I awoke this morning with the beginnings of a cold. I usually pop out of bed and get right on the tasks of the morning. This morning I felt achy all over, my nose was plugged up, and I had what my family weirdly refers to as “eye boogers.” I’m sure you’ve had them, just not called them that. I’m referring to the crusty particles that are caked around your eyes. But this isn’t going to be all about eye boogers.
As I got up and started moving around, I became convinced that my head must have put on weight while I was sleeping, because I was sure that it weighed more than a small bowling ball. All I wanted to do was put it back on my pillow, but since today was a work day, I knew that was not going to happen, so it was on to those morning tasks.
One of the things on my morning list was to make coffee. We’re a decaffeinated family, but we still enjoy our morning coffee, especially when it’s flavored. Right now I have two flavors in containers in the freezer: Southern Pecan and Hazelnut. Today was to be a Hazelnut day. Normally, I love the way the brewed coffee “smells” up the house, but my stuffed up nose kept me from that little pleasure. Small concern since I would be enjoying its taste soon enough. When the coffee maker finally ended its chugging and gurgling I filled my 32oz. mug and headed out the door for work.
I arrived at work and quickly dove into my morning setup and preparations. I provide elder care for a woman with dementia, so part of my routine is to prepare her breakfast. When I had everything set for my little lady, I sat down to have a few sips of my coffee. Good thing I was next to the sink because it tasted so nasty I immediately spit it into the sink. What a cruel joke! My normally very enjoyable morning brew tasted like a poor imitation of raspberry coffee.
To say that I was disappointed barely grasps the level of my emotions. But more than that, I was terribly confused. I had prepared coffee from this same batch on Saturday and it tasted fine, good in fact. What gremlins had been acting out their devious schemes in my freezer? I sat down to ponder this and it dawned on me that no gremlins were to blame, just my ailing taste buds and my oversaturated olfactory system. Bottom line: it was this cold.
Now when I get to pondering, those of you who know me know that generally leads me down paths of spiritual implications. Today proved not to be the exception. The question that bubbled up for me was this: what do we do when the things we want, perhaps even expect, come at us in very different forms? Just the formulation of the question brought instant tears to my eyes as I was flooded with the painful and disappointing memories of our recent trip to Disney when what was to be a joyous celebration turned into an excruciating experience of family dysfunction run wild.
Just calling that fiasco a fiasco was an odd sort of growth piece for me. I was raised in a family where we kept our dysfunction behind closed doors. If I were to follow my standard pattern, when someone would ask how our trip went I would have only picked out the good moments and basically denied the others existed. I couldn’t do that with this. I wouldn’t. I didn’t. The bad far outweighed the good and no amount of believing in pixy dust would make it any different. It was supposed to magical. I expected it to be. But just like my coffee this morning, I didn’t get what I expected. So now what would I do with that?
The first thing I had to realize was that it was not the end of the world. Yes, it was a disappointment, but life would actually go on. It’s going to be different, but not over. Then, I had to own it for what it was. Each time someone asked about our trip, I told them that it was nothing like what I expected, that family dysfunction reared its ugly head, but that there were also very precious stellar moments, and Disney puts on an amazing fireworks display! And when I was honest, I found something amazing as the fireworks but way more healing. Other people actually went to the Magic World of Disney and had equally awful and sometimes even worse experiences than mine. Who knew?
Yes, Tina, but what does this have to do with coffee and colds? Here’s the thing: when we go through an experience and it turns out not to be what we expected, especially when what we end up with falls far short of our expectation or desire and we are left with overwhelming disappointment, we need to realize that isn’t the end of the world and we’re not alone in feeling that way.
Five years ago, at my 30th high school reunion, a few of us women were standing on one side of the room looking across the way at a group of the men from our class. It dawned on me, and I shared it with my classmates, that if we had known that those guys were going to look like that in thirty years, we would have spent way less time crying in the bathroom—and the guys were probably thinking the same thing! In the moment we can be overcome by feelings of devastating disappointment, but with time comes the blessing of perspective.
I went looking for a verse or passage that would help me tie this altogether and I came upon Galatians 6:9: So don’t get tired of doing what is good. Don’t get discouraged and give up, for we will reap a harvest of blessing at the appropriate time. (NLT) When I read this here’s what I hear: Don’t quit doing the good that you know you should do, even when it’s hard. Don’t give into the discouragements that are going to come, don’t let your disappointments defeat you. If you will hold on, keep going, you will not only find a blessing but a harvest of blessings—abundance of blessing is available to sustain you. And it will come right on time. Not before. Never too late.
Isn’t it interesting that the verse that God brought to my attention had to do with harvest and blessings. Here we sit a week before Thanksgiving. For some, these days hold very little blessing at first glance. They have already given up and are way beyond tired. Their hazelnut doesn’t taste like raspberry, it’s a far more putrid and hopeless cup they drink from. Will you share your blessings with them?
Many of us put a lot of energy into making this a positive time for family to gather and share blessings. The expectations often are high and the disappointments equally so as weariness locks horns with hope and the result is an ugly mess. So should we just give up and go to McDonalds? I don’t think so. I believe we need to do the right thing for the right reasons and put our expectations to rest. It’s not going to be a perfect day. Some part of the meal probably won’t turn out right. Some family members are just not going to get along. Your football team may just loose. And there’s a pretty good chance that the weather will not be what you want. Get over it. Let go of those expectations and let the day be a time when instead of even thinking about what isn’t, think about what is and why the effort really was worth it. For when the time is right, you will reap a harvest of blessing.
And you may even find that raspberry coffee is not so bad.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
New Job
Very early in my working experience, I had a conversation with God. I agreed to pretty much always take whatever interviews that came my way. So like when I was a pastor, even if the church didn't seem to be one that I would have chosen, I would always interview. I knew that I didn't always see things from the big picture, or God's perspective, so I needed to take a closer look. Looking back, it makes for some pretty interesting stories.
I was contacted by a friend from church the other day about a job. Her job to be exact. Or rather, her soon to be former job. It's a part time position that has no benefits and she needs those since she is a young widow. I was quite touched that she thought of me when she was thinking of finding her replacement.
She sent me an email and asked if I had any office experience. I have. From her description, I don't think there's anything I can't handle or learn. Then she asked if I had any legal experience. It made me chuckle a bit. You see, this job is working in a local attorney's office. I'm not sure if my "legal experience" will qualify or eliminate me from consideration. I guess it's just an interview I'll have to go on and see.
The funny thing is that this opportunity came out of nowhere. I'm quite content with my job. It has taken me a while to get there, but I feel like I am doing something meaningful and I can't hardly find the words to describe how much I like the stress-free nature of my work. I have a pretty sure hunch that would not be the case with the new position. But I can see that things could change pretty quickly in my elder care job.
One of the real pluses to this new position, as with my current situation, is that I would still be available to watch Asher everyday. This continues to be a commitment that Nelson and I take very seriously.
Recently Asher has gotten into soccer. So no matter how tired I am just about every afternoon I'm out kicking the soccer ball around. When my girls were little, we didn't do soccer. Beth got into it late in high school, but it never required more of me than sitting in the stands cheering in all kinds of weather. I was not a soccer mom. But I am becoming a soccer mema. Tonight it all seemed a bit crazy as we kicked the ball around with snowflakes falling around us. Only a cup of cocoa with marshmellows served to be the ticket in out of the cold.
My hips were aching as I kicked the ball around and I fought not to quit. I was no good at kickball, I have not gotten any better in my aim with the passage of time. If anything that seems much worse. I must have missed the net ten times for every one time I just came close. At 53, why do I have to learn to play soccer?
This morning I reread the story of Moses being visited by God in the burning bush. Moses was well past 53 when he received his new job assignment. No amount of excuses or negotiating seemed to dissuade God from his plan. Moses was the man for the job.
So at 53, should I be too surprised that God might be calling me to something new? Perhaps my time of exile and solitude is done. Perhaps it's time to step up to God's next thing. Whether it turns out to be this position or something else. I'm not too old to learn to kick a soccer ball, or too inflexible to trust God to put me in a new position. No matter what, he's worth trusting--he really does see the big picture and have my best interests in mind.
I was contacted by a friend from church the other day about a job. Her job to be exact. Or rather, her soon to be former job. It's a part time position that has no benefits and she needs those since she is a young widow. I was quite touched that she thought of me when she was thinking of finding her replacement.
She sent me an email and asked if I had any office experience. I have. From her description, I don't think there's anything I can't handle or learn. Then she asked if I had any legal experience. It made me chuckle a bit. You see, this job is working in a local attorney's office. I'm not sure if my "legal experience" will qualify or eliminate me from consideration. I guess it's just an interview I'll have to go on and see.
The funny thing is that this opportunity came out of nowhere. I'm quite content with my job. It has taken me a while to get there, but I feel like I am doing something meaningful and I can't hardly find the words to describe how much I like the stress-free nature of my work. I have a pretty sure hunch that would not be the case with the new position. But I can see that things could change pretty quickly in my elder care job.
One of the real pluses to this new position, as with my current situation, is that I would still be available to watch Asher everyday. This continues to be a commitment that Nelson and I take very seriously.
Recently Asher has gotten into soccer. So no matter how tired I am just about every afternoon I'm out kicking the soccer ball around. When my girls were little, we didn't do soccer. Beth got into it late in high school, but it never required more of me than sitting in the stands cheering in all kinds of weather. I was not a soccer mom. But I am becoming a soccer mema. Tonight it all seemed a bit crazy as we kicked the ball around with snowflakes falling around us. Only a cup of cocoa with marshmellows served to be the ticket in out of the cold.
My hips were aching as I kicked the ball around and I fought not to quit. I was no good at kickball, I have not gotten any better in my aim with the passage of time. If anything that seems much worse. I must have missed the net ten times for every one time I just came close. At 53, why do I have to learn to play soccer?
This morning I reread the story of Moses being visited by God in the burning bush. Moses was well past 53 when he received his new job assignment. No amount of excuses or negotiating seemed to dissuade God from his plan. Moses was the man for the job.
So at 53, should I be too surprised that God might be calling me to something new? Perhaps my time of exile and solitude is done. Perhaps it's time to step up to God's next thing. Whether it turns out to be this position or something else. I'm not too old to learn to kick a soccer ball, or too inflexible to trust God to put me in a new position. No matter what, he's worth trusting--he really does see the big picture and have my best interests in mind.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Cooking and Writing
Recently, a friend of mine warned me not to sit on my gift. Just prior to that, she had asked me if I had written anything lately. I hadn’t. I haven’t felt inspired to write. It was like I had nothing to say.
Last week I was going through emails and I came across one that was advertising next year’s Writers’ Market. I remembered back to January of this year. I had begged Nelson for an updated copy. I told him that if he would buy it for me I would send out at least ten pieces to publishers. He did and I didn’t.
In the past few months, I have begun to enjoy cooking. Not long ago, Nelson posited that I was cooking to avoid writing. Seemed ridiculous to me. He had cooked most of our married life—mostly because he was very good at it, but also because I worked non-stop. Now, Nelson is working long days and it just makes sense for me to pick up that responsibility. I dove into the task by hunting for potential recipes and then began experimenting with combinations that I knew we liked. I went quickly from having three recipes that my family enjoyed to a couple dozen. It felt good.
This morning as I was washing the pot that I had made a really good soup in yesterday, I had an epiphany. It was about cooking and writing. When Nelson and I got married I was afraid to cook. I was such a novice that my mother-in-law bought me an illustrated cookbook. My repertoire included macaroni made in a hot pot and peanut butter sandwiches. To avoid embarrassment, I acquiesced to Nelson’s expertise and over the years discovered three recipes that I did well and stuck with those. I was afraid to do any more than that because if I couldn’t do it perfectly I wouldn’t do it all.
What I realized as I stood at my sink scrubbing dishes was that Nelson was right in part. I needed to cook so that I could write. I hadn’t contacted any publishers with my writing because, though I knew I could write, I didn’t consider myself a writer. Throwing myself into my cooking showed me that. For years I had avoided cooking because I didn’t see myself as a cook and therefore I couldn’t. It wasn’t enough to say that I could cook, I had to be the best cook. I knew I was far from that so I didn’t, and wouldn’t cook. This was reinforced by the ridicule I took when I tried to cook. I was the brunt of many a family joke. Why should I continue to prove them right and give them something new to laugh at?
My recent successes at cooking have forced me to rethink this. I may not be a “James Beard Chef”, but I can cook. Nelson has really enjoyed my newly found and developing love for being creative in the kitchen. He raves about the meals and shows them off at work. I’m not going to be Top Chef anywhere, not even in my kitchen. That honor will always be Nelson’s. But it’s not going to keep me from cooking and experimenting.
I still have a few months left in this year. I will probably never win an award for my writing, but why should that keep me from developing my craft and sharing my thoughts? The obvious answer is that it shouldn’t—and based on what I learned from cooking recently: it won’t!
Oh, and while I’m at it, I realized something else about my writing that makes it more imperative that I push past my reluctance to face rejection. Recently while I was preparing for a retreat I led on spirituality and personality, I read that most devotionals are written by “N” types (think MBTI). I mulled that over for a while and realized that is one of the reasons I feel so compelled to create a devotional series, one that is more appealing and appropriate for “S” types. Not everyone relates to the intuitive style and needs to engage their senses more completely to engage them spiritually. Maybe I’ve found my niche!
Last week I was going through emails and I came across one that was advertising next year’s Writers’ Market. I remembered back to January of this year. I had begged Nelson for an updated copy. I told him that if he would buy it for me I would send out at least ten pieces to publishers. He did and I didn’t.
In the past few months, I have begun to enjoy cooking. Not long ago, Nelson posited that I was cooking to avoid writing. Seemed ridiculous to me. He had cooked most of our married life—mostly because he was very good at it, but also because I worked non-stop. Now, Nelson is working long days and it just makes sense for me to pick up that responsibility. I dove into the task by hunting for potential recipes and then began experimenting with combinations that I knew we liked. I went quickly from having three recipes that my family enjoyed to a couple dozen. It felt good.
This morning as I was washing the pot that I had made a really good soup in yesterday, I had an epiphany. It was about cooking and writing. When Nelson and I got married I was afraid to cook. I was such a novice that my mother-in-law bought me an illustrated cookbook. My repertoire included macaroni made in a hot pot and peanut butter sandwiches. To avoid embarrassment, I acquiesced to Nelson’s expertise and over the years discovered three recipes that I did well and stuck with those. I was afraid to do any more than that because if I couldn’t do it perfectly I wouldn’t do it all.
What I realized as I stood at my sink scrubbing dishes was that Nelson was right in part. I needed to cook so that I could write. I hadn’t contacted any publishers with my writing because, though I knew I could write, I didn’t consider myself a writer. Throwing myself into my cooking showed me that. For years I had avoided cooking because I didn’t see myself as a cook and therefore I couldn’t. It wasn’t enough to say that I could cook, I had to be the best cook. I knew I was far from that so I didn’t, and wouldn’t cook. This was reinforced by the ridicule I took when I tried to cook. I was the brunt of many a family joke. Why should I continue to prove them right and give them something new to laugh at?
My recent successes at cooking have forced me to rethink this. I may not be a “James Beard Chef”, but I can cook. Nelson has really enjoyed my newly found and developing love for being creative in the kitchen. He raves about the meals and shows them off at work. I’m not going to be Top Chef anywhere, not even in my kitchen. That honor will always be Nelson’s. But it’s not going to keep me from cooking and experimenting.
I still have a few months left in this year. I will probably never win an award for my writing, but why should that keep me from developing my craft and sharing my thoughts? The obvious answer is that it shouldn’t—and based on what I learned from cooking recently: it won’t!
Oh, and while I’m at it, I realized something else about my writing that makes it more imperative that I push past my reluctance to face rejection. Recently while I was preparing for a retreat I led on spirituality and personality, I read that most devotionals are written by “N” types (think MBTI). I mulled that over for a while and realized that is one of the reasons I feel so compelled to create a devotional series, one that is more appealing and appropriate for “S” types. Not everyone relates to the intuitive style and needs to engage their senses more completely to engage them spiritually. Maybe I’ve found my niche!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
8 Miles
I decided to take a morning ride today. There were a lot of reasons why this could prove to be unwise, but there were two weighing on my mind: it's very windy (30mph gusts); and I'm just not as limber in the morning. I knew the latter fact from my workout days at Curves. I got a better workout in the afternoon/evening, mostly because I was loosened up and my muscles just responded better. But I was not to be disuaded!
So I took off from the house with inspirational music on my MP3 player and a high level of determination. Less than three quarters of a mile into the ride I was beginning to have serious second thoughts. Easy flat spots on my route were nearly impossible as it took all my energy to fight the headwind. At other moments I feared I would topple as the wind gusted at me from the side. Several moments I was ready to turn around--some ride was better than none. At least I came out and gave it a try. No! I was going to do this.
When I reached the turn around spot that is 2.5 miles from the house, I decided to press on. Then when I reached the spot where I could turn right, go a distance that would add a mile to the ride, I turned left and decided to see where the road would take me. What a pleasant choice!
The road I ended up taking was a quiet, rolling country road. When I got to the end of it I found that I had ridden to the next country town. I rode to the next town! I was so proud of myself--especially for not giving up! I was energized as I rode all the way home that the distance felt like a blink and the wind no longer held me back.
As soon as I put my bike away, I grabbed my keys and hopped in the car to go see how far I had actually ridden. It was just under 4 miles to the other town and the spot where I turned around to come home. Yay for me!
Now, as you can imagine, I of course was able to see some spiritual implications during my ride today. The major one came when it seemed like God nudged me in the back to keep me going. I could have blamed the surge on the wind and given into my weak spirit and turned back home. I have done it enough. Quit too soon. Quit when it gets a little tough. I have let the hills and wind of life keep my from going forward. I really wonder what I missed by choosing my way over His.
I'm reading a book that has really gotten me to thinking. M. Robert Mullholland's book, "The Deeper Journey." I am reading the section that describes the "false self" and the "religious false self." Two characteristics of these false selfs stuck out to me (really they knocked me upside the head): fear and control. I'm not sure if the two sides of one coin, but they definitely go hand in hand for me. I'm afraid so I want control. I feel loss of control and I'm immediately afraid. Anyway, I have more reading to do and hopefully I'll come out of this better able to trust and let go....and keep on riding!
So I took off from the house with inspirational music on my MP3 player and a high level of determination. Less than three quarters of a mile into the ride I was beginning to have serious second thoughts. Easy flat spots on my route were nearly impossible as it took all my energy to fight the headwind. At other moments I feared I would topple as the wind gusted at me from the side. Several moments I was ready to turn around--some ride was better than none. At least I came out and gave it a try. No! I was going to do this.
When I reached the turn around spot that is 2.5 miles from the house, I decided to press on. Then when I reached the spot where I could turn right, go a distance that would add a mile to the ride, I turned left and decided to see where the road would take me. What a pleasant choice!
The road I ended up taking was a quiet, rolling country road. When I got to the end of it I found that I had ridden to the next country town. I rode to the next town! I was so proud of myself--especially for not giving up! I was energized as I rode all the way home that the distance felt like a blink and the wind no longer held me back.
As soon as I put my bike away, I grabbed my keys and hopped in the car to go see how far I had actually ridden. It was just under 4 miles to the other town and the spot where I turned around to come home. Yay for me!
Now, as you can imagine, I of course was able to see some spiritual implications during my ride today. The major one came when it seemed like God nudged me in the back to keep me going. I could have blamed the surge on the wind and given into my weak spirit and turned back home. I have done it enough. Quit too soon. Quit when it gets a little tough. I have let the hills and wind of life keep my from going forward. I really wonder what I missed by choosing my way over His.
I'm reading a book that has really gotten me to thinking. M. Robert Mullholland's book, "The Deeper Journey." I am reading the section that describes the "false self" and the "religious false self." Two characteristics of these false selfs stuck out to me (really they knocked me upside the head): fear and control. I'm not sure if the two sides of one coin, but they definitely go hand in hand for me. I'm afraid so I want control. I feel loss of control and I'm immediately afraid. Anyway, I have more reading to do and hopefully I'll come out of this better able to trust and let go....and keep on riding!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Portion and Cup
Psalm 16:5
You have assigned me my portion and my cup. You have made my lot secure. (TNIV)
Lord, you alone are my inheritance, my cup of blessing. You guard all that is mine. (NLT)
My choice, is you, God, first and only and now I find I’m your choice. (The Message)
The other day my husband went to the freezer to take out some meat to thaw for dinner and he found that the door had not been shut properly and a box of popsicles had melted, spilling sticky goop onto each shelf and down the inside of the door. We both instantly knew who the culprit was that hadn’t shut the door: the grandson. In an effort to expand our trust, we have allowed him to get his own small snacks and with the recent heat, popsicles have become his favorites. Even with constant reminders, sometimes the door just doesn’t get shut tight.
Perhaps that is why when I was a kid we were never allowed to get our own treats. What we were allowed was doled out to us. Later, when we were responsible enough to close the door, we were allowed to get our own treats, but the amount and the variety was carefully controlled and monitored by our mother. Portions were rigidly adhered to: three cookies after meals; two donuts with breakfast; one small bowl of chips; or only one bowl of cereal for breakfast. The only between meal drink was water. And the clear understanding was ‘don’t ask for any more.’ I knew when I opened my sack at lunch at school that there would be a small bag of chips, a sandwich, and three cookies.
Some might have found comfort in the consistency with which we were fed. All I ever saw was what seemed like a banquet for my friends. I rebelled against this rigidity in private, eating other’s castoffs and sneaking food whenever I was able. I never interpreted the limits as love or wisdom, only as punitive, withholding and depriving. Others had more, why couldn’t I? This lack of understanding produced a distortion that unfortunately infiltrated so many areas of my life, from food to relationships to my spirituality.
At some point in my walk with the Lord, I came across Psalm 16, and found I needed to camp out on verse 5. The more I stayed there, the more I revisited and let the words penetrate deep into my heart, the more I was able to let go of the distortions that had led me into a bulimic form of existence(binging and purging, gorging and repenting). No matter what had happened when I was a child, it was and is God who assigns my portion and cup. He who created me knows what I need and he gives me exactly what I need to accomplish his purpose in my life.
As I pondered my portion for today, I was reminded of Jesus’ teaching to the disciples in what we now call The Lord’s Prayer: give us this day our daily bread. How many of my problems would cease to be problems if I would just focus on my portion and cup today? What would happen if we would acknowledge before God that we seek no more or less than what he has for us this day?
What do you need today? What do I need today? If this verse from David and Jesus’ subsequent teaching mean anything, then it isn’t up to me to decide. We typically spend a lot of time telling God what we need, and reminding him what others need as well. How would our prayers and life change if instead we prayed: “Show me what I really need so that I can be effective in all I do?”
Just as my mother knew that I didn’t need more that three cookies, God knows what this day holds and just what I will need to meet it. So I can trust and I will find that my lot is truly secure.
You have assigned me my portion and my cup. You have made my lot secure. (TNIV)
Lord, you alone are my inheritance, my cup of blessing. You guard all that is mine. (NLT)
My choice, is you, God, first and only and now I find I’m your choice. (The Message)
The other day my husband went to the freezer to take out some meat to thaw for dinner and he found that the door had not been shut properly and a box of popsicles had melted, spilling sticky goop onto each shelf and down the inside of the door. We both instantly knew who the culprit was that hadn’t shut the door: the grandson. In an effort to expand our trust, we have allowed him to get his own small snacks and with the recent heat, popsicles have become his favorites. Even with constant reminders, sometimes the door just doesn’t get shut tight.
Perhaps that is why when I was a kid we were never allowed to get our own treats. What we were allowed was doled out to us. Later, when we were responsible enough to close the door, we were allowed to get our own treats, but the amount and the variety was carefully controlled and monitored by our mother. Portions were rigidly adhered to: three cookies after meals; two donuts with breakfast; one small bowl of chips; or only one bowl of cereal for breakfast. The only between meal drink was water. And the clear understanding was ‘don’t ask for any more.’ I knew when I opened my sack at lunch at school that there would be a small bag of chips, a sandwich, and three cookies.
Some might have found comfort in the consistency with which we were fed. All I ever saw was what seemed like a banquet for my friends. I rebelled against this rigidity in private, eating other’s castoffs and sneaking food whenever I was able. I never interpreted the limits as love or wisdom, only as punitive, withholding and depriving. Others had more, why couldn’t I? This lack of understanding produced a distortion that unfortunately infiltrated so many areas of my life, from food to relationships to my spirituality.
At some point in my walk with the Lord, I came across Psalm 16, and found I needed to camp out on verse 5. The more I stayed there, the more I revisited and let the words penetrate deep into my heart, the more I was able to let go of the distortions that had led me into a bulimic form of existence(binging and purging, gorging and repenting). No matter what had happened when I was a child, it was and is God who assigns my portion and cup. He who created me knows what I need and he gives me exactly what I need to accomplish his purpose in my life.
As I pondered my portion for today, I was reminded of Jesus’ teaching to the disciples in what we now call The Lord’s Prayer: give us this day our daily bread. How many of my problems would cease to be problems if I would just focus on my portion and cup today? What would happen if we would acknowledge before God that we seek no more or less than what he has for us this day?
What do you need today? What do I need today? If this verse from David and Jesus’ subsequent teaching mean anything, then it isn’t up to me to decide. We typically spend a lot of time telling God what we need, and reminding him what others need as well. How would our prayers and life change if instead we prayed: “Show me what I really need so that I can be effective in all I do?”
Just as my mother knew that I didn’t need more that three cookies, God knows what this day holds and just what I will need to meet it. So I can trust and I will find that my lot is truly secure.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Coming Home
In my quiet time this morning, I was thinking through the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15), trying to see the story new and fresh. Lo and behold, I got a new thought. We always identify the father in the story with God--resist that temptation for a moment. What if all the characters in the story needed to come home, needed a second chance? We already talk about how the older son was far from home but never left the property. What if the father in this story needed to come home, too? What if he was a parent who blew it? Maybe he was a prototype for the workaholic. Maybe he was a womanizer. Maybe he was a drunk. Maybe that's why the younger son wanted out of the home so badly. There's no mention of a mother, let's imagine for a moment that she died young and the father never got over the loss which disconnected him from his sons. It wouldn't be hard to wish that kind of father dead (and in essence, that's what the younger son did by asking for his inheritance before his father died).
Perhaps the younger son's leaving was just the catalyst that the father needed to begin his own journey home. Perhaps that's why he longed and looked for his return. Perhaps that was the impetus for the joyous reunion. The father now, having already had his own season of repenting had been practicing his own line to deliver to the son--maybe that's why the son was never able to get his out.
Thinking this way also explains the older brother and his reaction. It also adds to the potential reunion between that son and the father, too.
I'm just thinking out loud and have much more reflecting to do...would love to get your reaction...
Perhaps the younger son's leaving was just the catalyst that the father needed to begin his own journey home. Perhaps that's why he longed and looked for his return. Perhaps that was the impetus for the joyous reunion. The father now, having already had his own season of repenting had been practicing his own line to deliver to the son--maybe that's why the son was never able to get his out.
Thinking this way also explains the older brother and his reaction. It also adds to the potential reunion between that son and the father, too.
I'm just thinking out loud and have much more reflecting to do...would love to get your reaction...
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Lent Day 4: Mindfulness
“It’s one less thing I have to think about.” That’s that advertising strategy now for a fabric softener that you attach to the wall of your dryer. Come to think of it, it’s the same concept as a birth control contraceptive, denture adhesive, and toilet paper rolls with three times the paper so that you don’t have to change the roll as often. Where’s it all going to end?
More important to me than when this could end is what this trend seems to be indicative of—what does it say about us? Is taking our medication everyday really that big a hardship? Is it really so hard to remember to grab a dryer sheet for the dryer? Are we that lazy, busy, or distracted that we have to have so much more paper on hand to make sure our behinds get cleaned?
Here’s an old-fashioned word for you: mindfulness. It seems old-fashioned because it’s really quite out of fashion to act, think, and behave in a mind-full manner. We aren’t mind-full of what we eat when we eat. We’re usually stuffing our faces at our desks, in front of the TV, or while we drive down the road. Most people can’t remember the last time they sat as a family and enjoyed a meal with conversation—they probably can’t even tell you what they ate for dinner. This lack of mindfulness results in our overeating which only adds to the overwhelming battle of the bulge plaguing our society.
Our language is just as concerning. We speak without realizing what we’re saying to whom and where. I’ve taught job skill classes to folks who are completely unaware of their use of expletives as adjectives. When you ask them what they said they can’t tell you. There’s no sense of the inappropriateness of certain conversations in front of different people or in different places.
Lack of mindfulness doesn’t stop there. I believe it’s a serious problem for us as believers. How many times have you gone to worship with a multitude of things vying for our attention, only to leave and be unable to answer basic questions about the morning message. We give way to any number of distractions rather than focusing our hearts and minds on the matters that ultimately matter.
Do you realize that God is mindful of you? The Psalmist marvels at this as he asks the question: what is man that you are mindful of him? (Psalm 8) We’re told in the New Testament that God knows exactly how many hairs are on each of our heads. Imagine that. Nothing happens to us that catches him unaware. He doesn’t need a sticky note to be reminded to meet our need. We are never an item that is crossed off his To Do List. How is it that we think we can operate less mindfully of Him?
I believe the Word gives us two means for living more intentionally and mindfully. First, Jesus taught his followers the key is what we seek first. “Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things (the stuff of life and living—including dryer sheets) will be added unto you. (Matthew 6:33) We don’t need one less thing to think about spiritually, we need to think about putting the right thing first. We are also to: 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:2-3) Consider him, be mindful of him, so that you will not grow weary, lose heart, or become spiritually lazy.
Do you really need one less thing to think about or do you need to getting your thinking prioritized? There’s an old hymn that might make the process a little easier: Turn your eyes upon Jesus…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QR0LiRiz4l4
More important to me than when this could end is what this trend seems to be indicative of—what does it say about us? Is taking our medication everyday really that big a hardship? Is it really so hard to remember to grab a dryer sheet for the dryer? Are we that lazy, busy, or distracted that we have to have so much more paper on hand to make sure our behinds get cleaned?
Here’s an old-fashioned word for you: mindfulness. It seems old-fashioned because it’s really quite out of fashion to act, think, and behave in a mind-full manner. We aren’t mind-full of what we eat when we eat. We’re usually stuffing our faces at our desks, in front of the TV, or while we drive down the road. Most people can’t remember the last time they sat as a family and enjoyed a meal with conversation—they probably can’t even tell you what they ate for dinner. This lack of mindfulness results in our overeating which only adds to the overwhelming battle of the bulge plaguing our society.
Our language is just as concerning. We speak without realizing what we’re saying to whom and where. I’ve taught job skill classes to folks who are completely unaware of their use of expletives as adjectives. When you ask them what they said they can’t tell you. There’s no sense of the inappropriateness of certain conversations in front of different people or in different places.
Lack of mindfulness doesn’t stop there. I believe it’s a serious problem for us as believers. How many times have you gone to worship with a multitude of things vying for our attention, only to leave and be unable to answer basic questions about the morning message. We give way to any number of distractions rather than focusing our hearts and minds on the matters that ultimately matter.
Do you realize that God is mindful of you? The Psalmist marvels at this as he asks the question: what is man that you are mindful of him? (Psalm 8) We’re told in the New Testament that God knows exactly how many hairs are on each of our heads. Imagine that. Nothing happens to us that catches him unaware. He doesn’t need a sticky note to be reminded to meet our need. We are never an item that is crossed off his To Do List. How is it that we think we can operate less mindfully of Him?
I believe the Word gives us two means for living more intentionally and mindfully. First, Jesus taught his followers the key is what we seek first. “Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things (the stuff of life and living—including dryer sheets) will be added unto you. (Matthew 6:33) We don’t need one less thing to think about spiritually, we need to think about putting the right thing first. We are also to: 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:2-3) Consider him, be mindful of him, so that you will not grow weary, lose heart, or become spiritually lazy.
Do you really need one less thing to think about or do you need to getting your thinking prioritized? There’s an old hymn that might make the process a little easier: Turn your eyes upon Jesus…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QR0LiRiz4l4
Friday, February 19, 2010
Lent Day 3: Sacrifice of Praise
“And you’ll need to reduce your daily caffeine consumption—probably in half.” These were some of the words I heard this week. Not easy words to swallow. I think I’ll be good to go decaf on my tea (hot and cold), but I have yet to find a decaf coffee that tastes good to me. It wasn’t difficult to give up caffeinated pop, which resulted in giving it up practically all together. That was a logical choice after I took the time to consider the amount of sugar and sodium in a can of pop. It was such an easy “sacrifice” that I sometimes wonder if it was a true sacrifice. Is something that easy really a sacrifice?
Now I am faced with a different type of dilemma. Caffeine is having a negative and unhealthy effect on my heart. It’s no longer a recommendation that I consider. I am being told I need to give it up. There’s a period at the end of that sentence, not a comma followed by another option. The doctor wasn’t making a suggestion. He was just telling me to do it. No “how”, just “do.”
I shared this with my ladies at Curves. They, of course, had many suggestions on how to accomplish this. A few decided to remind me that I shouldn’t just address my tea and coffee intake, but that I also needed to factor in the chocolate I eat. I could have gone all day without thinking about that. Many offered the thought that I could probably justify eating a small square of dark chocolate every other day or so. Who were they kidding? Small amount and chocolate never occupy the same sentence or action of consumption for me. It’s definitely time to rethink life as I know it.
Thinking about this I began to consider the irony that this new way of life should come during the season of Lent, the time when we focus on sacrifice. One might actually hear a chuckle coming from the throne room of heaven. Does God want me to give something up in a temporary act of sacrifice or does He want me to think about a whole new way of living? The scales seem to be tipping in favor of the latter.
As I sat reflecting on this new dietary direction for my life, I began to think about what sacrifice God might be wanting from me. A phrase from scripture came to mind: sacrifice of praise. Immediately I was humming the chorus, “We bring the sacrifice of praise into the house of the Lord.” But where did that come from and what does it mean?
In Hebrews 13 we are instructed to bring our sacrifice of praise. Here are those verses in a couple different translations. Read them through slowly and let God speak to you.
15 Therefore, let us offer through Jesus a continual sacrifice of praise to God, proclaiming our allegiance to his name. 16 And don’t forget to do good and to share with those in need. These are the sacrifices that please God. (New Living Translation)
13-15So let's go outside, where Jesus is, where the action is—not trying to be privileged insiders, but taking our share in the abuse of Jesus. This "insider world" is not our home. We have our eyes peeled for the City about to come. Let's take our place outside with Jesus, no longer pouring out the sacrificial blood of animals but pouring out sacrificial praises from our lips to God in Jesus' name. (The Message)
Accomplishing what is required in these verses is going to require a spiritual lifestyle change. And like what the doctor is requiring of me for my heart’s sake, there is no option, no comma, just the clear instruction to do it. This is not a flippant or easy giving up for forty days, this is a radical rethinking of how I live. How will you respond?
Now I am faced with a different type of dilemma. Caffeine is having a negative and unhealthy effect on my heart. It’s no longer a recommendation that I consider. I am being told I need to give it up. There’s a period at the end of that sentence, not a comma followed by another option. The doctor wasn’t making a suggestion. He was just telling me to do it. No “how”, just “do.”
I shared this with my ladies at Curves. They, of course, had many suggestions on how to accomplish this. A few decided to remind me that I shouldn’t just address my tea and coffee intake, but that I also needed to factor in the chocolate I eat. I could have gone all day without thinking about that. Many offered the thought that I could probably justify eating a small square of dark chocolate every other day or so. Who were they kidding? Small amount and chocolate never occupy the same sentence or action of consumption for me. It’s definitely time to rethink life as I know it.
Thinking about this I began to consider the irony that this new way of life should come during the season of Lent, the time when we focus on sacrifice. One might actually hear a chuckle coming from the throne room of heaven. Does God want me to give something up in a temporary act of sacrifice or does He want me to think about a whole new way of living? The scales seem to be tipping in favor of the latter.
As I sat reflecting on this new dietary direction for my life, I began to think about what sacrifice God might be wanting from me. A phrase from scripture came to mind: sacrifice of praise. Immediately I was humming the chorus, “We bring the sacrifice of praise into the house of the Lord.” But where did that come from and what does it mean?
In Hebrews 13 we are instructed to bring our sacrifice of praise. Here are those verses in a couple different translations. Read them through slowly and let God speak to you.
15 Therefore, let us offer through Jesus a continual sacrifice of praise to God, proclaiming our allegiance to his name. 16 And don’t forget to do good and to share with those in need. These are the sacrifices that please God. (New Living Translation)
13-15So let's go outside, where Jesus is, where the action is—not trying to be privileged insiders, but taking our share in the abuse of Jesus. This "insider world" is not our home. We have our eyes peeled for the City about to come. Let's take our place outside with Jesus, no longer pouring out the sacrificial blood of animals but pouring out sacrificial praises from our lips to God in Jesus' name. (The Message)
Accomplishing what is required in these verses is going to require a spiritual lifestyle change. And like what the doctor is requiring of me for my heart’s sake, there is no option, no comma, just the clear instruction to do it. This is not a flippant or easy giving up for forty days, this is a radical rethinking of how I live. How will you respond?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Lent Day 2: Salt
How much salt have you had today? I had an appointment with a cardiologist this week. One part of our discussion focused on my high blood pressure. Next week I’ll have a stress test and after that we’ll discuss medication. Thinking about this got me to thinking about how much salt, sodium, I’ve been consuming. It also got me to thinking about Jesus’ teaching that the disciples were the salt of the earth.
Have you given much thought to how salty you were today? I have always attributed being salt to adding flavor (zest) to life, or being a preserver of what is good and right. It has also been suggested that a person who is worth their salt (by the way, that’s where we get our word salary from) is someone who can be counted upon. This concept, in particular, seems to ring true when you consider that Jesus
goes on to ask, “What good is salt that has lost its saltiness?”
Have you ever considered that being dependable is a sacrifice? Are you willing to make that sacrifice? I’m not suggesting that we be a doormat for the world to take advantage of, but it is important that we can be counted on—otherwise, we’re only good for throwing underfoot. I’m just not ready to be trampled on, how about you?
One of the other things that has always that stood out to me was the way Jesus TOLD them they were salt. He didn’t suggest it. He didn’t tell them that they were going to grow into being salt someday. They were salt. It was as if Jesus was saying, “This is what you are—what are you going to do about it?” Will you be what you were created to be?
While I was typing this Asher came in the office. I was reading my writing out loud. He heard me say that Jesus said we are salt. He wanted to know what that meant. So as best I could I tried to explain it to him. He decided he didn’t want to be salt. There are a lot of folks like Asher who just seem to have opted out of being who they were created to be. Sadly, some of those folks are hanging around the Body, the Church. They grumble about a lot of things, including that they don’t feel like the Church, the Body, does anything for them.
The more I thought about this the more I started to laugh. It seemed to me that this kind of thinking would be like eating French fries, popcorn, or potato chips so that my salt would taste good. It’s not the other stuff of life or other people who are to make us appreciate our saltiness. We need to get it right: the world is in need of our saltiness. So how about you? Can your corner of the world count on you to bring all the qualities of healing, preserving, seasoning, that are attributed to salt? Will you be who you were created to be or just be tossed aside? Consider Peterson’s translation of this verse in The Message: 13"Let me tell you why you are here. You're here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You've lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage. (Matthew 5:13).
Have you given much thought to how salty you were today? I have always attributed being salt to adding flavor (zest) to life, or being a preserver of what is good and right. It has also been suggested that a person who is worth their salt (by the way, that’s where we get our word salary from) is someone who can be counted upon. This concept, in particular, seems to ring true when you consider that Jesus
goes on to ask, “What good is salt that has lost its saltiness?”
Have you ever considered that being dependable is a sacrifice? Are you willing to make that sacrifice? I’m not suggesting that we be a doormat for the world to take advantage of, but it is important that we can be counted on—otherwise, we’re only good for throwing underfoot. I’m just not ready to be trampled on, how about you?
One of the other things that has always that stood out to me was the way Jesus TOLD them they were salt. He didn’t suggest it. He didn’t tell them that they were going to grow into being salt someday. They were salt. It was as if Jesus was saying, “This is what you are—what are you going to do about it?” Will you be what you were created to be?
While I was typing this Asher came in the office. I was reading my writing out loud. He heard me say that Jesus said we are salt. He wanted to know what that meant. So as best I could I tried to explain it to him. He decided he didn’t want to be salt. There are a lot of folks like Asher who just seem to have opted out of being who they were created to be. Sadly, some of those folks are hanging around the Body, the Church. They grumble about a lot of things, including that they don’t feel like the Church, the Body, does anything for them.
The more I thought about this the more I started to laugh. It seemed to me that this kind of thinking would be like eating French fries, popcorn, or potato chips so that my salt would taste good. It’s not the other stuff of life or other people who are to make us appreciate our saltiness. We need to get it right: the world is in need of our saltiness. So how about you? Can your corner of the world count on you to bring all the qualities of healing, preserving, seasoning, that are attributed to salt? Will you be who you were created to be or just be tossed aside? Consider Peterson’s translation of this verse in The Message: 13"Let me tell you why you are here. You're here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You've lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage. (Matthew 5:13).
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Lent Day 1: Honesty
“Mema, I need scissors to get crayon out of my tooth.” This is how the conversation started with my grandson. I took him to the bathroom to get one of his floss sticks. And then I asked, “Asher, how did crayon get in your tooth?” He replied without missing a beat and with complete candor: “I was coloring and it just got in there.” I assured him that I was pretty sure that the crayon did not “just get” into his mouth.
The problem is as old as Adam. When confronted by God about the apple cores lying on the ground,
Adam had the audacity to blame God: “That woman you gave me…” It is so hard to accept personal responsibility for what happens. It’s much easier to blame everyone else. A woman burns her mouth drinking hot coffee and sues the company for making the coffee hot instead owning up that she probably shouldn’t have been trying to drink it while she was driving.
I was reminded of this not long ago while I was watching a basketball game. One of the giants on the court committed a foul so flagrant that even a novice like me could call it, but instead of raising his hand (like we were taught to do in school when you committed a foul), he ran to the ref and in an animated fashion began loudly (and with multiple expletives) arguing his case for innocence. No one including the ref was buying the argument. It was almost as believable as a crayon jumping into your mouth.
In 2002, Nelson and I had to declare bankruptcy after I lost my jobs and his restaurants closed. As we met with our attorney (who was also a court magistrate in our county), we were discussing my legal situation. She asked me a question that absolutely floored me. With all seriousness, she asked why in the world I turned myself in, why didn’t I just lie about it—no one would have ever known. No one but me. No one but God.
So here we are at the beginning of Lent. Let’s start by being honest. Let’s own up to our mess ups. Let’s not blame others. Let’s give up hiding. Raise your hand. Own your behavior. The old timers call it confession. The Word tells us: 8If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. 9If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:8-9, NIV) I just have to believe we will all feel better with a little less crayon in our teeth.
The problem is as old as Adam. When confronted by God about the apple cores lying on the ground,
Adam had the audacity to blame God: “That woman you gave me…” It is so hard to accept personal responsibility for what happens. It’s much easier to blame everyone else. A woman burns her mouth drinking hot coffee and sues the company for making the coffee hot instead owning up that she probably shouldn’t have been trying to drink it while she was driving.
I was reminded of this not long ago while I was watching a basketball game. One of the giants on the court committed a foul so flagrant that even a novice like me could call it, but instead of raising his hand (like we were taught to do in school when you committed a foul), he ran to the ref and in an animated fashion began loudly (and with multiple expletives) arguing his case for innocence. No one including the ref was buying the argument. It was almost as believable as a crayon jumping into your mouth.
In 2002, Nelson and I had to declare bankruptcy after I lost my jobs and his restaurants closed. As we met with our attorney (who was also a court magistrate in our county), we were discussing my legal situation. She asked me a question that absolutely floored me. With all seriousness, she asked why in the world I turned myself in, why didn’t I just lie about it—no one would have ever known. No one but me. No one but God.
So here we are at the beginning of Lent. Let’s start by being honest. Let’s own up to our mess ups. Let’s not blame others. Let’s give up hiding. Raise your hand. Own your behavior. The old timers call it confession. The Word tells us: 8If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. 9If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:8-9, NIV) I just have to believe we will all feel better with a little less crayon in our teeth.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Lenten Journey
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been distracted by all the snow, or battling illness or one sort or another, but I was floored the other day when I realized that Lent begins next Wednesday. For me the season of preparation for the celebration of the sacrifice and wonder of our Savior’s death and resurrection takes thought and time. In the past I have given much prayer and meditation to what should be the focus of my Lenten preparation. I seek God’s leading rather than my interest so that the experience can have greater impact and I’ll be more able to follow through. The old days of giving up chocolate have lost their spiritual power for me.
So when I opened my email and found something from Christianity Today about Lent I decided to take the time to see what was there. I’m very glad I did. Here are two quotes that really struck a chord with me:
We don't have the perspective needed to choose the things that will really change us. (Deep down, we may not even want to change. I like to say, "Everyone wants to be transformed, but nobody wants to change.")
Without the observance of Lent, and Holy Week in particular, Easter Sunday fails to keep in proper balance the Cross and the Resurrection as the two main New Testament paradigms for the Christian life. The dominant paradigm for Christian discipleship this side of heaven is "sharing in his sufferings" (Phil. 3:10).
(Source: Steven R. Harmon, author of Ecumenism Means You, Too, Frederica Mathewes-Green, the author of The Jesus Prayer, and Michael Horton, author of The Gospel-Driven Life, suggest why Christians should care about Lent.)
The first thing I noticed was the truth that we don’t know or have the proper perspective. Does that bristle anything in you? In the evangelical mainstream, we tend to think that we know what’s best for us spiritually. We shun the suggestion that we might actually gain from an outside source. And goodness knows, we don’t think we need an intermediary. The problem with that is that while we may think we know what we need, if we’d do the honest soul exploring, we’d see that we most often fall short when it comes to spiritual depth. This is probably due to the second part of that quote. We know we want to and definitely need to be transformed (Romans 12:1), but we are usually quite comfortable with the way things are, so the hard work of change never gets done.
Observance of Lent, or Advent for that matter, involves discipline. I don’t know about you, but I’m not very good at the “d” word. Whether it has to do with my latest commitment to living healthy, keeping my house clean, or developing a writing habit, I just think sometimes that I was born without the discipline bone in my body. Perhaps that is partly why I have always struggled with making it the whole forty days without eating chocolate, or drinking pop, or watching TV less. I have often wanted to fall back on “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” Truth be told, I just haven’t been convinced enough to make the commitment and do the hard work to change. Bottom line: I’m just spiritually lazy.
Then I read the second quote and I get another insight into my reluctance to change. People who sign on to suffer are generally considered to have some type of mental problem. When I read the Philippian passage, I can get excited about wanting to know Christ more. I’m right with Paul until he has to throw in the part about “sharing in his sufferings.” I am all about the power of the resurrection! I love celebrating the triumph. Easter morning is a wonderful time. Jesus won! We win, too! It reminds me of how I love to celebrate the gift of Christmas, but I forget how much it cost to give the gift.
Knowing these things about myself, knowing how my heart yearns for greater depth, I am now challenged to bring heart, soul, mind, and strength into focus. As I started meditating and contemplating, I began to formulate some questions. What will change me, not just challenge me for forty days? What can I do to redeem the suffering of my Lord and Savior? How will I specifically join him in the work of extending grace to others? This was not a comfortable process. I began to see that if I was going to be serious about this, I was going to have to get used to being uncomfortable.
There’s a phrase in the gospel that described how Jesus moved into and prepared for the suffering that was ahead. It said that Jesus set his face to Jerusalem. Now while setting one’s face can involve catching a vision, greater emphasis seems to be placed on determination. (Oh great, another “d” word!) As Jesus moves toward the inevitability of what lies ahead in Jerusalem, I am comforted in the fact that he does not make this journey alone. Perhaps this is a truth that will help me in my own journey. I can go, knowing that there is one who goes with me who has already made the journey. But just as Jesus brought his closest friends in close, I can draw on the spiritual friends and mentors to assist me in the challenges and difficult moments I will face also.
I have purposely not told you what I’m going to do. Partly that’s because I don’t want to influence your choices. I just want to invite to move deeper and see where that will take you. It’s also because right now, I’m still not sure. But this I will commit to: I’m determined to figure it out. How about you?
So when I opened my email and found something from Christianity Today about Lent I decided to take the time to see what was there. I’m very glad I did. Here are two quotes that really struck a chord with me:
We don't have the perspective needed to choose the things that will really change us. (Deep down, we may not even want to change. I like to say, "Everyone wants to be transformed, but nobody wants to change.")
Without the observance of Lent, and Holy Week in particular, Easter Sunday fails to keep in proper balance the Cross and the Resurrection as the two main New Testament paradigms for the Christian life. The dominant paradigm for Christian discipleship this side of heaven is "sharing in his sufferings" (Phil. 3:10).
(Source: Steven R. Harmon, author of Ecumenism Means You, Too, Frederica Mathewes-Green, the author of The Jesus Prayer, and Michael Horton, author of The Gospel-Driven Life, suggest why Christians should care about Lent.)
The first thing I noticed was the truth that we don’t know or have the proper perspective. Does that bristle anything in you? In the evangelical mainstream, we tend to think that we know what’s best for us spiritually. We shun the suggestion that we might actually gain from an outside source. And goodness knows, we don’t think we need an intermediary. The problem with that is that while we may think we know what we need, if we’d do the honest soul exploring, we’d see that we most often fall short when it comes to spiritual depth. This is probably due to the second part of that quote. We know we want to and definitely need to be transformed (Romans 12:1), but we are usually quite comfortable with the way things are, so the hard work of change never gets done.
Observance of Lent, or Advent for that matter, involves discipline. I don’t know about you, but I’m not very good at the “d” word. Whether it has to do with my latest commitment to living healthy, keeping my house clean, or developing a writing habit, I just think sometimes that I was born without the discipline bone in my body. Perhaps that is partly why I have always struggled with making it the whole forty days without eating chocolate, or drinking pop, or watching TV less. I have often wanted to fall back on “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” Truth be told, I just haven’t been convinced enough to make the commitment and do the hard work to change. Bottom line: I’m just spiritually lazy.
Then I read the second quote and I get another insight into my reluctance to change. People who sign on to suffer are generally considered to have some type of mental problem. When I read the Philippian passage, I can get excited about wanting to know Christ more. I’m right with Paul until he has to throw in the part about “sharing in his sufferings.” I am all about the power of the resurrection! I love celebrating the triumph. Easter morning is a wonderful time. Jesus won! We win, too! It reminds me of how I love to celebrate the gift of Christmas, but I forget how much it cost to give the gift.
Knowing these things about myself, knowing how my heart yearns for greater depth, I am now challenged to bring heart, soul, mind, and strength into focus. As I started meditating and contemplating, I began to formulate some questions. What will change me, not just challenge me for forty days? What can I do to redeem the suffering of my Lord and Savior? How will I specifically join him in the work of extending grace to others? This was not a comfortable process. I began to see that if I was going to be serious about this, I was going to have to get used to being uncomfortable.
There’s a phrase in the gospel that described how Jesus moved into and prepared for the suffering that was ahead. It said that Jesus set his face to Jerusalem. Now while setting one’s face can involve catching a vision, greater emphasis seems to be placed on determination. (Oh great, another “d” word!) As Jesus moves toward the inevitability of what lies ahead in Jerusalem, I am comforted in the fact that he does not make this journey alone. Perhaps this is a truth that will help me in my own journey. I can go, knowing that there is one who goes with me who has already made the journey. But just as Jesus brought his closest friends in close, I can draw on the spiritual friends and mentors to assist me in the challenges and difficult moments I will face also.
I have purposely not told you what I’m going to do. Partly that’s because I don’t want to influence your choices. I just want to invite to move deeper and see where that will take you. It’s also because right now, I’m still not sure. But this I will commit to: I’m determined to figure it out. How about you?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)