Watching the news is EXHAUSTING. Period.
It stirs up emotions, hoping to draw out an instant reaction from viewers. Journalists on every network spin a web or words, words that they hope demand a response from their viewers.
If I want to get you on my side of an issue, I'm going to only reveal the ugliness of the opposition. I'm going to purposefully leave out details of my own ugliness, bigotry, and/or wrongdoings. And if, at some point in time, my dark secrets were brought to light, I'd find a way to divert your attention from them. This is Battle 101.
Twisting of facts, hiding and revealing of partial information; this is the reason I hate politics, I abhor watching the news, and I cannot stand arguments on social media.
In any quest for truth, there's always an attempt to obstruct truth; whether its hiding certain facts, covering up history, or throwing boulders in the path of those searching.
I hate to fall into the categorization of a conspiracy theorist, but come on. You have to admit, the access to fully disclosed truth in any matter is usually hidden in a labyrinth of useless information, u-turns of misinformation, and roadblocks of lies.
Our ability to think has diminished greatly in the last few decades; easy access to information, however convenient, has numbed the ability of our neurons to seek truths and put facts together for ourselves. It's much easier to make the quick jump on a bandwagon of a cause or agenda than it is to gather information for yourself, and make your own opinion.
One thing about bandwagons is that they're usually fast-moving, giving the person who jumps on little to no time to do the research into said bandwagon/cause/agenda. It's goal is to feed and fuel emotional response to opposition, usually with half truths, man-made rules, or blatant lies, in order to further a cause.
I have to guard my own words here, because I myself am very susceptible to being swept into any passing emotional current.
Emotions have the potential to be dangerous for me. I'm sure for others as well, but I'm not talking about anyone else, just me.
I make the choice, personally, not to choose sides in an issue.
Instead, I choose Truth.
Truth leads me daily, hourly, minute by minute, thought by thought, breath by breath.
Truth shows me the absolutes on either side of a battle.
Truth also holds me accountable. For my own actions, for my own responses.
Truth shows me when I am in danger of getting swept away by emotion; when those emotions can be beneficial, and when they're not.
Truth shows me the errors in my thinking, fills in the blanks and answers questions.
I'm a "mercy" person. Loving, caring, and compassionate. I cannot stand to see people suffering.
Maybe it's because I've suffered.
I've been tormented by the skeletons in my closet.
I've done horrible things, and I've held on to hatred and judgment of myself.
I've held on to the demons of what I've done far too long to remain comfortable.
I've lived in the glass house, in fear of constant rejection.
I tried to hide my shame from the outside world, and hoped to redeem myself by joining forces with those who oppose what I've done.
Let me tell you, all that did was keep me in bondage.
A constant reminder of my sin. I tried being part of something that stood under rules they established in an attempt to uphold something that only God Himself Is.
(Hm. Puts the Law of the Old Testament into new perspective...)
Enter Truth.
All at once, the fear, the shame, the torment, the self-hatred...all disappeared with a word...Forgiven.
It didn't come in the form of conforming to a set of rules established by men, it didn't come in the wake of legislation by any government.
It came as love, in perfect time, blowing on the breeze of grace.
Truth came to me, right when I didn't even know I needed it, just before I fell over the edge into a life out of control.
As time passes by, and my relationship with Truth grows, I'm learning more about the individuality of that relationship. How I was created for that specific relationship. How nothing outside of that relationship can dictate that relationship, or how one gets that relationship.
And I'm learning of the sweet freedom that relationship brings...
Freedom from conforming to any culture that judges, that separates.
Freedom from holding the roles of judge and jury.
Freedom from thinking that different is bad.
Freedom from the deception of being "better" than anyone else.
Freedom from worry. All worry.
Freedom from self-oppression.
Freedom from guilt that comes from our weaknesses.
Freedom from being ruled by my unstable emotions.
Freedom from being limited to only what our eyes see.
Freedom to believe in the impossible.
Freedom to not be busy all the time, or working all the time.
Freedom to love others, as we love ourselves.
The freedom that comes with knowing I don't have to have it all under control.
I don't have to save the world every single day.
I don't have to carry the weight of a world revolving around me...
And the incredible weight that's lifted from my soul when I slowly realize that it's not all about me, anyways.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Superman
I've recently had a few weird things happen, like in the last 4 or 5 days. To anyone outside my brain, these wouldn't seem like anything strange or out of the ordinary. But inside the machine encased by my thick skull, alarm bells were going off, warning of impending danger.
One of them was a girlfriend inviting me to her house for their Friday night fellowship. (See? Totally normal.) There was going to be food (Yay!) and great people. Normally, I'm all in. But my honey was still at work, so I didn't want to go without seeing him first. See, he'd been working for almost 2 weeks straight, most of which was between 12 and 15 hours a aday. I knew he'd be tired when he got home (if not fall into an exhaustion-fueled coma as soon as he crossed the threshold), so I didn't want him to have to deal with 4 dogs, or phone calls, or anything of the sort. Now, if he was to say, fall asleep 5 minutes after he got home, so be it. I'd make sure he could sleep undisturbed, and roll on over to my friend's house.
As the clock ticked on, the window for this event at my friend's house was closing, and my honey still hadn't called. I knew calling him was pointless, since he was working in an industrial environment; not to mention the 900-ton press he was working INSIDE. I really didn't want to distract him...
So when my girlfriend texted me with a simple question, something set me off. The red lights started flashing behind my eyeballs.
I knew that whatever I replied would have been snarky, sarcastic, and more than likely, incredible mean. So I removed any chance of that happening, and shut off my phone.
For 2 days, I stewed. I stewed about what she could've been saying with her question, I stewed about my possible responses, and I stewed unneccesarily about the repercussion of any one of my possible (but imagined) responses.
I knew something was irking me, and I'd gotten to the point that I knew that whatever it was, it wasn't my friend, or her question.
So what the hell was it????
Oh.... hell.
Here comes the backstory.
In the last couple of weeks, I've had my eyes opened to just how selfish I'd been in my marriage. For a really long time. If you care to read that story, and haven't yet, you can read it here.
To make a long story short. my honey had been sacrificing all the things that were important to him (time with his family, hobbies, fun stuff, etc.) in order to go to work, to provide for our family.
I, on the other hand, had not. In fact, I'd added things to my list of stuff to do, places to go, people to see; without taking care of my priorities - my family. (Sadly enough, I called all this "serving God"...)
So I was completely oblivious to what my honey said when he told me he felt like I wasn't making him a priority. And I had the cajones to think he was being the selfish one! (Holy cow, I'm just now realizing what a complete tool I've been...)
Wow.
Anyways.
After a miraculous couple of weeks, where I had an enlightening and humbling prayer experience, a new outlook on what my husband means by "priority", and a fantastic job that fell out of the sky and into my lap, a lightbulb went on.
What was irking me so adamantly was the challenge to my recent declaration to stand by my husband, to fight for what we wanted, together.
If I had decided to ditch my husband, who'd been sacrificing everything for me, for us, to go fellowship with my friends, I would've been missing the point. (Not to mention moving the target.) Completely.
I would have been throwing away the last few weeks, going back to the mode of thinking where I was first all the time, I was the priority, what I wanted trumped everything else.
It took SEVEN MONTHS to get out of that mode of thinking. I wasn't going back.
Looking back on those seven months? I saw Clark Kent, just like everyone else.
I should've seen Superman.
Because my husband IS my hero.
No one else knows what we've been through together, and no one knows everything he does for this family. No one else knows what he sacrifices, what he deals with, what he tolerates, what he pushes through.
So in my book, no one else can judge our relationship, nor do I have the right to compare our relationship to any others.
A HUGE weight has been lifted off my shoulders,and I have a new spring in my step.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go do Superman's laundry.
One of them was a girlfriend inviting me to her house for their Friday night fellowship. (See? Totally normal.) There was going to be food (Yay!) and great people. Normally, I'm all in. But my honey was still at work, so I didn't want to go without seeing him first. See, he'd been working for almost 2 weeks straight, most of which was between 12 and 15 hours a aday. I knew he'd be tired when he got home (if not fall into an exhaustion-fueled coma as soon as he crossed the threshold), so I didn't want him to have to deal with 4 dogs, or phone calls, or anything of the sort. Now, if he was to say, fall asleep 5 minutes after he got home, so be it. I'd make sure he could sleep undisturbed, and roll on over to my friend's house.
As the clock ticked on, the window for this event at my friend's house was closing, and my honey still hadn't called. I knew calling him was pointless, since he was working in an industrial environment; not to mention the 900-ton press he was working INSIDE. I really didn't want to distract him...
So when my girlfriend texted me with a simple question, something set me off. The red lights started flashing behind my eyeballs.
I knew that whatever I replied would have been snarky, sarcastic, and more than likely, incredible mean. So I removed any chance of that happening, and shut off my phone.
For 2 days, I stewed. I stewed about what she could've been saying with her question, I stewed about my possible responses, and I stewed unneccesarily about the repercussion of any one of my possible (but imagined) responses.
I knew something was irking me, and I'd gotten to the point that I knew that whatever it was, it wasn't my friend, or her question.
So what the hell was it????
Oh.... hell.
Here comes the backstory.
In the last couple of weeks, I've had my eyes opened to just how selfish I'd been in my marriage. For a really long time. If you care to read that story, and haven't yet, you can read it here.
To make a long story short. my honey had been sacrificing all the things that were important to him (time with his family, hobbies, fun stuff, etc.) in order to go to work, to provide for our family.
I, on the other hand, had not. In fact, I'd added things to my list of stuff to do, places to go, people to see; without taking care of my priorities - my family. (Sadly enough, I called all this "serving God"...)
So I was completely oblivious to what my honey said when he told me he felt like I wasn't making him a priority. And I had the cajones to think he was being the selfish one! (Holy cow, I'm just now realizing what a complete tool I've been...)
Wow.
Anyways.
After a miraculous couple of weeks, where I had an enlightening and humbling prayer experience, a new outlook on what my husband means by "priority", and a fantastic job that fell out of the sky and into my lap, a lightbulb went on.
What was irking me so adamantly was the challenge to my recent declaration to stand by my husband, to fight for what we wanted, together.
If I had decided to ditch my husband, who'd been sacrificing everything for me, for us, to go fellowship with my friends, I would've been missing the point. (Not to mention moving the target.) Completely.
I would have been throwing away the last few weeks, going back to the mode of thinking where I was first all the time, I was the priority, what I wanted trumped everything else.
It took SEVEN MONTHS to get out of that mode of thinking. I wasn't going back.
Looking back on those seven months? I saw Clark Kent, just like everyone else.
I should've seen Superman.
Because my husband IS my hero.
No one else knows what we've been through together, and no one knows everything he does for this family. No one else knows what he sacrifices, what he deals with, what he tolerates, what he pushes through.
So in my book, no one else can judge our relationship, nor do I have the right to compare our relationship to any others.
A HUGE weight has been lifted off my shoulders,and I have a new spring in my step.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go do Superman's laundry.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Stirring
Something's happening...
Underneath the humming of our everyday monotony; despite our schedules and calendars, our plans and our goals, something's stirring.
Like an invisible army that rushes inside the wind...
Unseen, barely perceived.
But there...
Growing.
Quickening.
Carried by a generation who can't deal with the discomfort any longer; who are following an unheard of yearning for more of what's real.
Pushing past the keepers of the flame, refusing to settle for "what is", because the longing for "what could be" is much greater... no matter the cost.
A new generation who are gasping for air in a world trying to drown them in nothing, under the crushing weight of worthlessness.
They are the ones who've been surrounded since birth with everything, but nothing; increasing costs, yet all worthless.
They hunger for a reality better than this.
They were born with a heightened sensitivity to what's real and what's make believe.
In this make believe world we live in, they can feel what's real; they have the ability to see past the surface, into the deep.
They can see the shift coming without knowing what it is.
It is in them, for this right now.
There are the ones who've lived, who've followed the desires of the world.
They've been the offenders, the ones who've hurt themselves and others.
The ones who've done as they pleased, given in and followed every golden dream, every silver lined wish and desire.
And ended up with nothing.
Staring at empty hands, angered by the deception they've fallen into...
Falling to their knees, they cry out for Truth.
And it finds them.
Truth gathers them all, these different people: different ages, different cultures, different experiences, different lives. And unites them in love; pure, brilliant and exhilarating love.
They push forward into Truth; carrying it when the time is right, following it when need be, like a pillar of fire.
They are like a generation of walking dead; they cannot be killed, they cannot be contained, and they cannot be stopped.
They are aware of what's to come.
The stirring is the twitch in their muscles before battle; filled with a reality so powerful they can taste it, they can touch it.
Infiltrating a false world armed with Truth, swinging the gates wide open for an unstoppable kingdom to rush in.
The kingdom rushes in on a cadence that shakes the earth, sweeping every breath, every breeze.
Invisible but quickly dominating.
Bringing with it a new reality; ushering in the not yet by swiftly closing in the walls of make believe.
Underneath the humming of our everyday monotony; despite our schedules and calendars, our plans and our goals, something's stirring.
Like an invisible army that rushes inside the wind...
Unseen, barely perceived.
But there...
Growing.
Quickening.
Carried by a generation who can't deal with the discomfort any longer; who are following an unheard of yearning for more of what's real.
Pushing past the keepers of the flame, refusing to settle for "what is", because the longing for "what could be" is much greater... no matter the cost.
A new generation who are gasping for air in a world trying to drown them in nothing, under the crushing weight of worthlessness.
They are the ones who've been surrounded since birth with everything, but nothing; increasing costs, yet all worthless.
They hunger for a reality better than this.
They were born with a heightened sensitivity to what's real and what's make believe.
In this make believe world we live in, they can feel what's real; they have the ability to see past the surface, into the deep.
They can see the shift coming without knowing what it is.
It is in them, for this right now.
There are the ones who've lived, who've followed the desires of the world.
They've been the offenders, the ones who've hurt themselves and others.
The ones who've done as they pleased, given in and followed every golden dream, every silver lined wish and desire.
And ended up with nothing.
Staring at empty hands, angered by the deception they've fallen into...
Falling to their knees, they cry out for Truth.
And it finds them.
Truth gathers them all, these different people: different ages, different cultures, different experiences, different lives. And unites them in love; pure, brilliant and exhilarating love.
They push forward into Truth; carrying it when the time is right, following it when need be, like a pillar of fire.
They are like a generation of walking dead; they cannot be killed, they cannot be contained, and they cannot be stopped.
They are aware of what's to come.
The stirring is the twitch in their muscles before battle; filled with a reality so powerful they can taste it, they can touch it.
Infiltrating a false world armed with Truth, swinging the gates wide open for an unstoppable kingdom to rush in.
The kingdom rushes in on a cadence that shakes the earth, sweeping every breath, every breeze.
Invisible but quickly dominating.
Bringing with it a new reality; ushering in the not yet by swiftly closing in the walls of make believe.
Friday, May 10, 2013
"Perfection"
Did you ever hear the one about the selfish woman who was being transformed? No? Wanna hear it?
Here it goes...
I'm not really sure what the heck I've been doing the last few months. If you were to ask me what kind of "productive contribution" I've made to my household, I'm not sure I'd be able to answer you. Sure, I've cooked, and cleaned, & laundered every stitch of clothing we own (most likely in the same two week period). I've shopped for groceries and clothes for a boy who won't quit growing, & taken dogs to the vet fifteen million times. I've made lunches, made phone calls, and made it to the utility companies just before closing time. I've dreamed, I've prayed, I've done homework (mine & the boy's), I've written (people have written NOVELS in the time I've been dorkin' around), and I've served.
About the only thing I haven't done is bring in a paycheck.
After looking at the above list of things I've done, some of you may jump on the "girl, if you're doing all that you shouldn't need a paycheck!" bandwagon. And some of you may choose the "If I can do all that with a job, so can you." train. I beg that you read the rest of this before you jump on anything.
I've always worked. From the age of sixteen on, I've always had a job, if not two. I enjoy working, it keeps me physically busy. Some jobs challenged my mind, others challenged my body, and others challenged both. So having a job is not something I've ever had a problem with.
My issue has always been time away from my family. A stint in the military brought that home for me, deployment after deployment, unannounced 12-hour shift after unannounced 12-hour shift, cancelled weekend after cancelled days off. After leaving the military, I went in the completely opposite direction, choosing self employment over a job outside the home. This allowed me to work with my husband, be available to take and drop off our son at school, appointments at all times of the day for whatever reason - school programs and awards ceremonies, vet appointments, doctor's appointments, fishing, etc.)
I got spoiled. I love being with my family!
Fast forward a few years. Last fall, my husband found a fantastic job. FANTASTIC... for him (and for me). He got a steady paycheck, and I was free to do whatever I wanted. His paycheck was substantial enough for me to not need to worry about getting a job. (I could stay at home! YAY! A job I'd never had but always wanted!!)
A long time ago, after the economy went south, we decided that we'd never have debt again. We learned an important lesson that our family was more important than "stuff", so if accumulating debt was going to put us in a situation where we'd have to leave our time together to pay off that debt, it just wasn't worth it, in our eyes.
Sigh... Yes, of course we accumulated more debt. Go figure. Sometimes you have to screw up twice to learn the lesson...
So my husband has this great job, and we're paying all our bills on time, and blah blah blah.
Except, our debt wasn't going away.
Goals and dreams, and plans and schemes, they're all great if a couple is working towards them together. And, for every couple, that "working towards them together" looks different.
"I" thought we'd be able to stick to a strict budget. A strict budget that would pay our monthly obligations, and tackle the debt, little by little. "He" thought I'd get bored after a month off and get a job.
Seven months later, here we are, and here's what we have.
A husband who's frustrated, and a clueless, self-absorbed wife.
Sure, I listened to his frustrations, but I dismissed them, not willing to mess with my own agenda: my leisurely life of (say this out loud in a dreamy, wispy, fairy-tale voice) "writing, praying and serving the least..." (HA. I sounded like Mrs. Doubtfire...)
And I did this for six months. SIX MONTHS. (I'm surprised he's still married to me.)
The bricks of my "agenda" started loosening about the six month mark. I wasn't as productive, I wasn't as creative. Sure I was busier, but that was just the weak mortar patches in my wall called selfishness.
I had been praying for my husband before: "Lord, promote him in his job. Give him peace in his job. Give him satisfaction in his job. Blah. Blah. Blah."
One morning, I didn't know what else to pray for him. So I simply asked God to answer his prayers, and not mine.
Then something happened.
I was being made aware of one thing he was wrestling with, day after day. All of a sudden, I felt his frustrations; like they were my own. I felt his hopelessness, I understood his lack of motivation and inability to dream. And I knew why.
All of a sudden, I could fully see that if we kept on the same path, it would take us til we were 130 years old to accomplish our goals... have some land in the woods, a little house, be debt free. Simple enough, yet I wasn't helping in any one of the ways I could to accomplish those goals. I'd left it all up to him.
Humbled, I told him I'd get a job.
And wouldn't ya know, I'm excited about getting a job! I have no doubt that it was part of the transformation that had to happen. (Of course, he's elated, too!)
I'm excited because now both of us can see the finish line. I'm excited because I'm now contributing to our goals. I'm excited because I'm able to do something to bring peace to him.
And if it gives my husband hope again; my chosen partner in this life, my other half, my best friend; well, then, every bit of it is worth it.
Here it goes...
I'm not really sure what the heck I've been doing the last few months. If you were to ask me what kind of "productive contribution" I've made to my household, I'm not sure I'd be able to answer you. Sure, I've cooked, and cleaned, & laundered every stitch of clothing we own (most likely in the same two week period). I've shopped for groceries and clothes for a boy who won't quit growing, & taken dogs to the vet fifteen million times. I've made lunches, made phone calls, and made it to the utility companies just before closing time. I've dreamed, I've prayed, I've done homework (mine & the boy's), I've written (people have written NOVELS in the time I've been dorkin' around), and I've served.
About the only thing I haven't done is bring in a paycheck.
After looking at the above list of things I've done, some of you may jump on the "girl, if you're doing all that you shouldn't need a paycheck!" bandwagon. And some of you may choose the "If I can do all that with a job, so can you." train. I beg that you read the rest of this before you jump on anything.
I've always worked. From the age of sixteen on, I've always had a job, if not two. I enjoy working, it keeps me physically busy. Some jobs challenged my mind, others challenged my body, and others challenged both. So having a job is not something I've ever had a problem with.
My issue has always been time away from my family. A stint in the military brought that home for me, deployment after deployment, unannounced 12-hour shift after unannounced 12-hour shift, cancelled weekend after cancelled days off. After leaving the military, I went in the completely opposite direction, choosing self employment over a job outside the home. This allowed me to work with my husband, be available to take and drop off our son at school, appointments at all times of the day for whatever reason - school programs and awards ceremonies, vet appointments, doctor's appointments, fishing, etc.)
I got spoiled. I love being with my family!
Fast forward a few years. Last fall, my husband found a fantastic job. FANTASTIC... for him (and for me). He got a steady paycheck, and I was free to do whatever I wanted. His paycheck was substantial enough for me to not need to worry about getting a job. (I could stay at home! YAY! A job I'd never had but always wanted!!)
A long time ago, after the economy went south, we decided that we'd never have debt again. We learned an important lesson that our family was more important than "stuff", so if accumulating debt was going to put us in a situation where we'd have to leave our time together to pay off that debt, it just wasn't worth it, in our eyes.
Sigh... Yes, of course we accumulated more debt. Go figure. Sometimes you have to screw up twice to learn the lesson...
So my husband has this great job, and we're paying all our bills on time, and blah blah blah.
Except, our debt wasn't going away.
Goals and dreams, and plans and schemes, they're all great if a couple is working towards them together. And, for every couple, that "working towards them together" looks different.
"I" thought we'd be able to stick to a strict budget. A strict budget that would pay our monthly obligations, and tackle the debt, little by little. "He" thought I'd get bored after a month off and get a job.
Seven months later, here we are, and here's what we have.
A husband who's frustrated, and a clueless, self-absorbed wife.
Sure, I listened to his frustrations, but I dismissed them, not willing to mess with my own agenda: my leisurely life of (say this out loud in a dreamy, wispy, fairy-tale voice) "writing, praying and serving the least..." (HA. I sounded like Mrs. Doubtfire...)
And I did this for six months. SIX MONTHS. (I'm surprised he's still married to me.)
The bricks of my "agenda" started loosening about the six month mark. I wasn't as productive, I wasn't as creative. Sure I was busier, but that was just the weak mortar patches in my wall called selfishness.
I had been praying for my husband before: "Lord, promote him in his job. Give him peace in his job. Give him satisfaction in his job. Blah. Blah. Blah."
One morning, I didn't know what else to pray for him. So I simply asked God to answer his prayers, and not mine.
Then something happened.
I was being made aware of one thing he was wrestling with, day after day. All of a sudden, I felt his frustrations; like they were my own. I felt his hopelessness, I understood his lack of motivation and inability to dream. And I knew why.
All of a sudden, I could fully see that if we kept on the same path, it would take us til we were 130 years old to accomplish our goals... have some land in the woods, a little house, be debt free. Simple enough, yet I wasn't helping in any one of the ways I could to accomplish those goals. I'd left it all up to him.
Humbled, I told him I'd get a job.
And wouldn't ya know, I'm excited about getting a job! I have no doubt that it was part of the transformation that had to happen. (Of course, he's elated, too!)
I'm excited because now both of us can see the finish line. I'm excited because I'm now contributing to our goals. I'm excited because I'm able to do something to bring peace to him.
And if it gives my husband hope again; my chosen partner in this life, my other half, my best friend; well, then, every bit of it is worth it.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Battle Scars
We all talk about ours. I got this one on my knee from a bicycle crash when I was 14. I got this one on my forehead from a fall off a chair as a toddler. And I got this one on my hand from hitting a tree on a four-wheeler not so long ago.
Scars. Left from cuts, wounds, assaults to our flesh; from accidents, fights, injuries, crashes, or collisions.
Surgical scars, left from battles raged within the body; where the final attack on our part, (or the part of medicine) required brutal incisions - no matter how precise- in order to launch our physical retaliation. Be it fighting against disease, broken bones, removal of something that didn't belong, or something that wasn't functioning as it should be.
We all have them, and some of us take pride in them. We wear then as a decorated war hero wears his medals. Sometimes boastful, other times quietly.
Every scar tells a story. Some of them are wonderful and fantastic tales, so amazing that others wonder if it could possibly be true. Some of them are just minute blips on the radar of our time on this planet. And others have horrific stories that accompany them; stories that bring rushing back such terrifying experiences that if told, would bring women to tears, and grown men to their knees.
For every scar we carry on our body, there's usually an accompanying emotional scar; ones that aren't as easily dismissed. Physical reminders of a trauma that won't heal as fast as the skin:
The girl who still feels the heat of the fire as she sees her burned skin.
The soldier who still feels the impact of the bullet that tore into his chest as he touches the
scar.
The fear that paralyzes the man from the wreck that left him trapped in his car with a bone
protruding from his leg.
Physical pain or injury isn't the only thing that leaves scars; sometimes we're scarred from emotional battles or challenges:
A fight with a loved one, where you KNOW you said the wrong words. A verbal assault
that cuts just as deep into the soul as a sword through the belly. A moment where being
"right", or a moment of selfishness, far outweighed any hurt that the words would inflict,
usually spoken out of anger or lack of understanding.
A challenge thrown out by a group that you're supposed to belong to, supposed to accept
you, supposed to understand you, your heart. A new chasm opened up between you, and
the eyes to see it...
it challenges you, offends, and damages; leaving you wounded and raw.
More often than not (at least for me), regret is the first responder on the scene, followed closely by shame and sometimes, the lookey-loo (bringing nothing productive to the situation), more anger. If we're smart, interactions like that leave us scarred, hopefully for the pure reminder to NOT do that again.
These scars come in all forms, usually inflicted by words and our use, or misuse of them.
When I'm the offender, I'm just as wounded from the words I say to someone as I would be if they were directed at me.
At the moment I speak the words, my personal will far overshadows God's will. But He steps in, like a gentleman, once I've launched my venomous attack.
It is then that I notice Him in the room.
The damage is done; conviction sets in.
Conviction is my battlefield surgeon, stitching me up just well enough to close the wound and stop the bleeding, but not well enough to hide the damage permanently. So I have a reminder.
Then we have what I call Battle Scars. Sure there's physical scars or emotional scars. But that's not what I mean.
There are scars that we inflict from the daily choices we make. The scars and wounds carried from the challenges we face as we (try to) grow in our belief and understanding of our relationship with Christ.
For me, the biggest wounds are coming from learning the difference between "following Christ" and "Churchianity".
I'm learning that "following Christ" is much more painful; painful in the way that my life is being transformed, and my awareness of the changes taking place.
Instead of spouting off at the mouth, or taking offense to every negative word spoken, or automatically going after every single wish, want or desire, I'm beginning to look at my life through the lens of Jesus Christ - as if He's the one living it, not me.
It's like we say in church, in the Wesleyan Covenant Prayer: "I am no longer my own, but thine."
(Thine. Who in the world says THAT anymore?!)
In order to be "no longer my own", something has to happen to give myself up to this decision.
First, I had to realize I'm broken.
Fallen.
Not perfect.
Frankly, I suck.
Because of the fall of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, I now carry sin in this human flesh of mine, just as every single person born since, (except One). We ALL do. This leads me to be selfish, calloused, prideful, jealous, and interestingly enough, able to recognize the same in others. Quiet arrogance has historically been a fault of mine.
Second, I sought help for this fallen nature. Who am I kidding. How it really happened was, right at the moment I was at the lowest of the low, when I was under the rock at rock bottom, Christ found me there, hiding and ashamed. (Kind of like Adam and Eve after the fall?) He took my hand and began to show me the Truth about who He is, and opened my eyes to understand.
Third, I had to agree to this life, willfully submit to what could be.
In order to have "what could be", I needed to make room for Him in my life. So what could I give Him?
A couple hours on Sunday morning?
Didn't seem fitting enough for the King of Kings, the Lord of all Creation, the One who could take my life at the end of this breath.
Spend 30 minutes a day reading my Bible?
Again, not big enough.
What was I really giving up by squeezing Jesus in?
NOTHING.
I was still the same person I was, as pigheaded as ever, as self-reliant as ever, living like God was an "addition to", not a "rescue from" this life.
I love in Romans 12:1-2, the original language written says, "Brothers and sisters, because of God's mercies, I come along side you in comfort to present your bodies as a living sacrifice that is holy and pleasing to God. This is your only rational and logical worship. Do not be conformed to the patterns of this world (a.k.a. "religion", a.k.a. "Churchianity"), but keep on being transformed by the renovation of the intellect, so you can figure out what God's will is - what is beneficial, fully agreeable, and perfectly complete."
Anytime I see the word "perfect" in scripture, I realize that whatever it is in reference to, I can't do it, because I'm not perfect.
But Christ is...
So how do I get to live this life, sharing in the "perfectly complete"?
I have to give myself up. Not make time to squeeze Him in, not give up a couple of big-ticket items I want.
I have to give up my life. As a "living sacrifice", as Paul said.
I have to sacrifice me; my will, my desires, my life; in order for Christ to live through me.
And for me, it's not a one-time-deal-and-I'm-done. No, this happens every day. Decision by decision, minute by minute, breath by breath.
I die. What I want, my instant reactions, my emotions, my fleshly desires...I have to kill it all.
And moment by moment, in situation after situation, facing what I want versus what God is doing, I have to choose death.
Volumes could be written about that battle that rages inside me in that moment of decision time.
It's the most violent and bloody battle I've ever experienced. The battle between what my flesh wants to do and say, and my spirit, which longs for a re-union with the Creator; it's a battle I fight every day.
As in any battle, this one produces scars as well. But the scars are carried on Christ's body, not mine.
Scars. Left from cuts, wounds, assaults to our flesh; from accidents, fights, injuries, crashes, or collisions.
Surgical scars, left from battles raged within the body; where the final attack on our part, (or the part of medicine) required brutal incisions - no matter how precise- in order to launch our physical retaliation. Be it fighting against disease, broken bones, removal of something that didn't belong, or something that wasn't functioning as it should be.
We all have them, and some of us take pride in them. We wear then as a decorated war hero wears his medals. Sometimes boastful, other times quietly.
Every scar tells a story. Some of them are wonderful and fantastic tales, so amazing that others wonder if it could possibly be true. Some of them are just minute blips on the radar of our time on this planet. And others have horrific stories that accompany them; stories that bring rushing back such terrifying experiences that if told, would bring women to tears, and grown men to their knees.
For every scar we carry on our body, there's usually an accompanying emotional scar; ones that aren't as easily dismissed. Physical reminders of a trauma that won't heal as fast as the skin:
The girl who still feels the heat of the fire as she sees her burned skin.
The soldier who still feels the impact of the bullet that tore into his chest as he touches the
scar.
The fear that paralyzes the man from the wreck that left him trapped in his car with a bone
protruding from his leg.
Physical pain or injury isn't the only thing that leaves scars; sometimes we're scarred from emotional battles or challenges:
A fight with a loved one, where you KNOW you said the wrong words. A verbal assault
that cuts just as deep into the soul as a sword through the belly. A moment where being
"right", or a moment of selfishness, far outweighed any hurt that the words would inflict,
usually spoken out of anger or lack of understanding.
A challenge thrown out by a group that you're supposed to belong to, supposed to accept
you, supposed to understand you, your heart. A new chasm opened up between you, and
the eyes to see it...
it challenges you, offends, and damages; leaving you wounded and raw.
More often than not (at least for me), regret is the first responder on the scene, followed closely by shame and sometimes, the lookey-loo (bringing nothing productive to the situation), more anger. If we're smart, interactions like that leave us scarred, hopefully for the pure reminder to NOT do that again.
These scars come in all forms, usually inflicted by words and our use, or misuse of them.
When I'm the offender, I'm just as wounded from the words I say to someone as I would be if they were directed at me.
At the moment I speak the words, my personal will far overshadows God's will. But He steps in, like a gentleman, once I've launched my venomous attack.
It is then that I notice Him in the room.
The damage is done; conviction sets in.
Conviction is my battlefield surgeon, stitching me up just well enough to close the wound and stop the bleeding, but not well enough to hide the damage permanently. So I have a reminder.
Then we have what I call Battle Scars. Sure there's physical scars or emotional scars. But that's not what I mean.
There are scars that we inflict from the daily choices we make. The scars and wounds carried from the challenges we face as we (try to) grow in our belief and understanding of our relationship with Christ.
For me, the biggest wounds are coming from learning the difference between "following Christ" and "Churchianity".
I'm learning that "following Christ" is much more painful; painful in the way that my life is being transformed, and my awareness of the changes taking place.
Instead of spouting off at the mouth, or taking offense to every negative word spoken, or automatically going after every single wish, want or desire, I'm beginning to look at my life through the lens of Jesus Christ - as if He's the one living it, not me.
It's like we say in church, in the Wesleyan Covenant Prayer: "I am no longer my own, but thine."
(Thine. Who in the world says THAT anymore?!)
In order to be "no longer my own", something has to happen to give myself up to this decision.
First, I had to realize I'm broken.
Fallen.
Not perfect.
Frankly, I suck.
Because of the fall of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, I now carry sin in this human flesh of mine, just as every single person born since, (except One). We ALL do. This leads me to be selfish, calloused, prideful, jealous, and interestingly enough, able to recognize the same in others. Quiet arrogance has historically been a fault of mine.
Second, I sought help for this fallen nature. Who am I kidding. How it really happened was, right at the moment I was at the lowest of the low, when I was under the rock at rock bottom, Christ found me there, hiding and ashamed. (Kind of like Adam and Eve after the fall?) He took my hand and began to show me the Truth about who He is, and opened my eyes to understand.
Third, I had to agree to this life, willfully submit to what could be.
In order to have "what could be", I needed to make room for Him in my life. So what could I give Him?
A couple hours on Sunday morning?
Didn't seem fitting enough for the King of Kings, the Lord of all Creation, the One who could take my life at the end of this breath.
Spend 30 minutes a day reading my Bible?
Again, not big enough.
What was I really giving up by squeezing Jesus in?
NOTHING.
I was still the same person I was, as pigheaded as ever, as self-reliant as ever, living like God was an "addition to", not a "rescue from" this life.
I love in Romans 12:1-2, the original language written says, "Brothers and sisters, because of God's mercies, I come along side you in comfort to present your bodies as a living sacrifice that is holy and pleasing to God. This is your only rational and logical worship. Do not be conformed to the patterns of this world (a.k.a. "religion", a.k.a. "Churchianity"), but keep on being transformed by the renovation of the intellect, so you can figure out what God's will is - what is beneficial, fully agreeable, and perfectly complete."
Anytime I see the word "perfect" in scripture, I realize that whatever it is in reference to, I can't do it, because I'm not perfect.
But Christ is...
So how do I get to live this life, sharing in the "perfectly complete"?
I have to give myself up. Not make time to squeeze Him in, not give up a couple of big-ticket items I want.
I have to give up my life. As a "living sacrifice", as Paul said.
I have to sacrifice me; my will, my desires, my life; in order for Christ to live through me.
And for me, it's not a one-time-deal-and-I'm-done. No, this happens every day. Decision by decision, minute by minute, breath by breath.
I die. What I want, my instant reactions, my emotions, my fleshly desires...I have to kill it all.
And moment by moment, in situation after situation, facing what I want versus what God is doing, I have to choose death.
Volumes could be written about that battle that rages inside me in that moment of decision time.
It's the most violent and bloody battle I've ever experienced. The battle between what my flesh wants to do and say, and my spirit, which longs for a re-union with the Creator; it's a battle I fight every day.
As in any battle, this one produces scars as well. But the scars are carried on Christ's body, not mine.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Trembling
FOREWARNING: This post isn't aimed at every single church in America. This post is a plea, not an attack. If this post does not pertain to your church, please don't think I'm saying it does. I do not have the time, not the desire, to visit every single church in this beautiful country. That being said, read on.
Burden and heaviness of heart are plaguing me this morning.
After a tiring week, being busy with obligations, a heavy work schedule, family stresses, and serving those I love so dearly, I was REALLY looking forward to a weekend of quiet contemplation, rejuvenation in the Word, and precious time resting. I knew the upcoming week's schedule removed me from my family, and time away, for me, is never relaxing.
I was hoping to utilize the weekend for meetings with my friend to unwind, but as one of my best friends says, "The battle never ends", and Sunday hit me like a freight train going 100 miles-per-hour.
I should've known the bottom was about to drop out; I actually got to church early.
I should've known something was about to happen; my dear sweet sister-in-Christ and I were able to sing together in my car before church. Praise. Eyes closed, tears rolling, reckless abandon, Worship. It was awesome.
God knew what we were walking into that day, that's why He arranged that precious time to worship Him, to be renewed in His strength, to be filled with His peace, and joy, and hope, and love.
Boy, did I need it later.
I"m struggling to understand what happened. Actually, I am understanding. The hard part is restraining my reaction. I'm grasping at small straws, piecing everything together with the guidance of the Spirit, trying DESPERATELY to utilize tact, wisdom, and love.
My parents taught me early on, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."
Jesus and experience have refined that lesson, "If you can't say something with love, it won't be received." That has helped me restrain from reacting (like an animal) our of an emotional response that would do nothing but offend and add fuel to what is most likely an already volatile situation.
I was able to witness this weekend, with my own eyes and ears, a problem the American church is plagued with, but in its own self-righteousness, can't admit.
We like to talk the talk, but we have NO IDEA what it looks like to walk the walk.
We all ourselves Christians.
We come to church every Sunday to worship (our idea of) God.
We call ourselves blessed, because we have jobs, we work to pay for the things we want and need, we have nice homes, we have happy families.
We live like we don't need God.
We are seriously clueless as to what "following Christ" really looks like.
At the rare opportunity to actually see someone who is living this lifestyle, we scoff, we call them radical, or even worse, we don't recognize it for what it is, and begin the oh-so-familiar process of judging, condemning, persecuting, and ostracizing.
Ah, how I love the American church.
The scary thing is, I do. I seriously do. I see the amazing potential of the American church.
I see the church in almost every single one of Jesus' parables; what it is, and what it could be.
The potential I see for the American church mirrors a story in Luke 7, verses 40-48. Jesus is speaking with a Pharisee named Simon, following the woman anointing Jesus with oil, washing his feet with her hair and her tears.
(See, in the church, we love to make a big deal about washing one another's feet. but how quickly we overlook the lesson that follows.)
Jesus replied, "Simon, I have something to say to you."
"Teacher, speak," he said.
"A certain lender had two debtors. One owed enough money to pay five hundred people for a day's work. the other owed enough money for fifty. When they couldn't pay, the lender forgave the debts of them both. Which of them will love him more?"
Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the largest debt canceled."
Jesus said, "You have judged correctly."
Jesus turned to the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? When I entered your home, you didn't give me water for my feet, but she wet my feet with tears and wiped them with her hair. You didn't greet me with a kiss, but she hasn't stopped kissing my feet since I came in. You didn't anoint my head with oil, but she has poured perfumed oil on my feet. This is why I tell you that her many sins have been forgiven; so she has shown great love. The one who is forgiven little loves little."
Then Jesus said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."
I see the church today going through an awakening of sorts. God is opening the eyes of this western giant, which I dare not say has been asleep, but rather deceived.
We've been deceived into thinking that we're better than other people, because we're Christian.
We've been deceived into thinking that because we carry the name of Christ, everything we do now is somehow endorsed by the kingdom of heaven.
We've been deceived into thinking that God only comes to our churches on Sunday mornings; that He got our memo that services for Him (us) are scheduled for Sunday mornings at 9. Or 10. Or 11. Or whenever the lights are on.
We've been deceived into thinking that God fits into this tiny little compartment of our lives (and churches) that we've created just for Him.
We've been deceived into believing that God loves our love of our traditions.
We've been deceived into thinking that God could be pleased with us, with our commitments to the church, with our programs, and with our adherence to the Ten Commandments. (Please. Crucial theological lesson there, but it's a subject for another day.)
We've been deceived into idolizing the building, and the schedule, and the tradition, and the clock. In all actuality, we don't even know if God is really there at all.
Sure, we pray for our leaders, we pray for victims and those affected by natural disasters, terrorist attacks, horrible explosions half-a country away. We pray for people who need healing. It's so easy to corporately pray for someone you have no connection to...don't need a whole lot of faith for that prayer, do we.
But how often do we pray for the next generation being raised up, not just our children and grandchildren, to live productive lives, to experience Christ early and remain strong in Him?
How often do we pray for God to open our eyes? To show us what we're doing wrong? (Which, by the way, is painfully humbling.)
How often do we pray for the troubled teens in our own backyards, who have been abandoned and neglected, therefore resorting to the life of common criminals?
How often are we actually putting our hands and feet into motion, to help those who so desperately need the Gospel?
We've been deceived into thinking that we can judge who is worthy of receiving the Gospel.
We've been deceived into thinking that living and sharing the Gospel is reserved for missionaries and preachers.
We've been deceived into ignoring the lessons on living in true community, according to Paul's letters in the New Testament.
We've established our own set of rules, and so easily condemn those who don't fit in.
We've distanced ourselves, in our opulence, "blessed-ness", and self righteousness, from the ones Jesus lived among, the ones who needed Him the most: the criminals, the outcast, the sick...
Jesus said, "I did not come for the righteous, but sinners."
Um, y'all? In case we forgot, that's every single one of us.
We have to step outside our comfort zones to really open our eyes to who Jesus spoke of when He said, "I assure you that when you have done it for one the least of these, you have done it for me."
The "least of these" aren't just the hungry, or the thirsty, or the naked, or the sick. It's not only orphans and widows (fine job we're doing there...yes, that's sarcasm.)
The "least of these is anyone we've labeled an outcast.
- Teenagers, who have no ambition, because it's never been modeled for them.
- The elderly, locked in nursing homes, because they've either been abandoned, or require too much care for family members to take on.
- New parents who have to work two jobs to cover the cost of expenses, the cost of daycare, the cost of groceries.
- The couple who lost a child, no matter how old.
- The newly retired people who just realized they have to continue to work.
- The family that divorce looms on their horizon.
Church, this is all of us. No matter what secret we try to hide, we are all the least of these.
SOOOO, as God is opening our eyes to the deception we've fallen into, this brings about the potential I see.
What would it look like, if the American church was to realize the deception on a grand scale, and turn back to the God who is so much bigger than all of us could collectively fathom, and "love greatly"?
"This is why I tell you that her many sins have been forgiven, so she has shown great love. the one who is forgiven little loves little."
Can you imagine!!
Instead of ostracizing the "questionable" members of our society, we embraced them, loved them, gave them a sense of worth, let them know how much they are valued by God, and as a byproduct, we are witnesses to the amazing transformative love of God in someone's life.
That's what happened to the people who encountered Jesus. They weren't just healed. They had a collision with our holy God, an experience that radically changed their life. They were physically healed and delivered on the outside, and their hearts and minds were transformed.
Not just "changed", because people can't change. (How often do we use that as an excuse to continue on in our sin, our deceptions, our habits, and excuses...)
God transforms.
This is plainly evident in a life that has come into contact with the Creator. All of a sudden, the "light" shines. And everyone around them notices it, too. The peace they carry is displayed, and day by day, more and more of the transformation is revealed. Christ shines through.
Church. I say this with all the love I can humanly hold in this heart of mine: We're deceiving ourselves if we don't study who exactly Christ IS.
We have to realize that we've created a counterfeit, a humanized deity, and called it God. No wonder so many younger people are not even remotely attracted to the idea of going to church!
Not only have we "missed the mark" (picture an archer shooting an arrow at a target) of what God wants for us, we've moved the target, and called it our religion, our church, and our traditions; sacred cows that cannot be toyed with, and can not be altered.
God is shifting the world as we know it.
He's shifting the way we do "church". Part of that is revealing His Truth, opening our eyes to it, clearing the smoke from our understanding of it, and calling people into a new understanding of "following Christ". Not just in words, but in action as well.
What does this look like? It starts with an examination of the religious culture when Jesus first came. The "same old thing we've always done" was exactly what Jesus was up against when He began His ministry here on earth.
How did He do it?
He started with twelve.
Burden and heaviness of heart are plaguing me this morning.
After a tiring week, being busy with obligations, a heavy work schedule, family stresses, and serving those I love so dearly, I was REALLY looking forward to a weekend of quiet contemplation, rejuvenation in the Word, and precious time resting. I knew the upcoming week's schedule removed me from my family, and time away, for me, is never relaxing.
I was hoping to utilize the weekend for meetings with my friend to unwind, but as one of my best friends says, "The battle never ends", and Sunday hit me like a freight train going 100 miles-per-hour.
I should've known the bottom was about to drop out; I actually got to church early.
I should've known something was about to happen; my dear sweet sister-in-Christ and I were able to sing together in my car before church. Praise. Eyes closed, tears rolling, reckless abandon, Worship. It was awesome.
God knew what we were walking into that day, that's why He arranged that precious time to worship Him, to be renewed in His strength, to be filled with His peace, and joy, and hope, and love.
Boy, did I need it later.
I"m struggling to understand what happened. Actually, I am understanding. The hard part is restraining my reaction. I'm grasping at small straws, piecing everything together with the guidance of the Spirit, trying DESPERATELY to utilize tact, wisdom, and love.
My parents taught me early on, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."
Jesus and experience have refined that lesson, "If you can't say something with love, it won't be received." That has helped me restrain from reacting (like an animal) our of an emotional response that would do nothing but offend and add fuel to what is most likely an already volatile situation.
I was able to witness this weekend, with my own eyes and ears, a problem the American church is plagued with, but in its own self-righteousness, can't admit.
We like to talk the talk, but we have NO IDEA what it looks like to walk the walk.
We all ourselves Christians.
We come to church every Sunday to worship (our idea of) God.
We call ourselves blessed, because we have jobs, we work to pay for the things we want and need, we have nice homes, we have happy families.
We live like we don't need God.
We are seriously clueless as to what "following Christ" really looks like.
At the rare opportunity to actually see someone who is living this lifestyle, we scoff, we call them radical, or even worse, we don't recognize it for what it is, and begin the oh-so-familiar process of judging, condemning, persecuting, and ostracizing.
Ah, how I love the American church.
The scary thing is, I do. I seriously do. I see the amazing potential of the American church.
I see the church in almost every single one of Jesus' parables; what it is, and what it could be.
The potential I see for the American church mirrors a story in Luke 7, verses 40-48. Jesus is speaking with a Pharisee named Simon, following the woman anointing Jesus with oil, washing his feet with her hair and her tears.
(See, in the church, we love to make a big deal about washing one another's feet. but how quickly we overlook the lesson that follows.)
Jesus replied, "Simon, I have something to say to you."
"Teacher, speak," he said.
"A certain lender had two debtors. One owed enough money to pay five hundred people for a day's work. the other owed enough money for fifty. When they couldn't pay, the lender forgave the debts of them both. Which of them will love him more?"
Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the largest debt canceled."
Jesus said, "You have judged correctly."
Jesus turned to the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? When I entered your home, you didn't give me water for my feet, but she wet my feet with tears and wiped them with her hair. You didn't greet me with a kiss, but she hasn't stopped kissing my feet since I came in. You didn't anoint my head with oil, but she has poured perfumed oil on my feet. This is why I tell you that her many sins have been forgiven; so she has shown great love. The one who is forgiven little loves little."
Then Jesus said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."
I see the church today going through an awakening of sorts. God is opening the eyes of this western giant, which I dare not say has been asleep, but rather deceived.
We've been deceived into thinking that we're better than other people, because we're Christian.
We've been deceived into thinking that because we carry the name of Christ, everything we do now is somehow endorsed by the kingdom of heaven.
We've been deceived into thinking that God only comes to our churches on Sunday mornings; that He got our memo that services for Him (us) are scheduled for Sunday mornings at 9. Or 10. Or 11. Or whenever the lights are on.
We've been deceived into thinking that God fits into this tiny little compartment of our lives (and churches) that we've created just for Him.
We've been deceived into believing that God loves our love of our traditions.
We've been deceived into thinking that God could be pleased with us, with our commitments to the church, with our programs, and with our adherence to the Ten Commandments. (Please. Crucial theological lesson there, but it's a subject for another day.)
We've been deceived into idolizing the building, and the schedule, and the tradition, and the clock. In all actuality, we don't even know if God is really there at all.
Sure, we pray for our leaders, we pray for victims and those affected by natural disasters, terrorist attacks, horrible explosions half-a country away. We pray for people who need healing. It's so easy to corporately pray for someone you have no connection to...don't need a whole lot of faith for that prayer, do we.
But how often do we pray for the next generation being raised up, not just our children and grandchildren, to live productive lives, to experience Christ early and remain strong in Him?
How often do we pray for God to open our eyes? To show us what we're doing wrong? (Which, by the way, is painfully humbling.)
How often do we pray for the troubled teens in our own backyards, who have been abandoned and neglected, therefore resorting to the life of common criminals?
How often are we actually putting our hands and feet into motion, to help those who so desperately need the Gospel?
We've been deceived into thinking that we can judge who is worthy of receiving the Gospel.
We've been deceived into thinking that living and sharing the Gospel is reserved for missionaries and preachers.
We've been deceived into ignoring the lessons on living in true community, according to Paul's letters in the New Testament.
We've established our own set of rules, and so easily condemn those who don't fit in.
We've distanced ourselves, in our opulence, "blessed-ness", and self righteousness, from the ones Jesus lived among, the ones who needed Him the most: the criminals, the outcast, the sick...
Jesus said, "I did not come for the righteous, but sinners."
Um, y'all? In case we forgot, that's every single one of us.
We have to step outside our comfort zones to really open our eyes to who Jesus spoke of when He said, "I assure you that when you have done it for one the least of these, you have done it for me."
The "least of these" aren't just the hungry, or the thirsty, or the naked, or the sick. It's not only orphans and widows (fine job we're doing there...yes, that's sarcasm.)
The "least of these is anyone we've labeled an outcast.
- Teenagers, who have no ambition, because it's never been modeled for them.
- The elderly, locked in nursing homes, because they've either been abandoned, or require too much care for family members to take on.
- New parents who have to work two jobs to cover the cost of expenses, the cost of daycare, the cost of groceries.
- The couple who lost a child, no matter how old.
- The newly retired people who just realized they have to continue to work.
- The family that divorce looms on their horizon.
Church, this is all of us. No matter what secret we try to hide, we are all the least of these.
SOOOO, as God is opening our eyes to the deception we've fallen into, this brings about the potential I see.
What would it look like, if the American church was to realize the deception on a grand scale, and turn back to the God who is so much bigger than all of us could collectively fathom, and "love greatly"?
"This is why I tell you that her many sins have been forgiven, so she has shown great love. the one who is forgiven little loves little."
Can you imagine!!
Instead of ostracizing the "questionable" members of our society, we embraced them, loved them, gave them a sense of worth, let them know how much they are valued by God, and as a byproduct, we are witnesses to the amazing transformative love of God in someone's life.
That's what happened to the people who encountered Jesus. They weren't just healed. They had a collision with our holy God, an experience that radically changed their life. They were physically healed and delivered on the outside, and their hearts and minds were transformed.
Not just "changed", because people can't change. (How often do we use that as an excuse to continue on in our sin, our deceptions, our habits, and excuses...)
God transforms.
This is plainly evident in a life that has come into contact with the Creator. All of a sudden, the "light" shines. And everyone around them notices it, too. The peace they carry is displayed, and day by day, more and more of the transformation is revealed. Christ shines through.
Church. I say this with all the love I can humanly hold in this heart of mine: We're deceiving ourselves if we don't study who exactly Christ IS.
We have to realize that we've created a counterfeit, a humanized deity, and called it God. No wonder so many younger people are not even remotely attracted to the idea of going to church!
Not only have we "missed the mark" (picture an archer shooting an arrow at a target) of what God wants for us, we've moved the target, and called it our religion, our church, and our traditions; sacred cows that cannot be toyed with, and can not be altered.
God is shifting the world as we know it.
He's shifting the way we do "church". Part of that is revealing His Truth, opening our eyes to it, clearing the smoke from our understanding of it, and calling people into a new understanding of "following Christ". Not just in words, but in action as well.
What does this look like? It starts with an examination of the religious culture when Jesus first came. The "same old thing we've always done" was exactly what Jesus was up against when He began His ministry here on earth.
How did He do it?
He started with twelve.
Monday, April 1, 2013
How NOT to Take Your Youth Group to an Event.
Planning:
Start making lists.
Who's going? Ask every single teenager you know. Beg if you have to.
(You won't get a final number until the last minute, but totally sweat it. Put it on your "to-do" list every day for two months. Send hundreds of texts, Facebook tags, Facebook messages, emails, phone calls, etc.)
Point of Contact / Event Coordinator:
Wait to contact them until only a couple weeks away from the event. It's okay, they don't have enough to do, and now they have to scramble to get extra tickets for your group, which, by the way, you don't even know the size of yet.
Transportation:
We'll ride in the church bus.
Day before the event:
Meals planned. Simple, inexpensive, yet filling. And don't forget something healthy.
Go grocery shopping; forget to buy drinks.
Make lists.
Transportation:
We'll take a church van that fits 15 people.
The Day of the Event:
What to pack:
Deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, hat.
Clean socks, clean shirt.
Make sure jeans are clean when you put them on, and don't think to bring extras.
(You won't need them. The black streaks on the thighs? We'll start a trend!
Quick! Everyone put air in your tires between picking people up!)
A super healthy giant attitude...don't worry, it packs discreetly in the driver's back pocket.
*(Make sure to leave humility at home)
- Cooler packed
- List after list written and marked off
- Gas in car
- Make sure household will not fall apart in your 30-hour absence
(because who ELSE would take care of it!?)
- Spend every waking moment on the phone, mindlessly (and prayerlessly) wandering around the house to make sure you're not forgetting anything... for a 30-hour trip.
- Mutter a 3-second "best-of-luck" prayer as you walk out the door.
Pick Up Time!!
- Run late.
- Forget something (most likely attached to kitchen sink)
- Go back to retrieve forgotten item.
- Run even later.
- Gather with group, even though you've missed the main group by at least two hours.
Transportation:
Now that you (finally) know how many people are going, to save gas, the decision is made to take personal vehicles.
Cram 7 adults in minivan. And cooler. And food. And bags. And blankets and pillows.
Adult driver, baby in car seat, and two teenagers in car. And everything else that wouldn't fit in van.
30 Minutes into the trip...
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know. We'll find out on the way. Someone has to have a cell signal strong enough to get online for an address..."
Dinner:
In case of emergency, break glass to expose brutal militaristic hustle and pace; scheduled efficiency... no one else got that memo?
Pray the entire way to the event for God to keep all the tires in our caravan fully inflated, intact, and protected. (Make it good. These are your only prayers during the entire event.)
Arrive late, but excited.
Leave early that same night, to ensure safe passage to previously arranged sleeping destination.
Shuttle adults, teens and pre-teens back and forth from event when vehicle troubles strike.
Get locked in... I mean, settled in. Calm the fears of pre-teen girls who overheard a discussion about "ghosts in the building". This may or may not include raising your voice. If you choose to do so, don't worry, you won't come across as an unapproachable, bossy, b*tch; at least not in your own mind.
Next morning:
Reveille to rouse the troops from the eluded slumber. (Drill sergeant mode works best here.)
Push everyone with unrealistic timelines.
(If you tell them the doors open at 6am, you might be there by 7:30am. But make sure you're prepared to endure the weather for 30 minutes when you realize you were wrong - a verbal "oops" should help you save face.)
COFFFEEEEEEEEEEEE....
Make sure you park as close to the building as possible. It will come in handy to have access to a cooler full of drinks, especially when the venue sells a 16-ounce water for $4.00.
Special Notes:
No matter how hard, no matter how much slippage you're fighting in order to have some semblance of control, it's going to go.
You cannot control when and who takes smoke breaks.
You cannot, contrary to military training, coordinate potty breaks.
Don't get mad, scoff, or roll your eyes when the younger kids sleep through the speaking parts of the event.
Make a big deal of someones "theology being wrong". It's one of the best ways to win friends and influence people.
You CAN feed 24 people out of the back of a minivan...it will start as mild chaos, but everyone will eat.
That being said, if you pack mayonnaise for sandwiches, DON'T FORGET A KNIFE, so you can get it out of the jar.
Seagulls do not like, and therefore will not eat spilled and splattered mayonnaise in the parking lot.
Enjoy the event, seriously. It's what you came to see!
Be sure to put yourself out there as pushy, self-righteous, bossy, and in control.
...that's how Jesus did it, right?
Right???
Start making lists.
Who's going? Ask every single teenager you know. Beg if you have to.
(You won't get a final number until the last minute, but totally sweat it. Put it on your "to-do" list every day for two months. Send hundreds of texts, Facebook tags, Facebook messages, emails, phone calls, etc.)
Point of Contact / Event Coordinator:
Wait to contact them until only a couple weeks away from the event. It's okay, they don't have enough to do, and now they have to scramble to get extra tickets for your group, which, by the way, you don't even know the size of yet.
Transportation:
We'll ride in the church bus.
Day before the event:
Meals planned. Simple, inexpensive, yet filling. And don't forget something healthy.
Go grocery shopping; forget to buy drinks.
Make lists.
Transportation:
We'll take a church van that fits 15 people.
The Day of the Event:
What to pack:
Deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, hat.
Clean socks, clean shirt.
Make sure jeans are clean when you put them on, and don't think to bring extras.
(You won't need them. The black streaks on the thighs? We'll start a trend!
Quick! Everyone put air in your tires between picking people up!)
A super healthy giant attitude...don't worry, it packs discreetly in the driver's back pocket.
*(Make sure to leave humility at home)
- Cooler packed
- List after list written and marked off
- Gas in car
- Make sure household will not fall apart in your 30-hour absence
(because who ELSE would take care of it!?)
- Spend every waking moment on the phone, mindlessly (and prayerlessly) wandering around the house to make sure you're not forgetting anything... for a 30-hour trip.
- Mutter a 3-second "best-of-luck" prayer as you walk out the door.
Pick Up Time!!
- Run late.
- Forget something (most likely attached to kitchen sink)
- Go back to retrieve forgotten item.
- Run even later.
- Gather with group, even though you've missed the main group by at least two hours.
Transportation:
Now that you (finally) know how many people are going, to save gas, the decision is made to take personal vehicles.
Cram 7 adults in minivan. And cooler. And food. And bags. And blankets and pillows.
Adult driver, baby in car seat, and two teenagers in car. And everything else that wouldn't fit in van.
30 Minutes into the trip...
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know. We'll find out on the way. Someone has to have a cell signal strong enough to get online for an address..."
Dinner:
In case of emergency, break glass to expose brutal militaristic hustle and pace; scheduled efficiency... no one else got that memo?
Pray the entire way to the event for God to keep all the tires in our caravan fully inflated, intact, and protected. (Make it good. These are your only prayers during the entire event.)
Arrive late, but excited.
Leave early that same night, to ensure safe passage to previously arranged sleeping destination.
Shuttle adults, teens and pre-teens back and forth from event when vehicle troubles strike.
Get locked in... I mean, settled in. Calm the fears of pre-teen girls who overheard a discussion about "ghosts in the building". This may or may not include raising your voice. If you choose to do so, don't worry, you won't come across as an unapproachable, bossy, b*tch; at least not in your own mind.
Next morning:
Reveille to rouse the troops from the eluded slumber. (Drill sergeant mode works best here.)
Push everyone with unrealistic timelines.
(If you tell them the doors open at 6am, you might be there by 7:30am. But make sure you're prepared to endure the weather for 30 minutes when you realize you were wrong - a verbal "oops" should help you save face.)
COFFFEEEEEEEEEEEE....
Make sure you park as close to the building as possible. It will come in handy to have access to a cooler full of drinks, especially when the venue sells a 16-ounce water for $4.00.
Special Notes:
No matter how hard, no matter how much slippage you're fighting in order to have some semblance of control, it's going to go.
You cannot control when and who takes smoke breaks.
You cannot, contrary to military training, coordinate potty breaks.
Don't get mad, scoff, or roll your eyes when the younger kids sleep through the speaking parts of the event.
Make a big deal of someones "theology being wrong". It's one of the best ways to win friends and influence people.
You CAN feed 24 people out of the back of a minivan...it will start as mild chaos, but everyone will eat.
That being said, if you pack mayonnaise for sandwiches, DON'T FORGET A KNIFE, so you can get it out of the jar.
Seagulls do not like, and therefore will not eat spilled and splattered mayonnaise in the parking lot.
Enjoy the event, seriously. It's what you came to see!
Be sure to put yourself out there as pushy, self-righteous, bossy, and in control.
...that's how Jesus did it, right?
Right???
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