I'm one of those people... those frustrating people... that in a crowd, if you point at me and motion me forward I'll look behind me and assume you're talking to someone else and never look back again so I won't be confused by the fact that you're still looking at me/my general direction and motioning.
So, that said... I'm glad God sometimes drops all the subtle hints and does everything but say my name.
My boss, the big boss in my department, just happens to be friends with the superintendent of the whole facility. The superintendent is the highest, most powerful voice in our facility. And today, while I sat at her kitchen table, she cooked me lunch. I admit, I chuckled at the places life takes you the whole way to her house.
And sitting there, at her table, the superintendents kitchen table, I kept thinking "For such a time as this." The words that always reference to Queen Esther having been placed in the palace for reasons unbeknownst to her. I couldn't get that phrase off my mind today, though just like Esther, I certainly don't have a clue as to what any future reasons for my working where I work are. Maybe one day they'll show themselves. But, all through the day and on the drive home, those words just kept ringing in my ears:
For such a time as this.
Then suddenly the radio guy - I have no idea what program was playing - but the speaker on the radio referenced to Queen Esther and said he wanted to tell us that we've been placed where we are for such a time as this. He went on to explain some things about our positions to us, and Gods plans, and he just happened to not use my name. But that was the only thing lacking.
I'm glad I serve a sometimes obvious God. One that not only can but sometimes will make His words so plain that even I can catch His drift.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Thinking out loud because I can.
So John the Baptist, wanders off shouting at people to "Repent! for the Kingdom of God is at hand", and offers to baptize them for the repentance of sins.
What made him not dismiss the idea entirely? Back then, people were not without self-doubt surely... didn't he imagine that everyone would think he was crazy? Didn't he wonder himself at the very truth of the idea in the first place? I mean, everyone always tells you that the way to know whether it's God speaking to you or not can easily be tested by looking in His word - if it disagrees with His word then it's pretty well certain that the voice in your head ain't the goodun.
Yet John didn't seem to tell people to kill birds, or lambs, or sprinkle blood this way and that. Instead, he was told to baptize them in water for repentance. Did the people still go out and kill the goat afterward? or did this suffice?
And what could he have said when someone walks up with their scroll of OT scriptures and says, "God said to do it this way."
Maybe they did still go off and kill their birds, and bulls, if so what was the baptism for then? It certainly wasn't to show Christs death burial and resurrection. It wasn't to show they were baptised "in the name of Jesus" ... they didn't even know the name of Jesus.
There's a lot not mentioned in the Bible. Having heard and read the bible my whole life, it's hard to me to stop and think about how different some of these things were for the people living in those times. Like Paul speaking about 'gifts' of healing or gifts of interpretation - sure you may have heard of it now.. but who was the first person to interpret someone elses words in tongues and know for certain that they weren't just saying other words that God gave them, but indeed a translation of what was just said?
How interesting it must be to write history.
What made him not dismiss the idea entirely? Back then, people were not without self-doubt surely... didn't he imagine that everyone would think he was crazy? Didn't he wonder himself at the very truth of the idea in the first place? I mean, everyone always tells you that the way to know whether it's God speaking to you or not can easily be tested by looking in His word - if it disagrees with His word then it's pretty well certain that the voice in your head ain't the goodun.
Yet John didn't seem to tell people to kill birds, or lambs, or sprinkle blood this way and that. Instead, he was told to baptize them in water for repentance. Did the people still go out and kill the goat afterward? or did this suffice?
And what could he have said when someone walks up with their scroll of OT scriptures and says, "God said to do it this way."
Maybe they did still go off and kill their birds, and bulls, if so what was the baptism for then? It certainly wasn't to show Christs death burial and resurrection. It wasn't to show they were baptised "in the name of Jesus" ... they didn't even know the name of Jesus.
There's a lot not mentioned in the Bible. Having heard and read the bible my whole life, it's hard to me to stop and think about how different some of these things were for the people living in those times. Like Paul speaking about 'gifts' of healing or gifts of interpretation - sure you may have heard of it now.. but who was the first person to interpret someone elses words in tongues and know for certain that they weren't just saying other words that God gave them, but indeed a translation of what was just said?
How interesting it must be to write history.
Monday, January 21, 2008
I hate cobwebs.
Cobwebs. I hate them. Sticky little suckers, almost invisible if the light isn't hitting them, and entirely too difficult to get rid of. You might try and brush it out of your hair, off your clothes, get that last string off your arm, only to discover just a few minutes later that there's yet another piece sticking to you, or that a line of it had clung to the back of your shirt where you couldn't see it but everyone else behind you could.
Just like sin.
Just like sin.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Significance
Jim Martins post about whether his work really mattered or not really got me to thinking.
The problem with significance, is that it's all about you.
When Jesus fed the five thousand, the little boy with the loaves and fishes probably felt awestruck at what Jesus did with his lunch. But, as the crowd focused on receiving the food, Jesus focused on His breaking of the food, and the disciples focused on passing out the food, I imagine a little boy in a sea of people, being handed pieces of his own lunch to eat, probably didn't feel very significant. And what sense he did have of being a small part of a big picture was probably dampened somewhat by the fact that all these people were eating his lunch but they didn't know it.
Even so, standing there, watching Jesus work, I can't help but think that the little boy did not really feel like he'd done something significant. The disciples didn't even seem to ask his name before they asked him for his lunch. And though John at least gave the boy a hat tip, Matthew didn't even bother to mention that a kid was involved at all.
And as the crowd unknowingly ate his food, no one knowing his name or his very special story...I bet he never would have imagined that one day he'd be be identified as "a boy", and included in the best selling book of all time.
That's another problem with significance. It takes a long time to mature into something noticeable.
I want what I do to matter, of course, I want to know that what I did counted for something, that it wasn't a waste of time, money, energy, or creative thinking. But, when you think about it, the hope of being significant is just simply a burden. I don't know that I'd ever be able to stop wishing for it, but if I did accept that every single thing I do is insignificant... what a load off that would be. It doesn't mean you stop doing what you're doing. It just means you accept that you're human, Christian, but human, and the only thing that brings significance to what you do is when Christ picks it up and uses it. Significance doesn't begin with us. We just go along doing our insignificant things waiting until Jesus steps in and does something significant with it.
And that's the third problem with significance. It puts more responsibility on you and less on God.
If that little boy had thought that his lunch would need to be a significant contribution to help even a few people, in an effort to be make a significant difference, I bet he would have packed more food.
I know I would have.
If I even think that a specific day is an opportunity to do something significant, I practice for it, take more care with what I say to those I meet, make sure I bring a little more cash, or have extra of what ever it is I'm bringing, or make sure the house is clean. I'll want to be prepared when someone calls on me to do something significant.
That's part of why God had Gideon keep whittling down his army until there would be no way they could legitimately claim the victory was done in their own power. He wanted to show that He was the significant victor, not the people.
It's quite a heavy load, a burdensome responsibility, to attempt to be significant. It's a load that I might could lay down, but it means simply trusting that only God can do something significant with my insignificant amounts of time/talent/ability/faith.
Maybe, the only thing that makes us truly significant is that we're willing to give our lunch away.
Or maybe, if we truly desire to be significant, we should embrace our insignificance with passion and excitement never knowing what God is making significant, or when significance might blossom from long ago deeds.
Over the last year, a song writer has befriended my parents. And since my mom is a singer, he asked her if he could record her singing his songs to send off to some label that he's talked to that is willing to use them.
Ultimately, if everything works out for him, my mothers beautiful voice will be heard over the radio... in Poland. From here in the United States, it feels far, and distant, and insignificant. She'll never drive herself somewhere and suddenly hear herself on the radio. But, some guy in Poland may one day be driving around in his goofy looking car, listening to the radio and, touched by the words this songwriter penned, God may very well do something eternity changingly (yeah, I know it's not a word) significant for that one man. And for a song to travel from one mans mind here in Texas, all the way to Poland to change one life... well, that's pretty significant.
The problem with significance, is that it's all about you.
When Jesus fed the five thousand, the little boy with the loaves and fishes probably felt awestruck at what Jesus did with his lunch. But, as the crowd focused on receiving the food, Jesus focused on His breaking of the food, and the disciples focused on passing out the food, I imagine a little boy in a sea of people, being handed pieces of his own lunch to eat, probably didn't feel very significant. And what sense he did have of being a small part of a big picture was probably dampened somewhat by the fact that all these people were eating his lunch but they didn't know it.
Even so, standing there, watching Jesus work, I can't help but think that the little boy did not really feel like he'd done something significant. The disciples didn't even seem to ask his name before they asked him for his lunch. And though John at least gave the boy a hat tip, Matthew didn't even bother to mention that a kid was involved at all.
And as the crowd unknowingly ate his food, no one knowing his name or his very special story...I bet he never would have imagined that one day he'd be be identified as "a boy", and included in the best selling book of all time.
That's another problem with significance. It takes a long time to mature into something noticeable.
I want what I do to matter, of course, I want to know that what I did counted for something, that it wasn't a waste of time, money, energy, or creative thinking. But, when you think about it, the hope of being significant is just simply a burden. I don't know that I'd ever be able to stop wishing for it, but if I did accept that every single thing I do is insignificant... what a load off that would be. It doesn't mean you stop doing what you're doing. It just means you accept that you're human, Christian, but human, and the only thing that brings significance to what you do is when Christ picks it up and uses it. Significance doesn't begin with us. We just go along doing our insignificant things waiting until Jesus steps in and does something significant with it.
And that's the third problem with significance. It puts more responsibility on you and less on God.
If that little boy had thought that his lunch would need to be a significant contribution to help even a few people, in an effort to be make a significant difference, I bet he would have packed more food.
I know I would have.
If I even think that a specific day is an opportunity to do something significant, I practice for it, take more care with what I say to those I meet, make sure I bring a little more cash, or have extra of what ever it is I'm bringing, or make sure the house is clean. I'll want to be prepared when someone calls on me to do something significant.
That's part of why God had Gideon keep whittling down his army until there would be no way they could legitimately claim the victory was done in their own power. He wanted to show that He was the significant victor, not the people.
It's quite a heavy load, a burdensome responsibility, to attempt to be significant. It's a load that I might could lay down, but it means simply trusting that only God can do something significant with my insignificant amounts of time/talent/ability/faith.
Maybe, the only thing that makes us truly significant is that we're willing to give our lunch away.
Or maybe, if we truly desire to be significant, we should embrace our insignificance with passion and excitement never knowing what God is making significant, or when significance might blossom from long ago deeds.
Over the last year, a song writer has befriended my parents. And since my mom is a singer, he asked her if he could record her singing his songs to send off to some label that he's talked to that is willing to use them.
Ultimately, if everything works out for him, my mothers beautiful voice will be heard over the radio... in Poland. From here in the United States, it feels far, and distant, and insignificant. She'll never drive herself somewhere and suddenly hear herself on the radio. But, some guy in Poland may one day be driving around in his goofy looking car, listening to the radio and, touched by the words this songwriter penned, God may very well do something eternity changingly (yeah, I know it's not a word) significant for that one man. And for a song to travel from one mans mind here in Texas, all the way to Poland to change one life... well, that's pretty significant.
He's a God that knows me.
I have a habit - I don't know if it's a bad one or a good one, maybe someone can tell me - but I put everything on God. Everything. Something bad happens, I grunt at God. Something good happens I grin at God.
I'm grinning now though all because something bad happened.
I woke up this morning, only to discover that my shower had no hot water. I pulled out my tools and took the plastic doodad off the faucet and pondered the fact that I didn't know what to do beyond that.
So I did what I always do.
I googled the problem.
There were different issues online and people were told to replace cartridges and such, they mentioned that if it wasn't a cartridge problem they could only hope that the problem was contained enough that they wouldn't have to tear into a wall.
Armed with that knowledge I returned to the shower and stared at it a little harder. I twisted the little plastic thingy that I assumed makes the water turn on and off and still nothing happened. Then I sat and thought some more. Could the water have froze in the pipe?
I don't quite get why the hot would have frozen and not the cold, but... since I hadvery few no other ideas I decided I was going to hope that was the problem.
In my very plumbing proficient way, I assumed the easiest way to unfreeze it was to warm it up. I pictured plumbers everywhere laughing at me as I then proceeded plug a little heater up outside and point it under my house where the pipes were. They can laugh. Two hours later I was laughing as water slowly began to trick out of my faucet. Not long beyond that everything was back to normal.
And I celebrated, as I always do, the joy of having fixed something. And I grinned at God.
He knew I would enjoy it.
I'm grinning now though all because something bad happened.
I woke up this morning, only to discover that my shower had no hot water. I pulled out my tools and took the plastic doodad off the faucet and pondered the fact that I didn't know what to do beyond that.
So I did what I always do.
I googled the problem.
There were different issues online and people were told to replace cartridges and such, they mentioned that if it wasn't a cartridge problem they could only hope that the problem was contained enough that they wouldn't have to tear into a wall.
Armed with that knowledge I returned to the shower and stared at it a little harder. I twisted the little plastic thingy that I assumed makes the water turn on and off and still nothing happened. Then I sat and thought some more. Could the water have froze in the pipe?
I don't quite get why the hot would have frozen and not the cold, but... since I had
In my very plumbing proficient way, I assumed the easiest way to unfreeze it was to warm it up. I pictured plumbers everywhere laughing at me as I then proceeded plug a little heater up outside and point it under my house where the pipes were. They can laugh. Two hours later I was laughing as water slowly began to trick out of my faucet. Not long beyond that everything was back to normal.
And I celebrated, as I always do, the joy of having fixed something. And I grinned at God.
He knew I would enjoy it.
Friday, January 18, 2008
A link/post clip
The whole post was good, but here's a clip of what Jim Martin had to say about whether his work for God really mattered:
I do not want to be focused on myself, or the scorecard, or who seems to be ahead, etc. Rather, I want to be focused on my vocation or my calling before God. I want to believe that if my work is offered up to the Lord, then it is significant ministry. I want to always believe that God does not measure things the way we do. Rather, he is the God who is able to make much out of little. He feeds thousands with five loaves of bread and two fish. He is the God who blesses the most unassuming ministry and turns it into a powerful force for his purposes.
I do not want to be focused on myself, or the scorecard, or who seems to be ahead, etc. Rather, I want to be focused on my vocation or my calling before God. I want to believe that if my work is offered up to the Lord, then it is significant ministry. I want to always believe that God does not measure things the way we do. Rather, he is the God who is able to make much out of little. He feeds thousands with five loaves of bread and two fish. He is the God who blesses the most unassuming ministry and turns it into a powerful force for his purposes.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Update on Josh
I mentioned him back in November. His name is Josh, nephew to a friend of mine. When I first told you about him it was because he had just slipped into a coma after being attacked. It's now mid-January and he's still in a coma, in a long-term rehabilitation center, and beginning to respond to simple commands like 'blink' or 'look to the right'. It might seem slow, but it's all progress for him which is a good thing.
I just wanted to update the information on him. He still needs prayer. His mom, who has been with him through every step of this journey, posts daily updates on him at www.caringbridge.org/visit/joshwood. I'm sure she wouldn't mind your prayers for strength for her and her family either.
I just wanted to update the information on him. He still needs prayer. His mom, who has been with him through every step of this journey, posts daily updates on him at www.caringbridge.org/visit/joshwood. I'm sure she wouldn't mind your prayers for strength for her and her family either.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Laying it down.
I see the 3 yr old in me. The one that doesn't see the big picture, but only sees that playtime was cut short, or candy was not readily available, or bedtime interrupted her playtime.
Except I did it with God.
And I did it with the straightforwardness to inform Him that I hated the big picture and wanted what I wanted when I wanted it. Or else I'll throw a fit. I'll cry and scream and stomp my feet and make any random spectator either roll their eyes at me or glare accusingly at Him. Either one.
So, for the record: I was wrong, and inappropriate. I was untrusting and disbelieving. I was annoying, bullheaded, controlling, disbelieving and I could cover the other 19 letters of the alphabet but the buck stops here.
A song came to mind today, and the chorus of it says "leave your sins for the blood to cover". And today I've done that. I'm setting them down, and I'm going to do my best to remind myself that they're not tomorrows issue.
I'm Gods. He's proven it in the last 6 months. Even though, strangely enough, the last 6 months is when I would have sworn I wasn't His. Each and every time I cried uncle and said I was walking away, it proved impossible. I couldn't. If there was ever a time God should have wanted to chuck me out the door... anytime in these last months would have been it.
And that belonging feeling is pleasant. Even if I don't always understand and throw a hissy fit. If He'll stay through these months... well, no one else would have stayed through the last 6 months.
I haven't found that place of sweet communion that I had before. But, when I do get there, I think the biggest change I'll see is that I'll be listening more than I'll be talking.
Except I did it with God.
And I did it with the straightforwardness to inform Him that I hated the big picture and wanted what I wanted when I wanted it. Or else I'll throw a fit. I'll cry and scream and stomp my feet and make any random spectator either roll their eyes at me or glare accusingly at Him. Either one.
So, for the record: I was wrong, and inappropriate. I was untrusting and disbelieving. I was annoying, bullheaded, controlling, disbelieving and I could cover the other 19 letters of the alphabet but the buck stops here.
A song came to mind today, and the chorus of it says "leave your sins for the blood to cover". And today I've done that. I'm setting them down, and I'm going to do my best to remind myself that they're not tomorrows issue.
I'm Gods. He's proven it in the last 6 months. Even though, strangely enough, the last 6 months is when I would have sworn I wasn't His. Each and every time I cried uncle and said I was walking away, it proved impossible. I couldn't. If there was ever a time God should have wanted to chuck me out the door... anytime in these last months would have been it.
And that belonging feeling is pleasant. Even if I don't always understand and throw a hissy fit. If He'll stay through these months... well, no one else would have stayed through the last 6 months.
I haven't found that place of sweet communion that I had before. But, when I do get there, I think the biggest change I'll see is that I'll be listening more than I'll be talking.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Relief
The last two weeks have really been a relief to me. It's been nice to vent out the questions and confusion. It's been nice to not stamp down the questions, the hurt, and the doubts.
I've almost come to think that it's impossible for me to walk away from God. I don't believe in once saved always saved, I believe I can choose to forsake God, but I've discovered that no matter how loud I rant, no matter how bitterly I write, I still begin and end each day yearning for God.
I need God. Every hour, every second, every minute of every moment. I need God. It's so frustrating.
I've almost come to think that it's impossible for me to walk away from God. I don't believe in once saved always saved, I believe I can choose to forsake God, but I've discovered that no matter how loud I rant, no matter how bitterly I write, I still begin and end each day yearning for God.
For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
I need God. Every hour, every second, every minute of every moment. I need God. It's so frustrating.
A quote
A quote found at Raw Christianity
"The question regarding glorifying God becomes this: “Does He see Himself in me?”"
"The question regarding glorifying God becomes this: “Does He see Himself in me?”"
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Bunches O'stuff
I'm still feeling more liberated at the idea of David's Psalms. He seems more like me. Or maybe I feel a little more like him and that makes me feel better since God still liked David no matter how much David threw at Him.
That said...
I had a last minute encounter at church that surprised me. And I came home from church wondering why I'd popped my little protective porcupine needles out. In thinking about it I realized why I don't like asking for help. Spontaneous kindness is easily accepted. But kindness that comes in the middle of problems makes me feel like a ministry requirement. I actually haven't visited someone for the last 4 months because the last time I saw them they gave me money. I'm the dumbest mule kind of stubborn.
Even so, I understand some things better now than I did before. Note that I say "better", I certainly won't claim to entirely understand or to have grasped the full concept of these things but...
I understand why people don't return to church. Why they don't feel they fit in with the 'group'. Real people, have real problems. And sometimes those real people don't have that whipped cream and cherry to put on their problems saying that Gods gonna fix it or that He's got a plan. They walk around scowling because it hurts. And they don't enjoy being around people that are smiling and telling the world that "Gods gonna fix it" and "He's got a plan."
It's not about whether or not those things are true. And I'm not saying our churches shouldn't be a place that exudes the confidence that God is gonna fix it, and has a plan. But... sometimes it's not about that knowledge. It's about what helps. If someone wants a shoulder to cry on now, I think now they'll find me simply crying with them. Not trying to say the right words. As for me, I'm sick of crying. But I've learned a value to it now that it didn't have with me before.
And speaking of valuable things...
Little Ones first unsupervised visit with her parents took place Saturday. At the end of this month the courts will more than likely approve overnight visits, and it's likely that by March Little One will return to her family. Her parents miraculously are doing wonderful. For me there is still the question of LO being protected from certain things, and as the time gets closer I find more of my time spent praying for her future than for her present. In a world where the State of Texas has custody of a child, LO became neither mine nor her parents, and in that void I told God she was His. In a few short months I won't be there to protect, and I need Him to. She needs Him to.
She sat down to supper tonight and informed me we needed to pray, so she quickly folded her hands and said "Thank you God for me, thank you God for food, aaaamen." Maybe she'll make her parents pray. At least I know she'll make them sing about the B-I-B-L-E being the book for her.
In other things... the web is just bursting with good posts lately. And I want to link to an interesting article. Today At The Mission posted a clip from David Hansens The Art of Pastoring - Ministry Without All the Answers" and to give just a snip from their snip:
It was an interesting article. Also, the post TATM had written before that: "Movie Night" was encouraging. The post talked about how people are always trying to add "ministry" to love. And they were saying that love is what Jesus did all the time, and it didn't always come with a sermon or testimony, or a walk through the salvation process. I'm paraphrasing. You can read the article for yourself.
Also, at some point I'm going to have to take time to update my 'links' section. I've got about 40 regulars that pop up on my google reader now. I won't give out all of them but this one I wanted to make a special note of. Once I update, this one will definitely be in my referral list.
It's Tolle Lege
And, for the best idea of why I love their blog so much, hit their 'about me' page here where it describes their blog. I'd love to spend a week in this guys library. As it is, I'll still be spending several weeks trying to take in as much of their archives as I can wheedle time for.
Goodnight,
That said...
I had a last minute encounter at church that surprised me. And I came home from church wondering why I'd popped my little protective porcupine needles out. In thinking about it I realized why I don't like asking for help. Spontaneous kindness is easily accepted. But kindness that comes in the middle of problems makes me feel like a ministry requirement. I actually haven't visited someone for the last 4 months because the last time I saw them they gave me money. I'm the dumbest mule kind of stubborn.
Even so, I understand some things better now than I did before. Note that I say "better", I certainly won't claim to entirely understand or to have grasped the full concept of these things but...
I understand why people don't return to church. Why they don't feel they fit in with the 'group'. Real people, have real problems. And sometimes those real people don't have that whipped cream and cherry to put on their problems saying that Gods gonna fix it or that He's got a plan. They walk around scowling because it hurts. And they don't enjoy being around people that are smiling and telling the world that "Gods gonna fix it" and "He's got a plan."
It's not about whether or not those things are true. And I'm not saying our churches shouldn't be a place that exudes the confidence that God is gonna fix it, and has a plan. But... sometimes it's not about that knowledge. It's about what helps. If someone wants a shoulder to cry on now, I think now they'll find me simply crying with them. Not trying to say the right words. As for me, I'm sick of crying. But I've learned a value to it now that it didn't have with me before.
And speaking of valuable things...
Little Ones first unsupervised visit with her parents took place Saturday. At the end of this month the courts will more than likely approve overnight visits, and it's likely that by March Little One will return to her family. Her parents miraculously are doing wonderful. For me there is still the question of LO being protected from certain things, and as the time gets closer I find more of my time spent praying for her future than for her present. In a world where the State of Texas has custody of a child, LO became neither mine nor her parents, and in that void I told God she was His. In a few short months I won't be there to protect, and I need Him to. She needs Him to.
She sat down to supper tonight and informed me we needed to pray, so she quickly folded her hands and said "Thank you God for me, thank you God for food, aaaamen." Maybe she'll make her parents pray. At least I know she'll make them sing about the B-I-B-L-E being the book for her.
In other things... the web is just bursting with good posts lately. And I want to link to an interesting article. Today At The Mission posted a clip from David Hansens The Art of Pastoring - Ministry Without All the Answers" and to give just a snip from their snip:
"Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison and did not help you?" He will reply, "I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me." Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life. (Matthew 25: 44-46)
What an irony: many social-activist Christians have rejected the doctrine of eternal punishment because they think it detracts from social concern. But if Jesus' words are taught straight from the Gospels, social concern will become central to every Christian, since our eternal destiny hangs in the balance.
It was an interesting article. Also, the post TATM had written before that: "Movie Night" was encouraging. The post talked about how people are always trying to add "ministry" to love. And they were saying that love is what Jesus did all the time, and it didn't always come with a sermon or testimony, or a walk through the salvation process. I'm paraphrasing. You can read the article for yourself.
Also, at some point I'm going to have to take time to update my 'links' section. I've got about 40 regulars that pop up on my google reader now. I won't give out all of them but this one I wanted to make a special note of. Once I update, this one will definitely be in my referral list.
It's Tolle Lege
And, for the best idea of why I love their blog so much, hit their 'about me' page here where it describes their blog. I'd love to spend a week in this guys library. As it is, I'll still be spending several weeks trying to take in as much of their archives as I can wheedle time for.
Goodnight,
Saturday, January 12, 2008
A grrrrrrrrreat post.
I wasn't planning on posting till tomorrow night... a girls gotta have time off ya know.
But then I came across this post... this post... wow. It just makes me feel better. Even the title makes me feel better. It's titled "What can miserable Christians sing? by Carl R. Trueman"
It's foundation is from the Psalms and how a large percentage of them are songs asking Where is God? why did He leave me? Chapter 74 of Psalms even starts out "Why have you rejected us forever, O God?
I'd forgotten about that. Entirely.
The very last paragraph washed over me and eased the outcast feeling of being the only discouraged Christian that's not trying to will my way out of it.
This last paragraph I'm about to show you...I want to make a point of saying that I'm not posting it because of what it says about worship. That didn't move me. I'm not saying yea or nay, I'm just saying it didn't move me. What did move me was the idea that there were more of me out there.
Anyway... The whole article is here: "What Can Miserable Christians Sing? by Carl R Trueman"
The last paragraph:
By excluding the cries of loneliness, dispossession, and desolation from its worship, the church has effectively silenced and excluded the voices of those who are themselves lonely, dispossessed, and desolate, both inside and outside the church. By so doing, it has implicitly endorsed the banal aspirations of consumerism, generated an insipid, trivial and unrealistically triumphalist Christianity, and confirmed its impeccable credentials as a club for the complacent. In the last year, I have asked three very different evangelical audiences what miserable Christians can sing in church. On each occasion my question has elicited uproarious laughter, as if the idea of a broken-hearted, lonely, or despairing Christian was so absurd as to be comical — and yet I posed the question in all seriousness. Is it any wonder that British evangelicalism, from the Reformed to the Charismatic, is almost entirely a comfortable, middle-class phenomenon?”
But then I came across this post... this post... wow. It just makes me feel better. Even the title makes me feel better. It's titled "What can miserable Christians sing? by Carl R. Trueman"
It's foundation is from the Psalms and how a large percentage of them are songs asking Where is God? why did He leave me? Chapter 74 of Psalms even starts out "Why have you rejected us forever, O God?
I'd forgotten about that. Entirely.
The very last paragraph washed over me and eased the outcast feeling of being the only discouraged Christian that's not trying to will my way out of it.
This last paragraph I'm about to show you...I want to make a point of saying that I'm not posting it because of what it says about worship. That didn't move me. I'm not saying yea or nay, I'm just saying it didn't move me. What did move me was the idea that there were more of me out there.
Anyway... The whole article is here: "What Can Miserable Christians Sing? by Carl R Trueman"
The last paragraph:
By excluding the cries of loneliness, dispossession, and desolation from its worship, the church has effectively silenced and excluded the voices of those who are themselves lonely, dispossessed, and desolate, both inside and outside the church. By so doing, it has implicitly endorsed the banal aspirations of consumerism, generated an insipid, trivial and unrealistically triumphalist Christianity, and confirmed its impeccable credentials as a club for the complacent. In the last year, I have asked three very different evangelical audiences what miserable Christians can sing in church. On each occasion my question has elicited uproarious laughter, as if the idea of a broken-hearted, lonely, or despairing Christian was so absurd as to be comical — and yet I posed the question in all seriousness. Is it any wonder that British evangelicalism, from the Reformed to the Charismatic, is almost entirely a comfortable, middle-class phenomenon?”
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Three links.
If you haven't figured out that I'm searching for a way to ... I don't know what... then you must not be reading my blog.
I'm reading a lot, just looking for something to speak to me.
I'm praying a lot, though not saying much, just looking for Someone to speak to me.
And I wanted to make note of a few things.
For all I've said, for how intent I may talk of getting through this, I am constantly letting out deep sighs of relief that I've come through the worst. God brought me back to peace and for all the things I might say I don't understand about God, I'm grateful. I don't want to overlook saying that.
I called myself all sorts of names this morning as I told God how much I needed Him. Wanted Him. I feel weak for hanging onto Him. But I've had 5 and a half amazingly wonderful years, and 6 horrible months. When I look at it in that light, I'd be a fool to walk away.
Onward...
Either my regular blog stops have been more inspired lately, or I've just paid better attention this last week, but there have been some really good posts that spoke to me and I wanted to link to them.
Chris Hamer-Hodges posted Turn And Be Filled. - And I finished reading it saying "There, that's what I want!"
Today At The Mission posted From The Second Of Three Dreams. -And I finished it wondering at the answers to the questions.
And
On Becoming Truer posted Maturing To The Point Of Demanding Nothing... Again. - And it stirred in me the idea again of God asking me to give up a little, in hopes of giving me everything, yet I'm clutching my little too tightly and fiercely, angry that He'd ask me to give it up.
I'm reading a lot, just looking for something to speak to me.
I'm praying a lot, though not saying much, just looking for Someone to speak to me.
And I wanted to make note of a few things.
For all I've said, for how intent I may talk of getting through this, I am constantly letting out deep sighs of relief that I've come through the worst. God brought me back to peace and for all the things I might say I don't understand about God, I'm grateful. I don't want to overlook saying that.
I called myself all sorts of names this morning as I told God how much I needed Him. Wanted Him. I feel weak for hanging onto Him. But I've had 5 and a half amazingly wonderful years, and 6 horrible months. When I look at it in that light, I'd be a fool to walk away.
Onward...
Either my regular blog stops have been more inspired lately, or I've just paid better attention this last week, but there have been some really good posts that spoke to me and I wanted to link to them.
Chris Hamer-Hodges posted Turn And Be Filled. - And I finished reading it saying "There, that's what I want!"
Today At The Mission posted From The Second Of Three Dreams. -And I finished it wondering at the answers to the questions.
And
On Becoming Truer posted Maturing To The Point Of Demanding Nothing... Again. - And it stirred in me the idea again of God asking me to give up a little, in hopes of giving me everything, yet I'm clutching my little too tightly and fiercely, angry that He'd ask me to give it up.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Emergency leave.
So early this week I'm digging through a rather large stack of time cards, making corrections, putting peoples leave time in the computer, things like that.
One man, I noticed on his time sheet requested emergency leave because Christmas week his moms house burnt down, and he immediately went to Louisiana to help her put life back together.
He wandered past my office this morning and I stopped him, explaining that I'd read the comments on his time card, and asked about his mom. He told me she now has more things than she had before the fire. He explained that she's been a giver her whole life, that she raised him to treat everyone around you well, because you never know when you might need one of them, she also raised him to trust in God, and by the time he'd left she had a new house, more money, more stuff, and a larger outpouring of love than she ever could have dreamed. She was cheerful, and glad that she'd lost her home to gain so much.
I get that.
In the conversation though, suddenly this man moved from the doorway of my office and stepped in lowering his voice. He said he hadn't planned on telling anyone, but... then he proceeded to tell me of a heartbreaking event that had happened to his mom just a few months prior to this. As he spoke of how God knew exactly when she would need all this love, this brand new start, he said how sometimes God holds back to see what you'll do when you can't see Him there. To see how you'll live.
I wonder what He saw.
One man, I noticed on his time sheet requested emergency leave because Christmas week his moms house burnt down, and he immediately went to Louisiana to help her put life back together.
He wandered past my office this morning and I stopped him, explaining that I'd read the comments on his time card, and asked about his mom. He told me she now has more things than she had before the fire. He explained that she's been a giver her whole life, that she raised him to treat everyone around you well, because you never know when you might need one of them, she also raised him to trust in God, and by the time he'd left she had a new house, more money, more stuff, and a larger outpouring of love than she ever could have dreamed. She was cheerful, and glad that she'd lost her home to gain so much.
I get that.
In the conversation though, suddenly this man moved from the doorway of my office and stepped in lowering his voice. He said he hadn't planned on telling anyone, but... then he proceeded to tell me of a heartbreaking event that had happened to his mom just a few months prior to this. As he spoke of how God knew exactly when she would need all this love, this brand new start, he said how sometimes God holds back to see what you'll do when you can't see Him there. To see how you'll live.
I wonder what He saw.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Rambling
I don't think I sing well, and if someone gets a little too generous in their compliments on my piano playing, I don't believe that either. But Sunday, someone told me about something God did while I was singing. And after reflecting on it for a bit, I realized it doesn't mean that I sang well, it means that God can use even my singing. God's used my playing a few times too, and again, it's no reflection on how well I play, but how God can use it anyway.
If I were to stop and actually think about it right now, I'd say I live even worse than I sing. My life's hit so many wrong notes, the melody speeding up when it should have slowed down, or slowing down when it should have sped up, all the different qualities/fruits that all blend together to make a Christ-like life seem to have mold on them and leave me smelling bad and swatting away gnats. But every once in awhile someone will mention something God did while I was just trying to live. And I see now, it's not a reflection of how well I lived, but of what God can do despite me.
But I'm tired of condemning my life.
It's strange, but I've started to see how not knowing how to talk to God anymore has been a good thing. I've found myself sitting in very emotional silences until I finally have one thing to say. And that one thing is usually sharper and more meaningful than what I might have said before.
Praying with Little One tonight, I said something differently, something about God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And doing it made me think, wonder really, if I've ever really imagined myself as a child of God. GOD. So much of what I think about may use the term God, but I'm thinking more along the lines of the person of Jesus - someone easier to relate to and imagine. I think if I were to divide them up, I would say that I trusted Jesus but was afraid of God.
It my head, it doesn't have to make sense.
If I were to stop and actually think about it right now, I'd say I live even worse than I sing. My life's hit so many wrong notes, the melody speeding up when it should have slowed down, or slowing down when it should have sped up, all the different qualities/fruits that all blend together to make a Christ-like life seem to have mold on them and leave me smelling bad and swatting away gnats. But every once in awhile someone will mention something God did while I was just trying to live. And I see now, it's not a reflection of how well I lived, but of what God can do despite me.
But I'm tired of condemning my life.
It's strange, but I've started to see how not knowing how to talk to God anymore has been a good thing. I've found myself sitting in very emotional silences until I finally have one thing to say. And that one thing is usually sharper and more meaningful than what I might have said before.
Praying with Little One tonight, I said something differently, something about God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And doing it made me think, wonder really, if I've ever really imagined myself as a child of God. GOD. So much of what I think about may use the term God, but I'm thinking more along the lines of the person of Jesus - someone easier to relate to and imagine. I think if I were to divide them up, I would say that I trusted Jesus but was afraid of God.
It my head, it doesn't have to make sense.
Monday, January 07, 2008
An AWOL prisoner of Christ?
So I went to the link that Nancy referred me to.
The article lays out the idea that worshipping God based on your feelings is the same as baal worship.
That's very simply put so you'd have to click the link to get the writers whole point.
I've heard concepts similar to that my entire life. Faith, not feelings. But I've always had a hard time with that idea because I'm a very sincere person. If I say it, I mean it. I really really mean it. For me, the idea of acting/saying all the right things, carrying on even when you don't feel it anymore, is like yelling out how much you love carpentry when you hit your thumbnail with a hammer.
Several different thoughts have passed through today, leaving me a bit overworked trying to grasp all the depths of the thoughts. As I considered not wanting to say things to God that my heart doesn't feel, I considered how it would be using God. Giving Him lip service just to get into heaven. But then I thought about how despite all this, I still feel saved... so what if I'm still holding my free gift of salvation, but not doing my part for Him... I considered verses about how I've been bought with a price... even now, typing this, I realize that I've wondered about Gods level of commitment to me. And yes, I realize how that sounds.
When I first started tonights post, I ended up struggling with what I was saying, and I stopped for a moment and in the quiet of my thoughts the words Ephesians 2:13 came to mind. I recognized it as the verse God had pointed me to several months back, but I couldn't remember what it said. I pulled out my bible, and read again "But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ." After last nights post, it was really hard to read that verse.
I sat, trying to digest that verse and all the confusion of thoughts about how to respond to God right then, when my eyes went back to the pages of the bible. Darting from a random section to a random section on just the two visible pages I noticed something
...I, Paul, the prisoner of Christ Jesus...
I became a servant of this gospel...
For this reason I kneel...
As a prisoner for the Lord...
completely humble...
And I wondered how Paul felt. Did he feel painfully burned away from all the things he might have held onto? Is that what he did ever day when he 'died daily' crucifying his flesh?
The article lays out the idea that worshipping God based on your feelings is the same as baal worship.
That's very simply put so you'd have to click the link to get the writers whole point.
I've heard concepts similar to that my entire life. Faith, not feelings. But I've always had a hard time with that idea because I'm a very sincere person. If I say it, I mean it. I really really mean it. For me, the idea of acting/saying all the right things, carrying on even when you don't feel it anymore, is like yelling out how much you love carpentry when you hit your thumbnail with a hammer.
Several different thoughts have passed through today, leaving me a bit overworked trying to grasp all the depths of the thoughts. As I considered not wanting to say things to God that my heart doesn't feel, I considered how it would be using God. Giving Him lip service just to get into heaven. But then I thought about how despite all this, I still feel saved... so what if I'm still holding my free gift of salvation, but not doing my part for Him... I considered verses about how I've been bought with a price... even now, typing this, I realize that I've wondered about Gods level of commitment to me. And yes, I realize how that sounds.
When I first started tonights post, I ended up struggling with what I was saying, and I stopped for a moment and in the quiet of my thoughts the words Ephesians 2:13 came to mind. I recognized it as the verse God had pointed me to several months back, but I couldn't remember what it said. I pulled out my bible, and read again "But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ." After last nights post, it was really hard to read that verse.
I sat, trying to digest that verse and all the confusion of thoughts about how to respond to God right then, when my eyes went back to the pages of the bible. Darting from a random section to a random section on just the two visible pages I noticed something
...I, Paul, the prisoner of Christ Jesus...
I became a servant of this gospel...
For this reason I kneel...
As a prisoner for the Lord...
completely humble...
And I wondered how Paul felt. Did he feel painfully burned away from all the things he might have held onto? Is that what he did ever day when he 'died daily' crucifying his flesh?
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Drawing farther away
It's one of those thoughts that you think... "that's not new.. I already knew this before" yet sometimes you've known something, but never really thought it.
Tonight we were singing the chorus to I am Thine Oh, Lord. And as we all started singing "Draw me nearer nearer," I suddenly gained the image in my mind of walking, drawing ones self like a moth to a flame. A person, was walking towards utter brightness, but the brightness was intense and the sheer heat and power of it, the closer you got to it burned - not you - but the flammable things we hold onto. A purse, a blanket, the clothes the person was wearing, the person was yelling in pain because of the heat, but at some point it became obvious that their hands were only being burned because they were clutching at the things that were being burned away. A random scripture came to mind, and I began to think about the cost of 'drawing nearer'. I spent the early part of 2007 speaking rashly about God. I kept saying "More More, More of God" only to find myself thinking that if this is God, He's just too much for me. Too much.
I've regularly thought to myself that I am either in a time of profound growth, or profound correction. I hesitate to say it's growth, because it seems self-righteous. I hesitate to say profound correction because it sounds like false-humility. In truth, especially from what I've pulled out of the scriptures the last few days, I find myself hoping, and believing more that this is a profound time of both growth and correction. I just haven't started growing yet.
I don't say that with any spiritual strength at all though. It's simply a thought spoken out loud. I find myself going to God over and over again saying "Now what?" I don't know how to approach Him or talk to Him and my prayer times, and thousands of random moments throughout the day are simply filled with "what do you want from me? and what do I have to do to get it to You?"
I feel broken. Yet, I don't kid myself that I couldn't be broken more. And, right or wrong, I've come to fear God as the 'breaker'. It's just a different world now.
Tonight we were singing the chorus to I am Thine Oh, Lord. And as we all started singing "Draw me nearer nearer," I suddenly gained the image in my mind of walking, drawing ones self like a moth to a flame. A person, was walking towards utter brightness, but the brightness was intense and the sheer heat and power of it, the closer you got to it burned - not you - but the flammable things we hold onto. A purse, a blanket, the clothes the person was wearing, the person was yelling in pain because of the heat, but at some point it became obvious that their hands were only being burned because they were clutching at the things that were being burned away. A random scripture came to mind, and I began to think about the cost of 'drawing nearer'. I spent the early part of 2007 speaking rashly about God. I kept saying "More More, More of God" only to find myself thinking that if this is God, He's just too much for me. Too much.
I've regularly thought to myself that I am either in a time of profound growth, or profound correction. I hesitate to say it's growth, because it seems self-righteous. I hesitate to say profound correction because it sounds like false-humility. In truth, especially from what I've pulled out of the scriptures the last few days, I find myself hoping, and believing more that this is a profound time of both growth and correction. I just haven't started growing yet.
I don't say that with any spiritual strength at all though. It's simply a thought spoken out loud. I find myself going to God over and over again saying "Now what?" I don't know how to approach Him or talk to Him and my prayer times, and thousands of random moments throughout the day are simply filled with "what do you want from me? and what do I have to do to get it to You?"
I feel broken. Yet, I don't kid myself that I couldn't be broken more. And, right or wrong, I've come to fear God as the 'breaker'. It's just a different world now.
This is my story.
This post was written several days ago, but I've been very nervous about publishing it. So I didn't. I'm ready to move on to figuring more things out, how I reached this low a depth, and figure out just how to find my way again. I listened to a sermon online last week about the woman with the flow of blood who touched the hem of Christs garment and how her life was changed but also how Christ had to single her out. And when He did, she willingly, not caring who all was around her, told her story. So... I'm hitting the publish button and letting the chips fall where they may.
If you thought this blog was personal before, you really haven't seen anything yet. This post is going to take a long time to write, several days even, I already know some paragraphs I'm going to cry when I write it, some paragraphs I'll erase and rewrite at least 20 different ways and times just trying to make it less embarrassing, or shaming. And then I'm going to sit on pins and needles dreading the comments, or worse, giving myself an ulcer wondering what awful things the non-commenters were thinking but were too kind to officially comment.
Either way...
This is my story.
2007 has been wonderful. I became a foster parent! I received my first child, sent my first child off to live with what appeared to be loving grandparents. I bought a house! At the age of 26 I gained a mortgage of my own. I received my second child, and have kept her through the rest of '07. I lost my job, but after a month or so I gained a new better job even closer to home. God has blessed me beyond my wildest dreams.
2007 has been stressful. I became a foster parent. I received my first child, sent my first child off to live with what appeared to be loving grandparents. I bought a house! At the age of 26 I gained a mortgage of my own. I received my second child, and have kept her through the rest of '07. I lost my job, but after a month or so I gained a new better job even closer to home. God has stressed me beyond my wildest dreams.
Somewhere in all this things began spiraling out of control. I don't write this with any answers though. I don't have an answer, and at this moment, to be honest, I'm not really searching for an answer. By mid-November I was right at -what I thought- was the end of my rope. I was desperately unhappy, sad, confused as to why I could not find any sense of peace or hope, or just any sense of Gods love.
Then December hit.
December.
I'll be the first to tell you my life is good. I have no reasons to complain. I have a good church family, good friends, a nice house, a good kid, a good job. I also have the strong sense of feeling responsible to care for my mom when my dad passes away. I have a lot of obligations I have to meet, and I'm not one to shirk those obligations. And I hope, no matter what I'm about to write, no matter my doubts, that no matter how long my situation might have lasted that I would always and forever remember those obligations.
I was already low before December hit. I was still in unrest because of so many things, and trying to find my 'nitch' with God again. I was psychoanalyzing everything, trying to figure out how I had got to the place I was at, what I had done wrong that had cost me my constant companion and friend that I'd always had in God, where had I stepped off the path? what had I done? but most importantly, how do I fix it?
Then, one morning in December I woke up and all I could think about was death. I had no desire to die, no reason to want to die, as a matter of fact, if someone had offered me Heaven right then I probably would have suggested that I would love to go.. love to... but I've got obligations here to tend to until it's my time.
But that didn't stop the thoughts.I couldn't tie my shoes without thinking of how to use the laces to choke myself. I couldn't use a knife cut fruit for Little Ones snack without imagining at least a dozen ways to hurt myself with it. I couldn't drive my car across a busy intersection without instantly thinking "if you just slow down..." There were hundreds of ways, from crazy, to slightly improbable, to those options that were just too easy and handy. And I confess, that several times I wished I could just get it over with so the thoughts would stop. My mind was over run.
It went on for two weeks. Two weeks. I had reached the screaming point.I hated going to church. I kept telling myself that no one that was thinking what I was thinking should be in church like I was. If I had been in another church where I could be unknown, maybe it would have been alright, but here... people thought I was a Christian, they thought I was strong in the Lord (that's what one woman told me) they thought I had a good relationship with God, they asked ME to lead them in worship. And every single moment I was in that building I was screaming at myself. I was a hypocrite. I was a fake. I shouldn't be here. But wait... if you're not here, who will play the piano? No one. That's right, this struggling church will have one more thing to struggle with, and why? because you just can't get it together, you just can't be what God wants you to be, you just can't get this right. So you're faking, and you're the worst of them all for it.
And that's just a small sample of my thoughts, and certainly a toned down version.
And somewhere in the middle of all this I remembered that Satan was described as the Accuser. I couldn't do much with the knowledge, I couldn't use it to proclaim some type of victory for myself. But I held onto that phrase anyway because with that phrase was the closest thing I could find to a spark of hope.
After two weeks of death, I found myself at the altar telling God I couldn't take any more. Something had to happen, something had to change. I was losing it. I'd lost control, I'd lost hope, I really felt as though I were losing my mind.
And death stopped.
And that's when sadness stepped in.
And I cried.
From that day forward I cried. I'm not a big crier either but it suddenly became all I did. I woke up crying, I smushed Little One off to daycare then I drove to work crying, I drove home crying, I'd visit a friend in the hospital and drive home crying, get little one to bed then cry myself to sleep. Besides the guilt of being in church, it was becoming more and more obvious that I would have to quit because it was too hard not to cry there. And I never would have been able to explain myself. If anyone had asked me, I wouldn't have been able to explain why I was crying except to say that I just hurt. My mind, while no longer racing with death continued to tell me of my failures. What use was I like this? I'm bringing down my whole church, everyones always asking if I'm feeling alright, or telling me I must have had a hard day because I looked tired. They're struggling with things too, they've got their own problems and even if they were to try and be happy, they wouldn't be able to with you bringing them right back down again, you shouldn't be here, you never should have come in the first place, you don't belong here. But what will they do when you leave? Everyone will wonder if you leave. Who'll play? Who'll lead songs when no one else is there to do it? If you leave it will make things harder for them. You'd be selfish to leave just because you can't get it together. WHY can't you get it together anyway? What's wrong with you? This isn't how a Christian should act. How can you keep pretending you're a Christian when you keep acting like this and thinking these thoughts?
Sunday, December 30th, I couldn't make it through Sunday School. I walked away from it and cried until I knew I needed to go back in before the kids got out of Sunday School and came looking for me.
Sunday night, I couldn't even stay in the sanctuary. After the song service, Little One and I sat in the back room and returned to the front only for the closing prayer time.
Monday, December 31st, the tears were constant. I woke up early crying. I cried for nearly 2 hours before it was time to wake up Little One and get her ready for the day and her day with my parents. That evening, as I left work to pick up Little One, I spent the drive trying to figure out how to do what had to be done. I wondered how to tell my pastor I was through. I wouldn't be back. I wondered if I should tell my parents I was leaving the church. They are about to start a new ministry themselves and I was afraid they might visit my church before they began the new work - only to discover I wasn't there. Should I tell them?
Ultimately, I didn't. I went home, fed Little One, played Mr. Potato head with her, sailed the little foam alphabet letters in the bathtub while she bathed, then finally tucked her in and prayed with her before she went to sleep.
Then I went to my room and cried myself to sleep.
At 1am, just an hour and some minutes into the new year, Little One woke me up saying she'd wet the bed. We worked together quickly, getting her changed and washed, and the sheets changed on her bed and in 20 minutes she was back in bed. As I returned back to bed I noticed that my mind wasn't racing with all the accusations against me, it was quiet, peaceful even. When I woke up the next morning, I felt the same thing. I didn't wake up with the same feeling I'd felt for so long. I felt different. As a couple of hours passed, in absolute peace of mind, I picked up the phone and began calling people and wishing them a happy new year. I called, and I called, and I called. I certainly wasn't the turned around Scrooge, that Mark talked about at his blog, but since that morning, life has not been the same as it was.
Peace is back. I'm still feeling my way along with God - I can't experience all this and not have some of my views on God smashed to dust. But the peace, peace of mind, is back.
Yesterday, I found myself sitting at my desk smiling, for no reason whatsoever. And today, I even laughed. It'd been a long time.
I'm afraid to hope for tomorrow. Afraid that in a moment this peace, so precious, will be gone. I've gained the image in my mind of how in control God is, and how all things are in His hand, including my peace. I've found myself looking to that hand, not in anger, but in absolute brokenness just asking Him to keep His hand open to me. I know, I know I don't deserve it. I don't deserve for Him to listen to me. Nothing I've done, especially in my foolish arrogance has impressed Him. I can see nothing else, except that He opened His hand of peace to me, because that's just the kind of person He is. Because He's that Good. He's that Kind. I didn't earn it. As a matter of fact, the idea that I might think that I - of all people - had earned His hand extended with peace, makes me sick to my stomach. I haven't earned tomorrow either. If my peace of mind is still here tomorrow - God please - it's because of who He is, not because of who I've been.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Sometimes it just is what it is.
Wish me luck conveying this.
For the last several weeks I've had a pain under my rib cage. It makes it hurt to get a deep breath, cough, or move. It's nothing severe, or even important, just annoying. But I learned a lesson in it.
I had a dream. And in this dream I dreamed I was standing in a field, and eleven sheaves of wheat bowed down to me... wait... wrong dream.
I dreamed a doctor told me my pain was being caused by a tumor. It might be cancerous, or benign they wouldn't know until they got it out. They weren't going to biopsy it, because he said either way it had to come out because it was growing too large and it was restricting my blood flow so I could have a heart attack if it wasn't removed quickly.
I remember taking the gamble that nothing would happen, and decided to hold off on treatment until my insurance kicked in at my new job.
Some more things happened, and I'm sorry to say it wasn't a good gamble I took. So many things happened that I don't have time or desire to tell you about, but ultimately I woke up stressed out and more tired than when I went to bed (but not on the brink of death anymore, so that was a good thing). A seemingly innocent pain, had suddenly become life-threatening, finance-wrecking, family-destroying disaster. It took a moment for reality to return, but as it did the words came to me: "Sometimes a pain is just a pain."
I get caught up in fixing things. When something breaks, lifes central focus becomes "fix it" and until it's fixed, not much else gets done. It's not a good method for life, because with a little attention a lot of breaks could be prevented, if only I wasn't so focused on fixing one little break to stop the 50 others.
In the same way, when I'm hurting over something, I stop trying to grow, stop trying to learn, and I almost stopped going to church, just waiting for the pain to pass.
I'm not suggesting God told me to accept a mediocre life, accepting pain and hardship as though He had no power over it. But, hearing those words brought me a measure of peace.
He didn't say "Sometimes pain is just a test" or "...a punishment" or even "...what you reap from sowing as badly as you've sowed."
Sometimes a pain is just a pain.
I drive a 97 Nissan Sentra, with a salvage title, and a busted door that lets in a lot of road noise and rain, no tail lights, and an alignment problem that perpetually has me curving to the right. At the moment it's in the shop because it finally gained a problem that stopped it from running. But all those other problems? Didn't stop it a bit. It didn't even slow it down. It's gone, and it's gone, and it's gone.
I've spent a week now driving a sleek, sweet rental car. And as smooth as the ride is, I find myself thinking more and more about my car and how much better it fits me. I've been broken, refixed, and certainly let in a lot of road noise, and without a constant firm hand, I veer off the road even faster than my car does. But I'm still drivable. Just keep me on the road, turn up the radio volume to drown out the road noise (metaphor... just think about it), and point me in the right direction.
Sometimes pain is just pain. It's not there to be controlled, blamed, whined about, fixed, or avoided. It's just there to be felt. And then drive on anyway.
For the last several weeks I've had a pain under my rib cage. It makes it hurt to get a deep breath, cough, or move. It's nothing severe, or even important, just annoying. But I learned a lesson in it.
I had a dream. And in this dream I dreamed I was standing in a field, and eleven sheaves of wheat bowed down to me... wait... wrong dream.
I dreamed a doctor told me my pain was being caused by a tumor. It might be cancerous, or benign they wouldn't know until they got it out. They weren't going to biopsy it, because he said either way it had to come out because it was growing too large and it was restricting my blood flow so I could have a heart attack if it wasn't removed quickly.
I remember taking the gamble that nothing would happen, and decided to hold off on treatment until my insurance kicked in at my new job.
Some more things happened, and I'm sorry to say it wasn't a good gamble I took. So many things happened that I don't have time or desire to tell you about, but ultimately I woke up stressed out and more tired than when I went to bed (but not on the brink of death anymore, so that was a good thing). A seemingly innocent pain, had suddenly become life-threatening, finance-wrecking, family-destroying disaster. It took a moment for reality to return, but as it did the words came to me: "Sometimes a pain is just a pain."
I get caught up in fixing things. When something breaks, lifes central focus becomes "fix it" and until it's fixed, not much else gets done. It's not a good method for life, because with a little attention a lot of breaks could be prevented, if only I wasn't so focused on fixing one little break to stop the 50 others.
In the same way, when I'm hurting over something, I stop trying to grow, stop trying to learn, and I almost stopped going to church, just waiting for the pain to pass.
I'm not suggesting God told me to accept a mediocre life, accepting pain and hardship as though He had no power over it. But, hearing those words brought me a measure of peace.
He didn't say "Sometimes pain is just a test" or "...a punishment" or even "...what you reap from sowing as badly as you've sowed."
Sometimes a pain is just a pain.
I drive a 97 Nissan Sentra, with a salvage title, and a busted door that lets in a lot of road noise and rain, no tail lights, and an alignment problem that perpetually has me curving to the right. At the moment it's in the shop because it finally gained a problem that stopped it from running. But all those other problems? Didn't stop it a bit. It didn't even slow it down. It's gone, and it's gone, and it's gone.
I've spent a week now driving a sleek, sweet rental car. And as smooth as the ride is, I find myself thinking more and more about my car and how much better it fits me. I've been broken, refixed, and certainly let in a lot of road noise, and without a constant firm hand, I veer off the road even faster than my car does. But I'm still drivable. Just keep me on the road, turn up the radio volume to drown out the road noise (metaphor... just think about it), and point me in the right direction.
Sometimes pain is just pain. It's not there to be controlled, blamed, whined about, fixed, or avoided. It's just there to be felt. And then drive on anyway.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas.
God shows over and over in His word that He's a fan of feasts, holidays, days of rememberance. I wonder what this day means to Him?
Happy Birthday Jesus.
Happy Birthday Jesus.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Kudos to you.
To every single single mom, or single dad in the world. Kudos. Kudos to you.
I'm here, temporarily a parent-like person. You though, you, signed up for a lifetime commitment. And when you signed up you might not have been single. Singlehood, or widowhood, may have just been thrust on you.
Some of you maybe thought 17 was a good age to do what you felt ready for, and you rolled the dice hoping that pregnancy wouldn't happen to you. Now, 5 yrs later you're 23 with a 5 yr old. Maybe not regretting, but probably still struggling.
I have the utmost respect for you.
There is question after question, concern after concern and no one to ease the guilt of having caused the tears. And if you've got a teen, there's no one around to tell you that you aren't being unfair and that your teen really doesn't hate you.
There isn't anyone who can tell you you're doing a good job, because you know that only you know the 24/7 story and you're still telling Dr Phil to shut up every time he tells you to "be consistent".
And when the washing machine breaks, the roof leaks, or dinner burns. It's up to you. And not only is it up to you, but little eyes are watching to see what you do too.
Kudos to you, for waking up every day and going at it. For doing all the crazy little things that make life special for your child(ren). For all the lessons that you did teach even when you think nothing is sinking in.
And now, I'm going to let you in on a twisted secret.
Give you child a good, strong, foundation in Jesus Christ. Pray for them. Read to them from the Bible. Tell them all about Jesus and how much He loves them. Teach them about the Holy Spirit, and how He is an ever present help in the time of trouble and joy. Teach them about God, the maker and creator of everything, who sees them, knows them, and loves them so much and will hear their prayers and wants to save their souls.
It's what I do. Over and over again. So hopefully 20 yrs down the road when my child is still recovering from whatever scars she's gained from my random-what-am-I-doing?-parenting, she'll remember that Jesus the Healer can make all things new and heal and use our scars. It's like giving your child a multivitamin because you know you've given them a less than balanced diet.
I could tell you about the special good moments we all know about. The quirky smiles, or the first time you look at their artwork and think "wow, that actually looks like something!", when you're both surprised that the shoe was successfully tied (though you're trying to cover your surprise because you've been saying "You can do it!" for the last 2 hours because the shoe came untied 27 times in the last two hours), and there's also that moment when one of your kids turns around and does something so selfless and kind that you're wondering where they got that sweetness from.
It was you.
Kudos to you every day for the rest of your life.
Consider this my Christmas present to all the single parents:
Jesus doesn't just love your child.
He loves you too.
I'm here, temporarily a parent-like person. You though, you, signed up for a lifetime commitment. And when you signed up you might not have been single. Singlehood, or widowhood, may have just been thrust on you.
Some of you maybe thought 17 was a good age to do what you felt ready for, and you rolled the dice hoping that pregnancy wouldn't happen to you. Now, 5 yrs later you're 23 with a 5 yr old. Maybe not regretting, but probably still struggling.
I have the utmost respect for you.
There is question after question, concern after concern and no one to ease the guilt of having caused the tears. And if you've got a teen, there's no one around to tell you that you aren't being unfair and that your teen really doesn't hate you.
There isn't anyone who can tell you you're doing a good job, because you know that only you know the 24/7 story and you're still telling Dr Phil to shut up every time he tells you to "be consistent".
And when the washing machine breaks, the roof leaks, or dinner burns. It's up to you. And not only is it up to you, but little eyes are watching to see what you do too.
Kudos to you, for waking up every day and going at it. For doing all the crazy little things that make life special for your child(ren). For all the lessons that you did teach even when you think nothing is sinking in.
And now, I'm going to let you in on a twisted secret.
Give you child a good, strong, foundation in Jesus Christ. Pray for them. Read to them from the Bible. Tell them all about Jesus and how much He loves them. Teach them about the Holy Spirit, and how He is an ever present help in the time of trouble and joy. Teach them about God, the maker and creator of everything, who sees them, knows them, and loves them so much and will hear their prayers and wants to save their souls.
It's what I do. Over and over again. So hopefully 20 yrs down the road when my child is still recovering from whatever scars she's gained from my random-what-am-I-doing?-parenting, she'll remember that Jesus the Healer can make all things new and heal and use our scars. It's like giving your child a multivitamin because you know you've given them a less than balanced diet.
I could tell you about the special good moments we all know about. The quirky smiles, or the first time you look at their artwork and think "wow, that actually looks like something!", when you're both surprised that the shoe was successfully tied (though you're trying to cover your surprise because you've been saying "You can do it!" for the last 2 hours because the shoe came untied 27 times in the last two hours), and there's also that moment when one of your kids turns around and does something so selfless and kind that you're wondering where they got that sweetness from.
It was you.
Kudos to you every day for the rest of your life.
Consider this my Christmas present to all the single parents:
Jesus doesn't just love your child.
He loves you too.
Sister Harp
Wednesday before last, the call came that a beautiful woman, who had more layers than even me, might not make it through the night.
The next night, Thursday, I stood next to her hospital bed while she told me -not for the first time - that her bags were packed, and she was ready to go. Moments later I watched her cry, then gruffly say she's just having a pity party because she's still here.
In a conversation the night before she was released from the hospital, her desire for her heavenly home was in both our minds when she suddenly turned to me and said, "I'm just gonna praise Him. That's all I can do. I'm just gonna praise Him."
A few days passed and having left the hospital, she spent yesterday (Saturday) at the church with us sticking address labels on some tracts for some gift bags our church would be passing out. She hugged her great-grandchildren who had just arrived from Georgia, and just before she left the church, she got to visit with a grandson who had just arrived also.
She went back to the nursing home because she hates to miss a meal, then she spent the afternoon playing Bingo for the first time, and she won.
Then at 3am this morning she passed away.
It was her lucky day.
She'd lived 78 long and very full years.
I was blessed to have known her.
The next night, Thursday, I stood next to her hospital bed while she told me -not for the first time - that her bags were packed, and she was ready to go. Moments later I watched her cry, then gruffly say she's just having a pity party because she's still here.
In a conversation the night before she was released from the hospital, her desire for her heavenly home was in both our minds when she suddenly turned to me and said, "I'm just gonna praise Him. That's all I can do. I'm just gonna praise Him."
A few days passed and having left the hospital, she spent yesterday (Saturday) at the church with us sticking address labels on some tracts for some gift bags our church would be passing out. She hugged her great-grandchildren who had just arrived from Georgia, and just before she left the church, she got to visit with a grandson who had just arrived also.
She went back to the nursing home because she hates to miss a meal, then she spent the afternoon playing Bingo for the first time, and she won.
Then at 3am this morning she passed away.
It was her lucky day.
She'd lived 78 long and very full years.
I was blessed to have known her.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Out letting.
I've never heard of a writing addiction before, but I think I've got one. I found myself still writing every day, I was just forcing myself to follow my ban. I doubt I'll be back posting my routine Sun-Thurs posts for awhile, but this is my little outlet, so I'm using it.
This post was written Tuesday in a letter, and it's the best I've been able to write so far.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My car died today.
It's going to be in a coma for the next few days until a transplant can be shipped in to revive it. It's funny how my car always seems to die on the day I'm going to get it looked at. My belt has been squealing, so I bought some of the belt dressing stuff to spray on it. Just in case it was an easy fix. The stuff didn't help. But I planned on getting it looked at today. It just didn't last long enough.
Today, Little One had a dentists visit and I had to take off work early to take her to it, and then drop her off at visitation with her parents who I met for the first time today. Her mom is upset with me because Little One called me mama in front of her last week. I had to take a letter to mom explaining why she's calling me mama now, and how it helps Little One cope and encouraging her not to give up all her progress over the discouragement of the irregular visits lately (no visits for the next two weeks because CPS will be closed on visitation days because of holidays and their schedule is too busy to fit her in on another day of the week during the holidays).
Before that happened though, I got a call from Little Ones daycare about two hours before I was suppose to pick her up for the dentist. They says she's got lice. I haven't been checking her because for so long her hair was short and it wasn't an issue. Well, apparently her hair's long enough now. I came home, treated her hair, got her ready for the dentists, and off we went.
To the dentists, (she's got beautiful healthy teeth) then dropped her off at the visit, met bio parents, and a grandma and then drove home to the sound of stuff falling off my car. I made it to union street before the pulley actually fell off and all the lights went on telling me my car was about to die (I can drive it until the battery runs out of juice, but I'm not going to, it'll sit there until it goes to the shop after the transplant pulley comes in).
I pull on an old t-shirt and stick my hair in a pony tail, jack the car up and try and look all car-guyish, to make sure I really did lose a pulley. I did. I came in and made transportation arrangements and Mr Fixit arrangements and asked my dad some car guy questions. Then he asked me alzheimer questions. Like I know the best treatment, or what to do. That's the problem with having the internet and having all the answers to their simple questions. Sometimes they think I can google "how to cure alzeimers" and something will come up. I did. The very first sentence google shows is "there is no cure for alzheimers".
This is going to be a long post.
I know what people mean when they talk of having to decide if they believe what they believe because they believed it or because they'd been told it all their life. I went through that in 2002 when I first moved into my old house. That's where I found my real relationship with God. The deep one that I'm hanging onto right now. I miss Him.
I told someone a couple of months back that when you see/hear so much from the devil, you start searching more to find God just to make it through. I use to be able to find those quiet refreshing times when you could just sit in His presence and not just think things would be ok, but you could almost see it, feel it, sense it, and it wasn't in a way that meant your situations would change. It was just... He's here, so no matter what the situation you know it's going to be ok. Come death, come pain, come car problems, come kid problems, come hospitals, come bills, it's all alright. And when all those things got to you and began to wear you down you could just stop, and stop anywhere, and hear that voice, feel the Master of Peace, and your soul and spirit (though maybe not always your body) would be refreshed.
I complained to someone the other night that there isn't peace anywhere now. It use to be at my fingertips and now it's just... gone. And in it's place is this remarkable sadness. It's how I've come to imagine life will feel when Little One leaves. You keep looking around, expecting it to be there, and it's not and every time you reach for it and find it gone you're more disappointed than the moment before.
There's more, that I just can't write. Just won't write I suppose is the most honest statement. But it's the thing that exhausts me the most and leaves me wondering where God is. The plain answer to where God is is simply "He won't leave you or forsake you, so He's right there." But, reading the bible is like reading letters of a long lost, dearly beloved friend. You just want to see Him, talk to Him yourself, sit and be together. Words on paper just aren't enough.
I remember the movie "The Patriot" with Mel Gibson. This passionate man begins a virtually impossible battle, gets all these forces together, and they follow his grim and deathly determined lead. Only to find themselves going to battle alone, when his son gets killed in battle and he loses heart. All those men standing there, fighting for a cause they do believe in, had less heart because their fierce leader wasn't there. He finally shows up and it's enough to win the battle for them, not necessarily because he did so much but because his presence changed the hearts of the men.
With everything combined going on around me, I feel like one of those men. Without my fearless leader, I'm standing in a battle thinking "I'm going to get creamed, and it will be such a crushing loss that any efforts I extend will be pathetic and insignificant."
If anything, I've started to think of this as a "for the duration" thing. Where you settle down and prepare yourself not for a sprint, but a marathon. And you know you're not in good enough shape to win, but you just hope you haven't lost too much by the time it's over.
I'm not really writing this for answers. I've come to think that maybe there is no answer other than wait - wait on God then keep waiting. Maybe I'm just writing this because I like writing so much it's hard for me not to blog. Maybe I'll skip my ban and blog this.
I didn't write this to complain about the car, or bio parents, lice or even God. I didn't write this for answers or questions. But it certainly feels better to have put it into words. I wish I could talk more like I write. But my mouth doesn't have a backspace button.
This post was written Tuesday in a letter, and it's the best I've been able to write so far.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My car died today.
It's going to be in a coma for the next few days until a transplant can be shipped in to revive it. It's funny how my car always seems to die on the day I'm going to get it looked at. My belt has been squealing, so I bought some of the belt dressing stuff to spray on it. Just in case it was an easy fix. The stuff didn't help. But I planned on getting it looked at today. It just didn't last long enough.
Today, Little One had a dentists visit and I had to take off work early to take her to it, and then drop her off at visitation with her parents who I met for the first time today. Her mom is upset with me because Little One called me mama in front of her last week. I had to take a letter to mom explaining why she's calling me mama now, and how it helps Little One cope and encouraging her not to give up all her progress over the discouragement of the irregular visits lately (no visits for the next two weeks because CPS will be closed on visitation days because of holidays and their schedule is too busy to fit her in on another day of the week during the holidays).
Before that happened though, I got a call from Little Ones daycare about two hours before I was suppose to pick her up for the dentist. They says she's got lice. I haven't been checking her because for so long her hair was short and it wasn't an issue. Well, apparently her hair's long enough now. I came home, treated her hair, got her ready for the dentists, and off we went.
To the dentists, (she's got beautiful healthy teeth) then dropped her off at the visit, met bio parents, and a grandma and then drove home to the sound of stuff falling off my car. I made it to union street before the pulley actually fell off and all the lights went on telling me my car was about to die (I can drive it until the battery runs out of juice, but I'm not going to, it'll sit there until it goes to the shop after the transplant pulley comes in).
I pull on an old t-shirt and stick my hair in a pony tail, jack the car up and try and look all car-guyish, to make sure I really did lose a pulley. I did. I came in and made transportation arrangements and Mr Fixit arrangements and asked my dad some car guy questions. Then he asked me alzheimer questions. Like I know the best treatment, or what to do. That's the problem with having the internet and having all the answers to their simple questions. Sometimes they think I can google "how to cure alzeimers" and something will come up. I did. The very first sentence google shows is "there is no cure for alzheimers".
This is going to be a long post.
I know what people mean when they talk of having to decide if they believe what they believe because they believed it or because they'd been told it all their life. I went through that in 2002 when I first moved into my old house. That's where I found my real relationship with God. The deep one that I'm hanging onto right now. I miss Him.
I told someone a couple of months back that when you see/hear so much from the devil, you start searching more to find God just to make it through. I use to be able to find those quiet refreshing times when you could just sit in His presence and not just think things would be ok, but you could almost see it, feel it, sense it, and it wasn't in a way that meant your situations would change. It was just... He's here, so no matter what the situation you know it's going to be ok. Come death, come pain, come car problems, come kid problems, come hospitals, come bills, it's all alright. And when all those things got to you and began to wear you down you could just stop, and stop anywhere, and hear that voice, feel the Master of Peace, and your soul and spirit (though maybe not always your body) would be refreshed.
I complained to someone the other night that there isn't peace anywhere now. It use to be at my fingertips and now it's just... gone. And in it's place is this remarkable sadness. It's how I've come to imagine life will feel when Little One leaves. You keep looking around, expecting it to be there, and it's not and every time you reach for it and find it gone you're more disappointed than the moment before.
There's more, that I just can't write. Just won't write I suppose is the most honest statement. But it's the thing that exhausts me the most and leaves me wondering where God is. The plain answer to where God is is simply "He won't leave you or forsake you, so He's right there." But, reading the bible is like reading letters of a long lost, dearly beloved friend. You just want to see Him, talk to Him yourself, sit and be together. Words on paper just aren't enough.
I remember the movie "The Patriot" with Mel Gibson. This passionate man begins a virtually impossible battle, gets all these forces together, and they follow his grim and deathly determined lead. Only to find themselves going to battle alone, when his son gets killed in battle and he loses heart. All those men standing there, fighting for a cause they do believe in, had less heart because their fierce leader wasn't there. He finally shows up and it's enough to win the battle for them, not necessarily because he did so much but because his presence changed the hearts of the men.
With everything combined going on around me, I feel like one of those men. Without my fearless leader, I'm standing in a battle thinking "I'm going to get creamed, and it will be such a crushing loss that any efforts I extend will be pathetic and insignificant."
If anything, I've started to think of this as a "for the duration" thing. Where you settle down and prepare yourself not for a sprint, but a marathon. And you know you're not in good enough shape to win, but you just hope you haven't lost too much by the time it's over.
I'm not really writing this for answers. I've come to think that maybe there is no answer other than wait - wait on God then keep waiting. Maybe I'm just writing this because I like writing so much it's hard for me not to blog. Maybe I'll skip my ban and blog this.
I didn't write this to complain about the car, or bio parents, lice or even God. I didn't write this for answers or questions. But it certainly feels better to have put it into words. I wish I could talk more like I write. But my mouth doesn't have a backspace button.
When God stoops down.
I came across this tonight and it was too good to not share.
I found it at Steven Furtick's blog on his church "Elevation", a church that apparently meets in school stadiums, and has no permanent location. Yet recently, it's collective members managed to raise 6 million dollars.
His post was titled God stoops down to raise me up.
Psalm 18:35…
You (Lord) stoop down to make me great.
Now that’s some great perspective!
In Psalm 18, David is rattling off a resume of his kingly accomplishments, strengths, and victories. But just to be sure that he doesn’t get carried away with his bad self, he pauses and acknowledges:
“Even the highest human height is the bottom of the barrel of the capability and glory of God. Greatness to me is stooping to Him.”
This is a critical tension for every Christian to hold in balance:God has made me great…But He’s so much greater…that He had to stoop to do it.
I found it at Steven Furtick's blog on his church "Elevation", a church that apparently meets in school stadiums, and has no permanent location. Yet recently, it's collective members managed to raise 6 million dollars.
His post was titled God stoops down to raise me up.
Psalm 18:35…
You (Lord) stoop down to make me great.
Now that’s some great perspective!
In Psalm 18, David is rattling off a resume of his kingly accomplishments, strengths, and victories. But just to be sure that he doesn’t get carried away with his bad self, he pauses and acknowledges:
“Even the highest human height is the bottom of the barrel of the capability and glory of God. Greatness to me is stooping to Him.”
This is a critical tension for every Christian to hold in balance:God has made me great…But He’s so much greater…that He had to stoop to do it.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Hello
I can't write, and haven't written about where I am at right now, because I haven't been able to put it into words.
It's been months now, since everything got thrown up into the air and I've simply tried to hang on.
A friend that knew I was struggling sent me a link to a sermon by TD Jakes.
I've never been a huge TD Jakes fan, but I listened to every word of the video, and whether you think he's right, or whether you think he's wrong, he described me word for word.
For the last two weeks I've seriously contemplated walking away from church. I say this timidly because my pastor reads this blog and I have no desire to hurt him - I'm sorry Pastor, you've got too much to deal with to be reading this.
But, I've been chained to church mentally. God or no God, I would have continued going to church. I could lose all faith, all hope, all conviction, and I still would have gone to church. Then just a couple of weeks back that chain snapped. And I've had to make a decision every single time the doors open whether or not I would go. My biggest reason for continuing to go so far is primarily because I don't want this time of confusion to end and find myself looking back on how I gave up. I don't want to regret any more than I already do. So I'm still there. But having that chain snap scared me. It made me realize just how far I've gone off the end of everything I've held on to.
And now, I'm hanging onto what I've believed in all my life. Despite the fact that none of it feels true. It feels like God just wandered off the last several months and left me alone to deal with all the chaos that He had me put in my life. First I was angry with Him, for months I grumbled at Him. And now I've climbed down into a sad, quiet little place where I'm just holding onto small fragments of faith and praying that this ends.
I've set aside the illusion that I might come out of this thinking how well I went through it.
I'm holding on, but I have no desire to fill my blog, the record of my walk, with all the groanings I've been doing during this time. I thought I would... a few days ago I posted that you might be surprised at what I posted, only to find myself unable to put it into words. So for now, my blog will be silent. I don't know when I'll come back but it's time for absolute silence until I find my stability.
I believe God is good. And when I say I'm holding on, the belief in His goodness is all I'm holding on to. He'll bring me through. Surely. He's too good not to.
I hope.
It's been months now, since everything got thrown up into the air and I've simply tried to hang on.
A friend that knew I was struggling sent me a link to a sermon by TD Jakes.
I've never been a huge TD Jakes fan, but I listened to every word of the video, and whether you think he's right, or whether you think he's wrong, he described me word for word.
For the last two weeks I've seriously contemplated walking away from church. I say this timidly because my pastor reads this blog and I have no desire to hurt him - I'm sorry Pastor, you've got too much to deal with to be reading this.
But, I've been chained to church mentally. God or no God, I would have continued going to church. I could lose all faith, all hope, all conviction, and I still would have gone to church. Then just a couple of weeks back that chain snapped. And I've had to make a decision every single time the doors open whether or not I would go. My biggest reason for continuing to go so far is primarily because I don't want this time of confusion to end and find myself looking back on how I gave up. I don't want to regret any more than I already do. So I'm still there. But having that chain snap scared me. It made me realize just how far I've gone off the end of everything I've held on to.
And now, I'm hanging onto what I've believed in all my life. Despite the fact that none of it feels true. It feels like God just wandered off the last several months and left me alone to deal with all the chaos that He had me put in my life. First I was angry with Him, for months I grumbled at Him. And now I've climbed down into a sad, quiet little place where I'm just holding onto small fragments of faith and praying that this ends.
I've set aside the illusion that I might come out of this thinking how well I went through it.
I'm holding on, but I have no desire to fill my blog, the record of my walk, with all the groanings I've been doing during this time. I thought I would... a few days ago I posted that you might be surprised at what I posted, only to find myself unable to put it into words. So for now, my blog will be silent. I don't know when I'll come back but it's time for absolute silence until I find my stability.
I believe God is good. And when I say I'm holding on, the belief in His goodness is all I'm holding on to. He'll bring me through. Surely. He's too good not to.
I hope.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
No post today.
I have nothing to say.
So I'll save you the time of reading several paragraphs of nothing, and simply not post.
Have a nice day.
So I'll save you the time of reading several paragraphs of nothing, and simply not post.
Have a nice day.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
A beautiful moment.
It came down a cold drizzle all day long. ALL day long. From the moment I got in the car at 7am, to getting out at 10pm, it drizzled. It was cold, wet, yucky feeling, and had the distinct feel of a wintery fall. People complained about it all day long, the only good thing they could say about it was that "at least it wasn't cold enough to make the roads icy".
Then about 4:30 this afternoon, I glanced out the door.
Directly out the door is a beautiful tree that's changed it's leaves to a vibrant red. Amidst all the clouds, the sun shone just enough to make the world look surprisingly, and stunningly gorgeous, and the most vibrant rainbow shone for less than 5 minutes. I've seen some beautiful summer days, but none that compared to those 5 amazing minutes.
I don't remember ever seeing the world look so very beautiful.
The mist made everything look so clean, shiny, bright with the reflection of that shaft of light coming from the one visible part of the sun. And the clouds kept things muted enough that the small brightness calmed the eyes, rather than strained them with the brightness of the sun.
You couldn't look at it without taking a deep breath.
You wouldn't think that clouds and rain were necessary to make the most beautiful moment imaginable. You'd think that beautiful moment comes when they sky is a beautiful shade of blue, birds are chirping, everything is green or blooming, and it's whatever you believe the perfect temperature should be.
You'd be wrong.
All those things would make an easy day. Free from worries of fog or rain or ice. But it wouldn't offer you a beautiful moment.
If you were choosing though, would you choose the easy day over the beautiful moment?
Monday, December 10, 2007
Prison
I went into a building I'd never been in before. I saw a doorway to my right and glanced in the window as I walked past, thinking it must be a small storage room.
Then I noticed they were one right after another on both sides of me.
Then I noticed there was a name on the window of each door.
My heart sunk, and I stop following the people leading me down the corridor, and I peered in the window.
Inside there was a small bed. It was maybe 5 foot long. The entire room altogether was smaller than my bathroom.
It was a prisoners home.
I'd seen these kids, talked to a few of them. Some of them were over 6 ft tall. I couldn't imagine them sleeping on that tiny bed. That bed wasn't even twin sized. It was at best a cot.
It was a prison.
I work in the Human Resource department at a correctional facility for kids ages 11-19. 11 yr old boys go to sleep in that tiny box. I can't get past it.
But I did walk on past it. The staff that guard these prisoners/children are proud of their unit. They keep it clean and orderly and they hosted a dinner for all the staff to come in and join their lunch. Just before we lined up for food though, a large man, who looked a good deal like John Coffee from The Green Mile stood up. And they asked everyone to stand up for the blessing of the food.
As this huge hulk of a man stood there, he humbly thanked God for baby Jesus, and His dying on an old rugged cross for our iniquities, and how thankful he was that we could see Gods love when we all get together to eat like this. And that's nearly quoting him.
And standing in Unit 17/18, I felt the presence of God.
And I thought about Paul and Silas' fellow prisoners that day when Paul and Silas praised God. Sometimes all I see is the prison. I'm sure that's primarily all these kids see in their walls. But occasionally, someone walks into your prison that sets you free even in your chains. It's nothing you've done. You were just fortunate enough to be in the cell next to someone who saw something better than the prison walls. And you're blessed just to have been in the right place, at the right time.
For once, I don't write this with any real connection to myself, but just gratitude that at least the kids on unit 17/18 have this man walking their corridor.
Then I noticed they were one right after another on both sides of me.
Then I noticed there was a name on the window of each door.
My heart sunk, and I stop following the people leading me down the corridor, and I peered in the window.
Inside there was a small bed. It was maybe 5 foot long. The entire room altogether was smaller than my bathroom.
It was a prisoners home.
I'd seen these kids, talked to a few of them. Some of them were over 6 ft tall. I couldn't imagine them sleeping on that tiny bed. That bed wasn't even twin sized. It was at best a cot.
It was a prison.
I work in the Human Resource department at a correctional facility for kids ages 11-19. 11 yr old boys go to sleep in that tiny box. I can't get past it.
But I did walk on past it. The staff that guard these prisoners/children are proud of their unit. They keep it clean and orderly and they hosted a dinner for all the staff to come in and join their lunch. Just before we lined up for food though, a large man, who looked a good deal like John Coffee from The Green Mile stood up. And they asked everyone to stand up for the blessing of the food.
As this huge hulk of a man stood there, he humbly thanked God for baby Jesus, and His dying on an old rugged cross for our iniquities, and how thankful he was that we could see Gods love when we all get together to eat like this. And that's nearly quoting him.
And standing in Unit 17/18, I felt the presence of God.
And I thought about Paul and Silas' fellow prisoners that day when Paul and Silas praised God. Sometimes all I see is the prison. I'm sure that's primarily all these kids see in their walls. But occasionally, someone walks into your prison that sets you free even in your chains. It's nothing you've done. You were just fortunate enough to be in the cell next to someone who saw something better than the prison walls. And you're blessed just to have been in the right place, at the right time.
For once, I don't write this with any real connection to myself, but just gratitude that at least the kids on unit 17/18 have this man walking their corridor.
A candid God for a candid person.
A lot has changed over the last few months. A lot. My relationship with God has changed. The changes are hard to describe. The only easy change to point out is the difference between how verbal our relationship use to be. He and I had a very verbal relationship before. It started off with me talking and suddenly merged into conversation. But now I'm finding Him more and more in the silences.
We were told to pray tonight, so I dutifully knelt down and if God had been an actual person, I would be able to say I stared at Him in silence for the next 5 minutes.
I don't actually know how long it was, but almost everyone had quit praying when suddenly I broke my silence with a simple "You've given me more than I can handle."
There wasn't anything else to say. Nothing to add. No complaints, or reasonings, no listing of the burdens or problems, just a simple "It's more than I can handle."
It was enough to get me through. When I stood up the burden was lighter, but I felt a strong check later in the evening from God about the need for me to keep returning to Him. Suddenly that old poem "I had so much to accomplish, I didn't have time to pray" that ends with "I had so much to accomplish, that I had to take time and pray." - while always understandable - that poem became real to me tonight. Without that time with God, crawling into a deep fulfilling place with Him each and every day, the crazy stress and burdens just pile up until you're literally buried in them, with no hope of daylight in sight.
We (and by 'we' I mean "I") tend to put off the necessity of God. It's easy to say you need salvation, you need God, you need hope, your need peace blah blah blah. Those things are justifiable. Even to the world to some extent. But at some point the need to talk to God has to trump my need to get a couple of loads of laundry done, my need to vacuum the house, my need to read a book to Little One, or play the piano. It would be nice if when that overwhelmed feeling started rising and blocking my airway, if right that moment, everything else got cast into 2nd priority under talking to the only One who can get me safely and sinlessly into the next hour.
I say sinlessly, because once the world climbs onto your shoulders and you attempt to carry it uphill, in the snow, against the wind... lets just say your patient demeanor tends to go down the toilet. You start fighting for every inch. It's like a relay race with Jesus jumping up and down next to you saying "I'll run next!" only you're too busy fighting for another inch to realize you're losing the race because you don't want to take a second to pass the buck to Someone who can take it.
Tonight when I told God He'd given me more than I can handle, He didn't come back with a reassurance that I could handle it. He didn't tell me things would be alright. He didn't tell me people would stop being hurt or that He'd ease the pain. He didn't, at least to my knowledge, work any huge miracle. But, He was there. And it got me through another day.
We were told to pray tonight, so I dutifully knelt down and if God had been an actual person, I would be able to say I stared at Him in silence for the next 5 minutes.
I don't actually know how long it was, but almost everyone had quit praying when suddenly I broke my silence with a simple "You've given me more than I can handle."
There wasn't anything else to say. Nothing to add. No complaints, or reasonings, no listing of the burdens or problems, just a simple "It's more than I can handle."
It was enough to get me through. When I stood up the burden was lighter, but I felt a strong check later in the evening from God about the need for me to keep returning to Him. Suddenly that old poem "I had so much to accomplish, I didn't have time to pray" that ends with "I had so much to accomplish, that I had to take time and pray." - while always understandable - that poem became real to me tonight. Without that time with God, crawling into a deep fulfilling place with Him each and every day, the crazy stress and burdens just pile up until you're literally buried in them, with no hope of daylight in sight.
We (and by 'we' I mean "I") tend to put off the necessity of God. It's easy to say you need salvation, you need God, you need hope, your need peace blah blah blah. Those things are justifiable. Even to the world to some extent. But at some point the need to talk to God has to trump my need to get a couple of loads of laundry done, my need to vacuum the house, my need to read a book to Little One, or play the piano. It would be nice if when that overwhelmed feeling started rising and blocking my airway, if right that moment, everything else got cast into 2nd priority under talking to the only One who can get me safely and sinlessly into the next hour.
I say sinlessly, because once the world climbs onto your shoulders and you attempt to carry it uphill, in the snow, against the wind... lets just say your patient demeanor tends to go down the toilet. You start fighting for every inch. It's like a relay race with Jesus jumping up and down next to you saying "I'll run next!" only you're too busy fighting for another inch to realize you're losing the race because you don't want to take a second to pass the buck to Someone who can take it.
Tonight when I told God He'd given me more than I can handle, He didn't come back with a reassurance that I could handle it. He didn't tell me things would be alright. He didn't tell me people would stop being hurt or that He'd ease the pain. He didn't, at least to my knowledge, work any huge miracle. But, He was there. And it got me through another day.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
A Quote
Nothing against the man, but I just never imagined I'd have occasion to quote him. I was wrong.
"I don't know about you but my faith is like a flickering light. I've just got to remember in the dark what I saw in the light and keep walking." - Mark Lowry
Changes
I remember 6 years ago how I struggled for God. In those quiet moments by myself it was tear after tear, where my heart felt like it was being crushed.
I've noticed in the last several weeks that this time feels similar to those early days. I found myself wondering if there was a connection to this and my asking for more of God. To get more of God He's got to break away more of me. And perhaps this is all just part of the painful process.
It's just one of those things I wonder, especially as I find myself praying that this time has a valuable purpose.
I've fought with God. I've yelled at Him, thanked Him, turned my back to Him, and loved Him more intensely than I ever have before. This walk seems more like an hour by hour thing, rather than a day by day thing. I'm glad He's still here with me. Though I've got to admit, I've spent some cautious moments timidly looking towards God wondering if He hated me this time.
In all my struggles I'm afraid that I write too often about the struggle and not enough about how awesome I find God to be. The wonder gets lost in the nitty gritty. And I want to make sure I look back on these times and know how deeply I loved God. Sure I'll see how much it was hurting, sure I'll see that some times I pounded the walls in frustration asking God a thousand and one 'why' questions, but I also want to look back and see that through it all I also sat at His feet and wept for the sheer privilege of knowing Him, experiencing Him, loving Him.
There's a song that I've sung over and over and over because each and every word is true specifically of my life:
When I think about the Lord
How He saved me - (Oh, did He save me)
How He raised me - (Ok, I might look a mess, but He raised me from a miry pit and I am standing because of it)
How He filled me with the Holy Ghost - (a little over a year ago, after seeking it for so long)
How He healed me to the uttermost - (He's still healing me, but He's healed so much already. But when I think of this line I actually remember the time years ago and I had an infection, a visiting preacher came to our church and prayed over me and I felt a burning heat and the pain was gone.)
When I think about the Lord
How He picked me up and turned me around
And set my feet, on solid ground. (6 years ago so much of my time seeking was spent knelt down almost into a ball, crying my eyes out. I've found myself knelt down again lately, but in those months of weeping He picked me up and absolutely turned my life around. And despite everything that I've whined and moaned about, He's set my feet on solid ground.)
It makes me wanna shout!
Hallelujah!
Thank you Jesus
Lord you're worthy
Of all the Glory
And all the Honor
And all the Praise.
Here's a link if you'd like to hear the song being sung.
He's done a lot for me. God, You've done so much for me. I don't mean to focus so much on the struggle that I forget the victories You've already won for me. I'm sorry.
A friend sent me a link to a video (thank you Lindy) and in the video Mark Lowry is talking about a tornado he survived, and how he would have enjoyed himself a lot more if he'd of known he was going to live through it. And it was a good reminder for me tonight. All these things that are happening around me are but for the blink of Gods eye. The person my heart is breaking for will one day no longer have to endure suffering, but bask in an eternity with God. They're going to live through this, and this pain only lasts a lifetime, and a lifetime is not that long compared to the joy they will have for eternity.
I guess I forget too easily that this lifetime is the short run, not the long run. And in the long run, everything is going to be wonderful.
I've noticed in the last several weeks that this time feels similar to those early days. I found myself wondering if there was a connection to this and my asking for more of God. To get more of God He's got to break away more of me. And perhaps this is all just part of the painful process.
It's just one of those things I wonder, especially as I find myself praying that this time has a valuable purpose.
I've fought with God. I've yelled at Him, thanked Him, turned my back to Him, and loved Him more intensely than I ever have before. This walk seems more like an hour by hour thing, rather than a day by day thing. I'm glad He's still here with me. Though I've got to admit, I've spent some cautious moments timidly looking towards God wondering if He hated me this time.
In all my struggles I'm afraid that I write too often about the struggle and not enough about how awesome I find God to be. The wonder gets lost in the nitty gritty. And I want to make sure I look back on these times and know how deeply I loved God. Sure I'll see how much it was hurting, sure I'll see that some times I pounded the walls in frustration asking God a thousand and one 'why' questions, but I also want to look back and see that through it all I also sat at His feet and wept for the sheer privilege of knowing Him, experiencing Him, loving Him.
There's a song that I've sung over and over and over because each and every word is true specifically of my life:
When I think about the Lord
How He saved me - (Oh, did He save me)
How He raised me - (Ok, I might look a mess, but He raised me from a miry pit and I am standing because of it)
How He filled me with the Holy Ghost - (a little over a year ago, after seeking it for so long)
How He healed me to the uttermost - (He's still healing me, but He's healed so much already. But when I think of this line I actually remember the time years ago and I had an infection, a visiting preacher came to our church and prayed over me and I felt a burning heat and the pain was gone.)
When I think about the Lord
How He picked me up and turned me around
And set my feet, on solid ground. (6 years ago so much of my time seeking was spent knelt down almost into a ball, crying my eyes out. I've found myself knelt down again lately, but in those months of weeping He picked me up and absolutely turned my life around. And despite everything that I've whined and moaned about, He's set my feet on solid ground.)
It makes me wanna shout!
Hallelujah!
Thank you Jesus
Lord you're worthy
Of all the Glory
And all the Honor
And all the Praise.
Here's a link if you'd like to hear the song being sung.
He's done a lot for me. God, You've done so much for me. I don't mean to focus so much on the struggle that I forget the victories You've already won for me. I'm sorry.
A friend sent me a link to a video (thank you Lindy) and in the video Mark Lowry is talking about a tornado he survived, and how he would have enjoyed himself a lot more if he'd of known he was going to live through it. And it was a good reminder for me tonight. All these things that are happening around me are but for the blink of Gods eye. The person my heart is breaking for will one day no longer have to endure suffering, but bask in an eternity with God. They're going to live through this, and this pain only lasts a lifetime, and a lifetime is not that long compared to the joy they will have for eternity.
I guess I forget too easily that this lifetime is the short run, not the long run. And in the long run, everything is going to be wonderful.
Re-focusing
If you had any idea how many posts I've half written in the last couple of days. I've cried through some as I poured my words out to God, only to find myself all poured out and no way to end the post so I'd just erase it.
Others would find me trying to explain the strange things taking place in my walk only to leave me scratching my head trying to figure out how to make it not sound unChristian. Yes, you read right.
And I've realized that over the months I suppose I fell into writing for an audience. Rather than writing for me. Not to say I want my audience to leave, because I've appreciated the feedback, the advice, the prayers, the encouragement, and the list goes on and on. But especially during this last month I've sat down and instead of writing what was in my heart, I told myself that the little crowd of people who visit either might not agree, understand, or worse yet, they might be discouraged by the up and down emotions of this rocky year.
I still don't know how to explain a lot that has happened but from here on out, my walk is going to be just that - my walk. Brutally honest and candid.
Again, I can't tell you enough how glad I am you read this blog. I've made several very wise friends through this blog that give me confidence that should I ever take a leap from sound doctrine, that I'll be hearing from them. In the next few posts you may very well see that flying leap. So keep watching me, commenting, and most of all, for those that have prayed -keep praying for me.
I look forward to finding each of you in Heaven one day, since it likely won't happen here on earth.
~Jeanette
Others would find me trying to explain the strange things taking place in my walk only to leave me scratching my head trying to figure out how to make it not sound unChristian. Yes, you read right.
And I've realized that over the months I suppose I fell into writing for an audience. Rather than writing for me. Not to say I want my audience to leave, because I've appreciated the feedback, the advice, the prayers, the encouragement, and the list goes on and on. But especially during this last month I've sat down and instead of writing what was in my heart, I told myself that the little crowd of people who visit either might not agree, understand, or worse yet, they might be discouraged by the up and down emotions of this rocky year.
I still don't know how to explain a lot that has happened but from here on out, my walk is going to be just that - my walk. Brutally honest and candid.
Again, I can't tell you enough how glad I am you read this blog. I've made several very wise friends through this blog that give me confidence that should I ever take a leap from sound doctrine, that I'll be hearing from them. In the next few posts you may very well see that flying leap. So keep watching me, commenting, and most of all, for those that have prayed -keep praying for me.
I look forward to finding each of you in Heaven one day, since it likely won't happen here on earth.
~Jeanette
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Questions
What's He want? What am I suppose to do? Why show me hurting people if I can't do anything about it? Why doesn't He do something about it? What was He thinking when He stuck me here? Why didn't He tell me what to do? Why does He persist in showing me so many things that are beyond my ability to fix? How am I suppose to live with what He's let me see? What was the point of it all? Why does He feel so in the picture, when from all appearances it's just God-less chaos? Why doesn't He stop people from being hurt? (Ok, not a fair question.) What is He doing? Was this part of the perfect plan or the allowed plan? And most importantly, why can't He speak audibly for a change?
What does the whole "won't give you more than you can bear" mean anyway? If I walked away from God tomorrow, you wouldn't shake your head at God saying He gave me more than I could bear. If it literally killed me tomorrow, you still wouldn't say God gave me more than I could bear. So what comfort am I actually supposed to get from that?
I don't ask any of this in anger. I just wish I knew the answers. I wish I knew what He meant by all this. Why did He let me know about bad things, if there was nothing that could be done to fix them? I don't get it. I just don't get it.
What on earth is He thinking? What does He want?
What does the whole "won't give you more than you can bear" mean anyway? If I walked away from God tomorrow, you wouldn't shake your head at God saying He gave me more than I could bear. If it literally killed me tomorrow, you still wouldn't say God gave me more than I could bear. So what comfort am I actually supposed to get from that?
I don't ask any of this in anger. I just wish I knew the answers. I wish I knew what He meant by all this. Why did He let me know about bad things, if there was nothing that could be done to fix them? I don't get it. I just don't get it.
What on earth is He thinking? What does He want?
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Little One
1pm on a weekday afternoon and I'm at home. That means something is wrong. I've been home since I was called home yesterday by Little Ones day care.
We just returned from the doctor with medicine and it turns out my Little One has strep throat. Her temp just soared again and for the first time in her young life she's calling in sick which means she won't see mommy today.
We just returned from the doctor with medicine and it turns out my Little One has strep throat. Her temp just soared again and for the first time in her young life she's calling in sick which means she won't see mommy today.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
God is good.
I just happened across some of my old writings today and I read this paragraph:I want a bug free life. I want a bug free mind. Peace, real peace doesn't come from running from those bugs the devil has hatched in my mind, but from killing them. And then clinging to the truth. The Truth. For every lie, there is a truth. And I will never find freedom, peace, joy, until I find the truths that God has provided for each lie, and cling.
I came home from church tonight and collected the remains of four bugs off my floor. I've been told they're coming from my neighbors house since he was doing some remodeling. But having just read t
hat paragraph earlier in the day, I couldn't help but think of just how buggy my life really is.If you've watched my blog this past year, you've seen me bug out, stand up, only to almost immediately bug back out again. Sometimes I'm not even lucky enough to stand up before I bug out again. It's really been a crazy year - in the fullest sense of the term 'crazy'. Maybe that's why my words about finding freedom, peace, and joy meant so much to me as I read them today. Those three things seem ever so elusive.
I want to leave you with one more thought I had in the past:
I believe God is loving, even when I feel unloved. I believe God is just, even when I feel mistreated. I believe God is faithful, even when I feel alone. I believe God is merciful, even when I feel condemned. And I believe God is my comforter, even when I feel overwhelmed by grief
God is good.
Goodnight.
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