Last Tuesday Wondergirl and I worked with a team of wonderful ladies who form an outreach team for our church. We go where needed to help other ladies with a variety of things around the home. The needs vary from cleaning to painting to light repair work. Last week we helped a wonderful lady who was just feeling a bit overwhelmed by the first spring without her husband who passed on last fall. Talk about a joy. Mrs. J was an absolute delight! That was so much fun.
Tomorrow we help another team paint a kitchen. I cannot tell you how much this thrills us. First of all, we are working with some of the most wonderful women you could ever want to meet. Second, it is a joy to have WonderGirl with me. She has such a heart of service, and it shows. I really enjoy her, and I cannot tell you how much it blesses me that others enjoy her, too. She is just completely precious. Third, we love this stuff! I know it sounds weird, but we love hanging with others and loving on folk. Does life get better than that?
Tomorrow is also very thrilling for me because we are using it as a "pilot program". Sarah, the director, and I are praying that the Lord uses this outreach to help bring families together. We are hoping to develop an outreach team of moms and children.
Today I had a chance to talk to Sarah, and she asked me what my vision for this group is. I shared my heart as I could articulate it at the moment. In short, my desire is to help families learn to work as a unit and not cohabitate as a bunch of individuals. Simple enough.
On a larger scale, though, I want to see healing in families on a group as well as individual level. I find it sad and disturbing that so many people in this world do not know the simple concept of value. It is my heart for each person to realize God created each of them with more value than we can imagine. As individuals, we are invaluable, and society is good at capitalizing on the idea that we each have a call and each have gifts. Too often we become so caught up in our individual value that we miss the joy of our value within the groups of those who love us, those with whom we share our lives. We become so focused on our individual jobs, responsibilities, and goals that we forget that we are also put within our families because God has a plan not only to raise godly offspring but to bless and impact this world with our families as a whole.
God looked at Adam and said it wasn't good for man to be alone. Adam needed a helper. He needed to be part of something larger than himself and what he was able to do. That has not changed. We all need helpers, and we all need to be a helper. The family is the perfect place for that to happen, but it will only happen when we realize the value of those involved and act in accordance with that truth.
I think if I could give people anything in the world, save salvation of course, it would be the knowledge of how valuable they are and how much value they are able to speak into others' lives.
Prayerfully, our outreach group will demonstrate our value of people, not just the owners of the home where we work but the value of those working as well....
2/26/2007
2/18/2007
Childlike
The Man of My Dreams won tickets to the Daytona 500 in Florida, and since we could not find a sitter for the whole weekend, we opted to split the children between us and give them special child/parent time.
Because I didn't want WonderBoy to feel like he was missing wonderful things on the trip, I planned certain things that I know he loves. Our weekend has gone like this:
Man of my Dreams and WonderGirl left at 6:30 am Saturday morning. For breakfast, WonderBoy and I headed to our favorite Starbuck's where they know us by name. Then we headed home and started playing with clay, which we did for over two hours. For lunch we had a load of crinkle fries and ketchup with sandwiches on the side (the sandwiches made my conscience feel better). Then I took a 30 minute nap and sewed up some pants I needed to make while Robert played with his new clay creations. Then we jumped on the trampoline for about 30 minutes before heading in for our showers. When we were done with our showers, we loaded up and went to friends' for play time and dinner before all of us headed out to church. On the way home from church, we grabbed cookies and chocolate covered donuts. At home, we watched "The Perils of Penelope Pitstop" and dipped cookies into our milk. We topped off the night by camping on the living room floor.
This morning we woke up with the sun and enjoyed donuts and milk for breakfast. Then we spent another few hours sculpting with clay before we ate leftover pizza for lunch. After lunch we headed to the science museum where we played for a little while and then watched the documentary "Dolphins". WonderBoy loves dolphins, and this was fantastic. At that point, we were hungry, so we headed toward home, stopping by Starbuck's (where they don't know us) for a shared treat, and then walking two doors down to one of our favorite craft places to get some more clay. With clay in hand, we came home for dinner. After which, we jumped on the trampoline a bit more. When it became too dark to jump on the trampoline, WonderBoy slid into a warm tub of bubbles and played. Right now he is watching some television while I write this. Then we'll both head off to bed and get ready for tomorrow.
Tomorrow our friend Vicki is coming over to play clay (can you tell WonderBoy LOVES sculpting?), and we are going to a Mongolian restaurant for lunch. WonderBoy is the adventuresome eater in the family, and he has never been to a restaurant like that, so this will be fun. After lunch, we are going to one of his favorite parks where he can play and we can all play tennis.
I'm telling you, I really tried to make this a great weekend or him.
As we talked about the weekend, he said, "Mom, all the things we've done have been really nice and fun, but that isn't what made it great."
"Really?" I asked. "What made it great?"
"I had you all to myself. I loved just having your attention and having you all to myself."
Yes, that melted my mother's heart. It also touched my child's heart that wants my Father's attention to be enough instead of getting all wound up in what He is doing for me or giving to me.
Praying to be more childlike so I can see the joy and delight of having a Father and His attention more than anything else....
Because I didn't want WonderBoy to feel like he was missing wonderful things on the trip, I planned certain things that I know he loves. Our weekend has gone like this:
Man of my Dreams and WonderGirl left at 6:30 am Saturday morning. For breakfast, WonderBoy and I headed to our favorite Starbuck's where they know us by name. Then we headed home and started playing with clay, which we did for over two hours. For lunch we had a load of crinkle fries and ketchup with sandwiches on the side (the sandwiches made my conscience feel better). Then I took a 30 minute nap and sewed up some pants I needed to make while Robert played with his new clay creations. Then we jumped on the trampoline for about 30 minutes before heading in for our showers. When we were done with our showers, we loaded up and went to friends' for play time and dinner before all of us headed out to church. On the way home from church, we grabbed cookies and chocolate covered donuts. At home, we watched "The Perils of Penelope Pitstop" and dipped cookies into our milk. We topped off the night by camping on the living room floor.
This morning we woke up with the sun and enjoyed donuts and milk for breakfast. Then we spent another few hours sculpting with clay before we ate leftover pizza for lunch. After lunch we headed to the science museum where we played for a little while and then watched the documentary "Dolphins". WonderBoy loves dolphins, and this was fantastic. At that point, we were hungry, so we headed toward home, stopping by Starbuck's (where they don't know us) for a shared treat, and then walking two doors down to one of our favorite craft places to get some more clay. With clay in hand, we came home for dinner. After which, we jumped on the trampoline a bit more. When it became too dark to jump on the trampoline, WonderBoy slid into a warm tub of bubbles and played. Right now he is watching some television while I write this. Then we'll both head off to bed and get ready for tomorrow.
Tomorrow our friend Vicki is coming over to play clay (can you tell WonderBoy LOVES sculpting?), and we are going to a Mongolian restaurant for lunch. WonderBoy is the adventuresome eater in the family, and he has never been to a restaurant like that, so this will be fun. After lunch, we are going to one of his favorite parks where he can play and we can all play tennis.
I'm telling you, I really tried to make this a great weekend or him.
As we talked about the weekend, he said, "Mom, all the things we've done have been really nice and fun, but that isn't what made it great."
"Really?" I asked. "What made it great?"
"I had you all to myself. I loved just having your attention and having you all to myself."
Yes, that melted my mother's heart. It also touched my child's heart that wants my Father's attention to be enough instead of getting all wound up in what He is doing for me or giving to me.
Praying to be more childlike so I can see the joy and delight of having a Father and His attention more than anything else....
2/11/2007
Fred Tails
Several folks have been asking about Fred. It occurred to me that I have not given updates on Fred in months. For those who do not know about our Fred Tails, let me get you up to speed.
Last March, our beloved Gummie died at that age of 14. Gummie was a precious 5-pound toy poodle, and she was a joy to our family. Needless to say, we missed her, so we chose to adopt a dog. I had planned on getting an adult dog, but the children became enthralled with the idea of a puppy. For reasons we are still unable to explain, we went with that. As a result, we adopted three beautiful puppies. Tristan was mine. Ginger belonged to our daughter, and Fred belonged to our son. Tristan would be a pretty good size dog, but Ginger and Fred were Beagle litter-mates, and they would be fairly small, only 15 pounds. It would work out.
Sadly, it didn't. Ten days after we brought them home, we had to make the choice to humanely put down Ginger and Tristan due to distemper. Fred, on the other hand, had a natural immunity, and with a boost from the vet, Fred made it through.
That was last June.
In July we had another Fred Tail scare. Fred began mutilating his tail. There was a strong possibility he would lose his tail, and there was concern that the distemper had affected his brain. Even if we saved his tail, could Fred still be saved? Again, God did wondrous things for Fred. Blessed with good veterinary care, our then 20 pound Fred got to keep his tail, and there is no sign of neuropathy.
When we had him neutered in September, our 30 pound Fred came through it with flying colors. Our vet also gave us some good news. Fred was nearly done growing.
At Christmas, we decided to see how much Fred weighed since we were sure he had grown since September. While we don't have an exact number, we know our daughter weighs over 70 pounds, and Fred weighs more than Anna.
Wondering how our "Beagle" got that big? Well, a Beagle doesn't get that big, but a Jack Russell/Lab mix does.
I won't lie to you. We never intended to have a dog that is closing in on 80 pounds. His head can lie on our kitchen table while all four of his paws are on the floor. Frankly, it has been a hard road. The dog looks full-grown, but he is a puppy. He eats things like a puppy. He destroys things like a puppy. He destroyed my large watering can. He can take a chew toy for a 60-pound dog and destroy it in less than 15 minutes. One day Rob took him to a park with a cement walking track that is approximatly 1/3 mile in length. Rob wore skates and held on to Fred's leash. Fred took off at a hard run. Six laps later, Rob's skates were no longer functional. They had disintegrated. Fred, however, was ready to play fetch.
Does that sound a bit daunting? If you aren't used to big dogs, it probably does.
Granted, we were not prepared for how big Fred has grown, and I'm not sure we were prepared for how big of a blessing he is either. When you look past his size, you find a dog with the sweetest temperament in the world. He loves his family, and he tries to please us. He is magnificent with the children, although he is still learning they are authority and not puppies. He and I have a routine. First thing in the morning, I let him out of his crate, and while I have my quiet time on the couch, he lies beside me with his head on my lap. I scratch behind his ears, read my Bible, and/or pray. We hang out, and it is exactly what I had wanted in a dog, even if this dog takes up 2/3 of the couch. At night, the children go to bed. Rob works on something computer oriented, and Fred and I are back on the couch. He isn't really a lap-dog, but he is a snuggle buddy, and if your toes are cold, you can't find a better heater.
But isn't that like a lot of our blessings? When we quit being bothered that they don't look exactly like we think they should, we have the opportunity to see just how big they are, and Fred is pretty big.
Praying your blessings are big...
Last March, our beloved Gummie died at that age of 14. Gummie was a precious 5-pound toy poodle, and she was a joy to our family. Needless to say, we missed her, so we chose to adopt a dog. I had planned on getting an adult dog, but the children became enthralled with the idea of a puppy. For reasons we are still unable to explain, we went with that. As a result, we adopted three beautiful puppies. Tristan was mine. Ginger belonged to our daughter, and Fred belonged to our son. Tristan would be a pretty good size dog, but Ginger and Fred were Beagle litter-mates, and they would be fairly small, only 15 pounds. It would work out.
Sadly, it didn't. Ten days after we brought them home, we had to make the choice to humanely put down Ginger and Tristan due to distemper. Fred, on the other hand, had a natural immunity, and with a boost from the vet, Fred made it through.
That was last June.
In July we had another Fred Tail scare. Fred began mutilating his tail. There was a strong possibility he would lose his tail, and there was concern that the distemper had affected his brain. Even if we saved his tail, could Fred still be saved? Again, God did wondrous things for Fred. Blessed with good veterinary care, our then 20 pound Fred got to keep his tail, and there is no sign of neuropathy.
When we had him neutered in September, our 30 pound Fred came through it with flying colors. Our vet also gave us some good news. Fred was nearly done growing.
At Christmas, we decided to see how much Fred weighed since we were sure he had grown since September. While we don't have an exact number, we know our daughter weighs over 70 pounds, and Fred weighs more than Anna.
Wondering how our "Beagle" got that big? Well, a Beagle doesn't get that big, but a Jack Russell/Lab mix does.
I won't lie to you. We never intended to have a dog that is closing in on 80 pounds. His head can lie on our kitchen table while all four of his paws are on the floor. Frankly, it has been a hard road. The dog looks full-grown, but he is a puppy. He eats things like a puppy. He destroys things like a puppy. He destroyed my large watering can. He can take a chew toy for a 60-pound dog and destroy it in less than 15 minutes. One day Rob took him to a park with a cement walking track that is approximatly 1/3 mile in length. Rob wore skates and held on to Fred's leash. Fred took off at a hard run. Six laps later, Rob's skates were no longer functional. They had disintegrated. Fred, however, was ready to play fetch.
Does that sound a bit daunting? If you aren't used to big dogs, it probably does.
Granted, we were not prepared for how big Fred has grown, and I'm not sure we were prepared for how big of a blessing he is either. When you look past his size, you find a dog with the sweetest temperament in the world. He loves his family, and he tries to please us. He is magnificent with the children, although he is still learning they are authority and not puppies. He and I have a routine. First thing in the morning, I let him out of his crate, and while I have my quiet time on the couch, he lies beside me with his head on my lap. I scratch behind his ears, read my Bible, and/or pray. We hang out, and it is exactly what I had wanted in a dog, even if this dog takes up 2/3 of the couch. At night, the children go to bed. Rob works on something computer oriented, and Fred and I are back on the couch. He isn't really a lap-dog, but he is a snuggle buddy, and if your toes are cold, you can't find a better heater.
But isn't that like a lot of our blessings? When we quit being bothered that they don't look exactly like we think they should, we have the opportunity to see just how big they are, and Fred is pretty big.
Praying your blessings are big...
2/02/2007
Let's Say Thanks
Several months ago I mentioned a website I frequent. It is a site that allows you to send beautiful cards to soldiers around the world. In all seriousness, in less than 10 seconds, you could send a lovely card to a very appreciative soldier.
First you pick a design, and there are several beautiful ones. Then you type in your name (tab) your state (tab) and either choose a message that is prepared for you or take the time to write your own. Then hit the "Submit" button.
I have a quick link on my computer, and any time I surf, I start at that site and send a card. Sometimes I send one card a day, and days like today when I am doing a lot of research for homeschool, I send several. I don't think there is a limit on how many you send.
The site is http://www.letssaythanks.com/Home1280.html
If you wonder if it makes a difference, check out some of the comments and see the pictures.
To put this in perspective for you, in the time you spend surfing channels during a commercial break, you could easily send four cards, maybe more. In the time it took you to read this post, you could have sent 4-10 cards. I appreciate your reading my blog. They appreciate your cards, too, so jump over there and give them a bit of your time, okay?
Thank you.
This is a comment from the website:
A letter from an Army Specialist:
As I was leaving an un-eventful Valentine's Day today, one of the mail clerks yelled "Adams!! You have a package!!" A package, I thought to myself. I'm not expecting anything. What could this be? I took the box into my office and closed the door. As I opened the box, a flood of joy came over me as I looked over the cards from you and the young ones, one of my co-workers walked in to see tears rolling down my eyes. I had never received a gift with this much love, packed into one little place from someone that I've never known.
As I thought about what the cards talked about with soldiers giving their lives and privileges up to ensure the freedom of Americans, it was nice to know that someone out there does not take it for granted. I don't know who you are, but you are truly a gift from God. The gift that gives me the drive to serve my country proudly. As you pray that the Lord keeps the soldiers here safe and brings us home, I pray to the Lord that people like you do not die off from this world. Your contributions are nowhere near inadequate. Please never forget what this means to a soldier. Thank you for your love and thoughts.
First you pick a design, and there are several beautiful ones. Then you type in your name (tab) your state (tab) and either choose a message that is prepared for you or take the time to write your own. Then hit the "Submit" button.
I have a quick link on my computer, and any time I surf, I start at that site and send a card. Sometimes I send one card a day, and days like today when I am doing a lot of research for homeschool, I send several. I don't think there is a limit on how many you send.
The site is http://www.letssaythanks.com/Home1280.html
If you wonder if it makes a difference, check out some of the comments and see the pictures.
To put this in perspective for you, in the time you spend surfing channels during a commercial break, you could easily send four cards, maybe more. In the time it took you to read this post, you could have sent 4-10 cards. I appreciate your reading my blog. They appreciate your cards, too, so jump over there and give them a bit of your time, okay?
Thank you.
This is a comment from the website:
A letter from an Army Specialist:
As I was leaving an un-eventful Valentine's Day today, one of the mail clerks yelled "Adams!! You have a package!!" A package, I thought to myself. I'm not expecting anything. What could this be? I took the box into my office and closed the door. As I opened the box, a flood of joy came over me as I looked over the cards from you and the young ones, one of my co-workers walked in to see tears rolling down my eyes. I had never received a gift with this much love, packed into one little place from someone that I've never known.
As I thought about what the cards talked about with soldiers giving their lives and privileges up to ensure the freedom of Americans, it was nice to know that someone out there does not take it for granted. I don't know who you are, but you are truly a gift from God. The gift that gives me the drive to serve my country proudly. As you pray that the Lord keeps the soldiers here safe and brings us home, I pray to the Lord that people like you do not die off from this world. Your contributions are nowhere near inadequate. Please never forget what this means to a soldier. Thank you for your love and thoughts.
2/01/2007
Different
Well, I have been avoiding my blog because I couldn't figure out how to make the title appear again. I changed from the old version to the new, and my titles disappeared. Being the computer semi-literate that I am, I spent an obnoxious amount of time trying to fix it only to end up muttering under my breath while threatening the safety of an inanimate object. THEN, this incredibly handsome (and smart, I also love him for his brains) man I live with took a look at it, and two minutes later, he hands me my computer with title intact. Just another reason I thank God that wonderful man's title is My Husband.
Anyway, isn't it funny where a week can take you? I'll level with you. I was struggling last week. Physically I was exhausted. My children had been sick with a respiratory thing going around. My son required a middle-of-the-night trip to the ER to deal with a double ear infection that left him screaming in pain. About the time they were sleeping well and we weren't alternating between steamy bathrooms and the deck where it was a nice 60% humidity and mid-30s temp, My Husband got hit. Now, WonderMan (and he is) is not whimp. The whole thing about how men are babies when they are sick does not apply to Wonder Man. This stuff knocked him for a loop. Usually, if the kids are sick, one of us will go to church and the other stays home with the kids. The kids still weren't up for church, and Rob was not up to taking care of them, not even sitting up and watching a movie. My Man was sick. It took about three days for him to breathe without being wheezy, and then...yep...I got it. I don't think I've been as sick as anyone else in the family, but my head has hurt, and breathing has been challenging. So, physically, I was exhausted.
Mentally, I was exhausted. Mental and physical exhaustion are hard to separate as you most likely know.
Emotionally, I don't even have an adjective. The only thing that came to mind was "raw", but I think I was pretty shut down. Granted, I was very easily affected, but is that really "raw"?
Spiritually, well, spiritually is always what seems to determine how much the first three interact, and I have to say the interaction wasn't good. Now, I didn't say I wasn't in a good place spiritually. Sometimes you can be a in good place and it still be hard. When a person is pouring forth before God and seeking the Lord and the Lord is doing a mighty work of healing or cleaning or drawing or really any kind of speaking, it can be intense. I have had a few really intense weeks.
Thankfully, I finally got a breakthrough that totally rocked me today. I've been struggling in an area, and I couldn't figure out the root. I had pretty much shut down in a lot of ways, and I couldn't pinpoint the cause. I didn't know where it had started, and I wasn't sure how to come out of it. Well, yesterday I felt like the Lord gave me the strategy for coming out of it, and today I started implementing it in faith. The Lord honored that, and today He revealed the source of the issue and then confirmed it by bringing to mind a pointed prophetic word of healing I received last fall. So now, I am sleepy but beaming. Truly, it is amazing the difference a week makes.
Actually, you know what? The week had nothing to do with it. The issue started over a year ago. A week did not break the hold. The real truth is what a difference an encounter with God makes. If you've ever been at a place of desperation where He intervened, you know what I mean. If you are pouring out before Him and pleading for help and are waiting, you know what I mean. If you have never known that kind of desperation or that kind of passionate seeking or if you've never had that kind of encounter with God, you need one. When you've had one, you'll know what I mean. There is nothing like it, and you won't be like you are after you've had it.
Isn't it glorious the difference an encounter with God can make?
Praying that wherever you are and whatever you need you will have the encounter with God that makes the difference....
Anyway, isn't it funny where a week can take you? I'll level with you. I was struggling last week. Physically I was exhausted. My children had been sick with a respiratory thing going around. My son required a middle-of-the-night trip to the ER to deal with a double ear infection that left him screaming in pain. About the time they were sleeping well and we weren't alternating between steamy bathrooms and the deck where it was a nice 60% humidity and mid-30s temp, My Husband got hit. Now, WonderMan (and he is) is not whimp. The whole thing about how men are babies when they are sick does not apply to Wonder Man. This stuff knocked him for a loop. Usually, if the kids are sick, one of us will go to church and the other stays home with the kids. The kids still weren't up for church, and Rob was not up to taking care of them, not even sitting up and watching a movie. My Man was sick. It took about three days for him to breathe without being wheezy, and then...yep...I got it. I don't think I've been as sick as anyone else in the family, but my head has hurt, and breathing has been challenging. So, physically, I was exhausted.
Mentally, I was exhausted. Mental and physical exhaustion are hard to separate as you most likely know.
Emotionally, I don't even have an adjective. The only thing that came to mind was "raw", but I think I was pretty shut down. Granted, I was very easily affected, but is that really "raw"?
Spiritually, well, spiritually is always what seems to determine how much the first three interact, and I have to say the interaction wasn't good. Now, I didn't say I wasn't in a good place spiritually. Sometimes you can be a in good place and it still be hard. When a person is pouring forth before God and seeking the Lord and the Lord is doing a mighty work of healing or cleaning or drawing or really any kind of speaking, it can be intense. I have had a few really intense weeks.
Thankfully, I finally got a breakthrough that totally rocked me today. I've been struggling in an area, and I couldn't figure out the root. I had pretty much shut down in a lot of ways, and I couldn't pinpoint the cause. I didn't know where it had started, and I wasn't sure how to come out of it. Well, yesterday I felt like the Lord gave me the strategy for coming out of it, and today I started implementing it in faith. The Lord honored that, and today He revealed the source of the issue and then confirmed it by bringing to mind a pointed prophetic word of healing I received last fall. So now, I am sleepy but beaming. Truly, it is amazing the difference a week makes.
Actually, you know what? The week had nothing to do with it. The issue started over a year ago. A week did not break the hold. The real truth is what a difference an encounter with God makes. If you've ever been at a place of desperation where He intervened, you know what I mean. If you are pouring out before Him and pleading for help and are waiting, you know what I mean. If you have never known that kind of desperation or that kind of passionate seeking or if you've never had that kind of encounter with God, you need one. When you've had one, you'll know what I mean. There is nothing like it, and you won't be like you are after you've had it.
Isn't it glorious the difference an encounter with God can make?
Praying that wherever you are and whatever you need you will have the encounter with God that makes the difference....
1/22/2007
The Power of a Name
Our local newspaper is having a “semantics” debate, or so it would appear. The question is what the labels should be for the groups that are either pro-life or pro-choice in philosophy. The off-handed answer is, “Who cares?” or “What difference does it make?” Well, actually, it makes a lot of difference.
The newspaper has determined that it is indirectly derogatory to use the term “pro-life”. By using this label, it is insinuated that the opposing group is anti-life. Granted, to say that those who support the right for a woman to terminate her pregnancy at any time are anti-life is a bit extreme. They don’t dismiss the value of ALL life. They obviously value their own or they would not make the choice to protect its convenience or facade, and I doubt these people would pull a gun on a stranger on the street and murder them for no reason. So “anti-life” might be a bit strong.
To correct this, the newspaper suggests referring to the groups as “pro-“ and “anti-abortion”. That seems simple enough. Except that the intimation of the term “anti-abortion” is that those who believe children are a divinely created person with a purpose for being conceived in the first place are, in fact, antagonists of those who believe the solution for our nation’s family crisis is to kill “unwanted” children. Those who are anti-abortion are seen as the ones oppressing those who simply want their rights.
I find it ironic that those of us who do not believe abortion is a right or an option cannot be pro-life because it suggests those who oppose our philosophy are pro-death, but it is perfectly acceptable to label us with a term that suggests we are oppressive and unfeeling for those “in crisis”.
I will be honest. I don’t even like the term “pro-choice”. The baby has no choice, and frankly, I think if we stop screaming about the horror of the act and look deeper at the cause, we would realize that a large number of abortions are the result of women feeling they have no choice. I personally know two young women whose parents made them have abortions. Were those women “pro-choice”, or was their “choice” forced on them?
And before we get so self-righteous and proclaim, “Well, they got pregnant. They had the choice to not have sex,” let’s get off our high horses and look at the reality of the mentality of women who have sex outside of marriage, especially teenage girls. Instead of taking it on a case by case basis, let’s do a general look at one woman most of us have read about—the prostitute that washed Jesus’ feet with her tears.
I don’t know how old she was when she became sexually involved the first time. It doesn’t really matter. She was a woman when she went to Jesus, and you know what we see in her? We see a woman who was told her identity and worth was wrapped up in her ability to please and satisfy a man sexually. What do you think television and secular music teaches women...and men? Look at the clothes that are fashionable for young girls. Look at the magazines for the “tween” and teens. And look how parents and the church promote this mindset. I think it is easy to see why women don’t see themselves as any more valuable than the woman who poured her heart out at Jesus feet.
So here is a woman who obviously has sexual freedom. In fact, she makes her living being free to have sex, and what do we find her doing? Standing on a street corner yelling that she has the right to do anything she wants with her body? Accosting Jesus and telling Him to mind His own business because hers is a good life and He has no right to interfere with her rights and her choices? No. We find her at the feet of the One that values her for her whole being. We find her so desperate for value and identity that embraces her right to be something besides an object of gratification for others that she is willing to risk walking into a Pharisee’s house into a room with a bunch of self-righteous, highly religious men. We see a woman who had all the rights and could make any choice she wanted, and she chose the love of Jesus.
I will not dismiss a person’s responsibility. A person is responsible for what they choose to do with their body, but we simplify the situation too much when we remove the causes of those actions. It is easy to define someone who has an abortion as selfish, self-centered, and cold-hearted. It becomes complicated when we look deeper and find those people are terrified, abandoned, rejected, or confused. How do we respond to the woman who is in a destructive relationship because she believes that is all she is worth, and then becomes pregnant and cannot begin to fathom what she is supposed to do? She can’t figure out how to take care of herself, little less a baby. What about the teenager who feels estranged from her parents already and is involved with a boy that “loves her” only when a baby comes into the picture he doesn’t know her name? What then?
Don’t get me wrong. I think abortion is a sin. I think lying is a sin, but people do it when it seems the easier way out. I think alcoholism is a sin, but people do it when they need to escape something. The difference is we can often relate to the person who feels overwhelmed or wounded and as a result does something sinful. Not many of us can relate to someone facing the overwhelming responsibility of taking care of a baby that they never expected when in truth, on some level they are really looking for someone to take care of them. I think if we take Paul’s words into consideration that our battle is not against flesh and blood-not against the women having abortions or the doctors doing the abortions or even the leaders legalizing abortions-“but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” maybe we would quit bickering over the semantics of labels or viciously pointing figures based on perception of heart conditions and actually make a difference in this battle for life, and I don’t just mean for that of the unborn child.
Does that solve the great label debate? Not unless we take an uncomfortable look at the truth. The truth is Christians often refer to people who abort a child or support that option as selfish and self-centered. Well of course they are, so is every Christian I know. That is the definition of the flesh that wants its own way. The difference is a Christian has the Holy Spirit leading them into truth so they can overcome the flesh. Those who are lost don’t have that. We have the Truth as our direction. What do those who are lost have? The lies the world tells them. They have the lie that they are only as important as what they can accomplish, and a baby would mess that up. They have the lie that they aren’t valuable and nothing that comes from them is valuable. The lies vary, but they all have one thing in common—they are lies. Christians will never affect the problem by calling people names. Instead, we need to call the lies “lies” and declare the truth that these women and their babies are masterpieces of Almighty God. The God who made the universe was detailed enough to make them part of it, and they are His beloved creations whom He seeks to draw to Him. Lives will not change until women understand their true value and identity in the Lord.
I realize my perspective does not lend itself to offering up politically correct labels. However, it would do the Christian community good to consider its own heart when offering labels rather than simply screaming about labels that attack its character or intentions. We can call “pro-abortion” people a lot of things like “wounded” or “deceived”, and we can agree they act that way. We call ourselves “Christians”. I pray we act that way.
The newspaper has determined that it is indirectly derogatory to use the term “pro-life”. By using this label, it is insinuated that the opposing group is anti-life. Granted, to say that those who support the right for a woman to terminate her pregnancy at any time are anti-life is a bit extreme. They don’t dismiss the value of ALL life. They obviously value their own or they would not make the choice to protect its convenience or facade, and I doubt these people would pull a gun on a stranger on the street and murder them for no reason. So “anti-life” might be a bit strong.
To correct this, the newspaper suggests referring to the groups as “pro-“ and “anti-abortion”. That seems simple enough. Except that the intimation of the term “anti-abortion” is that those who believe children are a divinely created person with a purpose for being conceived in the first place are, in fact, antagonists of those who believe the solution for our nation’s family crisis is to kill “unwanted” children. Those who are anti-abortion are seen as the ones oppressing those who simply want their rights.
I find it ironic that those of us who do not believe abortion is a right or an option cannot be pro-life because it suggests those who oppose our philosophy are pro-death, but it is perfectly acceptable to label us with a term that suggests we are oppressive and unfeeling for those “in crisis”.
I will be honest. I don’t even like the term “pro-choice”. The baby has no choice, and frankly, I think if we stop screaming about the horror of the act and look deeper at the cause, we would realize that a large number of abortions are the result of women feeling they have no choice. I personally know two young women whose parents made them have abortions. Were those women “pro-choice”, or was their “choice” forced on them?
And before we get so self-righteous and proclaim, “Well, they got pregnant. They had the choice to not have sex,” let’s get off our high horses and look at the reality of the mentality of women who have sex outside of marriage, especially teenage girls. Instead of taking it on a case by case basis, let’s do a general look at one woman most of us have read about—the prostitute that washed Jesus’ feet with her tears.
I don’t know how old she was when she became sexually involved the first time. It doesn’t really matter. She was a woman when she went to Jesus, and you know what we see in her? We see a woman who was told her identity and worth was wrapped up in her ability to please and satisfy a man sexually. What do you think television and secular music teaches women...and men? Look at the clothes that are fashionable for young girls. Look at the magazines for the “tween” and teens. And look how parents and the church promote this mindset. I think it is easy to see why women don’t see themselves as any more valuable than the woman who poured her heart out at Jesus feet.
So here is a woman who obviously has sexual freedom. In fact, she makes her living being free to have sex, and what do we find her doing? Standing on a street corner yelling that she has the right to do anything she wants with her body? Accosting Jesus and telling Him to mind His own business because hers is a good life and He has no right to interfere with her rights and her choices? No. We find her at the feet of the One that values her for her whole being. We find her so desperate for value and identity that embraces her right to be something besides an object of gratification for others that she is willing to risk walking into a Pharisee’s house into a room with a bunch of self-righteous, highly religious men. We see a woman who had all the rights and could make any choice she wanted, and she chose the love of Jesus.
I will not dismiss a person’s responsibility. A person is responsible for what they choose to do with their body, but we simplify the situation too much when we remove the causes of those actions. It is easy to define someone who has an abortion as selfish, self-centered, and cold-hearted. It becomes complicated when we look deeper and find those people are terrified, abandoned, rejected, or confused. How do we respond to the woman who is in a destructive relationship because she believes that is all she is worth, and then becomes pregnant and cannot begin to fathom what she is supposed to do? She can’t figure out how to take care of herself, little less a baby. What about the teenager who feels estranged from her parents already and is involved with a boy that “loves her” only when a baby comes into the picture he doesn’t know her name? What then?
Don’t get me wrong. I think abortion is a sin. I think lying is a sin, but people do it when it seems the easier way out. I think alcoholism is a sin, but people do it when they need to escape something. The difference is we can often relate to the person who feels overwhelmed or wounded and as a result does something sinful. Not many of us can relate to someone facing the overwhelming responsibility of taking care of a baby that they never expected when in truth, on some level they are really looking for someone to take care of them. I think if we take Paul’s words into consideration that our battle is not against flesh and blood-not against the women having abortions or the doctors doing the abortions or even the leaders legalizing abortions-“but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” maybe we would quit bickering over the semantics of labels or viciously pointing figures based on perception of heart conditions and actually make a difference in this battle for life, and I don’t just mean for that of the unborn child.
Does that solve the great label debate? Not unless we take an uncomfortable look at the truth. The truth is Christians often refer to people who abort a child or support that option as selfish and self-centered. Well of course they are, so is every Christian I know. That is the definition of the flesh that wants its own way. The difference is a Christian has the Holy Spirit leading them into truth so they can overcome the flesh. Those who are lost don’t have that. We have the Truth as our direction. What do those who are lost have? The lies the world tells them. They have the lie that they are only as important as what they can accomplish, and a baby would mess that up. They have the lie that they aren’t valuable and nothing that comes from them is valuable. The lies vary, but they all have one thing in common—they are lies. Christians will never affect the problem by calling people names. Instead, we need to call the lies “lies” and declare the truth that these women and their babies are masterpieces of Almighty God. The God who made the universe was detailed enough to make them part of it, and they are His beloved creations whom He seeks to draw to Him. Lives will not change until women understand their true value and identity in the Lord.
I realize my perspective does not lend itself to offering up politically correct labels. However, it would do the Christian community good to consider its own heart when offering labels rather than simply screaming about labels that attack its character or intentions. We can call “pro-abortion” people a lot of things like “wounded” or “deceived”, and we can agree they act that way. We call ourselves “Christians”. I pray we act that way.
1/17/2007
A Dose of Good Medicine
January 17, 2007
Today I discovered that a place of emotional treasure from my childhood has closed, and it has left me wandering a bit emotionally.
Watts Bros. Pharmacy in Gainesville, Texas, was there my whole life. When I was growing up, it was a true small town pharmacy. There was the pharmacy in the back, and as you made your way there, you passed knick knack shelves, which were made of glass. My favorite shelving group held the perfumes. I can still see the pretty bottles there.
On your right was a true soda fountain. The seats were round with a red cover, and they turned. That was heaven for a child. The counter held various goodies: pies, cake, and stick candy. You could order a straight soda or an ice cream float. You could even get ice cream with sprinkles! I’m telling you, it was a child’s heaven, and it might have been pretty close to heaven for adults, too.
When my dad had his heart attacks in the late 80s, my parents started using Watts Bros. exclusively for Dad’s prescriptions. There is something precious about knowing folk and being known. A few years after Dad’s heart attacks, Dad developed a respiratory infection and was taken to the ER where he was given several prescriptions. Mom took them to Watts Bros. to have them filled and dropped them off on her way to work. She was going to pick them up on the way home. While she was at work, the pharmacist called her. “Gayle, you need to call the doctor. I can’t give Jerry this prescription because it’ll react to another medicine he is on, and it can kill him. If you can’t get the doctor at his office, call me back. I’ll call him at home, and I’ll wait here until we get this straightened out and you can pick up the medicine.” People like that are the gems of life.
Since then, that precious pharmacist developed cancer and went home to be with the Lord. His wife closed the pharmacy but rented it to Timothy and Kathie Parks, who turned it into a bookstore full of character. They sold books that share the history of the area, and they had wonderful bits of memorabilia spread around. And, if you asked them, they’d gladly take time to tell you anything you wanted to know, and you could learn wonderful things and enjoy warm friendship at the very same soda fountain that had been there my whole life.
Last fall we had the joy of spending a few days with Kathie and Timothy in their wonderful shop. We perused books, listened to CDs of a local choir, and sipped Purple Cows and real fountain sodas. I learned things about Gainesville history that I had never heard, and we enjoyed the excitement the Parks have for Gainesville, history, and people.
This spring we were going to visit the auction barn on the edge of town and then head downtime to enjoy the soda fountain, but as of today, it seems our plans have changed, and frankly, it makes me sad.
Granted, part of the purpose for the trip was to expose the children to history, so they could see how it was, but I’m not going to lie. Part of the purpose for the trip was to relive history, parts of my childhood that make me smile and share them with my children and see them smile.
I’m not naïve. I realize Watts Bros. wasn’t what I recall, or maybe it was. I remember a place filled with people I knew that always greeted us with a smile. I remember a place where sodas were extra sweet and so was friendship. I remember no matter what the weather, it was the perfect place “to get in out of the” elements. I remember feeling welcome, even as a child who needed someone to help her sniff the pretty bottles of perfume (and the lady at the register always opened a few for me to sniff). I remember people who always asked how we were and really caring about the answer. Maybe Starrbooks wasn’t so different.
Still, I know time moves on. I know things change and what used to be isn’t what is necessary, so it goes to the way side. I also know people have gotten too busy to take time to value people. I know people have become so determined to be themselves that they make the mistake of leaving history unacknowledged and unexplored. They call this independence. Interesting how much it resembles ignorance. Also interesting how these independent, self-proclaimed trailblazers often become known for their foibles rather than their innovations. But this isn’t about them. I’m not sure it is even about the changing of time.
I think we would be delusional to think what gives us the sense of belonging and joy today will do so tomorrow. I’ve spent enough time on this earth to realize that what meets my needs today will not remain the same in the future. My interests change. My circumstances change. My needs change, and yet, they don’t.
No matter where I am, no matter how old I am, I still love knowing folks and being known. I love going to my favorite coffee shop and the manager calling my children and me by name and asking if we “want the usual” and his knowing what the usual is. I love walking into a favorite shopping spot and the clerk telling us he has our favorite kind of suckers, and he does, AND he doesn’t even have to ask what they are. He just reaches into his bag and picks out the ones we enjoy. I love that our dentist’s receptionist has my daughter call to tell her how the recital went, and I love that all those folks openly tell us about their lives and families in return. There is something priceless in knowing and in being known.
That is what was served up more than anything at the soda fountain in the Watts Bros. Pharmacy store and in Starrbooks. It wasn’t the pretty perfume bottles or the wonderful books. It was the connection to the people, knowing them and being known by them. It was good medicine then, and it is good medicine now, and when you find a place like that, it always makes you feel good.
Today I discovered that a place of emotional treasure from my childhood has closed, and it has left me wandering a bit emotionally.
Watts Bros. Pharmacy in Gainesville, Texas, was there my whole life. When I was growing up, it was a true small town pharmacy. There was the pharmacy in the back, and as you made your way there, you passed knick knack shelves, which were made of glass. My favorite shelving group held the perfumes. I can still see the pretty bottles there.
On your right was a true soda fountain. The seats were round with a red cover, and they turned. That was heaven for a child. The counter held various goodies: pies, cake, and stick candy. You could order a straight soda or an ice cream float. You could even get ice cream with sprinkles! I’m telling you, it was a child’s heaven, and it might have been pretty close to heaven for adults, too.
When my dad had his heart attacks in the late 80s, my parents started using Watts Bros. exclusively for Dad’s prescriptions. There is something precious about knowing folk and being known. A few years after Dad’s heart attacks, Dad developed a respiratory infection and was taken to the ER where he was given several prescriptions. Mom took them to Watts Bros. to have them filled and dropped them off on her way to work. She was going to pick them up on the way home. While she was at work, the pharmacist called her. “Gayle, you need to call the doctor. I can’t give Jerry this prescription because it’ll react to another medicine he is on, and it can kill him. If you can’t get the doctor at his office, call me back. I’ll call him at home, and I’ll wait here until we get this straightened out and you can pick up the medicine.” People like that are the gems of life.
Since then, that precious pharmacist developed cancer and went home to be with the Lord. His wife closed the pharmacy but rented it to Timothy and Kathie Parks, who turned it into a bookstore full of character. They sold books that share the history of the area, and they had wonderful bits of memorabilia spread around. And, if you asked them, they’d gladly take time to tell you anything you wanted to know, and you could learn wonderful things and enjoy warm friendship at the very same soda fountain that had been there my whole life.
Last fall we had the joy of spending a few days with Kathie and Timothy in their wonderful shop. We perused books, listened to CDs of a local choir, and sipped Purple Cows and real fountain sodas. I learned things about Gainesville history that I had never heard, and we enjoyed the excitement the Parks have for Gainesville, history, and people.
This spring we were going to visit the auction barn on the edge of town and then head downtime to enjoy the soda fountain, but as of today, it seems our plans have changed, and frankly, it makes me sad.
Granted, part of the purpose for the trip was to expose the children to history, so they could see how it was, but I’m not going to lie. Part of the purpose for the trip was to relive history, parts of my childhood that make me smile and share them with my children and see them smile.
I’m not naïve. I realize Watts Bros. wasn’t what I recall, or maybe it was. I remember a place filled with people I knew that always greeted us with a smile. I remember a place where sodas were extra sweet and so was friendship. I remember no matter what the weather, it was the perfect place “to get in out of the” elements. I remember feeling welcome, even as a child who needed someone to help her sniff the pretty bottles of perfume (and the lady at the register always opened a few for me to sniff). I remember people who always asked how we were and really caring about the answer. Maybe Starrbooks wasn’t so different.
Still, I know time moves on. I know things change and what used to be isn’t what is necessary, so it goes to the way side. I also know people have gotten too busy to take time to value people. I know people have become so determined to be themselves that they make the mistake of leaving history unacknowledged and unexplored. They call this independence. Interesting how much it resembles ignorance. Also interesting how these independent, self-proclaimed trailblazers often become known for their foibles rather than their innovations. But this isn’t about them. I’m not sure it is even about the changing of time.
I think we would be delusional to think what gives us the sense of belonging and joy today will do so tomorrow. I’ve spent enough time on this earth to realize that what meets my needs today will not remain the same in the future. My interests change. My circumstances change. My needs change, and yet, they don’t.
No matter where I am, no matter how old I am, I still love knowing folks and being known. I love going to my favorite coffee shop and the manager calling my children and me by name and asking if we “want the usual” and his knowing what the usual is. I love walking into a favorite shopping spot and the clerk telling us he has our favorite kind of suckers, and he does, AND he doesn’t even have to ask what they are. He just reaches into his bag and picks out the ones we enjoy. I love that our dentist’s receptionist has my daughter call to tell her how the recital went, and I love that all those folks openly tell us about their lives and families in return. There is something priceless in knowing and in being known.
That is what was served up more than anything at the soda fountain in the Watts Bros. Pharmacy store and in Starrbooks. It wasn’t the pretty perfume bottles or the wonderful books. It was the connection to the people, knowing them and being known by them. It was good medicine then, and it is good medicine now, and when you find a place like that, it always makes you feel good.
1/11/2007
The Only Way Through....
...is through.
I am in the middle, literally, of a 21 day fast. This is day 10, and the first week was okay. Then this week the Lord put it on my heart to hunker down a bit more and do a cleansing fast. I'll be honest and tell you I fought this. This was not my idea of a good idea. It didn't even rank on my "Let's Consider" list. The idea of veggies and water and nothing else wasn't appealing, but God nagged, and in the end, I gave in. So here I am on day 4 of my cleansing fast, and I have a glimpse of why we are doing this.
First of all, I say "we" because I couldn't do this alone. Truly, my will is not this strong. I like sugar. Who am I kidding? I would like a piece of rolled up turkey right now, but it isn't about what I like. It's about what I need, and from all indications, I need to fast.
My need to fast for different reasons. Physically, I had no clue what I was in for. I once read an interview with Dolly Parton, and she talked about fasting and how it was miserable and she felt awful as the toxins were drained from her body. I didn't know what she meant. I've fasted all food with only water to drink for three days, and mentally it was a challenge, but I wasn't "miserable". I had a caffeine headache one time, but "miserable"? Nope. Can't say fasting has ever made me miserable. Okay, well, I can say it now.
Here's the truth, and it isn't meant to scare you so you don't fast. Fasting is a good thing. So good in fact that I have been utterly miserable for four days. I'm not kidding. I've had migraines that weren't as bad as the headache I had Monday, and I've only had back pain this bad when I had a 24-hour flu and when I was in labor. Right now, my lower back and legs spasm and hurt so much that I have a hard time just being still to write. Trust me. I have learned how miserable a cleansing fast can be.
Why is that good? Because it is cleaning how my body. It's getting rid of the toxins in my system. My body is getting healthier. Physically, the benefits are huge, and this time there is evidence that something is happening.
A healthier body is good, but it gets better. During this time of misery, I have looked at my options. This isn't like a caffeine head ache that a soda will fix. If I eat a bag of Oreos, it won't get better. Really, there is nothing that can help this process. I even considered getting muscle relaxants or stronger pain killers from my doctor. The thing is, though, the pain is necessary. The cleanse is necessary if I want to be healthy. This misery, as much as I would love to get out of it, is necessary, and the simple fact is the only way through this misery is go to actually go through it.
Now, that might sound like the most obvious statement in the world. If it is, then why are so many people trying apparent shortcuts out of their misery when the only way they will truly feel better is to face their misery head on and go through it?
I'm not just talking about the physical discomfort of a fast. Most people can handle physical discomfort. The thing that gets us is the emotional and spiritual, and sometimes it is hard to tell the two apart. All we can say with certainty is that we hurt, and the hurt seems to engulf us. There is no way to turn, no way to move, no way to simply even exist without being in pain. Our first reaction is to find a way out. Unfortunately, that doesn't really get us healthy. It just makes it possible to ignore what is making us sick, and it puts us back in a place of dealing with symptoms but never getting well. The only way through is to go through.
So what does that mean in real life? It means you have to find a safe place to be honest. Stock up on some kleenex. Be prepared to feel like the world is crashing because the world you know may very be. If you are going to go through, you have to pour yourself into your faith. As I have felt incapacitated for any purpose other than cleansing, I have tried to spend my time in prayer rather than focusing on the pain. I read my Bible. I put on my worship music. Like I said, not only would I not put myself through the whole veggie and water only gig. I wouldn't inflict pain like this on myself either. If I am going to do this, I have to believe God has something good waiting for me at the end of this. Any time we are faced with the pain of an unwanted journey, cleansing, or open wound, we have to trust that God has something good waiting for us or we are likely to turn tail and run.
The thing is when we run, we only run back to where we were. Our "solution" may look different, but the results are the same. The only way out of the pain is through it, and while it is a miserable road when you are in it, if you are faithful to stick to it, you will reach the other side, and the Lord will be holding out good things for you.
And I keep thinking how good it will feel when people ask me about this later and I can smile and say with great joy, "Oh, that miserable thing? I'm through."
Hoping you take the road that takes you through....
I am in the middle, literally, of a 21 day fast. This is day 10, and the first week was okay. Then this week the Lord put it on my heart to hunker down a bit more and do a cleansing fast. I'll be honest and tell you I fought this. This was not my idea of a good idea. It didn't even rank on my "Let's Consider" list. The idea of veggies and water and nothing else wasn't appealing, but God nagged, and in the end, I gave in. So here I am on day 4 of my cleansing fast, and I have a glimpse of why we are doing this.
First of all, I say "we" because I couldn't do this alone. Truly, my will is not this strong. I like sugar. Who am I kidding? I would like a piece of rolled up turkey right now, but it isn't about what I like. It's about what I need, and from all indications, I need to fast.
My need to fast for different reasons. Physically, I had no clue what I was in for. I once read an interview with Dolly Parton, and she talked about fasting and how it was miserable and she felt awful as the toxins were drained from her body. I didn't know what she meant. I've fasted all food with only water to drink for three days, and mentally it was a challenge, but I wasn't "miserable". I had a caffeine headache one time, but "miserable"? Nope. Can't say fasting has ever made me miserable. Okay, well, I can say it now.
Here's the truth, and it isn't meant to scare you so you don't fast. Fasting is a good thing. So good in fact that I have been utterly miserable for four days. I'm not kidding. I've had migraines that weren't as bad as the headache I had Monday, and I've only had back pain this bad when I had a 24-hour flu and when I was in labor. Right now, my lower back and legs spasm and hurt so much that I have a hard time just being still to write. Trust me. I have learned how miserable a cleansing fast can be.
Why is that good? Because it is cleaning how my body. It's getting rid of the toxins in my system. My body is getting healthier. Physically, the benefits are huge, and this time there is evidence that something is happening.
A healthier body is good, but it gets better. During this time of misery, I have looked at my options. This isn't like a caffeine head ache that a soda will fix. If I eat a bag of Oreos, it won't get better. Really, there is nothing that can help this process. I even considered getting muscle relaxants or stronger pain killers from my doctor. The thing is, though, the pain is necessary. The cleanse is necessary if I want to be healthy. This misery, as much as I would love to get out of it, is necessary, and the simple fact is the only way through this misery is go to actually go through it.
Now, that might sound like the most obvious statement in the world. If it is, then why are so many people trying apparent shortcuts out of their misery when the only way they will truly feel better is to face their misery head on and go through it?
I'm not just talking about the physical discomfort of a fast. Most people can handle physical discomfort. The thing that gets us is the emotional and spiritual, and sometimes it is hard to tell the two apart. All we can say with certainty is that we hurt, and the hurt seems to engulf us. There is no way to turn, no way to move, no way to simply even exist without being in pain. Our first reaction is to find a way out. Unfortunately, that doesn't really get us healthy. It just makes it possible to ignore what is making us sick, and it puts us back in a place of dealing with symptoms but never getting well. The only way through is to go through.
So what does that mean in real life? It means you have to find a safe place to be honest. Stock up on some kleenex. Be prepared to feel like the world is crashing because the world you know may very be. If you are going to go through, you have to pour yourself into your faith. As I have felt incapacitated for any purpose other than cleansing, I have tried to spend my time in prayer rather than focusing on the pain. I read my Bible. I put on my worship music. Like I said, not only would I not put myself through the whole veggie and water only gig. I wouldn't inflict pain like this on myself either. If I am going to do this, I have to believe God has something good waiting for me at the end of this. Any time we are faced with the pain of an unwanted journey, cleansing, or open wound, we have to trust that God has something good waiting for us or we are likely to turn tail and run.
The thing is when we run, we only run back to where we were. Our "solution" may look different, but the results are the same. The only way out of the pain is through it, and while it is a miserable road when you are in it, if you are faithful to stick to it, you will reach the other side, and the Lord will be holding out good things for you.
And I keep thinking how good it will feel when people ask me about this later and I can smile and say with great joy, "Oh, that miserable thing? I'm through."
Hoping you take the road that takes you through....
1/01/2007
The Unusual Suspect by Stephen Baldwin-An Unusually Powerful book
I just finished reading The Unusual Suspect by Stephen Baldwin (www.stephenbaldwin.com). I will be honest. I didn't know what exactly to expect from a Hollywood pretty boy, but I had read some things about Stephen in the media that made me think he wasn't the mamsy-pamsy sort and his book might be a good read.
In case you have not heard, Stephen made news this year when he went against a porn shop in his town. He sat outside on the sidewalk and took pictures of the patrons and put those pictures in a full-page ad in the newspaper's Sunday edition. It didn't go over well with some folk, but he didn't care. He has a wife and daughters, and he didn't need that garbage in his town.
I'll confess. I was a bit shocked. I have seen some Stephen Baldwin movies, and to hear that he would go up against porn shops was...a new view of him. I liked the view, and it left me interested in this new side of Stephen Baldwin.
I prayed for him, for his family, and for the word to get out about what he was doing.
I've seen updates periodically, but for the most part, the media seemed to let it drop when they realized they could not shame him or intimidate him into backing off. That is a shame because what he did should have stoked the fire of every God-fearing man in America, and we should have had churches sitting out on the sidewalks taking pictures and meeting in the city counsel chambers demanding a change in public zoning and political acceptance of such an industry. At the very least--and the most powerful--we should have had some get stoked enough to stand on the sidewalk and pray for the powers of hell that had taken up residence to be brought down and for the land to be redeemed.
Sadly, that didn't happen. If anything, a lot of those God-fearing men shook their heads and babbled some small-minded comment about Baldwin making Christians look like radical freaks. Well for those who did, Stephen Baldwin would say thanks for thinking he is radical, and I say get on your face and repent.
Anyway, because I was impressed by a man doing something instead of just whining about the condition of America's moral fabric today, I have wanted to read his book since I first saw it. I had waited for Christmas hoping to get it as a present, but when I didn't, I took matters into my own hands and spent my own money on it. It was well beyond being worth the investment.
If you want hardcore, Bible-as-it-is, uncompromised, sold-out, everything-I-am-and-have, all-for-you, holding-nothing-back-even-if-it-kills-me commitment that will stoke your fire, challenge your commitment, and stretch your comfort zone, this book is for you.
I think Christians who read this book will fall into three categories: 1) those shouting, "Hallelujah! Amen!" about every page or so, 2) those muttering, "I can't believe he said that, but I'm glad he did because now I don't feel like the only one who thinks that way," and 3) those who read it, shake their heads, and say, "Oh, God is going to get all over that boy." For those in the third group, I want to assure you that He already did. That is why Stephen wrote the book, and it is Holy Spirit drive from beginning to end. Therein lies the power. Therein also lies what will make Christians cringe and sinners see hope. The Holy Spirit is all over this book, and it'll convict, challenge, and encourage in ways that might shock you coming from a Hollywood pretty boy.
As for sinners who read it, I think they'll either write him off as nuts because they are so deceived or they'll run to find out more because this is spiritual filet mignon, baby.
The Unusual Suspect is as honest as it gets. If you need a fire lit under you, this is your match. If you want to know you are not the only one that looks at the Christian life from a more radical perspective than most, this is your buddy book. If you are happy reading your 15-minute devotions in the morning, sitting in the same pew every Sunday at church, and living the predictable happy-you-aren't-going-to-hell life, read it 'cause you need it the most.
Thinking Stephen Baldwin is too celebrity to come up with something that life-altering? He'll be the first to tell you he didn't come up with any of it, and I admit, a lot of it is really simple stuff. That is what makes it so unusually powerful, but God works that way, and as Stephen says, maybe that is what makes God the most unusual suspect.
In case you have not heard, Stephen made news this year when he went against a porn shop in his town. He sat outside on the sidewalk and took pictures of the patrons and put those pictures in a full-page ad in the newspaper's Sunday edition. It didn't go over well with some folk, but he didn't care. He has a wife and daughters, and he didn't need that garbage in his town.
I'll confess. I was a bit shocked. I have seen some Stephen Baldwin movies, and to hear that he would go up against porn shops was...a new view of him. I liked the view, and it left me interested in this new side of Stephen Baldwin.
I prayed for him, for his family, and for the word to get out about what he was doing.
I've seen updates periodically, but for the most part, the media seemed to let it drop when they realized they could not shame him or intimidate him into backing off. That is a shame because what he did should have stoked the fire of every God-fearing man in America, and we should have had churches sitting out on the sidewalks taking pictures and meeting in the city counsel chambers demanding a change in public zoning and political acceptance of such an industry. At the very least--and the most powerful--we should have had some get stoked enough to stand on the sidewalk and pray for the powers of hell that had taken up residence to be brought down and for the land to be redeemed.
Sadly, that didn't happen. If anything, a lot of those God-fearing men shook their heads and babbled some small-minded comment about Baldwin making Christians look like radical freaks. Well for those who did, Stephen Baldwin would say thanks for thinking he is radical, and I say get on your face and repent.
Anyway, because I was impressed by a man doing something instead of just whining about the condition of America's moral fabric today, I have wanted to read his book since I first saw it. I had waited for Christmas hoping to get it as a present, but when I didn't, I took matters into my own hands and spent my own money on it. It was well beyond being worth the investment.
If you want hardcore, Bible-as-it-is, uncompromised, sold-out, everything-I-am-and-have, all-for-you, holding-nothing-back-even-if-it-kills-me commitment that will stoke your fire, challenge your commitment, and stretch your comfort zone, this book is for you.
I think Christians who read this book will fall into three categories: 1) those shouting, "Hallelujah! Amen!" about every page or so, 2) those muttering, "I can't believe he said that, but I'm glad he did because now I don't feel like the only one who thinks that way," and 3) those who read it, shake their heads, and say, "Oh, God is going to get all over that boy." For those in the third group, I want to assure you that He already did. That is why Stephen wrote the book, and it is Holy Spirit drive from beginning to end. Therein lies the power. Therein also lies what will make Christians cringe and sinners see hope. The Holy Spirit is all over this book, and it'll convict, challenge, and encourage in ways that might shock you coming from a Hollywood pretty boy.
As for sinners who read it, I think they'll either write him off as nuts because they are so deceived or they'll run to find out more because this is spiritual filet mignon, baby.
The Unusual Suspect is as honest as it gets. If you need a fire lit under you, this is your match. If you want to know you are not the only one that looks at the Christian life from a more radical perspective than most, this is your buddy book. If you are happy reading your 15-minute devotions in the morning, sitting in the same pew every Sunday at church, and living the predictable happy-you-aren't-going-to-hell life, read it 'cause you need it the most.
Thinking Stephen Baldwin is too celebrity to come up with something that life-altering? He'll be the first to tell you he didn't come up with any of it, and I admit, a lot of it is really simple stuff. That is what makes it so unusually powerful, but God works that way, and as Stephen says, maybe that is what makes God the most unusual suspect.
12/27/2006
Friendly Reminders
Today I had a wonderful phone conversation with my friend Debra. She is in a rather intense battle right now, and she called to share what the Lord had spoken to her. Despite my congestion due to my cold, I loved listening to her talk about the promises the Lord is speaking, the confirmations He is giving, the word-for-word promises and phrases He has been giving her. It did my soul good to listen to her excitement as she shared the ways God is pouring Himself out to her and how thrilled she is and how much peace she has. And truly, she is walking in an incredible peace.
Yesterday I spent an incredible amount of time emailing my friend Mary B. I shared with her the stuff going on in my life and what the Lord has spoken to me, the promises He has given, the verses, the declarations, the words. It also did me good. It reminded me of some things I had forgotten. It stirred up my faith and my resolve. It helped me refocus and get my mind oriented once again to the clear business of Heaven.
Today Debra and I talked about that. Paul says to think of things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy. He also says to speak to each other with psalms and other heavenly talk. We are told in Deuteronomy to talk about the many ways God has and does deliver us. We are to talk about them when we get up, when we walk, when we sit, when we lie down at night.
I'll tell the truth. I thought those verses were a bit unrealistic, a little "goody goody". I mean, there is reality, you know. The thing is, the only reality is God-what He has done, what He is doing, and what He has promised to do. When we focus on those things and talk about those things, we are speaking in agreement with Him, and that releases power into our lives. We begin to act in accordance with reality-not human logic, and we begin to see big things happening because the reality is God is a big God.
May our thoughts, conversations, and actions always be grounded in Reality....
Yesterday I spent an incredible amount of time emailing my friend Mary B. I shared with her the stuff going on in my life and what the Lord has spoken to me, the promises He has given, the verses, the declarations, the words. It also did me good. It reminded me of some things I had forgotten. It stirred up my faith and my resolve. It helped me refocus and get my mind oriented once again to the clear business of Heaven.
Today Debra and I talked about that. Paul says to think of things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy. He also says to speak to each other with psalms and other heavenly talk. We are told in Deuteronomy to talk about the many ways God has and does deliver us. We are to talk about them when we get up, when we walk, when we sit, when we lie down at night.
I'll tell the truth. I thought those verses were a bit unrealistic, a little "goody goody". I mean, there is reality, you know. The thing is, the only reality is God-what He has done, what He is doing, and what He has promised to do. When we focus on those things and talk about those things, we are speaking in agreement with Him, and that releases power into our lives. We begin to act in accordance with reality-not human logic, and we begin to see big things happening because the reality is God is a big God.
May our thoughts, conversations, and actions always be grounded in Reality....
12/23/2006
The Christmas Warm Fuzzies
On my high school alumni board, my friend Jessica mentioned that she loves Christmas, and she mentioned the warm fuzzy feelings she gets about Christmas. It took some time, but I picked a few warm fuzzies I have as well, and I thought I would share them with you.
Since Anna was little, it has become tradition at this time of year for Rob and I to have a handful of $1 bills in our wallets. When Anna was little, she got hooked on putting money into "the buckets". Yeah, the Salvation Army kettles. The red kettle is cool, but that isn't what hooked her.
Anna's very first experience with a Salvation Army kettle is exactly what it should have been.We were bustling into a store because it was COLD!, and outside the store was a man wrapped up in old coat, hat, and gloves. He was as warm as possible when the temperature is hovering just above freezing and the wind is gusting. Over the blowing wind and ringing bell you could hear it--the man was singing. His voice wasn't great. It was as old and worn as he was, but the heart was there, and it was perfect.
Here I am with a three year-old and nine month-old in tow, and Anna stops solid. She was mesmorized. He smiled at her as he sang. I let her listen for a minute, maybe two, before I bustled them into the building where it was warm.
As we did our shopping Anna asked all about the man and the bucket and why he did that, and I explained it to her. She was so amazed that someone would stand in the freezing weather and sing so people would give money for others who needed it.
Would we give money, too?
Before we walked out of the store, I rummaged through my purse to find out what kind of cash I had since I rarely carry any. Divinely, there was a wadded up dollar bill in there, so I gave it to Anna.When we walked out of the store, Anna went to the bucket to slip the dollar in. That was when I found out they put lids on the kettles now. Anna couldn't get it in, and I had Robert who couldn't stand by himself, so the man with the "perfect voice" showed Anna how to fold the dollar and slide it in.
He wished her a Merry Christmas. She beamed. His eyes twinkled. Our world changed.
The next year Anna started asking about the "people with the buckets and bells" before Thanksgiving. I started keeping some ones in my wallet so she could drop them in.
The next year Robert was big enough to drop money in as well. It has now reached the point where the children ask to frequent stores where the "bells and kettles" are, and if the person is singing, we stop and listen.
One time this year, they had four people out there in Santa hats singing away while the bell ringer rang the bell, and at another store, they had a band with different horns. We listened a long time to that one.
Yep, I think my favorite warm fuzzy has to do with the sound of a bell and $1 bills. Funny to me how something priceless can be so cheap.
Another favorite Christmas was when Anna was about 18 months old. She unwrapped all of her presents, pushed them all aside except for her tooth brush and a shirt box lid. She put the toothbrush in the box lid and slid it around, sort of like an ocean drum, "for hours". When she got done, she sat it safely back under the tree, and then she would go back and get it later to play some more. She did that off and on all day. And I sat and watched her. Who knew a box lid and a tooth brush could be so fascinating for an adult as well as a child?
Another favorite Christmas was a few years ago when Robert was two, maybe three. We had put the Christmas tree up in the TV room away from the main transit of a toddler, and after all the gifts were placed under the tree Christmas Eve, we put a gate up so no small children could help themselves to a gift opening frenzy.
When I woke up, I walked down the hall and peered in Robert's room. He wasn't there. I looked in Anna's room. Anna was sound asleep, but Robert wasn't with her. I walked quietly through the living room and peaked around the corner to see the door to the TV room. There stood Robert with his thumb in his mouth, staring over the gate at the pile of wrapped treasure under the tree. As he stood there, he never touched the gate, only tipped his head from side to side as he sucked his thumb and looked at the loot to be had. I watched him for several minutes, and by God's grace was able to sneak a picture before he noticed me. It is by far on of my favorite pictures from Christmas time, and one of my favorite memories.
May your Christmas afford you great memories, people to love and to love you, and the wisdom to recognize them as the wonderful gifts they are....
Since Anna was little, it has become tradition at this time of year for Rob and I to have a handful of $1 bills in our wallets. When Anna was little, she got hooked on putting money into "the buckets". Yeah, the Salvation Army kettles. The red kettle is cool, but that isn't what hooked her.
Anna's very first experience with a Salvation Army kettle is exactly what it should have been.We were bustling into a store because it was COLD!, and outside the store was a man wrapped up in old coat, hat, and gloves. He was as warm as possible when the temperature is hovering just above freezing and the wind is gusting. Over the blowing wind and ringing bell you could hear it--the man was singing. His voice wasn't great. It was as old and worn as he was, but the heart was there, and it was perfect.
Here I am with a three year-old and nine month-old in tow, and Anna stops solid. She was mesmorized. He smiled at her as he sang. I let her listen for a minute, maybe two, before I bustled them into the building where it was warm.
As we did our shopping Anna asked all about the man and the bucket and why he did that, and I explained it to her. She was so amazed that someone would stand in the freezing weather and sing so people would give money for others who needed it.
Would we give money, too?
Before we walked out of the store, I rummaged through my purse to find out what kind of cash I had since I rarely carry any. Divinely, there was a wadded up dollar bill in there, so I gave it to Anna.When we walked out of the store, Anna went to the bucket to slip the dollar in. That was when I found out they put lids on the kettles now. Anna couldn't get it in, and I had Robert who couldn't stand by himself, so the man with the "perfect voice" showed Anna how to fold the dollar and slide it in.
He wished her a Merry Christmas. She beamed. His eyes twinkled. Our world changed.
The next year Anna started asking about the "people with the buckets and bells" before Thanksgiving. I started keeping some ones in my wallet so she could drop them in.
The next year Robert was big enough to drop money in as well. It has now reached the point where the children ask to frequent stores where the "bells and kettles" are, and if the person is singing, we stop and listen.
One time this year, they had four people out there in Santa hats singing away while the bell ringer rang the bell, and at another store, they had a band with different horns. We listened a long time to that one.
Yep, I think my favorite warm fuzzy has to do with the sound of a bell and $1 bills. Funny to me how something priceless can be so cheap.
Another favorite Christmas was when Anna was about 18 months old. She unwrapped all of her presents, pushed them all aside except for her tooth brush and a shirt box lid. She put the toothbrush in the box lid and slid it around, sort of like an ocean drum, "for hours". When she got done, she sat it safely back under the tree, and then she would go back and get it later to play some more. She did that off and on all day. And I sat and watched her. Who knew a box lid and a tooth brush could be so fascinating for an adult as well as a child?
Another favorite Christmas was a few years ago when Robert was two, maybe three. We had put the Christmas tree up in the TV room away from the main transit of a toddler, and after all the gifts were placed under the tree Christmas Eve, we put a gate up so no small children could help themselves to a gift opening frenzy.
When I woke up, I walked down the hall and peered in Robert's room. He wasn't there. I looked in Anna's room. Anna was sound asleep, but Robert wasn't with her. I walked quietly through the living room and peaked around the corner to see the door to the TV room. There stood Robert with his thumb in his mouth, staring over the gate at the pile of wrapped treasure under the tree. As he stood there, he never touched the gate, only tipped his head from side to side as he sucked his thumb and looked at the loot to be had. I watched him for several minutes, and by God's grace was able to sneak a picture before he noticed me. It is by far on of my favorite pictures from Christmas time, and one of my favorite memories.
May your Christmas afford you great memories, people to love and to love you, and the wisdom to recognize them as the wonderful gifts they are....
12/18/2006
I believe it was Bach that said he sat down at the keyboard and waited to receive. This was his method for composing so many amazing musical pieces. Tonight, I am following Bach's example. I have sat down at my keyboard and am prepared to receive.
Christmas is a week away. How does it come so quickly? Two weeks ago I thought I was doing well and had the gift issue under control, and I was feeling pretty good about my efforts. Now we are a week away, and I feel it has snuck up on me and caught me unprepared. Gifts are mostly under control, but then I found out we are having Christmas dinner here, which I enjoy, but I am not prepared with food. Even with that, I thought it would be easy to take care of, but then, Rob and Anna started running fevers. We had extra ministry responsibilities. Robert had a doctor's appointment. A friend asked if we would watch her son for a few hours, and we are delighted to do so. Did I mention the women's party at church or the business meetings for Rob? It is amazing how quickly our calendar filled up. Three days ago we had one afternoon scheduled this week. As of this morning, we have one afternoon free. It is amazing to me how things can so quickly get out of control and how quickly things can get lost in the shuffle and busyness of life, and I don't just mean this time of year.
This time of year we hear how people are so busy working on celebrating Christmas that they forget to celebrate the Christ-mass. It's nothing new. 2000 years ago Jesus had the same conversation with the Pharisees and Sadducees. "You're so busy keeping the law and the rules that you've missed the One who gave them to you so you could have a relationship with Him." The rules precluded relationship, not enabled it. It could be argued that Christma has taken on the same character. We are so busy looking for the perfect gift that we end up not enjoying the one for whom we are buying it. Impression becomes more important than expression.
We want folks to be impressed that we knew just want to get them. Nothing wrong with giving the perfect gift as long as it isn't a token brought about by a Pharisee mindset. The Pharisees want to impress God by showing Him their righteousness done in His name on His behalf. What God wanted was an expression of love and gratitude in response to what He had done on their behalf.
Today we try to impress God by declaring that Christ is the reason for the season. From what I've read, Christ is the reason, period. We need to purge our thinking of ideas that we are impressive because we take a holiday and rally around it as a reason to do good things and to think beyond ourselves. If such giving is a seasonal thing, can it truly be that impressive? Doesn't God desire more out of us. Doesn't He desire for us to live a life that expresses love to those in need on any given Monday no matter what the date is?
Is it really so impressive to put a smile on and be nice to everyone in church on Sunday, or is it more expressive of our relationship with Christ to put a smile on and be nice to the rude driver that cut us off or the family member that once again left wet towels and dirty clothes on the floor in the bathroom?
I don't think there is anything wrong with being extra generous this time of year. I think we've failed to miss the point if it is ONLY this time of year. More than that, though, whenever we choose to be generous with our money, patience, or helping hands, we shouldn't do it out of compulsion with the idea that we are impressing God. Instead, our heart should be that of Christ who came for the purpose of EXPRESSING God.
On Christmas and every day, may we all have the heart to express rather than impress....
Christmas is a week away. How does it come so quickly? Two weeks ago I thought I was doing well and had the gift issue under control, and I was feeling pretty good about my efforts. Now we are a week away, and I feel it has snuck up on me and caught me unprepared. Gifts are mostly under control, but then I found out we are having Christmas dinner here, which I enjoy, but I am not prepared with food. Even with that, I thought it would be easy to take care of, but then, Rob and Anna started running fevers. We had extra ministry responsibilities. Robert had a doctor's appointment. A friend asked if we would watch her son for a few hours, and we are delighted to do so. Did I mention the women's party at church or the business meetings for Rob? It is amazing how quickly our calendar filled up. Three days ago we had one afternoon scheduled this week. As of this morning, we have one afternoon free. It is amazing to me how things can so quickly get out of control and how quickly things can get lost in the shuffle and busyness of life, and I don't just mean this time of year.
This time of year we hear how people are so busy working on celebrating Christmas that they forget to celebrate the Christ-mass. It's nothing new. 2000 years ago Jesus had the same conversation with the Pharisees and Sadducees. "You're so busy keeping the law and the rules that you've missed the One who gave them to you so you could have a relationship with Him." The rules precluded relationship, not enabled it. It could be argued that Christma has taken on the same character. We are so busy looking for the perfect gift that we end up not enjoying the one for whom we are buying it. Impression becomes more important than expression.
We want folks to be impressed that we knew just want to get them. Nothing wrong with giving the perfect gift as long as it isn't a token brought about by a Pharisee mindset. The Pharisees want to impress God by showing Him their righteousness done in His name on His behalf. What God wanted was an expression of love and gratitude in response to what He had done on their behalf.
Today we try to impress God by declaring that Christ is the reason for the season. From what I've read, Christ is the reason, period. We need to purge our thinking of ideas that we are impressive because we take a holiday and rally around it as a reason to do good things and to think beyond ourselves. If such giving is a seasonal thing, can it truly be that impressive? Doesn't God desire more out of us. Doesn't He desire for us to live a life that expresses love to those in need on any given Monday no matter what the date is?
Is it really so impressive to put a smile on and be nice to everyone in church on Sunday, or is it more expressive of our relationship with Christ to put a smile on and be nice to the rude driver that cut us off or the family member that once again left wet towels and dirty clothes on the floor in the bathroom?
I don't think there is anything wrong with being extra generous this time of year. I think we've failed to miss the point if it is ONLY this time of year. More than that, though, whenever we choose to be generous with our money, patience, or helping hands, we shouldn't do it out of compulsion with the idea that we are impressing God. Instead, our heart should be that of Christ who came for the purpose of EXPRESSING God.
On Christmas and every day, may we all have the heart to express rather than impress....
12/11/2006
I do read better than that. Honest.
I have confused some people with my wording on the entry about feeling welcome. The way I worded some things makes it sound like I read at a 5th or 6th grade level. No. I read on very high levels actually. However, as can be seen in this instance, when I check the spelling/grammar of a piece I am writing or have finished,and my program gives me the word count, it also gives me the "readability level" status. That means that a 5th/6th grader could understand what I wrote. I simply do not use sentences that are complex enough or vocabulary that is "big" enough to get above that "readability level".
So, yes, I read fine, well enough to get my bachelor's degree anyway. Sorry about the confusion, but thank you to all you wonderful folk who had great ideas to improve my reading abilities. I'll keep those in my homeschool information because you never know when it will come in handy.
Wishing you the right words for you to enjoy the ability to be understood and to understand.....
So, yes, I read fine, well enough to get my bachelor's degree anyway. Sorry about the confusion, but thank you to all you wonderful folk who had great ideas to improve my reading abilities. I'll keep those in my homeschool information because you never know when it will come in handy.
Wishing you the right words for you to enjoy the ability to be understood and to understand.....
12/08/2006
Leah's Sisters
My precious and beloved friend Mary Dunham-Faulkner is an amazing lady. I can't even begin to tell you everything, but I will tell you how to find out about her and the incredible ministry the Lord has given her. Check out www.leahssisters.org Her latest One Minute with Mary is so deep in truth it takes sitting and soaking to get the power of it...or the freedom in it. So drop by to check it out.
While you are there, read about the Jireh Center--a miracle of God, and the lives that are being healed through the ministry there. Find about the lives of women in Thailand that are being restored through God's work in that country. And there's more! Really, take time to read about it and let the power of what God is doing in the lives of these women amaze you. Truly, it is amazing. Take time to let it amaze you.
And while you are at it, venture onto this page. I won't tell you anything more than that. http://www.leahssisters.org/index.cfm/pageid/611/index.html
While you are there, read about the Jireh Center--a miracle of God, and the lives that are being healed through the ministry there. Find about the lives of women in Thailand that are being restored through God's work in that country. And there's more! Really, take time to read about it and let the power of what God is doing in the lives of these women amaze you. Truly, it is amazing. Take time to let it amaze you.
And while you are at it, venture onto this page. I won't tell you anything more than that. http://www.leahssisters.org/index.cfm/pageid/611/index.html
12/06/2006
Simply Feeling Welcome
I'm stuck.
Well, that sounds a bit dramatic, but I don't like the term "writer's block". It isn't so much a block. It's more like a bump. You know, like when you are driving with an open cup of something and you hit a bump and it spills. Well, I hit a bump, and the stuff I was going to write about spilled.
So I thought I would drop in and write about my "writer's bump", tell you what I remember, and maybe let things come to mind. In truth, I write better this way anyway. When I try to write "formal" stuff, it is hard. I don't think I am formal. If my friends are reading this, they are laughing as they mutter, "When did you ever think you are formal?"
Formal is something I look at and admire, but it isn't me. I have a lovely friend who does her whole house up every year at Christmas so Southern Living might show up and take pictures at any time. Truly, it is stunning, and I go, sip coffee, chat, and admire. Then I come home, move a magazine or book I've been reading with the children, pick my laptop up off the floor by the couch where I worked on it that morning or last night, pull the wadded throw over me, and snuggle down. My coffee cup sits on a coaster on the carpet so I can reach it easily, and when Rob comes in to watch TV, I move my legs and let him have part of the couch.
Formal is not something we can be accused of. In fact, one time we had a friend come over for a game night, and he rotated out of a game, so he sat down on our couch to watch TV until his turn. He fell asleep and stayed there until the next morning. We thought that was the best compliment we could get.
I've never wanted a home where people were afraid to come in and relax. I've never wanted people to feel they had to be a certain level to be loved on or find refuge with us. Really, I guess that has always been our goal. We have always wanted our house to be a refuge for anyone in need of a place to hide and hang out. Granted, we have our rules. Colored drinks stay in the kitchen or dining areas. Shoes don't go on the furniture. There are certain behaviors that are not acceptable, and guests have to treat each of our family memebers with respect. Yes, we have rules, but they are reasonable, and if folks follow them, they are welcome in our home.
I think God is like that. I think God wants to open His home to anyone who wants in as well. I believe He wants us to know Him as a place of refuge. I think He wants us to know He is a place of rest. Granted, He has rules too, but they are reasonable, and anyone willing to live by His rules is welcome with Him anytime.
Maybe the desire for everyone to feel comfortable spills over into my writing. If I am honest, and I do try to be, the reality is I've never been good at vocabulary. As much as I admire users of big words, I am not one of them. The "reading level" program on my computer usually ranks my writing somewhere on a 5th or 6th grade level. That doesn't sound too impressive for someone who was halfway finished with her classwork toward a master's in math. Yep, that's me. My brain can work at a high enough level to do Master's level math, but my writing level sits right around a 5th or 6th grade level.
And, I confess my writing ability bugged me for a long time.
I tried to console myself by saying I don't want anyone to feel lost when they read something I write because sometimes God uses my "bumps" to provide something profound, and when that happens, I want it as easy to understand as possible. And really, that is true, but it never struck me that my writing level was a gift until last week.
I have been in contact with a dear pastor in Valsad, India, and he invited me to lead a women's conference. The Lord has not opened the door for that yet, but He did use the situation to teach me that speaking in words that "anyone" can understand is a gift. I like to think anyone in America who reads my blog or website can read over a sixth grade level, but one of the wonderful things about the internet is the global connection. There are those who know English for communication purposes but could not understand it at "higher reading levels". Thankfully, the Lord is more concerned about communication than impressive vocabulary. He doesn't need big words to get His message across, which means everyone can feel comfortable listening, even those with the smallest of vocabularies.
Have you ever considered the first sentence God spoke concerning salvation in Christ? The first sentence was simple, "I love you." For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son.... It doesn't get any easier than that, and it didn't even come in a formal note. Instead, He sent this simple message via a stable. A place anyone could go if they were humble enough offering a message anyone could understand if they listened.
Now, I am not trying to reduce God in any way. In truth, I don't know that any of us can comprehend the true glory of God. That is the very thing that amazes me even more. Such a glorious God communicating in such a simple way for anyone to understand. Strangely, it can be so hard to understand something so simple.
Wishing you the simple life and the ability to understand the depth of it......
Well, that sounds a bit dramatic, but I don't like the term "writer's block". It isn't so much a block. It's more like a bump. You know, like when you are driving with an open cup of something and you hit a bump and it spills. Well, I hit a bump, and the stuff I was going to write about spilled.
So I thought I would drop in and write about my "writer's bump", tell you what I remember, and maybe let things come to mind. In truth, I write better this way anyway. When I try to write "formal" stuff, it is hard. I don't think I am formal. If my friends are reading this, they are laughing as they mutter, "When did you ever think you are formal?"
Formal is something I look at and admire, but it isn't me. I have a lovely friend who does her whole house up every year at Christmas so Southern Living might show up and take pictures at any time. Truly, it is stunning, and I go, sip coffee, chat, and admire. Then I come home, move a magazine or book I've been reading with the children, pick my laptop up off the floor by the couch where I worked on it that morning or last night, pull the wadded throw over me, and snuggle down. My coffee cup sits on a coaster on the carpet so I can reach it easily, and when Rob comes in to watch TV, I move my legs and let him have part of the couch.
Formal is not something we can be accused of. In fact, one time we had a friend come over for a game night, and he rotated out of a game, so he sat down on our couch to watch TV until his turn. He fell asleep and stayed there until the next morning. We thought that was the best compliment we could get.
I've never wanted a home where people were afraid to come in and relax. I've never wanted people to feel they had to be a certain level to be loved on or find refuge with us. Really, I guess that has always been our goal. We have always wanted our house to be a refuge for anyone in need of a place to hide and hang out. Granted, we have our rules. Colored drinks stay in the kitchen or dining areas. Shoes don't go on the furniture. There are certain behaviors that are not acceptable, and guests have to treat each of our family memebers with respect. Yes, we have rules, but they are reasonable, and if folks follow them, they are welcome in our home.
I think God is like that. I think God wants to open His home to anyone who wants in as well. I believe He wants us to know Him as a place of refuge. I think He wants us to know He is a place of rest. Granted, He has rules too, but they are reasonable, and anyone willing to live by His rules is welcome with Him anytime.
Maybe the desire for everyone to feel comfortable spills over into my writing. If I am honest, and I do try to be, the reality is I've never been good at vocabulary. As much as I admire users of big words, I am not one of them. The "reading level" program on my computer usually ranks my writing somewhere on a 5th or 6th grade level. That doesn't sound too impressive for someone who was halfway finished with her classwork toward a master's in math. Yep, that's me. My brain can work at a high enough level to do Master's level math, but my writing level sits right around a 5th or 6th grade level.
And, I confess my writing ability bugged me for a long time.
I tried to console myself by saying I don't want anyone to feel lost when they read something I write because sometimes God uses my "bumps" to provide something profound, and when that happens, I want it as easy to understand as possible. And really, that is true, but it never struck me that my writing level was a gift until last week.
I have been in contact with a dear pastor in Valsad, India, and he invited me to lead a women's conference. The Lord has not opened the door for that yet, but He did use the situation to teach me that speaking in words that "anyone" can understand is a gift. I like to think anyone in America who reads my blog or website can read over a sixth grade level, but one of the wonderful things about the internet is the global connection. There are those who know English for communication purposes but could not understand it at "higher reading levels". Thankfully, the Lord is more concerned about communication than impressive vocabulary. He doesn't need big words to get His message across, which means everyone can feel comfortable listening, even those with the smallest of vocabularies.
Have you ever considered the first sentence God spoke concerning salvation in Christ? The first sentence was simple, "I love you." For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son.... It doesn't get any easier than that, and it didn't even come in a formal note. Instead, He sent this simple message via a stable. A place anyone could go if they were humble enough offering a message anyone could understand if they listened.
Now, I am not trying to reduce God in any way. In truth, I don't know that any of us can comprehend the true glory of God. That is the very thing that amazes me even more. Such a glorious God communicating in such a simple way for anyone to understand. Strangely, it can be so hard to understand something so simple.
Wishing you the simple life and the ability to understand the depth of it......
12/03/2006
What do you expect when you worship?
Our pastor is doing a wonderful series on worship. I strongly suggest you drop by our church website and listen. The sermon for this weekend is excellent and can really alter your focus and expectations of worship. I also strongly suggest the other sermons as well. Check it out at www.gatewaypeople.com
12/01/2006
Why so Hard?
I cannot count the number of times I've heard myself ask the question, "Why do things have to be so hard?" I've heard it from my daughter's mouth when she was trying to master multiplication and division. I've heard it from my husband's mouth during home renovation projects. I've heard it from my son when he was working on getting his ankles together for diving. AND, I've heard it from numerous peopel outside my family, too. I've always sort of shrugged and said, "That's the way life works." However, today, I got the revelation of why things are really so hard.
On Monday I was going to do art with the children, and I was looking for my favorite art book. I couldn't find it. Tuesday found me pulling all the books off the shelves in the sunroom where we do school when weather permits. Wednesday I searched through my stash of books in the garage along with a pile of educaitonal posters I had dumped out there. Yesterday I cleaned the study, checked both children's rooms, and went through the book case in the living room book by book. I couldn't find it. In the meantime, I started looking for another book, and it, too, seems to have vanished into air.
Finally, today, I decided I would just buy another art book. It wasn't hugely expensive, and it was my favorite art book. A bookstore near me is having a sale tomorrow, and I would be there anyway. I'd just pick up another copy then. As for the other book, it wasn't a big deal, and I could probably find the information I needed elsewhere. It would have just been convenient.
As I took one last look around the sunroom and tried to remember the last place I saw the book, I remembered seeing the book was when we had painted as a family. We had used new paint techniques to make some very neat paintings of the ocean. Suddenly, I began to feel that small sense of "Oh no!". It occurred to me that in all my looking, I had not found those pictures either. These were not ordinary pictures. The children had done fantastic work, and I loved those pictures. They were irreplaceable.
At that moment, my motivation shifted from being a bit inconvenienced to an urgency of purpose. I had to find the pictures. Quickly, I reviewed all the places where I had already made a meticulous search. Then I shifted focus to the places where I had "looked" but not searched. We had recycled so much and given away so much in the last few weeks...."Dear God, please let me find those pictures," I said as I walked into the garage and flipped on the light. As I looked around, I saw the only place that had gotten merely a "once over"--the pile of posters. Immediately, I got on my knees and started to carefully pull posters off the top of the pile.
About halfway through, I found a bunch of smaller papers, and as I pulled out the small pile, the missing art book slid out and tumbled to the floor. "Thank you for the book. Please let me find those pictures." The book that had been the source of such frustration all week meant nothing now. My heart was on the pictures. As I moved a pile of sorted papers that had been turned sideways, I caught a glimpse of the ocean blue for which I was looking. After moving two more sorted piles, there were the irreplaceable pictures. A wave of relief and gratitude swept over me. "Oh, God," I said as I sat back on my legs, "Thank you."
As I walked into the kitchen, the children saw the book in my hand and were excited that we would be able to do some more art projects. "Mom, where did you find it?" my daughter asked.
I smiled, "With something I couldn't replace."
It was then that the Lord spoke to my heart and said, "Jerri, sometimes I have to push you to the point where you cannot afford to lose because finding me isn't convenient. I have to push you to the point where you are desparate for you to find what you really need or even what you are looking for. I have to push you beyond you for you to search hard enough to find me."
May things be hard enough to push us beyond convenience to desperately searching for Him....
On Monday I was going to do art with the children, and I was looking for my favorite art book. I couldn't find it. Tuesday found me pulling all the books off the shelves in the sunroom where we do school when weather permits. Wednesday I searched through my stash of books in the garage along with a pile of educaitonal posters I had dumped out there. Yesterday I cleaned the study, checked both children's rooms, and went through the book case in the living room book by book. I couldn't find it. In the meantime, I started looking for another book, and it, too, seems to have vanished into air.
Finally, today, I decided I would just buy another art book. It wasn't hugely expensive, and it was my favorite art book. A bookstore near me is having a sale tomorrow, and I would be there anyway. I'd just pick up another copy then. As for the other book, it wasn't a big deal, and I could probably find the information I needed elsewhere. It would have just been convenient.
As I took one last look around the sunroom and tried to remember the last place I saw the book, I remembered seeing the book was when we had painted as a family. We had used new paint techniques to make some very neat paintings of the ocean. Suddenly, I began to feel that small sense of "Oh no!". It occurred to me that in all my looking, I had not found those pictures either. These were not ordinary pictures. The children had done fantastic work, and I loved those pictures. They were irreplaceable.
At that moment, my motivation shifted from being a bit inconvenienced to an urgency of purpose. I had to find the pictures. Quickly, I reviewed all the places where I had already made a meticulous search. Then I shifted focus to the places where I had "looked" but not searched. We had recycled so much and given away so much in the last few weeks...."Dear God, please let me find those pictures," I said as I walked into the garage and flipped on the light. As I looked around, I saw the only place that had gotten merely a "once over"--the pile of posters. Immediately, I got on my knees and started to carefully pull posters off the top of the pile.
About halfway through, I found a bunch of smaller papers, and as I pulled out the small pile, the missing art book slid out and tumbled to the floor. "Thank you for the book. Please let me find those pictures." The book that had been the source of such frustration all week meant nothing now. My heart was on the pictures. As I moved a pile of sorted papers that had been turned sideways, I caught a glimpse of the ocean blue for which I was looking. After moving two more sorted piles, there were the irreplaceable pictures. A wave of relief and gratitude swept over me. "Oh, God," I said as I sat back on my legs, "Thank you."
As I walked into the kitchen, the children saw the book in my hand and were excited that we would be able to do some more art projects. "Mom, where did you find it?" my daughter asked.
I smiled, "With something I couldn't replace."
It was then that the Lord spoke to my heart and said, "Jerri, sometimes I have to push you to the point where you cannot afford to lose because finding me isn't convenient. I have to push you to the point where you are desparate for you to find what you really need or even what you are looking for. I have to push you beyond you for you to search hard enough to find me."
May things be hard enough to push us beyond convenience to desperately searching for Him....
11/25/2006
Thanks Giving
How do two weeks go by without my writing?!
This week was Thanksgiving in America. We had a lovely day with my mom, stepdad, and brother. We ate, played games, talked, and laughed. Truly, it was something for which to be thankful.
The Bible gives a simple directive: give thanks in all things. Now, I believe if God says we should do that, then it is truly possible to do that, and indeed, we should do that. However, I think we have a hard time with that directive because of a warped idea of God's character. Often I have heard people give indication that they believe the sentence says, "Give thanks FOR all things," and that is not what we are being asked to do. Why the extreme difference in meaning? As I said, I believe it has to do with God's character and the misinformation we believe because we simply do not know Him as we should.
For instance, Jesus was known for giving thanks. He thanked the Father for bread, for the believers, for the believers to come, for the Father's protection over them, for the Father's gifts of good things to Him and others. He thanked the Father for His goodness and provision. He recognized the Father's character as being that of a loving, kind, and generous Father. When the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, Jesus said:
Our Father who art in Heaven, holy be your name.
Your kingdom come; your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil,
For yours is the power and the glory and the honor forever. Amen.
Look at what Jesus tells us about the Father's character.
1. The Father is holy.
2. The kingdom of God is accessible, and the Father wants us to access Him. He wants to be active on earth just as He is in Heaven.
3. He provides our daily bread.
4. He forgives us and expects us to share the bounty.
5. He delivers us from evil rather than making it so we sin and fall.
6. He is powerful, and His power makes all of the good things in our lives possible.
7. All glory belongs to the Father.
8. He is to be honored.
This is what Jesus says about the Father. Jesus says something two other things about the Father at different places. Jesus says He can only do what He sees the Father do, and He can only say what He hears the Father say. Do you get that? Jesus' purpose on this earth is to emulate the Father, to represent Him perfectly, so we can assume that Jesus' character will be an exact replica of the Father's character. And everyone I know will profess that Jesus is good. He did good things. He helped people. He fed people. He loved people. He was kind. He was generous. He made time for people. He had close friends that He took into His confidence. He treated women with kindness, respect, and value. He met people's needs. Yes, I am aware that I am stating what appears to be the obvious, but if it is so obvious then why do we miss it when it comes to the Father? How, if Jesus is the replica of the Father on earth, can we call Jesus good and yet accuse the Father of questionable character, which leads us to believe we should be thankful for all things?
A concrete example: I knew a lady who loved God deeply. Truly, her heart was devoted to Him. One night a horrible thing happened, and she was raped. As we talked, she told me that she did not feel it appropriate to file charges against the man who raped her, although she knew him. She felt it was wrong to put someone in prison for doing God's will. Obviously God had determined that she needed to be raped in order to humble her for her pride in the fact that she had been a virgin when she was married and her husband was the only man she had known sexually.
I did not know whether to cry, faint, or vomit. My heart was crushed for this poor woman who believed that her Father, a Father who gave His Son for her, would decide she needed to be the victim of a violent crime for any reason. I can only imagine how much it hurt the Father to know that any of His children remotely imagined He could do anything so vindictive and cruel to them.
Yes, Jesus corrected people. Yes, He drove peopel from the Temple because they were making a farce of the Father's holy place. But when was Jesus cruel? When did Jesus torment people in order to reach their hearts? When did Jesus do harm as an act of love? If Jesus is the perfect example of the Father, why would we believe the Father was capable of such acts when we would never expect such thoughts to even enter Jesus' mind? How can someone suggest that the Father is pro-rape when Jesus honored the prostitute who washed His feet with her tears?
The Bible tells us the enemy goes around like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. He seeks to steal, kill, and destroy. He is the father of lies. In contrast, we are told the Father so loved the world that He gave His only Son so whoever believes in Him would not die but have everlasting life. The enemy takes, destroys, and rejects. The Father loves, gives, and accepts. The distinction is clear, and yet, we get them confused. How can such obvious opposites be confusing?
I think it is so unfathomable that the Father could love us to greatly when we are so undeserving that it is easier for our minds to believe the enemy's lies about our being unforgivable and God being unforgiving. You know that is what defines unforgivable, right? A person is only unforgivable when someone else determines to be unforgiving. The Father's love and forgiveness defies our logic. It is unbelievable. In fact, for God to determine to love and forgive us no matter what might be the most miraculous act He has ever performed, and sometimes, it is hard to believe in miracles, especially when you know you don't deserve them.
I have good news, though. Jesus never asked anyone to give Him their credentials to prove they deserved anything. He simply said, "Come unto me all you weak and heavy laiden, and I will give." The requirements to receive are so simple:
1. Come
2. Be in need
3. Receive
If those are all the requirements Jesus set forth, those are all the Father sets forth as well. If you are in need, come, and the Father will love, give, and accept. And when you feel like you don't deserve it, you're right, but this isn't about what you deserve. It's about God's character, and despite what your humanity or the enemy tells you, God's heart is to give love and forgiveness always. It's just the kind of character He is.
When we accept that and embrace it as truth regardless of circumstance, we can give thanks in all things, and we also realize we don't have to give thanks FOR all things. When Jesus in the garden, we do not find Him praying, "Father, thank you for using me to save this world. Thank you for the suffering I am about to endure. Thank you for finding me mature enough to handle it. Thank you for entrusting such a burden to me because it is an honor, and I know it." Jesus never said any such thing. Jesus said, "If it is possible, let this cup pass from me, but if it isn't possible, I will still fulfill my purpose." Jesus wasn't thanking the Father for the rough stuff. The Father didn't put Jesus on the cross to build character or because Jesus had thought too highly of Himself. The Father put Jesus on the cross because sin was in the world and it had to be defeated. The Father used the nature of the enemy, which is to kill, to defeat the enemy through the death of Jesus. The Father used the enemy's nature to kill in order to bring life to mankind. The nature of the Father is to redeem, to use a situation for the purpose of giving life instead of death. The Father never purposed for my friend to be raped, but He can use the enemy's purpose to destroy to heal others who need hope that they can be restored.
We have friends who lost a baby only a few days after he was born. The enemy killed that baby, not the Father. However, the Father has used the murderous nature of the enemy to offer hope to other grieving parents when our friends tell them how the Lord has brought life back after such a tragic loss.
The reality is sin is in the world. The enemy's nature can be seen all around us. Unfortunately, it can be seen in us. That is not the will of the Father, and we are never told to thank the Father FOR the actions of the enemy. We are told to thank the Father even when the nature of the enemy is revealed and manifested. We thank the Father for HIS character. We thank Him for ways HIS character is manifested.
And when is that? When He prompts someone to send us a note telling us they are thinking about us. When He moves us to go to the store that has groceries on sale when money is short. When life hurts but we are able to find hope in the truth that He heals. When we are in need-emotional, spiritual, physical, or financial-and He provides the answer or even a reprieve.
The Bible tells us that all good things come from the Father. Sometimes He sends them through others. Sometimes He just drops them on us Himself. For all those things, we should be thankful.
We live in a world where the enemy of our soul wants to destroy us, and we can see the manifestation of his character all around. We are not to embrace it or be grateful for the actions it causes, but rather, we are called to wage war against it according to Ephesians 5. As we watch the war rage around us, it is imperative to thanks for the character of a King who empowers us with hope so that we can withstand all things as they may be.
May we always refuse the lies of the enemy by remembering the undeniable character of the Father, and in so doing, may we boldly give thanks in all things.
Copyright Jerri Phillips @ 2006
This week was Thanksgiving in America. We had a lovely day with my mom, stepdad, and brother. We ate, played games, talked, and laughed. Truly, it was something for which to be thankful.
The Bible gives a simple directive: give thanks in all things. Now, I believe if God says we should do that, then it is truly possible to do that, and indeed, we should do that. However, I think we have a hard time with that directive because of a warped idea of God's character. Often I have heard people give indication that they believe the sentence says, "Give thanks FOR all things," and that is not what we are being asked to do. Why the extreme difference in meaning? As I said, I believe it has to do with God's character and the misinformation we believe because we simply do not know Him as we should.
For instance, Jesus was known for giving thanks. He thanked the Father for bread, for the believers, for the believers to come, for the Father's protection over them, for the Father's gifts of good things to Him and others. He thanked the Father for His goodness and provision. He recognized the Father's character as being that of a loving, kind, and generous Father. When the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, Jesus said:
Our Father who art in Heaven, holy be your name.
Your kingdom come; your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil,
For yours is the power and the glory and the honor forever. Amen.
Look at what Jesus tells us about the Father's character.
1. The Father is holy.
2. The kingdom of God is accessible, and the Father wants us to access Him. He wants to be active on earth just as He is in Heaven.
3. He provides our daily bread.
4. He forgives us and expects us to share the bounty.
5. He delivers us from evil rather than making it so we sin and fall.
6. He is powerful, and His power makes all of the good things in our lives possible.
7. All glory belongs to the Father.
8. He is to be honored.
This is what Jesus says about the Father. Jesus says something two other things about the Father at different places. Jesus says He can only do what He sees the Father do, and He can only say what He hears the Father say. Do you get that? Jesus' purpose on this earth is to emulate the Father, to represent Him perfectly, so we can assume that Jesus' character will be an exact replica of the Father's character. And everyone I know will profess that Jesus is good. He did good things. He helped people. He fed people. He loved people. He was kind. He was generous. He made time for people. He had close friends that He took into His confidence. He treated women with kindness, respect, and value. He met people's needs. Yes, I am aware that I am stating what appears to be the obvious, but if it is so obvious then why do we miss it when it comes to the Father? How, if Jesus is the replica of the Father on earth, can we call Jesus good and yet accuse the Father of questionable character, which leads us to believe we should be thankful for all things?
A concrete example: I knew a lady who loved God deeply. Truly, her heart was devoted to Him. One night a horrible thing happened, and she was raped. As we talked, she told me that she did not feel it appropriate to file charges against the man who raped her, although she knew him. She felt it was wrong to put someone in prison for doing God's will. Obviously God had determined that she needed to be raped in order to humble her for her pride in the fact that she had been a virgin when she was married and her husband was the only man she had known sexually.
I did not know whether to cry, faint, or vomit. My heart was crushed for this poor woman who believed that her Father, a Father who gave His Son for her, would decide she needed to be the victim of a violent crime for any reason. I can only imagine how much it hurt the Father to know that any of His children remotely imagined He could do anything so vindictive and cruel to them.
Yes, Jesus corrected people. Yes, He drove peopel from the Temple because they were making a farce of the Father's holy place. But when was Jesus cruel? When did Jesus torment people in order to reach their hearts? When did Jesus do harm as an act of love? If Jesus is the perfect example of the Father, why would we believe the Father was capable of such acts when we would never expect such thoughts to even enter Jesus' mind? How can someone suggest that the Father is pro-rape when Jesus honored the prostitute who washed His feet with her tears?
The Bible tells us the enemy goes around like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. He seeks to steal, kill, and destroy. He is the father of lies. In contrast, we are told the Father so loved the world that He gave His only Son so whoever believes in Him would not die but have everlasting life. The enemy takes, destroys, and rejects. The Father loves, gives, and accepts. The distinction is clear, and yet, we get them confused. How can such obvious opposites be confusing?
I think it is so unfathomable that the Father could love us to greatly when we are so undeserving that it is easier for our minds to believe the enemy's lies about our being unforgivable and God being unforgiving. You know that is what defines unforgivable, right? A person is only unforgivable when someone else determines to be unforgiving. The Father's love and forgiveness defies our logic. It is unbelievable. In fact, for God to determine to love and forgive us no matter what might be the most miraculous act He has ever performed, and sometimes, it is hard to believe in miracles, especially when you know you don't deserve them.
I have good news, though. Jesus never asked anyone to give Him their credentials to prove they deserved anything. He simply said, "Come unto me all you weak and heavy laiden, and I will give." The requirements to receive are so simple:
1. Come
2. Be in need
3. Receive
If those are all the requirements Jesus set forth, those are all the Father sets forth as well. If you are in need, come, and the Father will love, give, and accept. And when you feel like you don't deserve it, you're right, but this isn't about what you deserve. It's about God's character, and despite what your humanity or the enemy tells you, God's heart is to give love and forgiveness always. It's just the kind of character He is.
When we accept that and embrace it as truth regardless of circumstance, we can give thanks in all things, and we also realize we don't have to give thanks FOR all things. When Jesus in the garden, we do not find Him praying, "Father, thank you for using me to save this world. Thank you for the suffering I am about to endure. Thank you for finding me mature enough to handle it. Thank you for entrusting such a burden to me because it is an honor, and I know it." Jesus never said any such thing. Jesus said, "If it is possible, let this cup pass from me, but if it isn't possible, I will still fulfill my purpose." Jesus wasn't thanking the Father for the rough stuff. The Father didn't put Jesus on the cross to build character or because Jesus had thought too highly of Himself. The Father put Jesus on the cross because sin was in the world and it had to be defeated. The Father used the nature of the enemy, which is to kill, to defeat the enemy through the death of Jesus. The Father used the enemy's nature to kill in order to bring life to mankind. The nature of the Father is to redeem, to use a situation for the purpose of giving life instead of death. The Father never purposed for my friend to be raped, but He can use the enemy's purpose to destroy to heal others who need hope that they can be restored.
We have friends who lost a baby only a few days after he was born. The enemy killed that baby, not the Father. However, the Father has used the murderous nature of the enemy to offer hope to other grieving parents when our friends tell them how the Lord has brought life back after such a tragic loss.
The reality is sin is in the world. The enemy's nature can be seen all around us. Unfortunately, it can be seen in us. That is not the will of the Father, and we are never told to thank the Father FOR the actions of the enemy. We are told to thank the Father even when the nature of the enemy is revealed and manifested. We thank the Father for HIS character. We thank Him for ways HIS character is manifested.
And when is that? When He prompts someone to send us a note telling us they are thinking about us. When He moves us to go to the store that has groceries on sale when money is short. When life hurts but we are able to find hope in the truth that He heals. When we are in need-emotional, spiritual, physical, or financial-and He provides the answer or even a reprieve.
The Bible tells us that all good things come from the Father. Sometimes He sends them through others. Sometimes He just drops them on us Himself. For all those things, we should be thankful.
We live in a world where the enemy of our soul wants to destroy us, and we can see the manifestation of his character all around. We are not to embrace it or be grateful for the actions it causes, but rather, we are called to wage war against it according to Ephesians 5. As we watch the war rage around us, it is imperative to thanks for the character of a King who empowers us with hope so that we can withstand all things as they may be.
May we always refuse the lies of the enemy by remembering the undeniable character of the Father, and in so doing, may we boldly give thanks in all things.
Copyright Jerri Phillips @ 2006
11/12/2006
Nuggets Along the Path
Periodically, I wander back through previous posts to see what was on my mind on a given day. Okay, that is only a partial truth. I do read through previous posts, but usually it is because I recall the Holy Spirit dispensing a nugget-or boulder-of wisdom, and I want to go back and check it. Sometimes I read my blog entries again to see what nuggets of wisdom I have forgotten and need to receive again. I do the same thing with my journal.
While I am rather hit-and-miss with my blog, although I desire to be consistent, my journal covers almost everything important in my life, even some things that seem rather frivolous, but one never knows where the nuggets lie. The Bible says that the Lord works ALL things for the good of those who love Him and are called for His purpose. ALL includes the "frivolous" parts of life, too, so we can assume there are nuggets to be found in those weird and unusual events and circumstances. Since I am not one who can afford to miss nuggets in any form, I write down even the weird and unusual, and you might be amazed what I find there. (You can find some of it at www.jerrismunchies.com)
You might be wondering how much I actually write down. Well, I don't waste time buying small journals because during "intense" times, I can honestly fill them up in a week. I bought one 100-page journal that only made it through 10 days, and the 10th day was continued to another journal. I can write. Ask people who get "real" emails from me.
Your next question might be why I spend the time and energy to keep a journal. This question came up when a friend of mine was in the midst of a very painful divorce. She was seeing a counselor, which I think can be very helpful, and I told her to journal. She asked why since she was seeing a counselor. I said, "Because it keeps things clear. It is a written history, and you need to write down the wisdom and insights you learn BECAUSE time makes our brains fuzzy, and emotions twist the facts. It shows you where you've come from, and sometimes that is what keeps you going. And, it records the steps you made in dealing with the mountain before you, and don't kid yourself. You'll see this mountain again. Next time around the healing will be deeper, the emotions will be just as raw, and the timing will catch you off guard. You may feel as overwhelmed then as you do now. Your journal will help you keep your bearings and your senses. Your journal is your map of what worked and what didn't. The Lord will further purify you of what didn't work, and He'll perfect what did, so the next time you see this mountain, and you will see it again and again, you will not waste your time figuring out how to get out of the valley. You'll immediately start thinking at higher levels, and your map will be there to move you faster and more smoothly. Your journal is a pioneers' map that reminds you of territorial hazards, means of sustenance, and places of rest. Trust me. Write a journal."
I know we all want to believe once we've climbed a mountain we are done, but the truth is, we are not dealing with a mountain standing in the midst of life all by itself. On the contrary, life is nothing less than a vast mountain range requiring skill and wisdom if we ever want to get out of the valley. Journals are the maps of where we've been that help us more easily get to where we are going. Sometimes they offer wisdom. Sometimes they offer warning. Sometimes they offer a good laugh when we desperately need one. They are the records of mountains climbed and mole hills tripped over. They are the directions for how to navigate what lies ahead by learning how we succeeded and floundered in the past.
Want to learn how to climb the next mountain easier and more gracefully? Journal about the one you are on right now. Write about the huge avalanches, the large boulders that offered a safe place to sit and rest, and the stones you stubbed your toe on. You never know where a good nugget of wisdom will show up, and a journal is a good place to keep them so you can find them again when you need them.
While I am rather hit-and-miss with my blog, although I desire to be consistent, my journal covers almost everything important in my life, even some things that seem rather frivolous, but one never knows where the nuggets lie. The Bible says that the Lord works ALL things for the good of those who love Him and are called for His purpose. ALL includes the "frivolous" parts of life, too, so we can assume there are nuggets to be found in those weird and unusual events and circumstances. Since I am not one who can afford to miss nuggets in any form, I write down even the weird and unusual, and you might be amazed what I find there. (You can find some of it at www.jerrismunchies.com)
You might be wondering how much I actually write down. Well, I don't waste time buying small journals because during "intense" times, I can honestly fill them up in a week. I bought one 100-page journal that only made it through 10 days, and the 10th day was continued to another journal. I can write. Ask people who get "real" emails from me.
Your next question might be why I spend the time and energy to keep a journal. This question came up when a friend of mine was in the midst of a very painful divorce. She was seeing a counselor, which I think can be very helpful, and I told her to journal. She asked why since she was seeing a counselor. I said, "Because it keeps things clear. It is a written history, and you need to write down the wisdom and insights you learn BECAUSE time makes our brains fuzzy, and emotions twist the facts. It shows you where you've come from, and sometimes that is what keeps you going. And, it records the steps you made in dealing with the mountain before you, and don't kid yourself. You'll see this mountain again. Next time around the healing will be deeper, the emotions will be just as raw, and the timing will catch you off guard. You may feel as overwhelmed then as you do now. Your journal will help you keep your bearings and your senses. Your journal is your map of what worked and what didn't. The Lord will further purify you of what didn't work, and He'll perfect what did, so the next time you see this mountain, and you will see it again and again, you will not waste your time figuring out how to get out of the valley. You'll immediately start thinking at higher levels, and your map will be there to move you faster and more smoothly. Your journal is a pioneers' map that reminds you of territorial hazards, means of sustenance, and places of rest. Trust me. Write a journal."
I know we all want to believe once we've climbed a mountain we are done, but the truth is, we are not dealing with a mountain standing in the midst of life all by itself. On the contrary, life is nothing less than a vast mountain range requiring skill and wisdom if we ever want to get out of the valley. Journals are the maps of where we've been that help us more easily get to where we are going. Sometimes they offer wisdom. Sometimes they offer warning. Sometimes they offer a good laugh when we desperately need one. They are the records of mountains climbed and mole hills tripped over. They are the directions for how to navigate what lies ahead by learning how we succeeded and floundered in the past.
Want to learn how to climb the next mountain easier and more gracefully? Journal about the one you are on right now. Write about the huge avalanches, the large boulders that offered a safe place to sit and rest, and the stones you stubbed your toe on. You never know where a good nugget of wisdom will show up, and a journal is a good place to keep them so you can find them again when you need them.
11/03/2006
The PerLfect Day
Today was, in my opinion, a perfect day. Let me tell you about my day.
I woke up with my little boy snuggled up on his daddy's side of the bed because his daddy and sister had left at 3:30 (yes, 3:30) this morning to do a daddy/daughter thing. I lay there and watched him sleep a little while. Then I closed my eyes and slipped back to sleep for a bit myself.
When I woke up, I found an exciting email from a friend of mine telling me that she is one step further on the journey called "publishing a book". You will hear more about this later because you'll want a copy of her book when it is ready to for public consumption.
Not long after that, my cutey boy wandered into the study where I was and chatted with me some. I love those morning chats. They are precious time with both my children. This morning our chat centered around the plans for the day. Because of Rob taking Anna on their special event, I decided today would be Robert's special day to do as he wanted, and he wanted to do some fun things, starting with a trip to Starbuck's.
Starbuck's happens to be our favorite date. Rob and Anna don't care for coffee, but Robert and I are coffee fans, so every other weekend we head to Starbuck's on a mommy/son date while Rob and Anna do a daddy/daughter date at McDonald's. Again, precious time. It is one of my very favorite things in the world, and Robert's too, so today, that is where we went.
We each got our faovorite drinks and decided to try experiment with new patries for breakfast. As we chatted, we swapped pastry samples and agreed we had done well with our choices. So we talked and enjoyed each other, AND we even had the cushy chairs. I'm telling you. Dates don't get much better than that.
Once we were done with our food and all the whipped creme was gone from Robert's drink, we headed to the early voting place. I figured it would be a five minute jaunt since it was last time, but evidently several people thought it would be a five minute jaunt, which meant--it wasn't. We were there for over thirty minutes, and I chatted while Robert spun in circles, investigated palm trees, and just relaxed.
By the time we got home, Rob and Anna were there, too, and Rob was getting ready to head off to work. I honestly figured Anna would just go to sleep after being up so early, but no. Instead, she played with clay with us for over an hour, and when we were done with that, we painted. By the time craft time was done, it was well past 1:00, so I deemed it lunch time.
While I worked on lunch, my dear friend Iona called. We discussed paths the Lord has us on right now, what to do about Jerri's Munchies, and whether my "Munchies" would work as a book. It was a good chat. Talks with Iona always are. She is by far one of the most upbeat people I know, and she can take any conversation and make it about God and His goodness. She is absolutely in love with the Lord, and it shows, and listening to her talk about her Beloved always blesses my day.
After lunch, we curled up in The Big Bed to read, and in the middle of the chapter, Rob came home due to being too sleep to work. While he and Anna napped, Robert and I curled up in front of the TV and watched some of Robert's favorite shows.
For supper, we had gumbo, and since it is a bit chilly here now, I thought it would be nice to enjoy the fire pit outside, so while the gumbo heated up, I made a fire, and we all enjoyed dinner hanging out by the fire. Then we made s'mores and munched them while the fire started to die down.
While I did some pick up, Rob and the kids played soccer in the dark. There is no way to describe the chaos of soccer in the dark, but let me suggest if you try it, have the players wear white shirts so you can at least see each other before the thudding body contact occurs.
After that, we all found our way in. I took a shower to get rid of the smokey smell. Anna curled up to watch a cooking show. Robert played Legos, and Rob rinsed dishes.
When I am done with this, we'll play a card game and then get the kids ready for bed, which means camping out in the living room floor tonight--them, not us.
As the day slows down and I look back, I see a whole pile of good stuff. I had great time with people I love. I could rejoice with dear friends over good things going on in their lives. I took responsibility for what influences my family and our lives (such as electing civic leaders). We had food we enjoy. We got to be silly with some games. We got to exercise our freedom to vote and be creative. We could enjoy the cool weather by the fire and then come in to a warm house. We got to cuddle in a snuggly, soft bed, and we could all read. I enjoyed my husband and children, and they enjoyed me. Oh, and the hot shower that got rid of the smokey smell was a delight.
Yep, when I can look back over a day and come up with an inventory like that, there is only one way to summarize it. It is a perfect day. Thankfully, God has given me the wisdom to realize it.
Hoping you are blessed with perfect days and the wisdom to know them when they come......
I woke up with my little boy snuggled up on his daddy's side of the bed because his daddy and sister had left at 3:30 (yes, 3:30) this morning to do a daddy/daughter thing. I lay there and watched him sleep a little while. Then I closed my eyes and slipped back to sleep for a bit myself.
When I woke up, I found an exciting email from a friend of mine telling me that she is one step further on the journey called "publishing a book". You will hear more about this later because you'll want a copy of her book when it is ready to for public consumption.
Not long after that, my cutey boy wandered into the study where I was and chatted with me some. I love those morning chats. They are precious time with both my children. This morning our chat centered around the plans for the day. Because of Rob taking Anna on their special event, I decided today would be Robert's special day to do as he wanted, and he wanted to do some fun things, starting with a trip to Starbuck's.
Starbuck's happens to be our favorite date. Rob and Anna don't care for coffee, but Robert and I are coffee fans, so every other weekend we head to Starbuck's on a mommy/son date while Rob and Anna do a daddy/daughter date at McDonald's. Again, precious time. It is one of my very favorite things in the world, and Robert's too, so today, that is where we went.
We each got our faovorite drinks and decided to try experiment with new patries for breakfast. As we chatted, we swapped pastry samples and agreed we had done well with our choices. So we talked and enjoyed each other, AND we even had the cushy chairs. I'm telling you. Dates don't get much better than that.
Once we were done with our food and all the whipped creme was gone from Robert's drink, we headed to the early voting place. I figured it would be a five minute jaunt since it was last time, but evidently several people thought it would be a five minute jaunt, which meant--it wasn't. We were there for over thirty minutes, and I chatted while Robert spun in circles, investigated palm trees, and just relaxed.
By the time we got home, Rob and Anna were there, too, and Rob was getting ready to head off to work. I honestly figured Anna would just go to sleep after being up so early, but no. Instead, she played with clay with us for over an hour, and when we were done with that, we painted. By the time craft time was done, it was well past 1:00, so I deemed it lunch time.
While I worked on lunch, my dear friend Iona called. We discussed paths the Lord has us on right now, what to do about Jerri's Munchies, and whether my "Munchies" would work as a book. It was a good chat. Talks with Iona always are. She is by far one of the most upbeat people I know, and she can take any conversation and make it about God and His goodness. She is absolutely in love with the Lord, and it shows, and listening to her talk about her Beloved always blesses my day.
After lunch, we curled up in The Big Bed to read, and in the middle of the chapter, Rob came home due to being too sleep to work. While he and Anna napped, Robert and I curled up in front of the TV and watched some of Robert's favorite shows.
For supper, we had gumbo, and since it is a bit chilly here now, I thought it would be nice to enjoy the fire pit outside, so while the gumbo heated up, I made a fire, and we all enjoyed dinner hanging out by the fire. Then we made s'mores and munched them while the fire started to die down.
While I did some pick up, Rob and the kids played soccer in the dark. There is no way to describe the chaos of soccer in the dark, but let me suggest if you try it, have the players wear white shirts so you can at least see each other before the thudding body contact occurs.
After that, we all found our way in. I took a shower to get rid of the smokey smell. Anna curled up to watch a cooking show. Robert played Legos, and Rob rinsed dishes.
When I am done with this, we'll play a card game and then get the kids ready for bed, which means camping out in the living room floor tonight--them, not us.
As the day slows down and I look back, I see a whole pile of good stuff. I had great time with people I love. I could rejoice with dear friends over good things going on in their lives. I took responsibility for what influences my family and our lives (such as electing civic leaders). We had food we enjoy. We got to be silly with some games. We got to exercise our freedom to vote and be creative. We could enjoy the cool weather by the fire and then come in to a warm house. We got to cuddle in a snuggly, soft bed, and we could all read. I enjoyed my husband and children, and they enjoyed me. Oh, and the hot shower that got rid of the smokey smell was a delight.
Yep, when I can look back over a day and come up with an inventory like that, there is only one way to summarize it. It is a perfect day. Thankfully, God has given me the wisdom to realize it.
Hoping you are blessed with perfect days and the wisdom to know them when they come......
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