The Emperor's Ugly New Clothes

Several mornings ago, I was reading contentedly along, minding my own business when I came across this quote by C.S. Lewis:

"There is one vice of which no man in the world is free; which every one in the world loathes when he sees it in someone else; and of which hardly any people, except Christians, ever imagine they are guilty of themselves...it was through Pride that the devil became the devil: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind."

My first thought was (and usually is when I read him): 'Wow! C.S. Lewis was SO SMART!'
My second thought: 'Wait a minute.'
I reread the quote, absorbing slowly, got to the period at the end of the sentence and heard a faint, but very distinct, ding!
I think...no....yes...I'm pretty sure...wait...yes...I did.

I just got my bell rung.

Or a God-thump on my head.

Coming from a long line of rowdy, crowd-loving, Irish-Indian, opinionated class-clown soap-boxers...I understand the assigned role of Pride in my life:
Sometimes I might stumble over an apology to my husband when I am very clearly (and neon-signed) WRONG.
I might be embarrassed if the delivery of a joke falls flatter than my hair on a rainy day.
So maybe once or twice (or A LOT) I would rather be late to a function (even church) than not be Scrutiny-Ready.


But C.S. Lewis said that Pride leads to every other vice, didn't he?
A mental smirking of C.S. Lewis. He usually gets it right. Maybe he just missed this one.
I thought I would hold Pride up against just a few of the regular goings-on of my week...testing the Pride root of sin:

A slight stinging when a facebook status update falls flat. No one gets ME.
Pride? Check
I thought so-and-so seemed a little distant when I saw her. Did I do something? Is she mad at ME?
Pride? Check
I can't go into assembly this morning when my kids asked me to. I don't have time to get ready and I refuse to go in looking like I actually do most of the time.
Pride? Check
My husband didn't return my cheerleader-enthusiasm when I excitedly told him about a project I am working on.
Pride? Check
I didn't invite a friend over this week when I thought about it because my house actually looked like five people live and love in it.
Pride? Check
OH-KAY. That's enough of that. That's almost too ugly to type.
What's the common denominator?
Pride.
Oh. And ME.
God will not fight for the throne in our lives. When we sit proudly on that seat reserved for Him, we wear an ugly crown while He stands behind us, hand on our shoulder...waiting for us to move over.
But sometimes He will thump us out of our stupor, thank heavens.
Back to the crown thing...pride is UG-LY. Naturally repulsive to those who witness it. If Pride were an actual, ugly, un-fashionable, What Not To Wear visible accessory...we might be more deliberately aware of when we take it on. Is it like the Emperor's New Clothes, then, where everyone else can see it but I refuse to acknowledge This Ugly Thing?
Ouch.
Too. Ugly. To. Type.
Too ugly to post too, perhaps? Yes. I better not.
Someone may see the messy-loud-impulsive-people-pleasing-occasionally-irresponsible-(insert your own adjective)-ME. Plus, what if someone thinks I'M a terrible writer? It would be awful if I-
Wait...I'm doing that Pride-thing, aren't I?

You got me again, C.S. Lewis. You got me again.

When pride comes, then comes disgrace,
but with humility comes wisdom.
Proverbs 11:2

Can't Buy Me Love

I went to an outdoor marketplace with a friend this weekend. It doesn't boast on the billboards that it's The World's Largest Outdoor Market, but that's what my body was telling me the next morning. I had made a list of items I was looking for so that I could stay on track. I have the attention span of a bumblebee in a rose garden when confronted with a multitude of choices. As I casually walked into a tent that may or may not have my targeted items but had interesting things beckoning me for a look, something caught my eye. Something that was not on my list and I was not looking for it but the second I saw it I knew my son would love it. I wasn't thinking of buying for him and I certainly did not come with the intention of purchasing a a larger-than-life wooden cut-out of a Longhorn. As I inspected it front to back and ran my fingers across it, imagining it in his room above his bed, my heart leapt a little at his reaction. I half-smiled there under that tent because I knew I had found a perfect gift for him. He would find joy in me dragging this awkward, greatly-offensive Longhorn back to College Station despite the effort and consternation of the group I was with. And I didn't care. It pleased me no end to bring my son joy. It truly did.
Know what made this a good gift?
I know what he takes pleasure in.
I know his desires.
I know what he finds fun.
I know he has always wanted this thing.
My loving him unconditionally.
My taking pleasure in his pleasure. Just because.
Bringing the 'horns home, I got the reaction I suspected I might. And I loved it. It was nothing for me to do that for him.
I've said before I never learn so much about how God must love us as I do from my own children.
God presented me with an opportunity of the above example for me to digest and compare to a situation between Him and me:
My husband and I have several long-term prayer requests and goals for our family. Last week, out of the blue and only God's perfect timing, we received a blessing and an answer. Not a blessing that deserves a nod and a smiled 'Thank You, Lord.' A blessing that brought us to our knees in our humility and gratitude at being granted an answer that we desired and in such a big God way.
I love it when His hands are all over something...
I caught myself a couple of times mentally trying to 'walk straighter', to think holy thoughts (poking fun)...trying to deserve what we had been given. Trying to earn His favor He had already given freely (by the way, the definition of grace is unmerited favor...don't you love that?!). It was a familiar feeling but I loved that I had an opportunity to learn in the marketplace this weekend something God wanted me to know:
There is nothing I can do to earn gifts from my Father. He gives as He pleases. And His gifts are good. Because...

He knows what I take pleasure in.
He knows my desires.
He knows what I find fun.
He knows I have always wanted this thing.
His loving me unconditionally.
His taking pleasure in my pleasure. Just because.

But my Father? He knows what I need.
And, boy, is He generous.
And my feeble, human-comparison can't...compare with the love of my Father so he presents it in terms I can try and understand...
another gift.

Know what else gave me joy in giving my son that gift?

This kid of mine has a grateful heart I have not witnessed before.

If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!
Matthew 7:11

Thank You, Lord.
Thank You.

Contagious

Read this (out loud, if possible) in your VERY best Infomercial Voice (we all have one, just dig deep, talk low and fast):

Do you suffer from CRUSTY CHRISTIAN SYNDROME?

Do you generally walk around looking like someone just tied your pet baby kitten to a bunch of balloons while you helplessly watch it float up up and away?!
Can you clear a room full of people in thirteen seconds with a soliloquy of complaints about your bigger-than-life problems?!
Do you appear closed off and sullen while waiting at the doctor's office or in the grocery line?!
Do you keep your eyes focused on imaginary cracks in the concrete as someone is approaching from the opposite direction to avoid saying hello?!
Are you able to cluck your tongue at or verbally dissect Christian 'Rule Breakers'?!
Does your face often look as if you are in a contest to hold in a foul-tasting, garbage-smelling cough syrup the longest?!
Is your face often obscured by your telephone as you get thumb cramps from texting in a crowd because you don't know anyone?!
And last, but not least, is there enough evidence to convict you in court of being a lover of Christ?!
If you answered yes to any or several and no to the last of the above...YOU COULD BE A VICTIM OF CRUSTY CHRISTIAN SYNDROME!
(This is where I should insert a whole list of strange side-effects and you could continue in a lower, faster, barely audible voice...)
All joking aside, I had a fun experience yesterday waiting for my daughter while she was in gymnastics class. This was our third week to show up and watch with the other mothers and fathers and little ones in the area reserved for families. I always find someone to talk to, even if it's my kiddos. But yesterday I came in to my usual spot (this isn't just a church pew phenomenon...people are creatures of habit) and was greeted by another mother in front of me.
'Hi. How are you?' I greeted with Standard Retort.
I was prepared to finish the scene there and choose a more comfortable activity than Stranger Conversation. But she was having none of it. This audacious, exuberant, joyful stranger introduced herself to me and another mom, asked our names and other things.
In the course of our stay in the gymnastics holding tank, I believe I saw her speak to every single person, kids included, counted twelve hugs, had the most refreshing Christ-centered conversation and even left hugged myself! By a stranger! A stranger that, when we left, was not one.
Can you imagine?
I loved it.
I left gymnastics joyful.
May we all leave one another like that.
It's hard to imagine that we have to be reminded what there is to be joyful about.
We are
chosen
treasured
and...get this next part...we are CHRIST'S JOY.
(Come on. Stop here. Think. Smile.)

And sometimes we may be the only Jesus some people people see in a day.

Do you know how many times JOY is mentioned in the Bible?
This is where I should tell you. But I don't know. It's a LOT.
Here are a few gems I had to pick out from many:

Sing to him a new song;
play skillfully, and shout for joy.
Psalm 33:3

Rejoice in the Lord and be glad, you righteous;
sing, all you who are upright in heart!
Psalm 32:11

This is the day the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24

Delight yourself in the Lord
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4

I reJOICED with those who said to me,
"Let us go to the house of the Lord."
Psalm 122:1

I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.
John 15:11

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!
Philippians 4:4

And really, as if you need any other reason to be joyful...but here's one more:
It's a command:

Be joyful always.
1 Thessalonians 5:16

Joy, like misery, is contagious. What are you spreading?

Can You See Me Now?

I went to bed last night feeling...oh, I don't know, like a/n...
underappreciated/unvalued/taken for granted/invisible
cook/errand girl/laundry operator/official nag
Circle any two or three or all from the first set of adjectives and then any two or three or all from the subsequent nouns.
Any combination is correct.
Don't get me wrong, there is no place I would rather be. My heart is firmly grounded and set and happiest when making a home for my precious husband and babies. And it is my great pleasure to do so...most of the time.
But I remember from my career days that not every day is Fun Friday Jean Day at work. And this is life. And no surprise. And all been said before.
Bear with me...
Back to last night, when my poor husband is brushing his teeth for bed and has no idea I've been stewing all day.
Have you ever seen one of those nature shows where a lion is hunting in the African bush, waiting to pounce on a poor, unsuspecting, thirsty gazelle that simply wanted a drink of water from the stream? Head low, eyes sharp, big paws kneading dirt from side to side, waiting for That Moment. That Moment that is opportune for the lion...not so much for the gazelle.
That is the subtlety with which I broached the topic as soon as my husband's fingertips touched his side of the sheets to tuck in.
God is still working on my Timing Belt...
At any rate, chalk up the sun going down on my anger as something I had to confess this morning.
I woke up early enough spend some quiet time with the Lord and start a blog on a completely different topic I was excited about. But, as God is often wont to do, my heart wouldn't let go of phrases I had said last night, that desire to be appreciated, that sharp, unpleasant taste of bitterness for being a servant to these people that aren't grate-....
wait, what?
servant
That word. Clapping and ringing with an echo in my head like an enormous bell.
Jesus Christ, the man at the center of my life, was the biggest servant this world has ever seen.
He gave up-
food...
His home...
every day of His life on this earth...
...in order to teach others' about our Father.
He washed the feet of His friends.
He prayed until He bled to be prepared to serve.
He gave and gave and gave.
And never once have I read where Christ needed acknowledgement or asked for thanks or demanded attention for what he was giving.
On days when I feel like I give and give and give (serving the needs of my family mainly) my flesh craves words of appreciation and affirmation. Needs to know I make a difference.
Demands to be noticed.
Demands to be seen.
This next part really happened just like this:
I get in the car to drop kids off at school (give) after preparing lunches (give) and instructions on teeth and made beds (give). There are 5 different CDs with 15 different songs on them in my car. The last song we listened to was a snappy little kid ditty about a Juicebox (GIVE). Having been to the grocery store by myself the day before, I distinctly remember riding in silence because silence is rare around here and I like to grab it when I can. Pulling out, I hear these words from an old Watermark CD we love to listen to...
Right. On. Cue.
'You win the war over me and my worship will be a life that is....hidden in You.'
Hidden in You.
Ever notice the days we quietly serve with obedient hearts by making secret choices to God go much smoother than the days we are demanding attention like a fit-throwing toddler in Wal Mart?

I did yesterday.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of servant,
being made in human likeness,
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death--
even death on a cross!
Philippians 2:5-8

What Have You Done For Me Lately?

The other day I was with my three year old on our (what seems like daily) trip to a certain place that shall remain nameless that sells, of all things, fried chicken for breakfast and a bangin' cup of coffee.
A man was walking exactly three steps in front of us and as I helped my daughter up the curb in her highly impractical but beautiful sparkly flip flops, I didn't glance up as I continued toward the door.
The door I just knew would be held open for us.
Because we live in the South and that is what gentlemen do. I had come to expect it.
And I'm sure he could see I had my hands full with my little one.
I looked up in time for me to just avoid breaking my nose on the glass of the door as it whispered shut in front of us with an exhale of a cool breeze from inside.
I fairly sputtered with indignation.
Like, I really did sputter.
I know he saw me. Our eyes met as we were walking towards the door. I may have even given him a half-smile.
My neck went a little cobra as I thought, 'No. He. Didn't.'
As I regained my composure and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from my dress, we entered the building. I caught sight of his green shirt at the counter and I sidled up in line pretending to read the menu I could recite from memory, tax included.
Then I began to feel ridiculous. What exactly was I going to do when I caught his glance? Give him the ol' Stink Eye? Chastise a grown man for bad manners? Perhaps he had something on his mind.
And perhaps he didn't.
On a good day, when I sit in judgment of another's behavior, I am able to turn the microscope in on myself.
And, oh, how that bright light burns.
I squirm as God brings my thoughts around to my own bad manners. With Him.
Failing to recognize something nice He's done for me. Not just doors He opens but also gifts held out by His hands on the hour that I take without looking. And I shut the door in His face without so much as a thank You or a even a glance back.
Entitled.
What have you done for me lately?
Do I only notice a gift's absence? When something isn't done for me?
I can't think of anything worse, really.
Please, Lord, may I never become so blind or hard or preoccupied or entitled that I don't intentionally receive Your gifts, every gift, and breathe thank You with my very soul:
brand-new sunrise colors every morning
the laugh of my child
the kiss of a cool wind
flowers on the side of a road
encouragement from a friend, words whispered from You
a new pepper on my jalapeno plant
hugs from my family every morning
time with You
my next breath
His creativity in giving good gifts is endless and astounding.

Every good and perfect gift is from above...
James 1:17

What gifts do we have to say thank You for today?

What gifts we do have to say thank You for today!

Let us name them.
Receive them.
Thank Him.

What Is Left

I just had a conversation with a friend that shook me to my core.
Shook me.
To my core.
I don't think she meant for it to happen, but there was a distinct Before and After the part of the conversation I am referring to.
Before I was present, enthusiastic, probing. Giggling and responding appropriately, anticipating and steering conversation aware of our limited time because of vastly different (complete opposite) time zones.
After she said what she said, I was left attending to that thought like a colicky baby. Distracted. Wary. Confused.
Sometimes revelations come softly, gradually . Like a gentle hand on the shoulder or a drink of something warm on a cool day. You can trace the heat. Feel the path. Know what's coming.
And some revelations come out of nowhere.
Like a bee sting.
The long of it is too long for a blog post and too short to make a novel.
The short of it is this : my friend looks very much like me. In theory. Three kids, more than comfortable house in suburbia, USA, Bible study on Tuesdays, strong support group of like-minded friends, Christian music at the ready in home or car.
You get the picture.
'Propped up' she called it. Moving to Africa last year removed many of those props.
Take away your church (not just the comfortable and stylish building, but possibly also the ability to meet with a group of believers)
Your music as a way of worship
Your weekly scheduled Bible study from 9:30 to 11:30 where the material is provided
Beth Moore live via satellite channeled straight to your sanctuary
Daily verses delivered to your iphone or computer

None of these things are bad or wrong. God speaks to us in many different ways. These things are a delicious icing on your faith cake.
But you know what they say: icing does not a cake make. And maybe I made that up but walk with me just a little farther, please.
What about these props?
job
spouse
eyes
children
friends
ears
home
freedom
legs (or knees in my case)
food


What my precious friend said that rattled my bones was this:

When you take away all of those things, the things that prop us up to God...what is left is...

what is.

Test me, O Lord, and try me,
examine my heart and my mind;
for your love is ever before me,
and I walk continually in your truth.

Psalm 26:2

Be Still

As a challenge and commitment to myself, I had decided that I would post a new blog every Monday.
Yesterday was Monday.
I have bits and pieces of blogs started. Copious notes pinned on my office wall. Scraps of paper stuck in my Bible. Good ideas. So-so ideas. Even bad ones.
So yesterday I was mentally watching the clock. When was I going to get something written? I can't write with the kids around. I can't even form full sentences with the kids around. It's not their fault. I have the attention span of a caffeinated jackrabbit.
I got up earlier than everyone else and tried to write then. I kept going back and forth and starting and finishing and I just wasn't feeling it.
Inspired.
Honest.
Vulnerable.
Encouraging.
Moderately helpful.
I tried to squeeze some time in while the baby napped.
Before dinner, I hid with my computer in my bedroom while the kids played outside.
After the kids went to bed, I sat down for an hour.
Still...
Nothing.
I was spinning my wheels all day long, looking, researching, studying, thinking.
And then I closed the computer, maybe a little too hard, and I sent up a bullet prayer. You know, a sharp, quick one-liner that usually starts out with 'Lord, please...'
Please help me understand what You want me to write. I want it to come from You.
And I was getting in bed and slightly frustrated because I was really wanting to honor God in anything I wrote.
And then I heard it.
Distinctly.
Clearly.

Be still.

So, I get in bed and I'm chewing on that like a fresh piece of sweet pink bubble gum and thought of the verse in the Bible:

Be still and know that I am God.
Psalm 46:10

Be still.
And know.
Instantly, I was.
I did.
And it made all the difference in my focus. For this moment.
Anything that is not from God or about God or leading us to God is...a distraction. Good and bad. It's just the way of it.

cell phone husband job computer kids television friends laundry addiction bills wife exercise sickness death books school worry yardwork facebook dinner dishes volunteering meetings playdates appointments arguments shopping.........

God will not compete for our attention. His is a still, small voice.
And nothing, nothing has the ability to pierce our souls' ears so deeply and sweetly as that Voice when we allow it to speak to us.
I love this song Stop the World by Matthew West.
Cut.
Paste.
And meditate.
http://youtu.be/BgWkuTA-OEQ
Just for today...may you be still.
And know.

843

I crave order. I like things neat. The end of this summer has proven maddening.
Literally.
And I hate to use the word literally.
Kids have gotten sloppy, lazy, bored. Stir-crazy from being inside because the average temperature is 105 degrees. Beds don't get made. Dishes sometimes don't make it from the table to the kitchen sink.
And the clothes...
The clothes make it off the body and onto the floor. I call it The Rapture Syndrome. Shorts, shirt, socks make a perfect little flat person on the floor. But no body to be found.
While the kids were getting ready for bed last night, I was making the rounds on a nightly pick-up that makes the mornings easier to embrace. I walked into the girls' bathroom to switch on the lamp for some night light and was met with...a perfect little flat person on the floor.
At the end of the day, we will just say that my patience is not usually what it was when I started out and I could feel myself getting worked up.
How many times have I said it?
When will she do it on her own?
Will she ever learn?
I walked around the corner and even though I would love nothing more than to say I channeled June Cleaver and whispered a gentle reminder with a reassuring 'dear' on the end of it...
That is not what happened.
I can't remember the exact words I said and they don't really matter.
The tone was clear.
The judgment in my 'Why?' left no question.
The big sigh when I exited her room needed no translation.
The evening continued without a hiccup and not another thought was given to that clothes scene which happens daily at this house.
Until...
Until too early this morning when the Lord put His hand on my shoulder and whispered me out of a deep sleep, 'How many chances do I give you to get It right?'
Sleepily, I think 'What?'
'How many chances do I give you to get It right?'
I stir. Wide awake now.
The number is limitless.
I never learn so much about how God must love us as I do from my own children.
I love knowing that God knows I am going to do this thing I do, my own version of throwing my clothes on the floor, 843 times. And instead of scolding me each time I do it wrong, he rejoices when I get to time number 349 because I am getting closer to the moment where I will get it right.
God doesn't take a tone with me.
He doesn't ask 'Why' with narrowed eyes.
I don't ever feel the hot breath of a sigh sitting on my shoulders when I've messed up.
Again.
Just grace. And love. And joy.
I will get it right.
I will get it right.

But until I do, my heart beats at this knowledge:

The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.
Psalm 103:8

Have An Apple

I have a secret.
I am a thief. I take stuff and I don't give it back. I only do this sometimes, though. It does bother me occasionally when I stop to think about it. But I'm usually too busy to give it much thought, anyway.
For example, I did it last Tuesday. I went to Bible study and I sat there and I just took in what Kasey was teaching. I wrote copious notes, had some scales fall from my eyes in realization, jotted a blog idea or two off to the side based on what she was saying and even teared up at the end because I was so moved by her words. When it was time to go, I packed up the nuggets of information I would finish digesting later and then my mind was on how the pick up of the kids would go.
They would be hungry.
There would be a fit.
Would we go eat afterwards?
Did I have snacks in the car?
Did I bring that pacifier?
I passed Kasey in the parking lot within probably twenty feet. Probably examined my shoes as if they had grown some fascinating and exotic flowers spontaneously as I kept my head down and hurried to my children.
I take stuff every single Sunday at church. I sit in the service and soak in the worship music and glean lumps of wisdom from the pastor. And two weeks ago it was a guest speaker. He was so young and I was struck with his wisdom and poise. I remember at the end of the sermon, he was standing by himself and gathering his notes off the podium. I similarly gathered the notes I had taken from him .
And went the opposite way.
I read blogs and books that inspire me, give me ideas, motivate and encourage me. Like Catherine Zeta-Jones in Entrapment in that enviable scene where she acrobats her way through the red lasers to steal the goods, I am in and out and no one has noticed that someone else just read their blog and was moved by it.
That's how good I am.
But it's an uncomfortable, distended feeling.
I am growing fat, greedily gorging on others' words, music, lessons when I am not giving back.
Meanwhile, the people contributing to my spiritual diet are not Super Humans equipped with a gene that bypasses one of the basest desires that humans have: affirmation.
And that same gene does not provide them with a limitless supply of creativity, insight and encouragement.
They dig for that stuff.
And then they give it away.
That takes guts.
I take that for granted more than I should. I don't think I have ever told a pastor 'Hey. I was really moved by what you said. It made me reach out to my brother and that changed our relationship.'
I mean, that's kind of enormous. And it's only one little example. It happens all the time.
Let's make a pro/con list on encouragement:
Pros:
*It could lift someone's day when they think they aren't making a smidge of difference.
*They could turn that around and encourage someone else.
*They are being affirmed by God (you know how He does that crazy stuff) with something
*It's a Moment when we connect with another human being.
*It could give them some energy to start a new/another project
I'm going to quit being silly and listing the Pros...they are limitless and beyond our imaginations and I tend to think that when we are prompted to connect in that way it comes from God and, well, there is no telling what He is up to.
But we still have to deal with the drawbacks....
Cons:
It takes one minute out of your day.

There. That's it.
No more gorging for me.
I am going on a diet.

Out of curiosity, are you good at feeding back? Do you let someone know when they have touched you?

A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.
Proverbs 25:11

For Rachel, Laura and Kristi...your timely words of encouragement have been God's voice whispering directly in my ear. Thank you.

Soil Test

I love to shop. Whether I buy anything or not, one of my favorite things to do is to sip a cup of coffee and saunter (yes, saunter) around and check stuff out. Sometimes, I will get a buggy and put all the items that seriously interest me into it. At the end of the trip, I evaluate each item and either put it back or buy it.
'Do I need this?'
'Is this a good deal?'
'Can I safely hide this in my car until time to unveil it to my husband?'
On the whole, I'm a pretty discerning shopper.
Unfortunately, I find that critical attitude has leaked over into our looking for a church. We moved to town almost two years ago and are still Church Shopping. You know, the process of walking by a row of churches, holding them up, trying them on and then asking 'Does this one make me look fat?'
This is a new experience for us.
My husband and I have always been fortunate to find a church home in the three towns that we have lived in in the last twelve years. We just walked in, felt a gigantic mental hug, looked at each other and we just knew 'We're home.'
Just like a Lifetime movie, right?
Not so this time.
We have permananent name tags in at least three churches here.
We are on untold email lists and I honestly can't keep up with what church is having the social for what group on what night. I showed up with a green bean casserole to a fasting prayer group.
Not really, but I feel like it would be completely within the realm of possibility lately.
Even though I am ashamed to admit it,this next part really happened.
We went back to the very first church we visited when we moved here. We unwittingly visited a Sunday School class (I am old school and it will always be Sunday School) that we had visited before and both agreed was not 'our style'...never intending to go back.
Well our short-term memory loss and bipolar church attendance put us back full circle.
Currently, the class is dissecting the words of Jesus so it is one passage at a time with much discussion. Somewhere in the middle, there was a lot of rabbit-chasing going on, personal stories, digression, conjecture. There was also a woman sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME that was chewing her gum more vigorously than I have ever seen any task accomplished. And that is the truth. Right down to the triple-bubble-pop-on-the-inside-of-the-mouth routine. I don't know what it is, but I feel God strategically places Gum Chewers throughout my life to work out what He has started in me. My husband sensed my mental white surrender flag. He literally put his hand on my leg, patted it and said 'Hang in there.'
That's how well I can hide my emotions.
Sunday School is over and we go to Big Church and we have this whole discussion which kind of but not really goes like this:
Me: I respect the fact that you like tradition, the choir to sing in robes and donuts served with coffee every Sunday, but....
Him: Okay. What do you have in mind?
Me: I don't know but I need something.
Him: They seem like nice people that are genuinely interested in each other with the prayer requests and discussion. Don't you think so? But I'm up for whatever. Find us a class and we will visit.
And so it went in this vein...with me basically giving the class two out of five stars.
I remember feeling on the verge of tears. I actually had to pick at an imaginary thread on my dress and blink rapidly or I was going to lose it in frustration. I was completely deflated.
I was looking off to the side, much like when I am mad in the car, and I remember this feeling that struck me...not unlike a lingering warmth after a slap in the face.
It's God's Holy Word.
It's God's Holy Word.
It's God's Holy Word.
It's God's Holy Word.
Those words echoed throughout my empty head.
The Word of God has power and authority.
Power.
And Authority.
Matthew 13 tells us the parable of the four soils.
Some seed fell along the path and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places without much soil. Other seed fell among the thorns and was choked out. In other words, some seed was scattered because I wasn't greeted warmly at the door of the church. Some seed was snatched in annoyance because I was focused on the one man in the group who spoke up every time a question was asked. And some seed was snatched because I didn't get the preacher's opening joke.
Sounds shallow, doesn't it?
It is.
I sometimes am.
But I am eternally grateful for God's timely and graceful reminders when I have the good sense to open myself up to listen.

May we never leave unchanged from hearing God's Truth.

The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word. Hebrews 1:3