A poem

Off topic, and I'm certainly no poet, but I wanted to write this and remember this event fondly.


It seemed almost idyllic as I laid upon my bed,
to listen to that squirrel each night run above my head.
He seemed so energetic, frisky and even spry,
It never did occur to me, he was about to die.

Until one fateful evening as I opened up my door,
I could hardly stand for noticing a very strong odor.
For sometime earlier it seems, the little tyke had died,
Right above the heads where two children would soon lie.

They covered their noses and they coughed, frowning all the while,
While one struggled to hold down, a sudden burst of bile.
They glared at me and announced that my house badly smelled,
I stood convinced that just to wait would bode me very well.

Until that next chilly morning, as I worked to breakfast soon,
I really quite unthinkingly heated up the room.
We all three grew so quiet as the house grew warm and rank,
With that warmed up smell of something dead, our stomachs quickly sank.

Quickly we fled the house; the smell of cinnamon and death
When suddenly a happy thought, stole away my breath.
What a memory this would be, surely one to cherish,
All because that frisky tyke, unhappily had to perish.

A miracle in me.

Wow.

What a night.

It seems almost wrong to write tonight, just because no words I could say would really tell the story of what happened tonight. But it was good. All those things I've been saying for the last couple of years on this blog... they're entirely true.

It's hard to like yourself. Easy to believe bad things about yourself. And really hard to fight for yourself. In one of my posts I remember writing that it's a lot easier to cry to God that you're worthless than it is to yell at the devil that you have value. And the devil certainly creamed me this time.

But tonight I suddenly had the urge to go to my piano, and I found myself singing the old Carmen song "Hunger for Holiness" and one piece of a verse goes like this:

The tempter stalks about me as a lion
Searching for the slightest scent of blood
For when the skin of my resistance is broken
He moves in swiftly to deepen the cut.



And I realized that the intial cut wasn't really all that deep. It was actually more of a scab pulled off an old wound and after months of festering and the devil at work, I found myself with a gaping, gushing, and putrid wound.

I don't know what the difference was tonight. Well I guess I do. God made the difference. I don't know what He was waiting on for me, because tonight didn't feel any different until I sang those words, and the realization of what the devil had done for the last months washed over me.
Even for all the questions that I still have, at this exact moment, I have peace about them.

One thing I do know was different tonight is when I said I needed God, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I couldn't do it on my own. I couldn't will myself to be at peace. I couldn't decide I would be full of faith. And I couldn't make myself hope. When I said I needed God, I knew there wasn't any other way.

It's late, by my standards, and I've already said a lot, so I'm not going to get in too deep with this post. Especially when I can summarize things pretty easily with very few words.
I've been asking where the God of miracles is, why doesn't He do miracles today. And tonight He did a miracle in me. And while I'd love to see a mountain move, I think this qualifies as a rock moving.

Moving rocks off my porch.

The post on the passion of Christ really hit me tonight.

I figure it all has to do with timing, and it just timed in with some other things that happened and made a trinity of conviction.

The message tonight was on safety, and I sat there just mentally shaking my head while thinking "It doesn't feel safe." And then two thoughts came crashing in at once.

Before the service ever started I was at the piano playing an old song called "He hideth my soul" It's worth a second to read the words if you have the time(or listen here). It's a pretty song about Gods protection, His watchful care.

So as I sat there complaining how it doesn't feel safe the thought came to mind about that song and the words of it. He hideth my soul. My soul. And then that verse from Matthew came to mind, about fearing those that can kill the soul, and not fearing those that can kill the body.

And then I got all huffy. I have to tell you, in utter honesty, I want a God that protects me from all physical harm, all emotional harm, and if He could include in that wish list all the stupid harm I inflict on myself with bad decisions... well that'd be great too.

But I know with certainty He's protected my soul during the last months. And while that may seem a strange thing to say, it's absolutely true. I could have easily walked away from everything, except for this constant pull that was on my heart. It was a pull that said despite what I was thinking and feeling, despite how unsaved I felt I should be, despite how fed up I was convinced He was with me, and despite how fed up He knew I was with Him, that pull said He had not let me go.

The entire idea, doesn't necessarily go against my beliefs (I believe you can walk away from your salvation), but it just wasn't something that I ever imagined that God did. If you had described it to me, I really wouldn't have understood what you could have meant. I certainly wouldn't have been able to imagine how such a thing would feel. But I have to tell you, while it almost feels nice, it's also very frustrating.

When you just can't get it together and someone is hanging onto you. I imagine it like a moment where you're dangling off the edge of a cliff, and someone has barely got you by the fingertips. You know help won't arrive fast enough, and you're going to die so at some point you consider your life and tell you friend to just let go, it's hopeless - but they won't. So you're left there, dangling, wishing they'd let go, fearing they will, and knowing any minute now the drop is going to happen unexpectedly and it would have been less scary to know that you made the decision yourself.

I love God.

I don't get Him, I don't understand one wit, and I'm still reeling from some of lifes blows. A blow He allowed.
I'm also still praying for sick people that He hasn't healed.
Mean people that aren't nice yet.
And I know anyone that is reading this - IS TOO.
And I just don't get that.

And Christians everywhere just seem to 'stuff it' and never talk about how confused they are that God's not doing something spectacular. Or even better are all the Christians that somehow just shrug off the fact that nothing spectacular is happening and put it under the heading of "faith". While it doesn't feel like FAITH at all to accept the less than spectacular. Yet, I feel faithless for not being able to accept the less than spectacular because I'm over here putting rocks on my porch saying "God, forget mountains, would You even make this ROCK move?"

All that said.. I'm glad He didn't let me go, I just wish He'd finally pull me up from this blasted cliff.

A link - Passion of Christ

I know I link to stuff sometimes and you think, "eh... I've got a busy day, and I don't know for sure that whatever she's linking to that interested her will interest me". For the first time ever... I don't care. READ THIS POST.

It was also so good, that I'm not going to just put a link to this persons blog in my sidebar, I'm going to put a link to this guys POST in my sidebar under the heading "Passion of Christ".

It came from the blog "Stuff Christians Like" I've been a fan of this blog since shortly after it began, and it's generally light hearted and enjoyable, with insights every now and then that blindside you much like this post blindsided me, but had me racing to read each word.

This post, is great. And for the record, it has almost nothing to do with the movie "Passion of The Christ", yet the post is titled:
"#183: The Movie "The Passion of the Christ."

It's from a site called "Stuff Christians Like" by Jon Acuff

Question

I wonder if it's actually possible to love God, yet be so completely suspicious and wary of Him?

Link - I see Jesus

Brian Mashburn over at "On Becoming Truer" has a terrific story of a little boy seeing Jesus. I liked it. Take a minute (it's not that long) and go read it.

The post is called "I see Jesus".

Hypermiling

406.2 divided by 9.831
Can you do that math in your head? No? Well let me help you. The answer is 41.3
Right up there with 5 loaves 2 fishes divided by 5,000 equaling 12 baskets.

Ok.. Maybe not quite that miraculous but still….
That 41.3 is Miles Per Gallon.
I’ve been practicing this wonderful art called Hypermiling. Most simply put, it's just a bunch of tricks to get the very most out of every last drop of gasoline in your car. I typically got 27mpg. Then I started hypermiling. My first go-round netted me a whopping 33MPG. So, having seen results I got a little more serious about it, and this last time I netted that wonderful 41.3MPG. And just for the record (since it's always the next question) I drive a '97 Nissan Sentra.
I’m still learning, but I know I haven’t gotten as good a mileage as I could have yet so I’m excited to see what my next reading is. It doesn’t have much to do with my Christian walk, except if I try and put it under the heading of being a good steward of my money. Just to throw a little bit more math out there for you; by working on this hypermiling thing, this last tank of gas saved me 6.22222222 gallons of gas and $21.71 (that’s using the current rate of $3.49 for gas).
Ok. Just in case anyone else is willing to give this a shot, here are the few tips I’ve learned along the way.
I’ve read tips that give you lots of facts, and I’ll link you to them, but I’m just going to tell you what I did. You want better details and facts… read the articles.

1: I slowed down. I don’t go any faster than 50mph. Yeah, it’s slow. Get over it. So far, based on where I generally drive it hasn't posed a hazard so far. If it did, I'd speed up some. Some.
2: Yeah I know this one is crazy, but if I put my car in a position I have to back out of, I try and do it on an incline. Then, to back out I simply put my car in neutral, and roll backwards without ever turning on my car. Once I’m out then I start the car and drive off.
3: For a 4 cylinder, my car has some get-up-and-go to it. I had to stop that. No quick take offs. Period. It's a bummer.
4: I use my brakes as little as possible. Brakes slow you down, you paid gas to gain that speed, so don’t throw it away by using your brakes unless you have to. That means watching out for lights and, especially when no one is behind me, I just coast up to stop signs with my car in neutral rather than spending the gas to get to the stop sign quickly. Also, I usually keep a good distance from the car in front of me anyway, and it's helped out in this experiment because sometimes they've hit their brakes and most of the time by the time I've coasted up to them, they've sped up, or turned, whatever it was that made them slow down.
5: The hardest step so far. For no good reason. This is the step where I emptied stuff out of my car before I took a short drive, even though I knew I’d have to put it in after the drive because I had to haul it somewhere. You take stuff out because the more stuff you have in your car, the more gas it takes to move your car.
6: The simplest to do, but hardest to remember. I put my seatbelt on before I start the car. Rather than leaving my car running (a.k.a burning gas) while I’m buckling up.
7: Pay attention before you ever start your car. I usually don't remember till after I've already started the car, but, if the car next to me is about to back out then that means I'm sitting there, burning gas, waiting for them to back out and go. So as best I can (when I remember...) I'll hold off starting the car until it looks pretty clear to go.

Above all, drive carefully. That $21.71 is pretty sweet unless it winds up costing you a hospital bill.

That’s all I’ve got so far.
If you know more tricks, let me know.

Reference articles:

Wikicars - Hypermiling
Wayne Gerdes - King of the hypermilers (The article that got me interested in this.)

Peace... kinda

So for the last couple of months I've been struggling with a decision. Finally, an opportunity came available, all I had to do was have the courage to take it, or the determination to ignore it and do something else. So I find myself at 1am, trying to puzzle my way through the pros and cons and worst case scenarios. Finally, I stop and I say:

Hey God.
I know we're not on great terms right now, I'm all kinds of ticked off because I don't understand You at all, and at this point, even Santa wouldn't bring me a present.
But I'm going to tell You about this anyway.

And I proceeded to tell Him stuff He already knows. I told Him the reasons for the decisions, and the fear behind the worst case scenario and I said I really wish I knew what the right decision was.
Then, to continue in my vein of honesty, I told Him I wouldn't trust whatever He said about the issue because He might lead me into something awful. All under the label of 'testing' or 'trying'. And yes, Lord, I know I'm whining, but it seems like I've seen more "all things" in my life and other peoples lives, than I've seen them "work together for good".

Then I gave up tossing and turning, and read a book.

An hour later, something entirely unexplainable happened.
I was at peace concerning the decision.
I knew exactly what I was going to do.
And I wasn't obsessing over the worst case scenario or what might happen.
I went to sleep.

I don't remember the last time I experienced something like that. I've been able to be peaceful in the middle of problems before, but this was different because I went from 'not at peace' to 'at peace' within the space of an hour. And that kind of thing just doesn't happen. At least not lately.

So I guess, amidst all my other rantings, I wanted to make sure and give God His props. He did something specifically nice for me, and I appreciate it.

A link

From one of my A numero Uno bloggers comes His Krustyness with:

"If Jesus Had a Blog?"

Where are the miracles?

I've listened to the commentary in my head long enough to know it sounds bitter. But, while I have been bitter, I think I've stepped past the majority of the bitterness and found something a little worse.

As I was thinking about it tonight, I remembered that verse in Proverbs that says "Hope deferred makes a heart sick." (That's only a piece of the verse, the whole thing is at Proverbs 13:12)

I realized I couldn't go on the way I have been. A person just can't live like this. So I told God all about it, and as I walked away from the conversation I realized I had just given up. That just giving up seemed like the only way to survive. It was the only way I could plaster a smile back on my face and get up off the floor. It meant giving up that blasted eternal hope that something could possibly change, and that God had something spectacular around the corner. It meant giving up the hope that a supernatural, extraordinary life was not only possible, but expected as a child of God.

Christianity, seems to be full of explanations why things don't happen. They say that the most difficult part of the Gospel is the simplicity of it. Yet, even after saying that, they'll easily tell you that your prayer wasn't answered for many different reasons. Maybe you've sinned, maybe you didn't pray in faith, maybe you didn't pray Gods will, maybe God did answer but He said wait, or No.

Somehow, in bible times everyone that came near Christ seemed to be healed. But I know quite a few chronically sick people that just never get better and somehow the reason always seems to be that God is using their sickness. I just don't get that.
I suppose somewhere in there is when my 'faith' changed. I'll easily tell anyone, that almighty God is capable of anything, impossible or not. I know He can. My faith doesn't doubt His ability. I just don't think He will.

Obviously, my faith isn't quite what it should be on the issue, but what about all the other people praying for the same people I'm praying for. Between all of us, do we really not have a mustard seed? Do we really not have a mustard seed of faith?

If we do, then where is the miracle?

I just don't understand.

I know God is good. He loves me, and I know I don't deserve it, yet I feel the anchor of it holding onto me almost every day- some days it's more clear than others.
He's been a loving friend, when I had no one to turn to, He's helped me learn things, and spared me from some pretty crazy problems. He's often provided exactly what was necessary, exactly when it was necessary. He's been my Savior, comforter, and shelter quite clearly at times. And as I got to know Him better and better, I began to expect more and more simply because I had felt the effects of His love, and yearned more and more to see it break free around me.

Only to suddenly find myself feeling dissatisfied.

Somewhere in this "simple" gospel, I went wrong. I did something wrong, my thought process went wrong, my desires went wrong. I don't know what all happened, but quite obviously it did.

That's all. No answers, no questions, just thinking out loud.

Yuck.

Am I Jesus? Or is Jesus me?

So I'm driving down the road around 9o'clock tonight when I see a pick up truck on the side of the road with it's hazard lights flashing, and a tire leaning up against the back end.
I drive on, but something in my head tells me that it's hard to change a tire in the dark and I didn't see any flashlights or anything.
Then, as I'm thinking how much I would hate to have someone I know change a tire in the dark I'm also thinking that I couldn't think of a single person that would say stopping would be a good idea for ME - a 27 yr old female.
About two more miles down the road I realize I won't feel good the rest of the night unless I turn around, so I hang a uey and go back to check things out.

Sure enough, I wasn't able to do much. They were in need of a jack and my jack wasn't heavy duty enough to lift their truck, but they'd called someone to bring a jack and so I went on my way.

But once again, the question had come up in my mind. When deciding what Jesus would do, am I suppose to be Jesus, or is Jesus suppose to be me?
I hate limitations, and that's generally what crops up when I say Jesus is me. Because then the answer to what He might do is always restricted to what the general public has deemed safe for a female to do.

I suppose, in a way I don't know or care. I'm happy to have survived the last months. Happy that the gripping pain has lost it's sharp edge, and the make-you-want-to-vomit panic has dulled.

My question stems from a simple hope to "get it right" and after the last few months that seems like something that might not necessarily happen. When you wander as far from the path as I am, you lose confidence in your ability to know True North.

In the long run it just doesn't matter though, not right now, right now, I want to make it through tomorrow.

Flaws

I read another blog today about being broken.

It was at a site called Swerve and the post was titled "Am I broken Yet?" I was linked there by Louie over at Marshian Chronicles.

And it just made me start thinking about that term. Broken.

I like broken things.

My old house, I loved it. It was broken. It had been fully and significantly broken (it had caught fire) and had to be remodeled. The most significant changes though when the remodeling was done, was all on the inside. The outside still looked a little thrashed. And it had enough little quirks that you just had to learn to navigate.

The one I liked most was that the bathroom floor was crazily unlevel and unless you were careful you could come out of the shower the fast and hard way.

It was home though, and I loved it. My broken home.

But I knew it's breaks because of the time that I spent there. And I suppose, in that exact same way, God sees how to navigate His way through my breaks, my unlevel areas, and certainly my short-circuited areas, because He knows me. It makes me wonder if God likes broken things as much as I do. Or if He's just all into fixing things so they won't be broken.

As much as I'd like to not be broken, to not have those crazily unlevel areas where it's so easy to fall and trip - I wonder if they don't add to my value in some other way. Though, everyone wants to present themselves as their best, looking their best, acting their best. We don't want those flaws to show for the world to see. And yet, I wonder, in one of those brief moments when I try and consider the breadth, length, height and depth of Gods love, I wonder what He thinks about those cracks that show through on my surface.

My house could have been worth more financially had all those flaws been fixed. But it was special to me because of it's flaws - not despite them. While it's nice to be perfect, level, and free from those stress cracks that every home tends to develop - I wonder if we don't all have more overall value just because of those things.



Unless of course you short-circuit too much and your house catches fire. Then it's pretty much all bad.

Potential Saints

So I quit posting for a bit. I could easily still not post, I don't have anything to say. But hey, that hasn't stopped me for the last 2 yrs or so, so why should it start now.
It's been interesting checking my stats. You all keep coming back even though I wasn't posting.

So... I decided I'd give something back to you. Just to hopefully make this pit stop a little more worth your while.
Bob, over at In The Clearing wrote a great post.

Just a piece of it that has really stuck with me was the greeting he talked about Paul addressing to the Romans. "all those in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints."

We've got a big hoopla at work where the accounting department (comprised of 4 really nice ladies) has come to odds with the HR department (comprised of 3 really nice ladies) - and yes, that is my department. One of the ladies from accounting is just outstandingly sweet, and she stopped by my office to visit and I offered her a sucker (blowpops are just wonderful creations - gum, and sucker... all on one stick!). I then pushed off on her a couple more suckers for the rest of her comrades and she looked at me and, apparently considering the feud, said "Are you sure?"

Later on I considered how easy it is to forget who people are. People can get so wrapped up in what he said/she said and the next thing you know you're mortal enemies over a signature. At least that's what I think the war is about, I'm not even sure actually what caused the division.

At some point though, you get wrapped up into your separate worlds of friends, church, family, work, and whatever other groups a person might have, and you forget that huge banner that falls over each of us: those in someplace who are loved by God and called to be saints.
To those that read my blog, who are loved by God and called to be saints.

For me, reading it over at In the Clearing, it really just caught my eye. It didn't just address me, it addressed me and told me I was loved. And it didn't just do that either; it addressed me, told me I was loved, and reminded me of my calling.

I guess, especially with feeling the way I feel, and knowing that I haven't been acting like someone "loved by God and called to be a saint", I realize that life does a lot of crazy things to people. And sometimes singers don't sing, writers don't write, musicians don't play, and artists don't create; but that doesn't change what they are.

So the next time I want to gripe about my neighbor, or that jerk potential saint that tailgated me on the way to work or the one lady in accounting that started the whole drama - I might want to remind myself of exactly how I feel about those I love. I can talk bad about them, but YOU CAN'T. God might have to judge us crazies one day, but He loves us. And He might be thinking the same thing about me, when I start talking about that saint that let her dog poop on my porch.

Bob's post went beyond that greeting, far beyond it. So go check it out.

Don't be stupid

A couple of weeks ago, someone mentioned I should get a yappy little dog for protection. Yappy little dogs are handy for yapping at just the right moment to hopefully scare of any marauders lurking around your house.
I shrugged it off and didn't even consider it again until this morning, early morning, when I was woke up by a sound (that I want to quickly point out I later found out it was nothing), and as I laid in the darkness listening to the sound I thought, "Sure would be nice to have a yappy dog about now."

And as I sat and thought about all those things my frustration level went back up. I'm a teetotaler when it comes to some things. And any gap in the totality causes me to doubt.

Why would a Christian need a dog for protection?

This post really isn't about dogs. I'm protected for a bunch of things. I pay good sums of money every year to make sure my car is protected in case of an accident, because "Don't be stupid, it's the smart thing to do."
I pay good sums of money every year to make sure my house is protected in case of, of all things, "Acts of God".
Another insurance company called last night asking if I wanted to protect all the equipment in my home for a low $40.67 a month.
My doors are locked at night, and I don't venture into bad neighborhoods because, "Don't be stupid, it would be unwise to do anything else."

And yet, isn't the Christians standpoint that God allows many afflictions, but has promised to deliver us through them?

I said recently that I've realized that God lets a lot of things through His hand of protection, and I'm just wondering out loud right now if all of our protective measures are just to protect us from the things God would let us go through that we don't want to?

At what point do our own protections turn from 'It's the wise thing to do" to a simple lack of trust in God.
**Hold in perspective here, this writer is currently sequestered in her home, plugging her ears to the bad news of the world while questioning her salvation. Trust, is a serious issue.**

In reading a book a few years back there was a young girl about to take a walk in the woods with two young men with very bad intentions, because they told her they were willing to listen to her tell them about Jesus. One of her friends saw what was about to happen and before they could make it to the woods he stopped them, and ultimately ended up fighting with the two guys to get them to go away. The friend asked the young girl if she knew what those two guys were up to, and she said yes, but it was worth for the chance that they might listen to the message of salvation.

Most people, most Christians, would shake your head at that foolishness. But I haven't seen too many Christians shaking their heads over the missionaries going into areas where their lives may be in jeopardy on the chance that they might win one. Not many call Jim Elliott foolish.

So where is the line? Where do you drop your own protections and simply rely on the protection of God, and trust in the allowances of God when bad things happen? **Keep in mind also, I believe the protection of God includes that urging to get out of situations**
When do you get rid of the yappy dog and say "If the Lord Wills, tonight I shall sleep and wake up tomorrow".
And, does the presence of a yappy dog mean that whether the Lord allows it or not, you're going to keep it from happening?

Can we win this?

Let me set the stage:

A man, maneuvers himself onto a jury so that he can effect the outcome of the verdict. Each side, both prosecuting and defense receive information on how they can successfully 'buy' the verdict. The prosecuting side is full of the good guys, wanting nothing to do with jury tampering and holding out hope that justice, real justice, will prevail.

There's a moment where the good guys realize that the bad guys (defense team) aren't telling the judge about the juror because the bad guys really are going to buy the vote. You can see it in the good guys face, that all they're fighting for might be for nothing, just a show to put on until the end where justice becomes a transaction, rather than an action.

Immediately after receiving the news, face fallen, the prosecuting attorney turns and sees his client heading towards him and he puts on a big smile. She's been hearing rumors about a mistrial, the jury being sequestered, she's nervous and she wants to know - she just needs to hear it - "Can we win this?"

Somehow, he puts on a forced smile, and says "We can. We are gonna win."

And I realize suddenly, there are two types of good guys in the world. There are those who say "we're gonna win" to keep others going when the going gets tough, and those who need to hear "we're gonna win" to keep going when the going gets tough (and not only that, but are able to keep going just because someone told them we're gonna win - that takes faith too).

I'd rather be the first type.
Somehow I'm neither.

Are you lookin' at me?

In the last few weeks something has caught my attention and so I've started watching it pretty closely.
I've got some new readers.
It helps that my site stats are so low it's pretty easy to keep track of newcomers.
In these last several meltdown months I've lost quite a few readers. Or at least they've quit popping in from their google readers. But I expected that. I haven't been posting regularly, and when I am posting it's not exactly guideposts inspirational writing.

I've let God have it.
I've let the church have it.
I've let people around me have it.
And I've let me have it.

But, since I'm not posting regularly, you're getting only the main highlights that are driving me up a wall. And, since I don't know if any of you new folks are Christians or not... here's what I want to say.


In the past few years God has been the most amazing thing in the world to me. In the past few months... not so much. But imagine if you will a little kid learning to tie his shoes. Every parent knows that the world will be much easier for the kid once he learns this simple trick, because all sorts of things need to be tied - not just shoes. But the kid only sees the shoe, and hates the stupid shoe, and wants to just wear his flip flops. Attempts to make them keep trying to learn usually end up with them yelling or crying, yanking the laces or throwing the shoes and saying they just can't do it, the shoe is stupid, and "I don't wanna go outside ANYWAY!"

Is my analogy starting to sound like my blog posts yet?

But I have a responsibility to say, right here, and right now, if for no other reason than it has come to my attention:
God's worth it.

I'm hurting, angry that He led me into foster parenting when it hurt so much, scared because I've seen how much He allows through this protective hand of His, and I don't feel very protected anymore.
But even in the middle of it all, I know I'm still alive, and that there are very specific instances when things could have been worse.
Most of all, I know He loves me.

Growing up in a family that believed in spankings, one thing sticks out in my mind. Between two parents, you knew one hurt you in discipline because they loved you, and the other one didn't. But for the one, even in a painful moment when you wouldn't generally expect to feel loved, you didn't feel it, but it was understood. And that understanding was the foundation upon which the discipline grew, whereas for the other parent the only thing they grew was resentment.
I'm thinking out loud now I suppose.

Going back to what I was saying before, there comes a moment when all you can do is patiently show and explain to your child how to tie that shoe. Ultimately though, the 'got it' moment is just something you have to sit and wait through the frustration for.
I don't feel Gods love for me, but it's understood. He's just waiting for me to 'get' what He's trying to teach me.
So, excuse me while I throw some shoes around screaming "I can't do it, christianity is stupid, I don't want to be a christian ANYWAY!"

It's frustrating.

But, for all my complaints (see me complain more in 6 mos than ALL the children of Israel did in 40 yrs), and for all the days when I'm ready to call it quits: God is totally worth it. I just hope I finally 'get it' soon.

VERY SOON.


In a small blurb to hold myself accountable because I made it public knowledge, I want to announce that some major changes are taking place in my home. I'm giving technology a major boot from my life. Tv's, vcr, dvd players, my oh so precious DVR, and my main computer are all getting the boot. For months the idea that I really just don't care who wins American Idol has really been clear. Now that Little One is gone, and my absolute weariness with watching stupid stuff has festered up to a miserable boil... it's time to make the change.

The bible has begun taking up a huge chunk of my evening, as is just wandering around my neighborhood (or riding around it on my bike). It's been good. It's released some of the pressure, which is an excellent thing since after Little One left I was about to blow.

If you new folks are still reading this long-winded post....If you don't know God, He's worth getting to know. More worth it than anything else you'll ever do. But if you walk into a new church and some Christian throws their shoe at you, don't be offended, just duck and cover and be thankful that God chooses the most undeserving people sometimes. Because otherwise you might not have been chosen either.

And for those who didn't duck fast enough before my shoe hit them - I'm very sorry.

Bad news

I killed a baby last night. It lay in a basin while I filled the basin with water and I just wasn't paying attention. I can close my eyes and I still vividly remember turning around and the shock setting in as I looked at the baby, entirely submersed in the water, lying so still. Actually, I don't even have to close my eyes to see it.
It was a dream, it was only a dream.
The night before that there was a huge gang of bad guys with knives.
Only a dream, I remind myself.

It's just one more aspect of the bad news that surrounds everyone, it just happens to follow me into my dreams. And I wonder how many others out there are tired of it as well? Surely, someone is.
Even trying not to hear it, I'm still swamped with it. This one died, this one has cancer, some guy I'll never know just died because he was at wal-mart when some other guy decided to shoot someone, and don't forget the old man, literally sick with grief, who doesn't want to live now that he's lost his wife who, by the way, didn't get appropriate treatment because they couldn't afford healthcare. At lunch a couple of weeks back, I actually had to leave the table at lunch as my dad began describing in vivid detail a 6 yr old that ultimately, and mercifully died - I ultimately ended up watching cartoons with my 7 yr old nephew. He had the best ideas of all of us.
I go home and check my mail and there's a child looking at me from the envelope with cystic fibrosis. Will I give even $5.00 to help find a cure?
The jokes give laughs about someone being hurt, or being unfaithful to their significant other. The games make sport of killing other people. The movies make light of the gut wrenching, life changing events that destroy the lives of the "audience" that is the victims.

But then I imagine that no ones gut has been wrenched. We're too immune for it. We have to be. If we truly felt for each and every sorrow that we saw, or heard about, and we grieved over it... we would never stop grieving. Literally. There's just too many.

There's just too many.

I realize I'm not alone in feeling afraid and hurt, there are people everywhere just like me. And I'd like to think I speak for all of us when I say:

God, I just want to see you do something.

I want Him to be louder, and more newsworthy than all the other stuff that's out there. Maybe I don't see Him doing major things just because I'm not open enough to see it. But I feel short-changed sitting on the Christian side of things celebrating the miracle that is another day, while the enemy celebrates 4,000 abortions every day.

If I stand back up into Christianity again, start walking and following, once again, it has to be different this time. Everything else is just mediocre, and I'm sick of mediocre. The biggest problem is that I don't yet know how it would be different. I have no direction. And I guess that's what makes the whole Psalms 18:32 all the more frustrating. "It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect".

I don't even have a "way".

Psalms 18:32

I smashed into a wall tonight. No... I really do mean I walked into a wall. I turned the lights out in the house, and, assuming I knew the contours of my house well enough to make it in the dark, I literally smashed into a wall. It hurt too. Bare toes lose big time against walls.
But, as is my habit, I'm always making a connection between the stupid physical stuff that happens and my spiritual walk.

I'm arrogant when it comes to Christian things.

I've been in church my whole life, heard sermon upon sermon upon sermon. But, sometimes the lines between being a Churchtian and a Christian get blurred and I find myself smashing into a wall. I had a good walk, a personal relationship with Christ, but... well, life happened.
I get the connection with Peter, stepping out onto the stormy seas to walk to the Master. I stepped out (though not nearly to the same extent as Peter), but I all too quickly looked at the storm.. ok, I admit, it was probably just a brisk wind,... and the only time I looked back at Christ was to scream "I'm DROWNING".

In some ways, part of me wishes God would just give me up. Stop this incessant tugging at me to be something that I don't know how to be, and don't know how to let go enough to let Him make me. Then the other part remembers nights like Sunday night when I wondered if He really had.

Tuesday night, I lay in bed telling God that the hurt and fear I'm feeling seems to be stronger than Him. Whether He's promised to be stronger or not, the hurt and fear is winning. I told Him I'd rather go His way, but I didn't know how I could.

Quite literally, He said Psalms 18:32.

I lay, in the dark, thinking that most of the Psalms are too short to have 32 verses. I thought about how disappointing it would be to get up, turn the light on, pull out a bible, and find that chapter 18 stopped at verse 26 or something. Or worse, that there would be a 18:32 and it would say something like "They cried out, but there was none to save them, Even to the Lord, but He did not answer them." - That's verse 41 of that chapter.

Nevertheless, I got up, turned on said light, and pulled out said bible, and this is what I read:

It is God who arms me with strength,
And makes my way perfect.

Instantly I said, "BUT."

But, I'm not armed with strength, and my way is so far from perfect right now it's not even in the same zip code.

There was a fight that night, when as I was talking to God the devil began telling me what kind of person I was. He reminded me of all the people I'd hurt or caused to sin, and most especially he hit me with Little One as fear pressed in that I hadn't watched close enough for things that might needed to have been reported, he told me a better parent would have caught those things and Little One wouldn't be in danger.
Little One isn't necessarily in danger, everything could be just fine, I fear it's not though, and it eats me alive.

Unable to block out the words of fear and accusation running through my mind, I ended up holding onto the words "It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way perfect." It didn't even make sense to me up against what the devil was reminding me of, but it was all I had.

I'm tempted to leave this entry with some kind of hopeful tone, indicating that somehow in the end I know that everything is going to be ok.
But I don't know that.
What I do know is I'm not strong, and my way isn't perfect.

Yeah... not much comfort huh.

God?

Dear God,

I'm losing.
I've been losing for a long time now, but tonight feels like the game is coming to an end and I will have officially lost. I've gone back and forth so many times with this struggle and tonight I'm wondering when you'll finally give up on me. People say you don't give up, but you do.
Tonight is scary God, because if I died tonight, I'm not certain what would happen anymore.
Please forgive me, and somehow help me get through this mess.

Fishing for nothin'

Someone recently asked me what I wanted for my birthday.

Ultimately I ended up telling them I could use a new lamp since mine broke earlier this week. And later on for the fifth year running I blew out my candles wishing I could go fishing.

I think this might very well be the year.
A few weeks back as I was thinking about how silly it is to keep wishing for it and never just going and doing it, I realized... if I take the hook off my fishing pole, I don't have to worry about catching anything. I'll be able to sit lakeside and "fish" to my hearts content. I can enjoy the quiet, peaceful serenity of 'going fishing' without any of the mess and smell that comes with actually having fished. I also don't have to worry about having done it wrong.
There are a lot of rules to fishing. Don't catch anything too small or too large, the wrong gender, the wrong breed. And I don't know enough about fish to recognize those things.
And, heaven help me if I actually caught something, because then I'd have to figure out what to do with it then.

And as I considered how much easier fishing would be without a hook, I realized with a start, what a good analogy that was for Christians today. We all want the serenity of God, the peace of His Spirit, yet when it comes down to "fishing for men" we take the hooks off, so no one will feel the pain of being pulled out of the water, and we'll never have to deal with the fact that the fresher your catch is, the more they smell. You don't have to worry about knowing the rulebook, and knowing all the answers or finding yourself being followed around by fish that our Religious Fishing Guide states should be thrown back in the water until they've grown a bit.

Best of all, if you sit at the side of the lake, holding a pole, and your little bobber bobbing in the water... no one knows you aren't really fishing.
And you don't exactly want to boast about the fact that you're hookless fishing...
Cause everyone knows fishing without a hook would be dumb.
Right?