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?
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
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.
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
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
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.
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
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
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:
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
Monday, June 27, 2011
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?
For Rachel, Laura and Kristi...your timely words of encouragement have been God's voice whispering directly in my ear. Thank you.
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.
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