memorable touch. I only knew because of their blue color.

I think the kingdom of God is like that. It is a dimension we can live in that is colorized. It does more than bring out the the blues and greens. He is able to open our eyes to all people and things around us. The problem is, sometimes it is more comfortable to return to the drab, muted grays of my life. Just to hide and blend in. I think maybe that is why I have to pursue Him. The colors are only visible when I am connected to the Vine. The Master Artist. He has the pallete. The coloring box with all the good colors And when I realize if I draw close enough, He is always open to sharing - WOW!

A Wonderful Technicolor Life!

But you can almost hear Him chuckle. Because He knows there would be no colors if it was not for the black and white and grays.........

What If?

2009-12-12T12:32:00.001-08:00

What If?

What if
When I ask Him
To come into my heart,
He says He is already
There

Jo

A Mirror Image

2009-12-12T08:40:00.000-08:00

Have you ever seen a baby look into a mirror for the the first time?

I have a big bed with an inset mirror in the headboard. The first time my nine month old granddaughter saw herself in it, she was stunned. I purposefully kept far to the side. Out of her line of vision. She greeted this "new baby" enthusiastically, reaching out to touch this mirror image. Miraculously, the mirror baby did the same.

When does a baby realize the baby in the mirror is, in fact, themselves.

I guess that is the question I am trying to answer in my life. When do I realize the man at the corner, asking for money, is me. When do I realize the 60 year old woman waiting tables, silently, hoping to blend in with the diner decor, is me. And hardest of all, the angry woman at the next desk, closing out the world, including me, by her steely glances and biting retorts. She is me as well

I think I am realizing that loving my neighbor is easier when I realize they are me. It is not hard to love myself. I just must find her in the mirror.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Saved?

2009-12-11T19:44:00.000-08:00

I am flaking out

No longer do I hold ranks with the country club mentality of Christendom. I do not believe in once saved, always saved. I guess this is no surprise, I never did. But I did believe in the proverbial "boat to heaven" theory and I had my ticket. What scares me is I am, in fact, seriously contemplating the validity of this form of "salvation"! I used to call down lightening on folks such as I!

Wait a minute... Okay I can continue. I have not been turned into a crispy critter, so let me elaborate.

The things that bugged me in my former life were statements like "the kingdom of heaven is at hand". So much of what I took as the "gospel" in those formative years, I find can just as easily make an argument for the other side. Wait a minute, that is my side - that's a scary thought.

Christ was not one to stand on His laurels. I don't have a problem with inequality in life here or thereafter. I am not a universalist, thinking that God is good and kind and He must want everyone in heaven. I just think Christ came to earth to save us from something. He did not come to box us up, seal us with tape, and mark us "Heaven Bound - Handle with Care".

Perhaps He came to save us from ourselves. The spiritual bondage we are in -PERIOD. The inability to do or even to want to do right. Because we can't even get that right on our own. Even when we restrain ourselves and walk on the right side of "good", we draw the line there. The sins of ommission are given free rein and multiply like rabbits. Self induced piety does that to a person. Been there, done that.

God Saves. That was and is the business He specializes in. Be it Egypt or addiction, He is the one to call.

I am not completely clear on this so again, I state my disclaimer. I am not a theologian, not formally educated in anyway. This opinion is not even set in stone.

I am so happy He is writing on my heart and not something had like tablets. It is much more malleable and edits so beautifully.

The Go Between

2009-12-10T03:33:00.000-08:00

I have an only daughter. Enough said - almost.

She and her dad don't talk. They both go through me. Each tells me exactly what they feel, what they think about each other, what they think about me. But when they talk to each other, it is like one person trying to impress another. My daughter is funny and humorous, complimentary and loving. My husband cannot say no to anything she requests. He dotes on his grandkids, and generally bends over backwards. But to me they unload.

I am tired being the unloadee. I am tired of being the one that hears all the gripes and groans. I am sick of being the one that is constantly trying to remedy the situation, fix the problem, and then getting the grief for doing it. What is up with this!

Dads are different from daughters. They can just get so close. The relationship is one that is never exactly comfortable. Same way with daughters. They see him as the one coming in from work. The breadwinner, the boss. Thus they go through middle management - me.

I have resented this my whole life. Because each of them knows exactly what to say to me. They tell me everything and anything. They gripe, cajole, cry, and vent. And sometimes, it can be just too much to bear. Especially when what I think is the remedy to the situation is not appreciated.

I think Jesus must have felt like that. God and man. Each unable to communicate to the other. Man living up to what he/she thought God wanted. God trying unsuccessfully,for the major part, to express His love to man. Voila - enters Jesus - the Saviour. The go between, the fixer-upper, the middle man.

I have lost a little steam out of my sails of anger I started this blog with. Maybe I need to not worry about fixing my husband or my daughter. I just need to lay down and be a bridge...... Besides,I am used to being walked over....

Lost: One Sense of Humor

2009-12-06T18:58:00.000-08:00

I have experimented the last few weeks. I have been thinking about laughter. I have lost mine. I don't think it is really my laugh. I still have it. Maybe it is the joy that gave birth to it. I don't know when I lost it. Perhaps it happened when I lost several loved ones in the course of a year. I think I might have lost it along that path. The financial stress and strains of these past few months, have not helped. If nothing else, they have surely kept me too busy to search for it.

But I have been looking and I am hot on the trail. The joy is found or expressed in the laughter. I have a trademark laugh. You can here me from across the room and you know it is me laughing. My family thinks it is annoying, my friends say they love it (what can I say they are friends). But I know when I laugh, I am filled with joy. And I guess when I am filled with joy, I laugh. So I have purposefully started making myself laugh.

Norman Cousins, author of Anatomy of an Illness, wrote about his experiences as a patient. He had an auto-immune disease that was very painful. He was very sick and was slowly dying. In a last ditch effort, he tried laughter. He started watching comedy. He would watch Marx brothers movies for hours at a time and laugh. He found that 4 hours of movies could produce 2 hours of pain free sleep. He pursued this and was eventually healed of the disease. Amazing..... More to come

Letting Go or Letting In

2009-12-03T20:04:00.000-08:00

Grace..

That elusive, indescribable something. A gift, unmerited favor - no matter what you call it, everyone has a different perception of what it is. The ordinary blessings (whatever that means) in life - breath, light, food, shelter. Or maybe forgiveness - not asked for or even expected. Maybe the answers to prayer - when what we pray for coincides with what happens to us.

The parable of the Prodigal Son is one of my favorites. It is one of those scriptures that grows with you. In each stage of living, I have seen it from each character's perspective. As the child, I saw the generosity of the parent. As an obedient adult, I took the older brother's side. As a doting grandparent, I have seen the Father's view.

But today as I read it once more, it dawned on me the grace may not have been in the receiving of the wayward son home, but in the letting him go. In giving him what he asked for, knowing full well the trouble he would buy, the pain he would suffer, the humiliation and deprivation that might come. But doing it anyway. Not sure if he would ever return, much less escape unscathed - emotionally, spiritually, or even physically.

My generation, in parenting, put our children at the center of our lives. As such, we have created self-centered children. Tough love is a tough lesson many of us do not want to learn. But learning it, some of us are. Loving enough to let go, to cut off, to kick out. And it is the hardest thing we have ever done. But it is one of the greatest acts of love we may ever perform.

Is it in living, not in the favors, but the hurdles that are the blessings? The times He does not rescue me, but allows me to tread water. Even sink? Unmerited favor could very well be unwanted favor as well. The favor unwanted, because I do not look deeper than the surface. To see the Jewel shimmering just below the surface.

Wow, how much of my life becomes "on". Not waiting for the next encounter or next answer to prayer or the next retreat or the next stirring message. But every moment of the day - living, inhaling, exhaling the Living Lord. A God who lets me go and receives me home. Because that is the only way I will find Him.

Ahhhhh.....that is Grace

Blogging

2009-12-02T03:26:00.000-08:00

Blogging is a different animal

I have read several blogs, by a variety of folks. Of course, my interest is in folks that are searching outside the box for God. People like me who have come to know God in a very personal way, in a very strict way. I cannot put blame on my church, parents, etc. It was a combination of things. My need to please, my OCD nature, my difficult life experiences at a very early age, the list goes on and on.

But one day, I sat at my computer, with tears streaming down my face, reading the "scripture" of various world religions and it hit me. God so loved the world! God so loved the world! He gave His only begotten Son, not to the sect of followers named Christians, but to all. He sent us into the world not to solicit membership to a club, but to introduce Him. He is not a doll to be dressed in a certain clothing, with a button we push that speaks pre-arranged messages. He is a living, breathing, changing, transforming, loving, empowering force that has been unleashed on the world. It is sad, but I and so many have Him on a leash, holding Him back, teaching Him tricks, making Him beg. Instead of letting Him loose and letting Him do what He does best. He is the piece that fits right into the empty spot in their hearts but that piece may not look the same as the one that fit into mine because the spot was not the same size. So I must let Him go and let Him be. I must let Him go and let Him do. I must let God be God and me be me with Him inside - working, transforming, living, and breathing in me. What a tough job I have! LOL!

Freedom - I never understood it until now. I am not Him. And the closest I will ever get to being Him, is letting Him reside in me. Loving the heck out of me.
Hallelujah.

As A Child

2009-12-01T20:44:00.000-08:00

I have found a niche I am enjoying the scratching.

I am working with a little preschool choir at church. I did this in my former life, 25+ years ago. How funny to see how I have changed since that time.

As a mom of a 4 year old, I was very worried about the words of the songs, the way the children stood, how they behaved, if their robes were straight, etc. As a grandmother, I am enjoying the little girl on the front row, scratching where her petticoat rubs. The twin boys, fussing and struggling over who sings louder. The little one, catching her face on the sanctuary screens, making finger puppets. Mothers having real belly laughs as Junior waves at them from the steps.

If growing older means I am able to see with new eyes, bring it on. If it means getting the joy out of enjoy, sign me up. I am sure there are some in the audience that feel I am not an adequate or proper choir director. However, I feel there is One Person in the audience that is clapping His hands in glee right along with me.

Sin

2009-11-20T19:21:00.000-08:00

I hate that word. In the more recent Biblical translations, difficult words have received a new coat of cultural paint. But not this word. It seems to have such an archaic, negative connotation. But I cannot think of another word for it. Sin.

I know there were ideas in the Bible that were a sign of the times. Epilepsy - believed to be a possession of demons. Blindness, not a disease but a direct result of some familial sin. Pre-dominant theology agrees that these were misdirected ideas. But what about sin. How do I know it was not misunderstood as well. Jesus' take on sin was definitely not the same as His Pauline counterpart. In fact, Jesus was much more forgiving of our sinful nature than the traditional church of today.

So where do we get our definition. Who sets the standard? Man the creation or God's Incarnation. Rules set by our books of church discipline or the Living Word. Who was the bad guy? According to Jesus, it was not the tax collector, Zaccheus, but the self-righteous Pharisee. And what about His take on the sin. The greater sin was not the woman caught in adultery, but that of those who set her up to be apprehended and stoned.

Perhaps sin is not an action but a chasm God reaches across to meet us. Is it not a thing but space? A chasm created when God created us. A space we must cross to touch Him. To see Him. To be like Him. Not our fault, but our obstacle. An obstacle that makes the journey interesting, difficult, and sometimes near impossible. But, oh my goodness. How it makes that moment of revelation, that epiphany of connection all the sweeter. Sin - the stone that causes us to stumble but also serves as our step stool. How bittersweet it is!

Be Thankful

2009-11-19T03:49:00.000-08:00

In Philippians it says:

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything in prayer WITH THANKSGIVING, make your requests known and the peace that passes all understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus

This is a scripture I turn to, time and again. I am a professional worrier. I am not kidding. If there could be a PHD in anxiety, I would hold it. I have been a student since I was a kid. My little brother was burned very badly in my presence when I was 8 and he was 6. Over half of his body, third degree burns. His clothes caught fire and as my mother tried to remove the burning clothes from his little body, I pulled burning furniture from the house and put out assorted fires within it. I became an adult that day. I became the mother to a one year old sister, and the unspoken matriarch of a family in the absence of my parents ability to care for both the horrendous two year ordeal of over 20 surgeries my little brother underwent and the trials, emotionally, spiritually, and financially that this brought to them and our family. Until this year some 40+ years later, did I realize, that was when I earned my degree in worry. I did not sign up for the course, it was thrust upon me and my life became a series of "continuing education" courses, either experienced personally or third person in the emotional and physical care of myself, close friend, and family that have gone through horrific experiences. I guess in a way, my anxiety was being fueled and fed, as I watched the worst nightmares realized in the lives of those I loved.

Each trial, loomed large and intense, because it the was the present one. It clouded my thoughts, my common sense, my energies, and fueled the already heightened anxiety I naturally had. But as I have grown older and hopefully wiser, mentally and spiritually, I have begun to look for the "blessing" sooner in the ordeal. It is like a child knowing there is a lollipop after the shot and after so many, you start looking for the lollipop before immediately afterwards. Then during. And finally even as it starts. Silly analogy, but it will have to do for now.

It is the thanksgiving that is the key. Sometimes, the small things we can find to be thankful for, are the only life preservers we have in this sea of pain and suffering. The key is to know the power gratitude has to keep us afloat. The key is to know it is His provision and His presence and His power that makes it possible.

Psalm II

2009-11-15T05:51:00.000-08:00

Psalm II

O, my Father
Open my eyes to your beauty
My ears to your wisdom
My mouth to your praises
My heart to your mercy
My hands to your service

Imageo Dei

2009-11-13T14:38:00.000-08:00

The Image of God...

What does it really mean? I know it is not physical, but what is it? Is it the image of Him that is only complete when it ignites with the Christ to be had? Is it the receptacle waiting for the blood of Christ to be dropped in so that redemption will spring forth like a sprig of green grass? Is it a key given to the potential, elected - the chosen one who will one day by chance or ordinance be accepted into the exclusive fellowship of believers?

We are all made in the image of God. What part of "all" do we not understand? Perhaps the image is an opaque glass container in which sits a beautifuly white candle. Both are visible and recognizable. But when the wick is lit on the candle, the beauty is breathtaking. It is no longer a receptacle with waxed wick. No. It is transformed by the touch of the fire.

Perhaps that is what it is all about. Am I the "Christ" that He wishes me to share? Not some theological dissertation or restricted fellowship. Not a clique or sect or denomination. I have been lit for the reason of illumination. Is it the Christ in me, not the Christ in my Bible or in my sanctuary that is so hard to believe but so necessary to do so?

Is the perfection we aim for the very thing the world cannot believe or cannot draw close to? Hmmm....

A Promise

2009-11-11T00:59:00.000-08:00

I am lying in bed next to my husband. It is 2 AM and he has had a rough week. In addition to ongoing medical and financial issues, he is suffering a stomach virus. This illness is a drop in the bucket in comparison to what he is going through. But this is the proverbial " straw that broke the camel's back". Through the years, he and I have found comfort in tough times, by my reading scripture out loud. I have been doing that and he asks that I find the words to his favorite hymn. I do and start to read them to him:

Hymn of Promise by Natalie Sleeth

In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!
In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;
There’s a dawn in every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.
From the past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity,
In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

My husband's back is to me and I suddenly see the jerking of his shoulders. He is crying. Now, a man crying is not all that unusual, but my husband is a big strapping ex college football playing guy and this is rare. Life has literally slapped him up side the head with a big dose of woe and this simple song has released the torrent.

The phone rings, a call from work, and he must go in for a little while. I hate it and am worried about him. But after dressing, he looks at me and with a smile, says, "It is going to be OK".

As I hear the front door close, I know it will. Not because the difficulties have been resolved or the viral side effects completel relieved. But because in the dark of the tunnel, he has seen a small pinpoint of light. He cannot tell me exactly what it is, but he knows it is not a train, and that is the only hope he has to cling to right now.

Funny, how sometimes that is all we have and it turns out to be enough. Not the promise of promotion, good health, or financial security. But the faint glimmer of hope that this too shall pass. He walks with us through the wind, the fire, the water. The fire may be quenched, the winds calmed, and the waters quieted. But not necessarily so. He walks with us "through". How blessed that word is - "through". Not set up camp, hunker down, or build a condo there. Through it to the other side. That is the hope my husband had in his words and his smile this morning. And he shared it with me.
Praise God!

"Please & Thank You" or "Thank You & Please"

2009-11-08T15:57:00.000-08:00

In a small department at my college, there were three separate instances of a young woman losing their grandmother. Taken their ages, this was not unusual but in the small group, it was devastating. I don't know if it was the loss or the fact that there was an inability for anyone to recover and offer the others their sympathy or empathy. I found myself returning to one of my favorite scripture.

Be anxious for nothing, but in prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your request known. And the peace that passes all understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.

Being a rather anxious person, the "peace that passes all understanding" has been a difficult and elusive commodity. In reading the scripture, the words "with thanksgiving" took on more of an importance. In praying for the young women, I thanked God for the importance of grandparents and realized the loss in my life. It was bittersweet, because from where I was sitting, my grandparents deceased, I could understand the beauty of their memories. Things I never appreciated when they were alive, but that lived on after their deaths. It was incredible. I realized in my praying, thanksgiving was a list by rote of all the things I am grateful for. Most of the time, though important in my life, listed without much thought or feeling. I realized also in praying for these young women, the peace that passed all understanding was the fact that I knew God would be in the situation and He would bring the sorrow and grief to fruition. And there it was - the peace. Not that there would be no pain and suffering, but that it would be part not the whole. Though I may not always be able to do it. I "pray" I remember to say "thank you" before I say "please". Because it is for me.

Christ in Me

2009-10-30T07:02:00.000-07:00

Why do we feel as a church, as Christ, that people have to come to us, rather than us going to them? If Jesus had ministered only to those that came to synagogue, he would have had a very tumultuous and an assuredly much shorter ministry. Christ came to me - when I was a fundamentalist, an evangelical, a charismatic, a moderate, and even now in my more liberal theology. He was always the heart of my desire. Funny, but I felt he looked and acted totally different in each stage of my spiritual life. But you know what. He did not change. I cannot go back and tell you at any time, that he revealed any part of him that was not in line with his character. He was to me what I needed each step of the way. But he was always Christ. I just see so clearly now that my need of him was more important than my theologically correct perception of him. And he knew it and he allowed it. He did not compromise who he was in anyway. And as I grew, I learned how to love him each step of the way. And what I saw was what I wanted. I wanted to draw closer and in drawing closer, I was transformed. I hope for the better.

Providence (and not Rhode Island)

2009-10-29T19:56:00.000-07:00

Weird word - providence. Kind of antiquated in a sense, but it speaks volumes. I can't really put my finger on it. Heck it's not my finger that needs to wrap around it. It's my mind. When I was a child, there was a song I remember singing,

Be not dismayed, whate'r betide,
God will take care of you
Beneath His wings of love abide,
God will take care of you

God will take care of you
Through everyday
O'er all the way
He will take care of you
God will take care of you

Being a neurotic, anxious, worry-ridden kid, this song was one I repeated or sang on many an occasion. He would make everything better. All bad things would turn into good. God would spin straw into gold. He would take care of everything.

But as I grew older, things happened to me and my loved ones, that were in no way good. And I have to be honest, it was sometimes very hard to see the outline of His hand in those bad things. The events literally rocked and split my world apart.

But as I re-read the stanzas of this hymn today, I realized it was not "them" - circumstances, trials, tragedies - that He promises to take care of. It was me. He does not promise to make "it" better. He promises to care for me through the struggles and in the chaos I travel. My only job is to believe that and live like I do. Not always easy, but how fine it is when I can.

God's Economy

2009-10-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

The teachings of the Bible can come across pretty harsh. The Old Testament especially. A lot of killing people, beheading, stoning, etc. Even the sayings of Christ sometimes didn't match the man he was. I think sometimes, we take the statements at face value. The statement's face, not the man who made it.

One is "Judge not lest you be judged" As a child growing up in my homogenous Christian world, I could almost see God behind a huge mahogany podium, black robes, wire rim glasses perched on his nose, looking down on me, gavel in hand, ready to pronounce my sentence. All because I was critical about a friend. It was a simple cause and effect, sin and punishment kind of thing to me.

Lately, I have questioned that. I think it may mean, if you judge other folks, 99% of the time, you are saying the same critical things to yourself. It is a habit. You can't cut someone else down without nicking yourself. I hate doing it and I try my best not to, but it is a hard habit to break. But what a difference it is making in my life. The less I criticize others, the less I criticize myself. It seems I was the judge in black robes. Not God. I am sure it doesn't make him shout for joy, but He is pretty much pointing out one of the economic realities of kingdom living. My cause and my effect. Hmmm - wonder what else I can find.