Today is “Ash Wednesday”. In Oklahoma, Ash Wednesday can come and go without anyone even realizing it. Oklahoma lies in a “Bible Belt” but we are NOT predominantly Catholic. Do large populations of Catholics call themselves a “Bible Belt”? I refer to Catholics because prior to returning to Oklahoma, I lived in New Mexico, where the majority of churches and church attendees are Catholic and adhere strictly to the Catholic faith, traditions, and rituals.
I managed a staff of support personnel in a medical clinic and Ash Wednesday was one of the most popular days to request leave, second only to “Good Friday” which is observed locally by a pilgrimage to a “holy” land north of Albuquerque, called “Chimayo”. People would walk 10, 20, even 100 or more miles to reach Chimayo by Easter Sunday in repentance and seeking healing.
Here is an excerpt from a news article covering this tradition:
The destination of the pilgrims, El Santuario de Chimayo, is believed to hold the power to heal mind and body. A pilgrim from Las Cruces, New Mexico years ago left a note in the shrine advising: "If you are a stranger, if you are weary from the struggles in life, whether you have a handicap, whether you have a broken heart, Follow the long mountain road, Find a home in Chimayo..." The shrine is a time capsule for nearly two centuries of reverent pilgrims' notes and prayers, homemade crosses, votive candles and crutches left behind. http://www.houstonculture.org/hispanic/chimayo.html
I drove to Chimayo once, because frankly, they have incredible red Chile. I went into the little chapel (it is tiny and has a low, low ceiling). I could feel a sense of history and the need to quiet myself out of respect for those who traveled before me to this place. A part of me was saddened by the thought that these people were searching for healing that Jesus Christ can only provide. The people take the dirt from Chimayo and use it in prayer vigils and to offer to the sick and dying that couldn’t make the trip. I still keep some of this dirt as a reminder. The site never seems to deplete as you would expect. The cynic in me thinks they just add any old “dirt” to the clay floors, but there is definitely something “holy” about this place.
That was just a short ‘plug’ for a very interesting and worthwhile trip for those of you vacationing through New Mexico this year.
Throughout the Old Testament there are examples of the use of ashes (and sackcloth) as an act of repentance to God and Jesus refers to this in the New Testament as well…I decided to “research” information about Ash Wednesday and its potential significance to me as a Christian.
From this source: http://www.americancatholic.org/Newsletters/CU/ac0204.asp
Despite all these references in Scripture, the use of ashes in the Church left only a few records in the first millennium of Church history. Thomas Talley, an expert on the history of the liturgical year, says that the first clearly datable liturgy for Ash Wednesday that provides for sprinkling ashes is in the Romano-Germanic pontifical of 960. Before that time, ashes had been used as a sign of admission to the Order of Penitents. As early as the sixth century, the Spanish Omarabad rite calls for signing the forehead with ashes when admitting a gravely ill person to the Order of Penitents. At the beginning of the 11th century, Abbot Aelfric notes that it was customary for all the faithful to take part in a ceremony on the Wednesday before Lent that included the imposition of ashes. Near the end of that century, Pope Urban II called for the general use of ashes on that day. Only later did this day come to be called Ash Wednesday.
At first, clerics and men had ashes sprinkled on their heads, while women had the sign of the cross made with ashes on their foreheads. Eventually, of course, the ritual used with women came to be used for men as well.
In the 12th century the rule developed that the ashes were to be created by burning palm branches from the previous Palm Sunday. Many parishes today invite parishioners to bring such palms to church before Lent begins and have a ritual burning of the palms after Mass.
I remember my first year in New Mexico I saw many people with what appeared to be “dirt” on their foreheads and I’m telling you right now, I darn near did the ‘lick thumb, clear forehead’ on several people I knew. Thankfully, one of my closest friends stopped me in the ‘nick of time’ before I defiled the work of a Holy Roman Priest! Good grief, talk about BAD KARMA!
One year, the same friend, brought to me this dried straw looking stuff that was in the shape of a cross (I had never been exposed to Catholics on this level before) It was one of the “Palms” that a local artist made into a cross. I still have it and I look at it sometimes and pray that God would always remind me of the power of the cross.
There is so much history in church and religion and while for me and my own relationship with Christ, some of it seems superfluous, it is still sacred and beautiful and almost vital to a huge population of people.
Ash Wednesday is the most attended day of the year in the Catholic Church. Did you know that? So that tells me, this day must hold significance, on some level, to all of us. This writing could simply be a warning to avoid the natural reaction of clearing someone’s forehead today. Though I hope it also causes us to stop and thank God for all He is and all He has done and all He is doing.
Have a wonderful Ash Wednesday!
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Concerto in "Malibu Maxx" Minor
While I rarely indulge in the unsafe practices of phone calls in my car…I DO enter another, sometimes equally unsafe world of my very own…the auto concert hall! I know your familiar with it…see if this doesn’t ring true.
I make the selections prior to my trips, specifically any trip over 15 minutes. My current selections, in fitting with the upward surging of our temperatures, has been the new Toby Mac, Diverse City CD, which if you haven’t picked it up…I would so strongly recommend you do so. It not only gets the blood pumping, but it really expresses the vocal chords in new and exciting ways and the lyrics are good too.
There is NOTHING like rolling down the windows and cranking that bad boy up. This also helps drown out any unedited harmonizing attempts AND allows me to share with the whole world…this riveting music. It could be worse; it could be AC/DC Back in Black, right?
As soon as I hear the seatbelt click safely in place, the engine purring and the windows hug their rubber bumper, I know it’s time. There is little on earth that gives me as much pleasure as these concertos. Even in the winter, with the windows up and unnaturally dry heat blowing into my mouth, agape in chorus, it’s this freeing world of expression I continue to seek daily. Frankly, this is most every girls’ dream and I’ve witnessed many people, women and men alike thinking they are safely confined in their auto concert hall alone, break into song and sometimes “seat-dancing” (yes, I’ve done that too. Some songs require movement, hellooooo!).
These are more of the childlike qualities that help keep me balanced from the requirements of adulthood from 7:30-4:30 each weekday. This is when my true inner-child can come out and sing her heart out, at the top of her lungs, while feeling the wind blow her hair around and picturing her audience of 40,000-50,000 adoring fans cheering her on! Sometimes I sing so loud, my throat hurts…I know, that’s bad, but it’s only occasionally when I’m really “feeling” the music.
My darling niece and nephew, in their maturing state, sometimes act like little curmudgeons when they get in “Maxx” (my car), and I tell them, buckle up and warm up their voices cause I can’t even hear them, til we all sing as loud as we can, whether we know the words or not! I sometimes let them pick the song, and sometimes we just sing whatever comes up, with or without music. It sometimes even makes us all laugh, when we get “busted” by other cars not ‘in concert’ or when our lyrics are better, and louder than the ones we should be singing.
This musical gift and yearning is developed early and sometimes by default. Here is how I started out: I remember when I was younger, much younger…and my dad would take us all (Dad, Mom, Me, 1 older Brother and 1 younger sister) on ‘vacations’. This meant an 11 hour trip from Aurora, Colorado to Augusta, Kansas…the dreaded trip to grandmas. We’d go several times a year actually.
Please note this was YEARS prior to walkmans, or any electronic device, or TV, or DVD player or any other distraction and diversion from the road and the radio selections of our DAD. This is when my sister and I grew a passion for C & W music. The original C & W music. This was WAY before country was “cool!” This was the 1970’s, before even Rhinestone Cowboy came out.
Much to our father’s chagrin, my sister and I adapted quickly to learn these songs, and we sang our little pre-teen hearts out, because that’s what our father selected as our travel music. Our brother would read his comic books and try to annoy us with the male leg spreading law (no description necessary if you have a brother). Our mother would work the crossword and hum some random musical pattern (the auto-concerto in maturity), and our dad would wince and moan and groan and crank the music louder while my sister and I thought he was doing it to allow us more vocal range and tone…we joined right in the challenge before us. Those were the days my friends, the birth of the auto-concerto princess!
It’s almost springtime in Oklahoma and I love the springtime, and it’s offering of sunshine and heat and more quality open-air concert time. I hope your warming up your voice, because I’m going to be looking for you out there…singing and ‘seat-dancing’ your way to and fro.
Remember: "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all the earth, make a loud noise, and rejoice and sing praise." Psalm 98:4
Let's drive...
I make the selections prior to my trips, specifically any trip over 15 minutes. My current selections, in fitting with the upward surging of our temperatures, has been the new Toby Mac, Diverse City CD, which if you haven’t picked it up…I would so strongly recommend you do so. It not only gets the blood pumping, but it really expresses the vocal chords in new and exciting ways and the lyrics are good too.
There is NOTHING like rolling down the windows and cranking that bad boy up. This also helps drown out any unedited harmonizing attempts AND allows me to share with the whole world…this riveting music. It could be worse; it could be AC/DC Back in Black, right?
As soon as I hear the seatbelt click safely in place, the engine purring and the windows hug their rubber bumper, I know it’s time. There is little on earth that gives me as much pleasure as these concertos. Even in the winter, with the windows up and unnaturally dry heat blowing into my mouth, agape in chorus, it’s this freeing world of expression I continue to seek daily. Frankly, this is most every girls’ dream and I’ve witnessed many people, women and men alike thinking they are safely confined in their auto concert hall alone, break into song and sometimes “seat-dancing” (yes, I’ve done that too. Some songs require movement, hellooooo!).
These are more of the childlike qualities that help keep me balanced from the requirements of adulthood from 7:30-4:30 each weekday. This is when my true inner-child can come out and sing her heart out, at the top of her lungs, while feeling the wind blow her hair around and picturing her audience of 40,000-50,000 adoring fans cheering her on! Sometimes I sing so loud, my throat hurts…I know, that’s bad, but it’s only occasionally when I’m really “feeling” the music.
My darling niece and nephew, in their maturing state, sometimes act like little curmudgeons when they get in “Maxx” (my car), and I tell them, buckle up and warm up their voices cause I can’t even hear them, til we all sing as loud as we can, whether we know the words or not! I sometimes let them pick the song, and sometimes we just sing whatever comes up, with or without music. It sometimes even makes us all laugh, when we get “busted” by other cars not ‘in concert’ or when our lyrics are better, and louder than the ones we should be singing.
This musical gift and yearning is developed early and sometimes by default. Here is how I started out: I remember when I was younger, much younger…and my dad would take us all (Dad, Mom, Me, 1 older Brother and 1 younger sister) on ‘vacations’. This meant an 11 hour trip from Aurora, Colorado to Augusta, Kansas…the dreaded trip to grandmas. We’d go several times a year actually.
Please note this was YEARS prior to walkmans, or any electronic device, or TV, or DVD player or any other distraction and diversion from the road and the radio selections of our DAD. This is when my sister and I grew a passion for C & W music. The original C & W music. This was WAY before country was “cool!” This was the 1970’s, before even Rhinestone Cowboy came out.
Much to our father’s chagrin, my sister and I adapted quickly to learn these songs, and we sang our little pre-teen hearts out, because that’s what our father selected as our travel music. Our brother would read his comic books and try to annoy us with the male leg spreading law (no description necessary if you have a brother). Our mother would work the crossword and hum some random musical pattern (the auto-concerto in maturity), and our dad would wince and moan and groan and crank the music louder while my sister and I thought he was doing it to allow us more vocal range and tone…we joined right in the challenge before us. Those were the days my friends, the birth of the auto-concerto princess!
It’s almost springtime in Oklahoma and I love the springtime, and it’s offering of sunshine and heat and more quality open-air concert time. I hope your warming up your voice, because I’m going to be looking for you out there…singing and ‘seat-dancing’ your way to and fro.
Remember: "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all the earth, make a loud noise, and rejoice and sing praise." Psalm 98:4
Let's drive...
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
There Was a Little Girl, Who Had a Little Curl...
“There are some times when the grace of God allows you to ENJOY God’s creation and there are some times when the grace of God allows you to E N D U R E…” This is another passage from “The Nature of God” recording I had mentioned some time ago. I’m still hoping to find out who the speaker is…
I woke up this morning in such a bad mood. I didn’t even realize it til I got to work and looked at a few of my co-workers and just felt disgust and internally rolled my eyes at my placement here.
I think people, women particularly because we’re so relational, should wear a little “mood indicator” on their clothes…so approaching “victims” would be aware of impending attack. During these times of intense internal struggle, I hold on to the hope of my salvation. I try very hard to keep my mouth closed and sometimes I even warn people. I pray that my transformed self would shine through and I would muzzle the animal growling within, trying to escape and devour.
I have NO reason to feel or act this way. I am healthy. My family is healthy. I have a job. I have family that loves me. I have things. I have Christ. I have a good church with an awesome Pastor. I have ability. I have wisdom. I have friends. I do not struggle financially or mentally or intellectually, beyond what is normal. Yet I am ‘feeling’ things I can’t explain, nor can I justify.
It doesn’t make it any better to admit it. It actually makes it worse, because in recognizing the potential of this ‘animal within’, I am now accountable to my own actions today. This is when the phrase “ignorance IS bliss” applies so readily. I would LOVE to claim ignorance to my actions and just lash out and bring verbal destruction through my “wit”. God won’t let me. I would love to let people know this truth…so they’d understand that I am HOLDING BACK my flesh intentions and maybe appreciate it some, again God won’t let me.
God is the kind of Father that wouldn’t write an excuse for my work or school if I mess up on my own accord. He will LET me experience the consequence of my “free will”. This is probably the BIGGEST downside to free will…I am free to DO or SAY anything….YAHOO!!!! but wait, there’s more….CONSEQUENCES to my actions, bummer dude!
I guess I’ve made my point, whatever it was and I’m hoping to endure through today (by the grace of God) and be of “good cheer” tomorrow. That is my prayer.
Do you Remember the title poem?
There was a little girl,
who had a little curl,
right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
she was very, very good,
and when she was bad,
she was HORRID!
I woke up this morning in such a bad mood. I didn’t even realize it til I got to work and looked at a few of my co-workers and just felt disgust and internally rolled my eyes at my placement here.
I think people, women particularly because we’re so relational, should wear a little “mood indicator” on their clothes…so approaching “victims” would be aware of impending attack. During these times of intense internal struggle, I hold on to the hope of my salvation. I try very hard to keep my mouth closed and sometimes I even warn people. I pray that my transformed self would shine through and I would muzzle the animal growling within, trying to escape and devour.
I have NO reason to feel or act this way. I am healthy. My family is healthy. I have a job. I have family that loves me. I have things. I have Christ. I have a good church with an awesome Pastor. I have ability. I have wisdom. I have friends. I do not struggle financially or mentally or intellectually, beyond what is normal. Yet I am ‘feeling’ things I can’t explain, nor can I justify.
It doesn’t make it any better to admit it. It actually makes it worse, because in recognizing the potential of this ‘animal within’, I am now accountable to my own actions today. This is when the phrase “ignorance IS bliss” applies so readily. I would LOVE to claim ignorance to my actions and just lash out and bring verbal destruction through my “wit”. God won’t let me. I would love to let people know this truth…so they’d understand that I am HOLDING BACK my flesh intentions and maybe appreciate it some, again God won’t let me.
God is the kind of Father that wouldn’t write an excuse for my work or school if I mess up on my own accord. He will LET me experience the consequence of my “free will”. This is probably the BIGGEST downside to free will…I am free to DO or SAY anything….YAHOO!!!! but wait, there’s more….CONSEQUENCES to my actions, bummer dude!
I guess I’ve made my point, whatever it was and I’m hoping to endure through today (by the grace of God) and be of “good cheer” tomorrow. That is my prayer.
Do you Remember the title poem?
There was a little girl,
who had a little curl,
right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
she was very, very good,
and when she was bad,
she was HORRID!
Conversations That Make You Go: HUH?
My darling husband called me one day last week (like most every day) to “check in” and let me know he’s alive and just going back to school from work to his last class. He has JUST enough time to run by the “lab” and see if his latest “fix” will work on his project.
This is our brief conversation:
“I think I figured out how to make our circuit work.” He tells me.
“What circuit, honey?” I ask.
“Our project. The board has 8 holes and we’ve only filled 1, which leaves floaters that either aren’t being read or causing the problem because there is nothing to read.” He says in all calm.
“Oh, so you either have to fill the holes, or tell the circuit to SKIP them, right?” I query with pride.
“We have to fill them, with 1’s or 0’s.” he explains simply.
“Oh, of course, 1’s or 0’s. Everything is 1’s or 0’s.” I state.
He had already offered me the course review for his binary class. About the time I THOUGHT I understood it…he had me add some 1’s and 0’s and I messed up. It seems binary is not a universal language after all.
These are the conversations with the future Computer Engineering husband of mine. Thank GOD he understands this techno-talk, even better he actually enjoys the stuff! But I’ll tell you something else, if you ask my husband what his very favorite movie in the whole world is…he won’t be able to answer, or if he does it will be hours later, after much contemplation.
Just one more case in point that God has created each of us for a different purpose. In the words of a great teacher I once heard: “Same goal, different roles.”
This is our brief conversation:
“I think I figured out how to make our circuit work.” He tells me.
“What circuit, honey?” I ask.
“Our project. The board has 8 holes and we’ve only filled 1, which leaves floaters that either aren’t being read or causing the problem because there is nothing to read.” He says in all calm.
“Oh, so you either have to fill the holes, or tell the circuit to SKIP them, right?” I query with pride.
“We have to fill them, with 1’s or 0’s.” he explains simply.
“Oh, of course, 1’s or 0’s. Everything is 1’s or 0’s.” I state.
He had already offered me the course review for his binary class. About the time I THOUGHT I understood it…he had me add some 1’s and 0’s and I messed up. It seems binary is not a universal language after all.
These are the conversations with the future Computer Engineering husband of mine. Thank GOD he understands this techno-talk, even better he actually enjoys the stuff! But I’ll tell you something else, if you ask my husband what his very favorite movie in the whole world is…he won’t be able to answer, or if he does it will be hours later, after much contemplation.
Just one more case in point that God has created each of us for a different purpose. In the words of a great teacher I once heard: “Same goal, different roles.”
Monday, February 27, 2006
Mind Molding 101: The Death of Creativity
Don’t color outside the lines…the grass is green…the sky is blue…the round peg goes in the round hole. These are the things we teach our children, just as we were taught as children, in an effort to comply with our truth, in adherence to our civilized society teachings. I almost fell for it myself. Thank GOD, I’m a rebel.
That seems a strange statement really, as someone who was always crying about “not fitting in”. I am ALMOST to the point where I can truly embrace my inner-rebel and rejoice that I am not a cookie-cutter mold of a woman. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with the cookie-cutter mold of a woman, it just isn’t what God has for me or what I believe he has for ANYONE.
I am so NOT going to define cookie-cutter mold of woman because having no first-hand experience it would all be observation and that lacks true experience, so I’ll leave it where it is; you have your own ideas about it anyway. It’s one of those things that could just get me into trouble for generalizing anyway.
Okay, so back to the subject at hand; creativity and its death. Why is it we feel so compelled to teach children the RIGHT way to color and to play? Is it just ‘spillover’ from teaching them the RIGHT way to act? Are we so concerned, as adults, that our children might be labeled non-conformists that we would rather break that independent, creative streak long before it asserts itself in adult circles.
I taught various levels of preschool while I was finishing college and let me tell you there is a marked difference in the creative outlet from the age of 2, to the age of 7. The 2 year olds are free to explore and invent their universe (within the confines of a space and time continuum of course). They can see, hear, and smell things most adults can’t. I believe they truly have spiritual senses, untainted by the expectations and reality of others. This quality is embraced by teachers and parents…until the child matures.
As the children mature, especially in a preschool environment, constrictions are placed on them with regards to the creative outlet. They are no longer so free to see, hear, and smell things in newness. They are EXPECTED to play “right” to color “right”, to behave “right”. The problem I’ve always had with this is; “who defines right?” Who first decided that the only RIGHT way to color, was in the lines? Who first decided the sky should always be blue, because that is a GOOD day? Who first decided that the round peg must enter the toy from the round hole? I can assure you, these round pegs can sometimes go in through the triangular holes too, not to mention the square holes.
By the time the children were older, and coming to preschool only after elementary school, they were becoming more and more alike in behavior and while it was predictable and ‘safe’ for us as teachers, it also lacked uniqueness and the creative edge we are each born with. The children went from becoming lost in their creative process, to desiring positive feedback for the “RIGHT” way to do things. Thus begins the judgment which sets the tone for our future in education and career experiences.
I am not an early childhood education specialist. I have spent some time reading and studying the subject due to my own self-awareness and my interest in Art Therapy. I do not claim to know the answers for every child. I DO know, however, that each child is truly unique. Each child is created by God, with a unique fingerprint fashioned to glorify the Father in the way He decides. I pray that parents would embrace the unique spirit God places within each of us and help to nurture this creative spirit so that a child learns at an early age: “God didn’t make you to fit in, He made you to stand out.”
This week, as we encounter children, maybe our own, maybe others, try to stop and see their unique fingerprint as God formed. Let them color outside the lines, and sit with them and color outside the lines alongside them. Then work that round peg into a new hole, just because you can!
That seems a strange statement really, as someone who was always crying about “not fitting in”. I am ALMOST to the point where I can truly embrace my inner-rebel and rejoice that I am not a cookie-cutter mold of a woman. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with the cookie-cutter mold of a woman, it just isn’t what God has for me or what I believe he has for ANYONE.
I am so NOT going to define cookie-cutter mold of woman because having no first-hand experience it would all be observation and that lacks true experience, so I’ll leave it where it is; you have your own ideas about it anyway. It’s one of those things that could just get me into trouble for generalizing anyway.
Okay, so back to the subject at hand; creativity and its death. Why is it we feel so compelled to teach children the RIGHT way to color and to play? Is it just ‘spillover’ from teaching them the RIGHT way to act? Are we so concerned, as adults, that our children might be labeled non-conformists that we would rather break that independent, creative streak long before it asserts itself in adult circles.
I taught various levels of preschool while I was finishing college and let me tell you there is a marked difference in the creative outlet from the age of 2, to the age of 7. The 2 year olds are free to explore and invent their universe (within the confines of a space and time continuum of course). They can see, hear, and smell things most adults can’t. I believe they truly have spiritual senses, untainted by the expectations and reality of others. This quality is embraced by teachers and parents…until the child matures.
As the children mature, especially in a preschool environment, constrictions are placed on them with regards to the creative outlet. They are no longer so free to see, hear, and smell things in newness. They are EXPECTED to play “right” to color “right”, to behave “right”. The problem I’ve always had with this is; “who defines right?” Who first decided that the only RIGHT way to color, was in the lines? Who first decided the sky should always be blue, because that is a GOOD day? Who first decided that the round peg must enter the toy from the round hole? I can assure you, these round pegs can sometimes go in through the triangular holes too, not to mention the square holes.
By the time the children were older, and coming to preschool only after elementary school, they were becoming more and more alike in behavior and while it was predictable and ‘safe’ for us as teachers, it also lacked uniqueness and the creative edge we are each born with. The children went from becoming lost in their creative process, to desiring positive feedback for the “RIGHT” way to do things. Thus begins the judgment which sets the tone for our future in education and career experiences.
I am not an early childhood education specialist. I have spent some time reading and studying the subject due to my own self-awareness and my interest in Art Therapy. I do not claim to know the answers for every child. I DO know, however, that each child is truly unique. Each child is created by God, with a unique fingerprint fashioned to glorify the Father in the way He decides. I pray that parents would embrace the unique spirit God places within each of us and help to nurture this creative spirit so that a child learns at an early age: “God didn’t make you to fit in, He made you to stand out.”
This week, as we encounter children, maybe our own, maybe others, try to stop and see their unique fingerprint as God formed. Let them color outside the lines, and sit with them and color outside the lines alongside them. Then work that round peg into a new hole, just because you can!
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Here are some awesome lyrics from a song that is speaking to me and I hope it speaks to you.
Todd Agnew “My Jesus”
From his new album: Reflections of Something
www.toddagnew.com
Which Jesus do you follow?
Which Jesus do you serve?
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ,
Why do you look so much like the world?
Chorus:
Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be?
Blessed are the poor in spirit, do we pray to be blessed with the
Wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sand
Chorus:
And who is this that you follow
This picture of the American dream
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side
Or fall down and worship at His holy feet
Pretty blue eyes, curly brown hair and a clear complexion
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part
Sometimes I doubt we’d recognize Him
Chorus:
Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet might stain the carpet
But He reached for the hurting and despises the proud
I think He’d prefer Beal St. to the stained glass crowd
But I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud
I want to be like my Jesus
Can I be like You
I want to be like my Jesus
Todd Agnew “My Jesus”
From his new album: Reflections of Something
www.toddagnew.com
Which Jesus do you follow?
Which Jesus do you serve?
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ,
Why do you look so much like the world?
Chorus:
Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be?
Blessed are the poor in spirit, do we pray to be blessed with the
Wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sand
Chorus:
And who is this that you follow
This picture of the American dream
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side
Or fall down and worship at His holy feet
Pretty blue eyes, curly brown hair and a clear complexion
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part
Sometimes I doubt we’d recognize Him
Chorus:
Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet might stain the carpet
But He reached for the hurting and despises the proud
I think He’d prefer Beal St. to the stained glass crowd
But I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud
I want to be like my Jesus
Can I be like You
I want to be like my Jesus
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Lately I’ve read some really disturbing entries in this world of “blogdom”. I’ve read religious judgment and opinion and exclusion and prejudice and nothing short of ‘hate’ in the veiled, protected words of people. It makes me sad that this powerful tool we have; our words are being used to destroy others. It makes me sad that some people desire a platform to engage others in their own evil intentions.
It makes me sad that while we continue to evolve technologically, to the extent that we could survive and thrive without ever leaving our home, we have yet to evolve to maturity by Biblical standards. In our searching and seeking to find more and more and more in the land of excess, we have stepped on, stomped over, and pushed away anyone or anything that threatens our advances in the name of democracy and freedom of speech. We continue to give the enemy earthly victories and literally hand over souls to his efforts as we backstab each other with incredible ferocity.
I continue to hear un-churched and de-churched people deny or renounce Christian beliefs because of these things. Are we so self-serving that the very lives Christ was beaten, bled and died for are of no interest to us? WWJD is dead in our hearts. We’re almost completely immune to the pain of others in our selfish pursuits. Do we even recognize Jesus when He interacts with us? Can we even discern His voice among the crowds?
Some of you continue to pretend there is NO problem and will probably even comment that I’m exaggerating a few very minor incidents. Some of you would say this is all just done in fun. I challenge you to ask the un-churched and de-churched people in your community what they think of “Christians” and “Church”, then listen to the responses. We act NO different then them, yet we profess to be “changed”. We profess our RENEWAL in Christ, yet we walk in the same defeat, with the same “baggage” we had before we encountered Christ’s redemption. When we engage in the idiocy of some of these ‘posts’, we are not only picking up that old baggage, but we are handing it out to others in rapid succession. When we assign ourselves the judge of these posts, in the name of Christianity, we are doing even a greater disservice.
Our parents taught us to leave the beehive alone, because we will get stung…severely. Some of these ‘authors’ are nothing more then a hidden beehive waiting to ‘sting the victory’ right out of you. In the words of our parents, “get away from that, you’re going to get hurt!”
Ephesians 4:1-3 "I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace."
It makes me sad that while we continue to evolve technologically, to the extent that we could survive and thrive without ever leaving our home, we have yet to evolve to maturity by Biblical standards. In our searching and seeking to find more and more and more in the land of excess, we have stepped on, stomped over, and pushed away anyone or anything that threatens our advances in the name of democracy and freedom of speech. We continue to give the enemy earthly victories and literally hand over souls to his efforts as we backstab each other with incredible ferocity.
I continue to hear un-churched and de-churched people deny or renounce Christian beliefs because of these things. Are we so self-serving that the very lives Christ was beaten, bled and died for are of no interest to us? WWJD is dead in our hearts. We’re almost completely immune to the pain of others in our selfish pursuits. Do we even recognize Jesus when He interacts with us? Can we even discern His voice among the crowds?
Some of you continue to pretend there is NO problem and will probably even comment that I’m exaggerating a few very minor incidents. Some of you would say this is all just done in fun. I challenge you to ask the un-churched and de-churched people in your community what they think of “Christians” and “Church”, then listen to the responses. We act NO different then them, yet we profess to be “changed”. We profess our RENEWAL in Christ, yet we walk in the same defeat, with the same “baggage” we had before we encountered Christ’s redemption. When we engage in the idiocy of some of these ‘posts’, we are not only picking up that old baggage, but we are handing it out to others in rapid succession. When we assign ourselves the judge of these posts, in the name of Christianity, we are doing even a greater disservice.
Our parents taught us to leave the beehive alone, because we will get stung…severely. Some of these ‘authors’ are nothing more then a hidden beehive waiting to ‘sting the victory’ right out of you. In the words of our parents, “get away from that, you’re going to get hurt!”
Ephesians 4:1-3 "I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace."
Friday, February 24, 2006
On The Bench
I played basketball in Junior high school, many, many years ago. I didn’t play in high school mostly because I didn’t want to be labeled a “jock” through these formative years, though as it turns out I was labeled “brain” which might have been worse. Another story…another time…
I was always freakishly tall compared to the other girls, though thankfully not terribly clumsy on my feet, so, by default, I was the better of two centers and started and played most all games. I was thinking about the times I had to sit the bench. Either I had fouled out, or was exhausted, had lost my hustle and needed rest, or God forbid, I was playing poorly. In my junior high school mind, sitting the bench for any reason was almost unbearable. It was like a sign of failure and defeat. Even in exhaustion, those who were sequestered to the bench knew the stigma associated with being a proverbial benchwarmer.
Even in my immaturity, from the bench, I could see the team’s weaknesses clearly. I could see, as our coach did, when someone wasn’t “covering their man”. I could see when the ‘hustle’ wasn’t there. I could see all of this, yet I was totally disabled from doing anything about it. Talk about frustrating. If ONLY I could get back in the game. If only I could get some play time. If only… The coach looks from the perspective of the whole team, in weakness and strength. The coach must rise above 'self' desire and need, and look to the big picture, the ultimate end, not just a sequence of moments, but the final outcome.
I’m thinking now about how often we spend our time ‘on the bench’ of life, not engaging in life, not PLAYING in life. I know sometimes we bench ourselves for reasons unknown to anyone but us…and God. As art imitates life, so does bench warming. When we willingly disengage from life and ‘bench’ ourselves, I believe sometimes it’s a self-defense kicking in for fear of rejection or failure.
In what I poetically call my “observant” years, I spent so much time on the “bench”, claiming it for growth and wisdom that I was almost incapacitated when it came time to “get in the game”. I’d have strong reactions to what I was seeing, yet I wouldn’t get back in the “game”. I felt powerless and insignificant in my own life experience. It was as though life was happened TO me. I couldn't HEAR the coach, because I wasn't even IN the game, I was on the sidelines.
I heard a pastor preach once about getting in the ‘game’ and how God desired us to get in the game and play fully. I think he forgot that the time of the bench can be healing time. I think he forgot that even in times we spend on the bench, we are still very much a part of the TEAM. From the bench I saw with a new perspective what I can and MUST do when I’m back “in the game”.
I also know sometimes GOD calls us to the “bench” to refresh, renew, protect, and prepare both a defense and an offense for our game. We’ve all spent time contemplating life and our next move and sometimes the best place to do this is from the ‘bench’ where we slow down and WATCH and LISTEN to the ultimate “Coach” about our next “play”. In times I am NOW called to the bench, I try to remember my "Coach" can see from a "team" perspective what I can only see from MY perspective. I pray that I would use my time on the bench for His purpose, not mine and that my time there would be rewarded with a fresh perspective and energy to be a part of the team of God.
I was always freakishly tall compared to the other girls, though thankfully not terribly clumsy on my feet, so, by default, I was the better of two centers and started and played most all games. I was thinking about the times I had to sit the bench. Either I had fouled out, or was exhausted, had lost my hustle and needed rest, or God forbid, I was playing poorly. In my junior high school mind, sitting the bench for any reason was almost unbearable. It was like a sign of failure and defeat. Even in exhaustion, those who were sequestered to the bench knew the stigma associated with being a proverbial benchwarmer.
Even in my immaturity, from the bench, I could see the team’s weaknesses clearly. I could see, as our coach did, when someone wasn’t “covering their man”. I could see when the ‘hustle’ wasn’t there. I could see all of this, yet I was totally disabled from doing anything about it. Talk about frustrating. If ONLY I could get back in the game. If only I could get some play time. If only… The coach looks from the perspective of the whole team, in weakness and strength. The coach must rise above 'self' desire and need, and look to the big picture, the ultimate end, not just a sequence of moments, but the final outcome.
I’m thinking now about how often we spend our time ‘on the bench’ of life, not engaging in life, not PLAYING in life. I know sometimes we bench ourselves for reasons unknown to anyone but us…and God. As art imitates life, so does bench warming. When we willingly disengage from life and ‘bench’ ourselves, I believe sometimes it’s a self-defense kicking in for fear of rejection or failure.
In what I poetically call my “observant” years, I spent so much time on the “bench”, claiming it for growth and wisdom that I was almost incapacitated when it came time to “get in the game”. I’d have strong reactions to what I was seeing, yet I wouldn’t get back in the “game”. I felt powerless and insignificant in my own life experience. It was as though life was happened TO me. I couldn't HEAR the coach, because I wasn't even IN the game, I was on the sidelines.
I heard a pastor preach once about getting in the ‘game’ and how God desired us to get in the game and play fully. I think he forgot that the time of the bench can be healing time. I think he forgot that even in times we spend on the bench, we are still very much a part of the TEAM. From the bench I saw with a new perspective what I can and MUST do when I’m back “in the game”.
I also know sometimes GOD calls us to the “bench” to refresh, renew, protect, and prepare both a defense and an offense for our game. We’ve all spent time contemplating life and our next move and sometimes the best place to do this is from the ‘bench’ where we slow down and WATCH and LISTEN to the ultimate “Coach” about our next “play”. In times I am NOW called to the bench, I try to remember my "Coach" can see from a "team" perspective what I can only see from MY perspective. I pray that I would use my time on the bench for His purpose, not mine and that my time there would be rewarded with a fresh perspective and energy to be a part of the team of God.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
What To My Wandering Mind Should Appear...
No, NOT a miniature sleigh and 8 tiny reindeer…good grief, it’s WAY too early for that, isn’t it?
Lately I have had WAY too much time on my hands. Bad things can happen when I have TOO much time on my hands. I’m sure in this free-time I’ve been visiting areas of the mind that were not supposed to be found.
What happens to my mind when I have too much time? My mind begins to wander…I don’t complete thoughts without another thought coming to full view. Add to that, my incredible ability to envision something mentally and now I’ve got full-blown, movies rolling through my head of my own creation. Well, actually not movies, more like previews, because of all the jumping from story to story. It would be nice to be able to put it to paper and make it real, though I’m certain it would lose so much in the translation or end up like one of Salvador Dali’s paintings…melting away…
Why do I have so much free time? Without sounding too prideful, I’m a bright person, who has never had a job that required me to work at my potential…and I finish my 8 hours of work on average in about 2-3 hours. Add to that, weeks where one of the physicians is gone…and my workload is now reduced by 1/3. So after my 45 minutes of work, I sit here…thinking, thinking, thinking… I think sometimes, God placed me in this specific position to give me time to think.
It reminds me of some movie…I think…possibly even some “Twilight Zone” episode where a person is completely solitary and is forced to think and create his/her own existence. You’d think it would be euphoric and ideal, but actually it’s quite horrific. In solitude, our minds wander off to dark places, one very clear indicator why God made us relational people.
My mind then drifts to POW’s that were placed in solitary confinement for days, weeks, even years, sometimes without light…they were ‘messed up’ (for lack of a better term), when they were “rescued” or “released”. The mind took them places no person should ever go. They suffer from hallucinations? Or do they really see things we can’t in our state of consciousness?
Our reality is exactly that: OUR REALITY. Just because YOU didn’t see it, feel it, hear it; doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. By government standards; just because you DID see it, feel it, hear it, doesn’t mean it DID happen! Think; Roswell.
See what I mean…I’ve now traversed from the mind-numbing work I do all day with numbers and figures and phone calls and people and interactions and forms and checks and balances….to this HUGE cavernous space, full of uncertainty and unknown things.
When I put the “God-Spin” on it, I think it could be His way of reminding me that the world is bigger than I can see or imagine…that HE is bigger than the box I’ve so neatly placed Him in all these years. He’s splitting out the sides of the box and now like a sunrise, He’s reflecting to the whole world…and my box is destroyed. My safe, understood world is now blown to bits.
I thank GOD that He is willing to push me and prod me and let my mind wander freely and I pray that it ultimately always draws me back to Him as I seek to understand His love and His desire for me.
Isaiah 55:8-9 (New International Version)
8 "For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
Lately I have had WAY too much time on my hands. Bad things can happen when I have TOO much time on my hands. I’m sure in this free-time I’ve been visiting areas of the mind that were not supposed to be found.
What happens to my mind when I have too much time? My mind begins to wander…I don’t complete thoughts without another thought coming to full view. Add to that, my incredible ability to envision something mentally and now I’ve got full-blown, movies rolling through my head of my own creation. Well, actually not movies, more like previews, because of all the jumping from story to story. It would be nice to be able to put it to paper and make it real, though I’m certain it would lose so much in the translation or end up like one of Salvador Dali’s paintings…melting away…
Why do I have so much free time? Without sounding too prideful, I’m a bright person, who has never had a job that required me to work at my potential…and I finish my 8 hours of work on average in about 2-3 hours. Add to that, weeks where one of the physicians is gone…and my workload is now reduced by 1/3. So after my 45 minutes of work, I sit here…thinking, thinking, thinking… I think sometimes, God placed me in this specific position to give me time to think.
It reminds me of some movie…I think…possibly even some “Twilight Zone” episode where a person is completely solitary and is forced to think and create his/her own existence. You’d think it would be euphoric and ideal, but actually it’s quite horrific. In solitude, our minds wander off to dark places, one very clear indicator why God made us relational people.
My mind then drifts to POW’s that were placed in solitary confinement for days, weeks, even years, sometimes without light…they were ‘messed up’ (for lack of a better term), when they were “rescued” or “released”. The mind took them places no person should ever go. They suffer from hallucinations? Or do they really see things we can’t in our state of consciousness?
Our reality is exactly that: OUR REALITY. Just because YOU didn’t see it, feel it, hear it; doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. By government standards; just because you DID see it, feel it, hear it, doesn’t mean it DID happen! Think; Roswell.
See what I mean…I’ve now traversed from the mind-numbing work I do all day with numbers and figures and phone calls and people and interactions and forms and checks and balances….to this HUGE cavernous space, full of uncertainty and unknown things.
When I put the “God-Spin” on it, I think it could be His way of reminding me that the world is bigger than I can see or imagine…that HE is bigger than the box I’ve so neatly placed Him in all these years. He’s splitting out the sides of the box and now like a sunrise, He’s reflecting to the whole world…and my box is destroyed. My safe, understood world is now blown to bits.
I thank GOD that He is willing to push me and prod me and let my mind wander freely and I pray that it ultimately always draws me back to Him as I seek to understand His love and His desire for me.
Isaiah 55:8-9 (New International Version)
8 "For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,"
declares the LORD.
9 "As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts higher than your thoughts"
Testing, Testing...Ready Set, Endure!
I had a harrowing experience this morning. Don’t you love the word: HARROWING? According to Encarta Dictionary it means: upsetting, evoking feelings of fear, horror, or disgust. That word pretty much sums up what I felt this morning.
I know by now you are on the edge of you seat waiting, wondering; “what happened, what could have happened!”
Let me tell you what happened... Due to my random sleep patterns while I am healing from this cold (I toss and turn all night), when I get out of bed my hair looks something akin to Medusa on a bad day. I’m certain my husband would ALSO risk turning to stone should he make some comment about it, though thankfully he is far more intelligent than that, plus he was raised around only women!
So I head off to wet my hair (in the winter I shower at night and sleep with wet hair, which probably only adds to this ‘hair challenge’)…anyway…I head off to wet my hair and go to my ‘dressing room’ (translation: spare bedroom with vanity used to apply cosmetics and dress without husband and dogs disturbing and infesting with hair, in that order…I think).
I’m sitting at my vanity and apply my cosmetics. I’m a firm believer, less is more, so that whole application process takes maybe 3 minutes. I then plug in my hair dryer, flip the switch and it doesn’t do a thing. I then proceed to move it to the bottom plug and flip the magic switch…nothing…. I got nothing….
Okay, so as not to panic, I then move the dryer to a completely unrelated plug, somewhat far away from the vanity but still in view, even with my nearsightedness…contact….flip the switch…nothing….I’m not one to freak out…I’m honestly not even so vain as to not just put my hair UP and go with a wet head…though that look never really worked for me. I decide it’s probably something simple, like that little test switch…so I reset that switch…flip the power switch….nothing….by now I’m looking at my wet, gel covered hair, slicked back in a fashion similar to Elvis, not Skinny Elvis mind you, seeing as how this is not retro-dress day, I decide I better take more drastic measures.
Here are my choices: Remember while I am most productive in the morning, I’m least pleasant in the morning. Add to that, challenges like these…toxic mixtures.
Choice A. Go to Wal-Mart (they are 24 hours after all, prepared for just such a tragedy) and purchase a new dryer. I always get to work early anyway and probably have plenty of time.
Choice B. Just drop the dryer, search for hair pins or possibly even duct tape to put hair up and either develop a new fashion trend in duct taped hair, or risk the embarrassment of the ultimate “bad hair day”.
Choice C. Bang the dryer like mad against any hard surface and “fix it”.
Okay, so I’m a women immersed fully in a life of convenience…I select option C. It often works for my work computer monitor and I’ve seen this technique perfected by my father with the old TV’s that had to be slapped around a bit to work properly. Some dad’s teach their daughters how to change a tire…my dad taught me the art of “Appliance Compliance by Banging”.
I bang that sucker against the chair I had previously been primping in…and by now my husband, the perfect Phlegmatic, the engineer-in-training, enters said ‘dressing room’ with that look, only my husband can make that look… It’s the raised double eyebrow, eyes wide open, mouth agape, followed by this phrase: “what are you doing?”
Okay, so the ‘cynic’ in me starts brewing and fashioning an appropriate response, before my transformed temperament can take hold…
The cynic thinks of these responses:
A. Honey, this is always how I clear this dryer of the hair particles each morning.
B. I’m thinking of a song: “I don’t want to work, I just wanna bang on my blow-dryer all day!”
C. Doing what?
I always admired those women who could immediately ‘force’ tears in the presence of a man and get the man to take over…it’s just not in me…I’m a fix it myself kinda’ woman!
Soon enough, my transformed temperament tames my head and I simply explain that sometimes the best way to handle these mechanical devices is to bang them a couple of times…and lo and behold the thing starts. It stops again…I bang harder…It starts and stops again…well it does appear to be working…so I bang that sucker up and down about 7 times…and slap it upside the end just for good measure….wiggle the cord and flip the switch….it works! EUREKA, it works!
My husband exits the room while saying: “Sounds like a short or something. Someone ought to design one that works better.”
I didn’t throw the dryer at him because it had just started working and I had limited time before the gel on my head ‘set’ itself in the Fat Elvis “do”. There is a very short half life on hair gel, once activated, by the way.
The rest of my morning went off without a hitch. I started to put the dryer back in it’s storage place under the vanity, but decided…no, I’d better make a trip to Wal-Mart tonight and retire this one…maybe I’ll give it to my sister…teeheehee…
The lesson for today comes from James 1: 2-3 “Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.”
Endure, my friend, Endure!
I know by now you are on the edge of you seat waiting, wondering; “what happened, what could have happened!”
Let me tell you what happened... Due to my random sleep patterns while I am healing from this cold (I toss and turn all night), when I get out of bed my hair looks something akin to Medusa on a bad day. I’m certain my husband would ALSO risk turning to stone should he make some comment about it, though thankfully he is far more intelligent than that, plus he was raised around only women!
So I head off to wet my hair (in the winter I shower at night and sleep with wet hair, which probably only adds to this ‘hair challenge’)…anyway…I head off to wet my hair and go to my ‘dressing room’ (translation: spare bedroom with vanity used to apply cosmetics and dress without husband and dogs disturbing and infesting with hair, in that order…I think).
I’m sitting at my vanity and apply my cosmetics. I’m a firm believer, less is more, so that whole application process takes maybe 3 minutes. I then plug in my hair dryer, flip the switch and it doesn’t do a thing. I then proceed to move it to the bottom plug and flip the magic switch…nothing…. I got nothing….
Okay, so as not to panic, I then move the dryer to a completely unrelated plug, somewhat far away from the vanity but still in view, even with my nearsightedness…contact….flip the switch…nothing….I’m not one to freak out…I’m honestly not even so vain as to not just put my hair UP and go with a wet head…though that look never really worked for me. I decide it’s probably something simple, like that little test switch…so I reset that switch…flip the power switch….nothing….by now I’m looking at my wet, gel covered hair, slicked back in a fashion similar to Elvis, not Skinny Elvis mind you, seeing as how this is not retro-dress day, I decide I better take more drastic measures.
Here are my choices: Remember while I am most productive in the morning, I’m least pleasant in the morning. Add to that, challenges like these…toxic mixtures.
Choice A. Go to Wal-Mart (they are 24 hours after all, prepared for just such a tragedy) and purchase a new dryer. I always get to work early anyway and probably have plenty of time.
Choice B. Just drop the dryer, search for hair pins or possibly even duct tape to put hair up and either develop a new fashion trend in duct taped hair, or risk the embarrassment of the ultimate “bad hair day”.
Choice C. Bang the dryer like mad against any hard surface and “fix it”.
Okay, so I’m a women immersed fully in a life of convenience…I select option C. It often works for my work computer monitor and I’ve seen this technique perfected by my father with the old TV’s that had to be slapped around a bit to work properly. Some dad’s teach their daughters how to change a tire…my dad taught me the art of “Appliance Compliance by Banging”.
I bang that sucker against the chair I had previously been primping in…and by now my husband, the perfect Phlegmatic, the engineer-in-training, enters said ‘dressing room’ with that look, only my husband can make that look… It’s the raised double eyebrow, eyes wide open, mouth agape, followed by this phrase: “what are you doing?”
Okay, so the ‘cynic’ in me starts brewing and fashioning an appropriate response, before my transformed temperament can take hold…
The cynic thinks of these responses:
A. Honey, this is always how I clear this dryer of the hair particles each morning.
B. I’m thinking of a song: “I don’t want to work, I just wanna bang on my blow-dryer all day!”
C. Doing what?
I always admired those women who could immediately ‘force’ tears in the presence of a man and get the man to take over…it’s just not in me…I’m a fix it myself kinda’ woman!
Soon enough, my transformed temperament tames my head and I simply explain that sometimes the best way to handle these mechanical devices is to bang them a couple of times…and lo and behold the thing starts. It stops again…I bang harder…It starts and stops again…well it does appear to be working…so I bang that sucker up and down about 7 times…and slap it upside the end just for good measure….wiggle the cord and flip the switch….it works! EUREKA, it works!
My husband exits the room while saying: “Sounds like a short or something. Someone ought to design one that works better.”
I didn’t throw the dryer at him because it had just started working and I had limited time before the gel on my head ‘set’ itself in the Fat Elvis “do”. There is a very short half life on hair gel, once activated, by the way.
The rest of my morning went off without a hitch. I started to put the dryer back in it’s storage place under the vanity, but decided…no, I’d better make a trip to Wal-Mart tonight and retire this one…maybe I’ll give it to my sister…teeheehee…
The lesson for today comes from James 1: 2-3 “Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.”
Endure, my friend, Endure!
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
When I Am Weak...
I’m FINALLY feeling better. Isn’t it amazing how much we take the very basic things for granted when we feel GOOD! Since Sunday afternoon I have felt like crud! I can’t breathe through my nose, my eyes water and water and water, my ears are itchy, and not just from words I hear, and the only way my throat would feel better is if I could get a bottle brush down in there and scratch it. I have a common cold.
By themselves, the eyes, ears, nose, and throat don’t seem to carry much weight in the big picture of our whole body. We don’t ‘freak out’ over a cold or respiratory infection like we would say a heart murmur, or even a broken arm. Yet these seemingly unimportant parts of me, individually, have been wreaking havoc with me all week. We’ve all suffered from colds and have experienced the “energy zap” from this minor illness. It amazes me how my WHOLE body totally succumbs to a minor cold. I bet you know where I’m going with this already, don’t you.
One of my very favorite messages from the Bible comes from 1 Corinthians 12:12-26. This is the passage that speaks directly about the “BODY” and how important every single part of the body is. Paul even reminds us that the parts that seem least important are actually very important to the whole. Paul sums up beautifully with: “So if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.”
This is such a wonderful analogy and so easily applicable to our lives; to see, in Christ, all believers as a body. I used to joke that I was the ‘big toe’ of a very clumsy body. Everyone knows how bad it hurts to stub the big toe. I can joke about it now, but it really helped me understand this passage clearly. Think about the BIG TOE being stubbed, over and over again. You would be hobbling from the trauma and eventually you would be crippled to the point of being forced to sit or lie down no matter how strong the rest of the body seemed.
I thought about how weakness in our body, makes us much more vulnerable to attack. I know that while we focus on healing and on the pain and misery of the ‘illness’, we are less apt to see the enemy approaching and attacking us, we are less able to defend and protect our body. I also know from lying around, the muscles weaken; it takes more physical effort to get in a shower, much less prepare for anything exerting, like battle.
Another part of my experience is seeking instant relief from the symptoms. I went to the store yesterday and I bought: Ny-Quil, Day-Quil, Advil Sinus & Cold, Chloraseptic, and cough drops, all in an effort to relieve these symptoms. Ultimately, the methods that do work, are only short lived and before I face toxicity, I have to accept the fact that this illness needs time for healing. There is NO man-made medicine for a common cold.
This week as I rest and heal, I will remember to thank God for every part of the body. I will thank God for illness and suffering so that I can remember to recognize every part of the body as He does. I am praising God that my healing and wholeness is secured by His sacrifice, by His hand.
By themselves, the eyes, ears, nose, and throat don’t seem to carry much weight in the big picture of our whole body. We don’t ‘freak out’ over a cold or respiratory infection like we would say a heart murmur, or even a broken arm. Yet these seemingly unimportant parts of me, individually, have been wreaking havoc with me all week. We’ve all suffered from colds and have experienced the “energy zap” from this minor illness. It amazes me how my WHOLE body totally succumbs to a minor cold. I bet you know where I’m going with this already, don’t you.
One of my very favorite messages from the Bible comes from 1 Corinthians 12:12-26. This is the passage that speaks directly about the “BODY” and how important every single part of the body is. Paul even reminds us that the parts that seem least important are actually very important to the whole. Paul sums up beautifully with: “So if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.”
This is such a wonderful analogy and so easily applicable to our lives; to see, in Christ, all believers as a body. I used to joke that I was the ‘big toe’ of a very clumsy body. Everyone knows how bad it hurts to stub the big toe. I can joke about it now, but it really helped me understand this passage clearly. Think about the BIG TOE being stubbed, over and over again. You would be hobbling from the trauma and eventually you would be crippled to the point of being forced to sit or lie down no matter how strong the rest of the body seemed.
I thought about how weakness in our body, makes us much more vulnerable to attack. I know that while we focus on healing and on the pain and misery of the ‘illness’, we are less apt to see the enemy approaching and attacking us, we are less able to defend and protect our body. I also know from lying around, the muscles weaken; it takes more physical effort to get in a shower, much less prepare for anything exerting, like battle.
Another part of my experience is seeking instant relief from the symptoms. I went to the store yesterday and I bought: Ny-Quil, Day-Quil, Advil Sinus & Cold, Chloraseptic, and cough drops, all in an effort to relieve these symptoms. Ultimately, the methods that do work, are only short lived and before I face toxicity, I have to accept the fact that this illness needs time for healing. There is NO man-made medicine for a common cold.
This week as I rest and heal, I will remember to thank God for every part of the body. I will thank God for illness and suffering so that I can remember to recognize every part of the body as He does. I am praising God that my healing and wholeness is secured by His sacrifice, by His hand.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
The Call to Obey
Exactly 1 year, 15 days and a few hours ago I quit smoking. My last cigarette was on February 5, 2005. I can still remember how smoking made me feel. I can still remember the lightness in my head and the physical release of tension and stress. I can remember how much I looked forward to a cigarette after dessert or with coffee. I can remember I started when I was in my 20’s and was out at clubs. It was the “thing” to do, have a cigarette with your drink.
I don’t harp on people that do smoke. I pray and hope my friends that smoke would quit, but I don’t harp on them. Very few of the people I was around harped on me to quit and I remember that was important to me. I had tried to quit many times before but it just didn’t “take”. Every once in a while I still crave that feeling of light headedness that comes with smoking. I’m not going to start smoking again. I quit out of obedience to God.
It wasn’t pressure from people I went to church with, or people I hung out with that made me quit. They understood this was one of my vices and I would only give it up on my own accord. I remember when God asked me to quit smoking. I was really feeling pulled in a direction that was so uncomfortable to me. God was prompting me and pulling me to serve. He was calling me to walk the truth that I was proclaiming to others. God asked me to quit smoking only out of obedience to Him, not for any other reason. I can see how the cigarettes had become an idol to me. They symbolized release and “freedom” from stress, a position only God should hold in my life, through Christ.
The strangest thing happened when I accepted this challenge from God. I assumed it would be much like every other time I tried to quit, successful only for a short term period. This was different. The cravings for cigarettes immediately left. I didn’t go through the withdrawals I had previously. I didn’t crave the feeling or sneak out to 7-11 and get a pack of cigs…I just didn’t desire it anymore. Sure, occasionally I wanted to go back to that time, but it wasn’t the physical urge I used to experience, it was more out of anger with God, and just absolute disobedience that was pulling me. It was much like a spoiled child: “Fine God, if I can’t have MY way, I’ll just start smoking again…so there!”
Thankfully I haven’t succumbed to Satan’s temptations or to my own weak flesh. Plus, I am SO grateful He hasn’t asked me to give up Chocolate, that the cigarettes are sometimes a walk in the park.
There are some times when God’s desire for us to obey, result in only the act of love that is obedience. But sometimes the obedience results in the opening of a door of blessing on our lives. I would only ask you to listen to God and what He is asking you to do today. It may not be to quit smoking; it may be something relatively simple like opening a door for someone you don’t like. I would only ask that we all work to fine tune our ears to hear and fine tune our hearts to obey.
I don’t harp on people that do smoke. I pray and hope my friends that smoke would quit, but I don’t harp on them. Very few of the people I was around harped on me to quit and I remember that was important to me. I had tried to quit many times before but it just didn’t “take”. Every once in a while I still crave that feeling of light headedness that comes with smoking. I’m not going to start smoking again. I quit out of obedience to God.
It wasn’t pressure from people I went to church with, or people I hung out with that made me quit. They understood this was one of my vices and I would only give it up on my own accord. I remember when God asked me to quit smoking. I was really feeling pulled in a direction that was so uncomfortable to me. God was prompting me and pulling me to serve. He was calling me to walk the truth that I was proclaiming to others. God asked me to quit smoking only out of obedience to Him, not for any other reason. I can see how the cigarettes had become an idol to me. They symbolized release and “freedom” from stress, a position only God should hold in my life, through Christ.
The strangest thing happened when I accepted this challenge from God. I assumed it would be much like every other time I tried to quit, successful only for a short term period. This was different. The cravings for cigarettes immediately left. I didn’t go through the withdrawals I had previously. I didn’t crave the feeling or sneak out to 7-11 and get a pack of cigs…I just didn’t desire it anymore. Sure, occasionally I wanted to go back to that time, but it wasn’t the physical urge I used to experience, it was more out of anger with God, and just absolute disobedience that was pulling me. It was much like a spoiled child: “Fine God, if I can’t have MY way, I’ll just start smoking again…so there!”
Thankfully I haven’t succumbed to Satan’s temptations or to my own weak flesh. Plus, I am SO grateful He hasn’t asked me to give up Chocolate, that the cigarettes are sometimes a walk in the park.
There are some times when God’s desire for us to obey, result in only the act of love that is obedience. But sometimes the obedience results in the opening of a door of blessing on our lives. I would only ask you to listen to God and what He is asking you to do today. It may not be to quit smoking; it may be something relatively simple like opening a door for someone you don’t like. I would only ask that we all work to fine tune our ears to hear and fine tune our hearts to obey.
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