Why is it that in the Old Testament, so often great kings are followed by evil ones? Reading Kings and Chronicles lately, I've been struck by this -- it seems strange that a godly king would have a son who departs so far from the ways of the Lord. Jehoshaphat's son Jehoram killed all of his brothers; Absalom, son of David (the man after God's own heart) did not have the godly fear of harming God's anointed one the way David did. Other examples abound. How did the sons not learn from their fathers?
Reading biographies of other, more recent "great men," has shown me a possible reason for the disconnect. John Adams played a crucial role in the establishment of the United States as a free republic, not to mention his service as ambassador, vice-president and president. He was a man of great (not perfect) character, yet one of his sons died of alcoholism. Winston Churchill too -- great leader, remarkable man, yet not a "good" father. These men (and others) devoted their lives to serving their countries, and their families suffered for it.
I suspect it is difficult, if not impossible, for a man to excel both as a father and as a public servant -- not to mention other professions. Billy Graham, for example, has said that he now realizes he spent too much time away from home and that he wishes he would have been a more present and involved father. Much is made of how women cannot "have it all," but the same dilemma faces men who want to make a difference in the world and at home.
I am naturally (or conditioned to be) ambitious, and part of me wants my husband to be as ambitious as I am. He isn't. When I reflect on the lives of "great men," though, I am glad that my husband has chosen the better part -- he takes his career seriously, but he makes his family his first priority. He is home at an early hour every night and very actively involved in our son's upbringing. What could he do that is greater than the influence he is having on our son (soon, our children)? As much as I appreciate the genius, hard work and accomplishments of men like Adams and Churchill, I am grateful to be married to someone whose work the world will probably not notice, but to whom the Lord will say, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Advent devotional: Prepare the way of the Lord
I gave this talk at the Women's holiday tea at my church Tuesday evening. It's long, but I wanted to share it anyway.
Happy new year! It sounds like I’m jumping the gun – but the church year begins with the season of Advent, so this is the start of the new year. But it’s easy to overlook Advent in all the excitement of Christmas coming. With Christmas carols, Christmas trees, Christmas lights, Christmas parties and shopping for Christmas presents, how can Advent compare? It’s ironic because we do all of these things to prepare for Christmas, but the point of Advent too is to prepare for Christmas – for Christ’s coming. Instead of immediately jumping to Christmas, let’s do as the church year and the gospels begin, with the call to “Prepare the way of the Lord.” All four gospels, before showing Jesus in his ministry, show John the Baptist in his ministry. Luke even tells us about the birth of John the Baptist before Jesus’ birth. From these things, I take it that observing Advent prepares us for the true meaning of Christmas – celebrating the coming of our Savior.
If we want to use Advent as a time to prepare for Jesus’ coming the way the Bible shows us, we will have to turn our attention away, at least for a time, from the Christmas-y things that surround us during this season and listen to John the Baptist. You won’t see him on billboards or commercials, like Santa Claus or snowmen, but his message is the one we need to hear. He says: “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.” Repent: turn – change your ways. This is a hard message any time of year, but crucial for preparing for Jesus’ coming.
Lately a couple of images are helping me repent, helping me take the time and effort I need to take (in prayer, self-examination and Bible reading) to be aware of what I need to repent of, to prepare for Jesus’ coming to me. Think of how Jesus came to us in his birth – in the womb of a virgin, and in a stable crib. To me, both of these images show that Jesus needs room, or space, for him. Jesus could have come to be born to a princess, someone important, wealthy, dignified. Instead, he chose a woman who had never known a man – whose womb literally was empty, someone who had room for him to come. This picture of Mary speaks to me not, primarily, about our marital status – but our openness, our willingness to give Jesus space in our lives.
Similarly, Jesus could have been born anywhere – in Herod’s palace, if he wanted palatial surroundings. Instead, he picked a manger in a stable – because it was the one place in Bethlehem where there was room for him. From these two images, I see that Jesus isn’t looking for the finest home to take up residence – he wants our availability, openness, room for him to be there.
I have been cleaning out clutter lately because I’m trying to make room in our home for our daughter, who will be born in March. Our current level of clutter, the way the closets are packed full, is fine for the three of us – but we need to make room for a fourth member of the family. So we need to get rid of lots of stuff, to have room for our daughter to live with us.
I want Jesus to be able to live in my “house,” that is, my life, too – not just the living room where guests come, but all of me, to live fully and forever. But the spiritual clutter in my heart makes it hard for me to make room for Jesus. He is not interested in my trying to make my spiritual home “better,” as if he needed a fancy home – again, he came from his heavenly throne to a manger! Palace or manger, it’s all humble from his perspective. But he can only come to those who actually are humble, who know their need:
Is. 57:14-16
14 And it shall be said,
“Build up, build up, prepare the way,
remove every obstruction from my people's way.”
15 For thus says the One who is high and lifted up,
who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy:
“I dwell in the high and holy place,
and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit,
to revive the spirit of the lowly,
and to revive the heart of the contrite.
16 For I will not contend forever,
nor will I always be angry;
for the spirit would grow faint before me,
and the breath of life that I made.
The person who is “of a contrite and lowly spirit,” who is humble, has room in their heart for Jesus to dwell. It can be hard to believe that the God who lives in “the high and holy place” also dwells “with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit.” We think that we need to be holy, too, at least, holier than we are. For some reason it’s easy for us to start by the Spirit – to rely on Jesus for our righteousness for salvation – but then try to perfect ourselves by the flesh, as Paul scolded the Galatians for doing. It’s hard to continue to live by grace – we think we should get beyond our neediness, our messiness. But when we try to live in our own strength, to make our “spiritual homes” look good with cut flowers and shoving things in closets instead of tackling the spiritual or emotional clutter, then we end up closing off parts of our lives to the presence of Jesus and the healing power we need.
There are a lot of ways we can neglect the spiritual clutter of our lives. Busyness, food, relationships, focusing on what other people are or aren’t doing, being critical – these are just a few things that take up spiritual energy we could better use to look within, to see what thoughts, attitudes, behaviors are unholy and impeding the presence of Jesus in our lives. Let me suggest that this Advent, we repent by changing our ways – stopping the activities that fill up our minds and time and distract us from what is going on in our hearts – and this will prepare the way of the Lord to come to us in a deeper way.
For me, anger is an area of clutter taking up too much space in my heart, keeping Jesus out of my relationships when my triggers are set off. If I easily get angry at my husband, son, myself, and others, then I’m not showing them Jesus and His grace – it’s that simple. In the past I’ve learned that if I’m easily angered, what helps me most isn’t just to keep repenting for getting angry – I need to also look at what’s behind the anger, and that usually is either a fear or a sorrow that I’m not grieving.
I mention anger specifically because I’ve heard from several other women at church lately that they are struggling with anger these days. It’s no surprise – in addition to our usual trials, disappointments and sorrows, we are in the middle of a church situation that practically demands grieving. But grieving is painful, so it’s easier to just get angry, get critical, or eat or whatever our particular escapes may be.
The fact is, though, that it is sad to see our church family getting divided, for people we love to not be here worshipping with us on Sundays or with us this evening. A book I’m reading by a church pastor mentioned that when people move away or leave their church, they’ve realized they need to take time to mourn that loss. How much more have we lost! We’ve lost beloved pastors; we’ve lost members; we’ve lost the stability and security our church used to give us.
Yes, we know that God is sovereign and he works all things together for good and we can trust him – but the Bible teaches us also, in addition to these truths, that “blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” And our primary comfort is from God. He knows we are weak and he doesn’t expect us to be as strong as we think we should be. The Isaiah passage recognizes our faint spirit and his compassion. David, the man after God’s own heart, was also an emotional man, and the Psalms showed him grieving too.
Jesus himself is “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,” Isaiah tells us, and there is a kind of fellowship with Jesus that happens only through grief. We may be afraid to get sad, wary of wallowing in sadness, fearful of depression, but not only does Jesus come to us in our sorrows, making room for Jesus through mourning also makes our hearts have more room for the sorrows of other people – making us more compassionate people – making us, in turn, more like Jesus himself. And Scripture tells us “sorrow lasts for a night but joy comes in the morning”: If we will grieve our sorrows, we will have more joy, on Christmas morning, because of Christ’s birth.
A friend sent me a poem by John Newton the other day that I’ll end with because it seems to me to go with what I’m talking about tonight. Let’s pray that God will give us greater faith, love and grace this Christmas.
"I Asked The Lord"
I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith and love and every grace,
Might more of His salvation know
And seek more earnestly His face.
Twas He who taught me thus to pray,
And He I trust has answered prayer,
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair.
I hoped that in some favored hour
At once He'd answer my request,
And by His love's constraining power
Subdue my sins and give me rest.
Instead of this He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart,
And let the angry powers of Hell
Assault my soul in every part.
Yea more with His own hand He seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe,
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Cast out my feelings, laid me low.
Lord why is this, I trembling cried
Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?
"Tis in this way," the Lord replied
"I answer prayer for grace and faith."
"These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
That thou mayest seek thy all in me,
That thou mayest seek thy all in me."
Words: John Newton
Happy new year! It sounds like I’m jumping the gun – but the church year begins with the season of Advent, so this is the start of the new year. But it’s easy to overlook Advent in all the excitement of Christmas coming. With Christmas carols, Christmas trees, Christmas lights, Christmas parties and shopping for Christmas presents, how can Advent compare? It’s ironic because we do all of these things to prepare for Christmas, but the point of Advent too is to prepare for Christmas – for Christ’s coming. Instead of immediately jumping to Christmas, let’s do as the church year and the gospels begin, with the call to “Prepare the way of the Lord.” All four gospels, before showing Jesus in his ministry, show John the Baptist in his ministry. Luke even tells us about the birth of John the Baptist before Jesus’ birth. From these things, I take it that observing Advent prepares us for the true meaning of Christmas – celebrating the coming of our Savior.
If we want to use Advent as a time to prepare for Jesus’ coming the way the Bible shows us, we will have to turn our attention away, at least for a time, from the Christmas-y things that surround us during this season and listen to John the Baptist. You won’t see him on billboards or commercials, like Santa Claus or snowmen, but his message is the one we need to hear. He says: “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.” Repent: turn – change your ways. This is a hard message any time of year, but crucial for preparing for Jesus’ coming.
Lately a couple of images are helping me repent, helping me take the time and effort I need to take (in prayer, self-examination and Bible reading) to be aware of what I need to repent of, to prepare for Jesus’ coming to me. Think of how Jesus came to us in his birth – in the womb of a virgin, and in a stable crib. To me, both of these images show that Jesus needs room, or space, for him. Jesus could have come to be born to a princess, someone important, wealthy, dignified. Instead, he chose a woman who had never known a man – whose womb literally was empty, someone who had room for him to come. This picture of Mary speaks to me not, primarily, about our marital status – but our openness, our willingness to give Jesus space in our lives.
Similarly, Jesus could have been born anywhere – in Herod’s palace, if he wanted palatial surroundings. Instead, he picked a manger in a stable – because it was the one place in Bethlehem where there was room for him. From these two images, I see that Jesus isn’t looking for the finest home to take up residence – he wants our availability, openness, room for him to be there.
I have been cleaning out clutter lately because I’m trying to make room in our home for our daughter, who will be born in March. Our current level of clutter, the way the closets are packed full, is fine for the three of us – but we need to make room for a fourth member of the family. So we need to get rid of lots of stuff, to have room for our daughter to live with us.
I want Jesus to be able to live in my “house,” that is, my life, too – not just the living room where guests come, but all of me, to live fully and forever. But the spiritual clutter in my heart makes it hard for me to make room for Jesus. He is not interested in my trying to make my spiritual home “better,” as if he needed a fancy home – again, he came from his heavenly throne to a manger! Palace or manger, it’s all humble from his perspective. But he can only come to those who actually are humble, who know their need:
Is. 57:14-16
14 And it shall be said,
“Build up, build up, prepare the way,
remove every obstruction from my people's way.”
15 For thus says the One who is high and lifted up,
who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy:
“I dwell in the high and holy place,
and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit,
to revive the spirit of the lowly,
and to revive the heart of the contrite.
16 For I will not contend forever,
nor will I always be angry;
for the spirit would grow faint before me,
and the breath of life that I made.
The person who is “of a contrite and lowly spirit,” who is humble, has room in their heart for Jesus to dwell. It can be hard to believe that the God who lives in “the high and holy place” also dwells “with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit.” We think that we need to be holy, too, at least, holier than we are. For some reason it’s easy for us to start by the Spirit – to rely on Jesus for our righteousness for salvation – but then try to perfect ourselves by the flesh, as Paul scolded the Galatians for doing. It’s hard to continue to live by grace – we think we should get beyond our neediness, our messiness. But when we try to live in our own strength, to make our “spiritual homes” look good with cut flowers and shoving things in closets instead of tackling the spiritual or emotional clutter, then we end up closing off parts of our lives to the presence of Jesus and the healing power we need.
There are a lot of ways we can neglect the spiritual clutter of our lives. Busyness, food, relationships, focusing on what other people are or aren’t doing, being critical – these are just a few things that take up spiritual energy we could better use to look within, to see what thoughts, attitudes, behaviors are unholy and impeding the presence of Jesus in our lives. Let me suggest that this Advent, we repent by changing our ways – stopping the activities that fill up our minds and time and distract us from what is going on in our hearts – and this will prepare the way of the Lord to come to us in a deeper way.
For me, anger is an area of clutter taking up too much space in my heart, keeping Jesus out of my relationships when my triggers are set off. If I easily get angry at my husband, son, myself, and others, then I’m not showing them Jesus and His grace – it’s that simple. In the past I’ve learned that if I’m easily angered, what helps me most isn’t just to keep repenting for getting angry – I need to also look at what’s behind the anger, and that usually is either a fear or a sorrow that I’m not grieving.
I mention anger specifically because I’ve heard from several other women at church lately that they are struggling with anger these days. It’s no surprise – in addition to our usual trials, disappointments and sorrows, we are in the middle of a church situation that practically demands grieving. But grieving is painful, so it’s easier to just get angry, get critical, or eat or whatever our particular escapes may be.
The fact is, though, that it is sad to see our church family getting divided, for people we love to not be here worshipping with us on Sundays or with us this evening. A book I’m reading by a church pastor mentioned that when people move away or leave their church, they’ve realized they need to take time to mourn that loss. How much more have we lost! We’ve lost beloved pastors; we’ve lost members; we’ve lost the stability and security our church used to give us.
Yes, we know that God is sovereign and he works all things together for good and we can trust him – but the Bible teaches us also, in addition to these truths, that “blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” And our primary comfort is from God. He knows we are weak and he doesn’t expect us to be as strong as we think we should be. The Isaiah passage recognizes our faint spirit and his compassion. David, the man after God’s own heart, was also an emotional man, and the Psalms showed him grieving too.
Jesus himself is “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,” Isaiah tells us, and there is a kind of fellowship with Jesus that happens only through grief. We may be afraid to get sad, wary of wallowing in sadness, fearful of depression, but not only does Jesus come to us in our sorrows, making room for Jesus through mourning also makes our hearts have more room for the sorrows of other people – making us more compassionate people – making us, in turn, more like Jesus himself. And Scripture tells us “sorrow lasts for a night but joy comes in the morning”: If we will grieve our sorrows, we will have more joy, on Christmas morning, because of Christ’s birth.
A friend sent me a poem by John Newton the other day that I’ll end with because it seems to me to go with what I’m talking about tonight. Let’s pray that God will give us greater faith, love and grace this Christmas.
"I Asked The Lord"
I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith and love and every grace,
Might more of His salvation know
And seek more earnestly His face.
Twas He who taught me thus to pray,
And He I trust has answered prayer,
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair.
I hoped that in some favored hour
At once He'd answer my request,
And by His love's constraining power
Subdue my sins and give me rest.
Instead of this He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart,
And let the angry powers of Hell
Assault my soul in every part.
Yea more with His own hand He seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe,
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Cast out my feelings, laid me low.
Lord why is this, I trembling cried
Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?
"Tis in this way," the Lord replied
"I answer prayer for grace and faith."
"These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
That thou mayest seek thy all in me,
That thou mayest seek thy all in me."
Words: John Newton
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Who do you love?
Michael and I have loved John for a little over two years now. We show him our love every day, mostly through our actions but also through our words. I have looked forward to the day when John says, "I love you, Mama."
So yesterday, for the first time, John spoke of his love. He likes a lot of things -- but never had we heard him express love. Until he said it: "I love Mickey Mouse."
See, Michael has been showing John old Mickey Mouse cartoons on YouTube. Needless to say, John enjoys watching these videos. And so although Michael and I feed, clothe, comfort, take care of and play with John, at considerable personal expense, Mickey Mouse amuses John.
I am sure that John does love us, as much as a two-year-old can love -- and will grow in love for us -- and so I'm not taking this too personally, but it did cross my mind: "I guess this is what God goes through with us."
So yesterday, for the first time, John spoke of his love. He likes a lot of things -- but never had we heard him express love. Until he said it: "I love Mickey Mouse."
See, Michael has been showing John old Mickey Mouse cartoons on YouTube. Needless to say, John enjoys watching these videos. And so although Michael and I feed, clothe, comfort, take care of and play with John, at considerable personal expense, Mickey Mouse amuses John.
I am sure that John does love us, as much as a two-year-old can love -- and will grow in love for us -- and so I'm not taking this too personally, but it did cross my mind: "I guess this is what God goes through with us."
Saturday, November 15, 2008
What I've been up to
For you who don't attend my church: the church has been facing some difficult challenges since the end of September. For the last 6 weeks or so, I've written suggested prayers, linked to particular Scripture passages, for our church members to use for our church, and this has taken up most of my available time for writing.
The prayers are now posted on a blog, tnpcprayer.wordpress.com, or click here. The prayers are not specific to the struggles our church is facing but are, I believe, about things we all need prayer for.
The prayers are now posted on a blog, tnpcprayer.wordpress.com, or click here. The prayers are not specific to the struggles our church is facing but are, I believe, about things we all need prayer for.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
my two cents' worth
A confession: when people don't meet my expectations, I tend to blame them, not my own expectations. I think they could do better than this, if only they tried harder, or if they were more spiritual. (Condemning, aren't I?) Not that I explicitly think this, but it seems to be my underlying belief. Why else would I be frustrated at them for not doing or being what I want them to do or be?
Probably the only person I don't usually have unreasonable -- i.e. often unmet -- expectations of is my son. He is 22 months old. I expect a toddler to sometimes cry, have a low level of frustration tolerance, and to demand a lot of attention. And most of the time, he is lots of fun. Why, I wonder, is it so easy for me to love him and not condemn him, and so hard with other people?
Jesus' response to the poor widow giving money at the temple offering box shows me the problem with my expectations. After "many rich people put in large sums," the widow gave "two small copper coins, which make a penny" (Mark 12:41, 42). Jesus said to his disciples, "this woman has put in more than all these who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on" (v. 43, 44).
How convicting. Jesus knows what spiritual and emotional riches other people have; I don't. Where I see -- and privately condemn -- someone's meager contribution, Jesus sees a heartfelt self-sacrifice.
I've always thought it sounded trite and unsatisfying when someone says about people who let them down, "Well, they did the best they could." Perhaps this is just another way of saying that -- but lately I've found it helpful, when I'm disappointed with someone's behavior, to think, "Maybe this is their two cents."
Probably the only person I don't usually have unreasonable -- i.e. often unmet -- expectations of is my son. He is 22 months old. I expect a toddler to sometimes cry, have a low level of frustration tolerance, and to demand a lot of attention. And most of the time, he is lots of fun. Why, I wonder, is it so easy for me to love him and not condemn him, and so hard with other people?
Jesus' response to the poor widow giving money at the temple offering box shows me the problem with my expectations. After "many rich people put in large sums," the widow gave "two small copper coins, which make a penny" (Mark 12:41, 42). Jesus said to his disciples, "this woman has put in more than all these who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on" (v. 43, 44).
How convicting. Jesus knows what spiritual and emotional riches other people have; I don't. Where I see -- and privately condemn -- someone's meager contribution, Jesus sees a heartfelt self-sacrifice.
I've always thought it sounded trite and unsatisfying when someone says about people who let them down, "Well, they did the best they could." Perhaps this is just another way of saying that -- but lately I've found it helpful, when I'm disappointed with someone's behavior, to think, "Maybe this is their two cents."
Friday, August 29, 2008
babies and brokenness
I haven't written in a long time -- since I started feeling fatigue and morning sickness -- being pregnant takes a lot out of me! People talk about writing a book as like having a baby -- I guess for me, it's one or the other: if I'm working on a baby, I'm not working on writing! Anyway, I'm due in mid-March and we are very excited that our family will soon welcome another child.
Just thinking about how when I lived in Japan, I knew people who collected fine Japanese porcelains. In one home I saw a beautiful plate that had been broken and repaired with some kind of gold adhesive; unlike superglue, the fixative showed and, I was told, is thought to add to the beauty of the piece. Such a plate is unique and treasured.
I think God works in our lives in a similar way -- when he tends to our broken places, he doesn't hide the cracks. I mean, we can, of course, try to hide the cracks, even after we've let him work there, and pretend like we've been perfect all along. But our repaired brokenness glorifies him.
Last night I was talking to someone who shared with me an area of imperfection: something she has struggled with, which happens to be something I struggle with. I was so encouraged to hear how God has helped her in this area -- pure gold, much more valuable to me than if I thought success in this came to her naturally.
I usually just throw away broken dishes. It's comforting to think that we are so precious to God that he makes us whole in unique ways and treasures us.
Just thinking about how when I lived in Japan, I knew people who collected fine Japanese porcelains. In one home I saw a beautiful plate that had been broken and repaired with some kind of gold adhesive; unlike superglue, the fixative showed and, I was told, is thought to add to the beauty of the piece. Such a plate is unique and treasured.
I think God works in our lives in a similar way -- when he tends to our broken places, he doesn't hide the cracks. I mean, we can, of course, try to hide the cracks, even after we've let him work there, and pretend like we've been perfect all along. But our repaired brokenness glorifies him.
Last night I was talking to someone who shared with me an area of imperfection: something she has struggled with, which happens to be something I struggle with. I was so encouraged to hear how God has helped her in this area -- pure gold, much more valuable to me than if I thought success in this came to her naturally.
I usually just throw away broken dishes. It's comforting to think that we are so precious to God that he makes us whole in unique ways and treasures us.
Monday, July 21, 2008
obedience
"Come here, John. John, come here. John. JOHN, COME HERE!!!"
John does not always obey us quickly (or at all). Sometimes, of course, he will do what we ask -- stop touching the CDs; give the pen to Mama; stop hitting Mama with the truck.
But when I give him an order and he does not obey me, then I know that the times he obeys are not because he has an obedient spirit -- it's because what I'm asking him is not too onerous, in his mind. Perhaps it's what he wants to do anyway. So 50% obedience (I'm being generous here) is, to me, no obedience at all, because it only takes one incident of disobedience for me to know that John thinks he knows better than I do what is best for him to do.
I used to think it was unfair for the Bible to say that whoever breaks one little part of the law is guilty of breaking it all (James 2:10; see also Matt. 5:19). Now that I have a child, I am reminded every day that if I'm not rebelling against God at this moment it's just because what he requires of me is not too onerous, in my mind; or, sometimes, I obey because I choose to believe that God knows better than I do. Sometimes, though, I do still disobey, and now I see that my sin is as great as if I had broken every one of God's commands.
Fortunately he is in the business of loving and redeeming rebellious souls. "While we were enemies, Christ died for us" (Rom. 5:8).
John does not always obey us quickly (or at all). Sometimes, of course, he will do what we ask -- stop touching the CDs; give the pen to Mama; stop hitting Mama with the truck.
But when I give him an order and he does not obey me, then I know that the times he obeys are not because he has an obedient spirit -- it's because what I'm asking him is not too onerous, in his mind. Perhaps it's what he wants to do anyway. So 50% obedience (I'm being generous here) is, to me, no obedience at all, because it only takes one incident of disobedience for me to know that John thinks he knows better than I do what is best for him to do.
I used to think it was unfair for the Bible to say that whoever breaks one little part of the law is guilty of breaking it all (James 2:10; see also Matt. 5:19). Now that I have a child, I am reminded every day that if I'm not rebelling against God at this moment it's just because what he requires of me is not too onerous, in my mind; or, sometimes, I obey because I choose to believe that God knows better than I do. Sometimes, though, I do still disobey, and now I see that my sin is as great as if I had broken every one of God's commands.
Fortunately he is in the business of loving and redeeming rebellious souls. "While we were enemies, Christ died for us" (Rom. 5:8).
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
submission to God
Finish this sentence:
"The world would be a better place if only _______________ ."
What did you think of? I'm guessing that you did not first think of something you have direct control over.
If God reigns, then shouldn't we believe that the world is actually exactly as it should be, except for things we can change?
Feel free to disagree with me. I'm not sure it's quite as stark as that. But I know I, for one, err too much on the side of being dissatisfied with people, jobs, illnesses, churches, whatever. It's hard to trust God to make all things work for good when some things are so apparently bad.
After reading my post on biblical submission, Michael reminded me that during our dance lessons, I had a hard time following not only when Michael led me, but also the one or two times I danced with our instructor. He dances wonderfully -- graceful, smooth -- and for no good reason I could not relax and follow his lead. "Stop leading," he'd say. I knew he wasn't making any mistakes. But being led doesn't come naturally to me.
Just as dancing with Michael works for me as a metaphor for biblical submission in marriage, dancing with the instructor seems like a good image for submission to God. I know he's doing everything right -- but it's hard to trust him. When I complain about things that seem wrong to me but I can't affect, I suspect that I'm trying to lead God instead of letting him lead me. It takes humility to be led. I want the dance, including the other dancers, to do things right (i.e. my way). God seems to be more interested in my submission to him than in the dance going perfectly.
I vaguely recall from dance lessons that no matter what my partner did -- spin me out, swing me around -- my role stayed pretty much the same: step, rock, step. It seemed to go more smoothly if I focused on the rhythm of my steps instead of on where my partner led me. What steps should I focus on while God leads me?
Recently God has thrown a friend of mine for a loop. Her husband is in the hospital with a brain tumor. This morning the doctor performed a biopsy on it; they won't have the results for another 3 to 5 days. "I'm just not ready for this," she keeps saying. Her friends and I remind her: trust God. Pray. Let others help you and love you. I think that these things are the basic steps to follow, repeatedly, to enter into the rhythm as the true Lord of the Dance leads us.
"The world would be a better place if only _______________ ."
What did you think of? I'm guessing that you did not first think of something you have direct control over.
If God reigns, then shouldn't we believe that the world is actually exactly as it should be, except for things we can change?
Feel free to disagree with me. I'm not sure it's quite as stark as that. But I know I, for one, err too much on the side of being dissatisfied with people, jobs, illnesses, churches, whatever. It's hard to trust God to make all things work for good when some things are so apparently bad.
After reading my post on biblical submission, Michael reminded me that during our dance lessons, I had a hard time following not only when Michael led me, but also the one or two times I danced with our instructor. He dances wonderfully -- graceful, smooth -- and for no good reason I could not relax and follow his lead. "Stop leading," he'd say. I knew he wasn't making any mistakes. But being led doesn't come naturally to me.
Just as dancing with Michael works for me as a metaphor for biblical submission in marriage, dancing with the instructor seems like a good image for submission to God. I know he's doing everything right -- but it's hard to trust him. When I complain about things that seem wrong to me but I can't affect, I suspect that I'm trying to lead God instead of letting him lead me. It takes humility to be led. I want the dance, including the other dancers, to do things right (i.e. my way). God seems to be more interested in my submission to him than in the dance going perfectly.
I vaguely recall from dance lessons that no matter what my partner did -- spin me out, swing me around -- my role stayed pretty much the same: step, rock, step. It seemed to go more smoothly if I focused on the rhythm of my steps instead of on where my partner led me. What steps should I focus on while God leads me?
Recently God has thrown a friend of mine for a loop. Her husband is in the hospital with a brain tumor. This morning the doctor performed a biopsy on it; they won't have the results for another 3 to 5 days. "I'm just not ready for this," she keeps saying. Her friends and I remind her: trust God. Pray. Let others help you and love you. I think that these things are the basic steps to follow, repeatedly, to enter into the rhythm as the true Lord of the Dance leads us.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Biblical submission
When Michael and I were newlyweds, we took a dance class at Richland. I can't remember now if we learned East Coast or West Coast swing, but one lesson is still vivid.
Michael and I were doing a difficult (for us) move, and he didn't quite have it right. I did my part correctly and tried to show him what he should be doing. (We actually had a lot of these little struggles during these lesssons.) The instructor came up to us and told ME that I was at fault -- because I was not following Michael's lead. "It doesn't matter whether he's doing the proper steps. You need to let him lead you."
This seems to me like a good metaphor for that really-hard-to-understand concept of Biblical submission. Obviously (I think) women don't have to submit to truly egregious things like abuse or sexual sin. But my dance lesson reminds me of what 1 Peter 3 says about wives being subject to their husbands: "so that even if some [husbands] do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives -- when they see your respectful and pure conduct" (v. 1b, 2).
It's so hard to keep from saying a word! But important: "let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious" (v. 4). To me, that description sounds like the opposite of a woman leading her husband, even if she's right.
John loves "Green Eggs and Ham" -- he frequently asks for "Hammie" -- and I can identify a bit with I-am-Sam, who just won't stop pushing those green eggs and ham on the other guy. What a nag! Even though he's right! The book vindicates his persistence; but it's not exactly the role I want to take in my marriage.
I think that when I try to lead Michael -- not just tell him what I think, but actively try to persuade him, especially in something that really is his business not mine -- I do so because I am afraid that something bad will happen. Peter tells us to follow the example of Sarah, who "obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening" (v. 6).
In dancing, it is more important that the partners are doing the same thing than that they are following the steps perfectly. I suspect that in marriage too, the most important thing is not for me to focus on whether my husband is making all the right moves, but to focus on how well I am following him, and trust God to lead us both in the right direction. And dancing is a lot more fun when you're dancing with, not against, your partner.
Michael and I were doing a difficult (for us) move, and he didn't quite have it right. I did my part correctly and tried to show him what he should be doing. (We actually had a lot of these little struggles during these lesssons.) The instructor came up to us and told ME that I was at fault -- because I was not following Michael's lead. "It doesn't matter whether he's doing the proper steps. You need to let him lead you."
This seems to me like a good metaphor for that really-hard-to-understand concept of Biblical submission. Obviously (I think) women don't have to submit to truly egregious things like abuse or sexual sin. But my dance lesson reminds me of what 1 Peter 3 says about wives being subject to their husbands: "so that even if some [husbands] do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives -- when they see your respectful and pure conduct" (v. 1b, 2).
It's so hard to keep from saying a word! But important: "let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious" (v. 4). To me, that description sounds like the opposite of a woman leading her husband, even if she's right.
John loves "Green Eggs and Ham" -- he frequently asks for "Hammie" -- and I can identify a bit with I-am-Sam, who just won't stop pushing those green eggs and ham on the other guy. What a nag! Even though he's right! The book vindicates his persistence; but it's not exactly the role I want to take in my marriage.
I think that when I try to lead Michael -- not just tell him what I think, but actively try to persuade him, especially in something that really is his business not mine -- I do so because I am afraid that something bad will happen. Peter tells us to follow the example of Sarah, who "obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening" (v. 6).
In dancing, it is more important that the partners are doing the same thing than that they are following the steps perfectly. I suspect that in marriage too, the most important thing is not for me to focus on whether my husband is making all the right moves, but to focus on how well I am following him, and trust God to lead us both in the right direction. And dancing is a lot more fun when you're dancing with, not against, your partner.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Love of Tractors
I am obsessed with tractors these days. And diggers. I would love to see an excavator in real life, but for now am content with pictures in books and on-line. Boy, am I ever excited when I see a backhoe loader -- two scoops in one.
My love of heavy machinery is quite recent, but probably predictable to most mothers of sons. See, John loves to play with anything with wheels -- cars, trains, trucks, and tractors. And I love John, and so I want to help John indulge in his vehicular love. So now I keep my eyes alert for construction sites when we're out in the car. Michael and I search on-line for pictures and videos to watch with John. I just bought him a couple of truck picture books to go along with the ones from the library.
I am getting a much greater appreciation for trucks -- partly out of exposure to them, but mostly because John loves them.
Last night Michael and I read 1 John 4, and one verse struck me as counter-intuitive: "If anyone says, 'I love God,' and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen" (v. 20). Hmmm, isn't it easier to love perfect, distant, God than your brother, who is imperfect and in your face, pushing your buttons and all?
But perhaps it's like loving tractors -- which are lovable to me because John loves them, I love John, and so I love what John loves. Similarly: God loves all of his children. If I love him, I will love who he loves. And, of course (here's where the tractor analogy breaks down, if it hasn't already), "love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God" (4:7).
Pictures from visiting construction at Richland with John:
recent picture of John:
My love of heavy machinery is quite recent, but probably predictable to most mothers of sons. See, John loves to play with anything with wheels -- cars, trains, trucks, and tractors. And I love John, and so I want to help John indulge in his vehicular love. So now I keep my eyes alert for construction sites when we're out in the car. Michael and I search on-line for pictures and videos to watch with John. I just bought him a couple of truck picture books to go along with the ones from the library.
I am getting a much greater appreciation for trucks -- partly out of exposure to them, but mostly because John loves them.
Last night Michael and I read 1 John 4, and one verse struck me as counter-intuitive: "If anyone says, 'I love God,' and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen" (v. 20). Hmmm, isn't it easier to love perfect, distant, God than your brother, who is imperfect and in your face, pushing your buttons and all?
But perhaps it's like loving tractors -- which are lovable to me because John loves them, I love John, and so I love what John loves. Similarly: God loves all of his children. If I love him, I will love who he loves. And, of course (here's where the tractor analogy breaks down, if it hasn't already), "love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God" (4:7).
Pictures from visiting construction at Richland with John:
recent picture of John:
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Why write?
I had been really excited about writing, especially about writing my story of having postpartum depression. Then, at the writers' conference, I kept hearing -- don't write your story. Stores don't buy them. Nobody wants to read them.
Since then, I haven't wanted to write. I don't see the point in writing just for information -- what's the fun of that? I want to write about my experiences, insights, struggles, because that's what I have to offer that is unique and valuable, just as I learn from others' experiences, insights and struggles. So, to hear that what I most want to write and most value is something that is not wanted, makes me feel angry.
For whom am I writing?
If I am writing for the adoring millions, the Oprah’s Book Club denizens, then I probably will be rebuffed, rejected, no, not even rejected but simply overlooked. I don’t exist to them. And that's ok.
Am I writing for a publisher, an editor? Someone to like my work, approve of it, approve of me? I am sure before I begin that what I write will not be good enough for them. My internal editor protects me from harm – by silencing me, stuffing me in a box. It's not working for me.
Can I just write for me? Write about whatever I want to say? And in writing for me, write for God, who wants me to use my gifts and to discover new truths, actively by looking deep within myself, and to share them.
In writing my desire to be known and loved clash with my fear of rejection. It is a risky business.
Write what you know.
Write what you need to know.
I have to trust that if I write what I need to write, something good will come of it.
Write what has fed you.
And just maybe, another hungry person will be fed, too.
Since then, I haven't wanted to write. I don't see the point in writing just for information -- what's the fun of that? I want to write about my experiences, insights, struggles, because that's what I have to offer that is unique and valuable, just as I learn from others' experiences, insights and struggles. So, to hear that what I most want to write and most value is something that is not wanted, makes me feel angry.
For whom am I writing?
If I am writing for the adoring millions, the Oprah’s Book Club denizens, then I probably will be rebuffed, rejected, no, not even rejected but simply overlooked. I don’t exist to them. And that's ok.
Am I writing for a publisher, an editor? Someone to like my work, approve of it, approve of me? I am sure before I begin that what I write will not be good enough for them. My internal editor protects me from harm – by silencing me, stuffing me in a box. It's not working for me.
Can I just write for me? Write about whatever I want to say? And in writing for me, write for God, who wants me to use my gifts and to discover new truths, actively by looking deep within myself, and to share them.
In writing my desire to be known and loved clash with my fear of rejection. It is a risky business.
Write what you know.
Write what you need to know.
I have to trust that if I write what I need to write, something good will come of it.
Write what has fed you.
And just maybe, another hungry person will be fed, too.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Adventures in Trust
I recently went to a writers' conference in Marshall, Texas, and met with an editor from a publishing company to discuss the book I've been working on about my experience with postpartum depression. I worked hard on the book chapter I sent him in advance and on a synopsis of the book I brought to the conference. By the day before the conference, I was finished writing, and my most pressing concern was deciding what to wear, especially to meet with the editor.
At my moms-and-boys playgroup, I got input from my friends and finalized this crucial decision. I went home and laid out two outfits: casually dressy, comfortably professional writer-ish clothes. No need to pack them in my suitcase, where they would get crushed. I would drive in my t-shirt and shorts and change at the motel before going to the conference. In other words, I had it all planned out.
Soon afterwards, I packed the car and left. An hour and a half later, I realized that I was halfway to Marshall and had everything except the clothes I had planned to wear.
For a moment, I was quite distressed. Then, I realized: This is an adventure. God does not want me to wear my t-shirt and shorts to this conference, I am quite sure, so he has a plan. I grew excited wondering how God would provide, because I had no idea how it would work out. It seemed unlikely that Marshall would have much to offer, sartorially speaking, and I did not have much time to shop. I drove past the exit for Tyler, where I knew there were plenty of stores but not close to the highway.
Around Kilgore, I saw a sign for Walmart, 3 miles from the highway. One of my friends in the playgroup that morning had been wearing a cute little tennis outfit. When I commented on it, she said she'd gotten it from Walmart. I figured it was worth a try.
The Kilgore Walmart is far nicer than our nearby Walmart: bright, big, inviting, and they had cute clothes, cheap. It didn't take me long to find two nice tops and a pair of black pants. I'll be happy to wear them again. Yea, God. He really came through.
The next morning, I met with the editor and he slammed my book idea. "We don't publish autobiographies unless they're of famous people -- stores don't buy them," he said. "Rewrite your chapter to focus on postpartum depression, not your experience of it." I argued with him about it -- probably not the best way to respond, but I felt so disappointed.
I've spent several months working on this book. I had it all planned out. I don't want to write a different book. Now I don't know how it will work out. I feel rather more discouraged than excited to see what will happen. It's easy to trust God with clothes; will I also trust him with the book? "Be anxious for nothing." I am sure that God wants me to comfort others with the comfort I received while I was depressed. Now I am working on looking at this unexpected turn as an adventure, an opportunity for God to lead me in better ways. God's ways are always much more humbling than my plans. In his Plan, humility is much more important than success.
At my moms-and-boys playgroup, I got input from my friends and finalized this crucial decision. I went home and laid out two outfits: casually dressy, comfortably professional writer-ish clothes. No need to pack them in my suitcase, where they would get crushed. I would drive in my t-shirt and shorts and change at the motel before going to the conference. In other words, I had it all planned out.
Soon afterwards, I packed the car and left. An hour and a half later, I realized that I was halfway to Marshall and had everything except the clothes I had planned to wear.
For a moment, I was quite distressed. Then, I realized: This is an adventure. God does not want me to wear my t-shirt and shorts to this conference, I am quite sure, so he has a plan. I grew excited wondering how God would provide, because I had no idea how it would work out. It seemed unlikely that Marshall would have much to offer, sartorially speaking, and I did not have much time to shop. I drove past the exit for Tyler, where I knew there were plenty of stores but not close to the highway.
Around Kilgore, I saw a sign for Walmart, 3 miles from the highway. One of my friends in the playgroup that morning had been wearing a cute little tennis outfit. When I commented on it, she said she'd gotten it from Walmart. I figured it was worth a try.
The Kilgore Walmart is far nicer than our nearby Walmart: bright, big, inviting, and they had cute clothes, cheap. It didn't take me long to find two nice tops and a pair of black pants. I'll be happy to wear them again. Yea, God. He really came through.
The next morning, I met with the editor and he slammed my book idea. "We don't publish autobiographies unless they're of famous people -- stores don't buy them," he said. "Rewrite your chapter to focus on postpartum depression, not your experience of it." I argued with him about it -- probably not the best way to respond, but I felt so disappointed.
I've spent several months working on this book. I had it all planned out. I don't want to write a different book. Now I don't know how it will work out. I feel rather more discouraged than excited to see what will happen. It's easy to trust God with clothes; will I also trust him with the book? "Be anxious for nothing." I am sure that God wants me to comfort others with the comfort I received while I was depressed. Now I am working on looking at this unexpected turn as an adventure, an opportunity for God to lead me in better ways. God's ways are always much more humbling than my plans. In his Plan, humility is much more important than success.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
The Cloud of Witnesses Just Got a Little Bigger
Kay died at 2:30 this morning. She had been in the hospital this time a little over a week, and suddenly started to decline on Sunday.
Kay was a member of my Al-Anon group. From my first meetings, I noticed Kay because she was always knitting or crocheting something: a scarf, or a blanket for a grandchild. When I was pregnant she made John a tiny cap, white with blue hearts.
"Like Dorcas," Michael said.
Kay was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months ago. She underwent radiation and chemotherapy. Always small, she lost weight. She wore cute knitted caps a friend made for her.
Kay handled cancer with dignity and grace, more than I'd ever seen in her before. It sounds like a cliche, but she emanated peace. She didn't complain. She didn't seem worried about death. She trusted God. I was sure that she would not recover simply because it was so clear that God was preparing her for heaven. "To live is Christ, and to die is gain."
Kay told her husband on Sunday that she was ready to die.
Kay's son, his wife (pregnant) and their two sons drove down here from Wisconsin. They left on Sunday and drove straight through.
I visited Kay in the hospital yesterday afternoon. Visitors are not allowed in the ICU between 2 and 4 but the nurse let us in anyway. I knew Kay had lost consciousness, but it was still a shock to see her, lying with her eyes mostly but not completely shut, labored breathing with an oxygen mask over her face. Her glasses were still on her face. Another friend and I each touched her head, short gunmetal gray hair, and prayed for her. I kept stroking her hair and trying to stop. I didn't want it to bother her. I thanked God for his faithfulness to Kay and prayed that she would soon enter his Kingdom.
"I think she could hear us," my friend said.
In one of my seminary classes, our professor encouraged us to pray that we will end our lives strong. Many Christian leaders haven't, he said.
Kay did.
I am sorry now that I didn't take more time to talk to Kay about what God was doing in her these last few months. And now she's gone.
But I know that she and Dorcas and God only knows who else are now fully alive for the first time and cheering on the rest of us.
Thank you, Lord, for the life of Kay. Please comfort her family.
Kay was a member of my Al-Anon group. From my first meetings, I noticed Kay because she was always knitting or crocheting something: a scarf, or a blanket for a grandchild. When I was pregnant she made John a tiny cap, white with blue hearts.
"Like Dorcas," Michael said.
Kay was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months ago. She underwent radiation and chemotherapy. Always small, she lost weight. She wore cute knitted caps a friend made for her.
Kay handled cancer with dignity and grace, more than I'd ever seen in her before. It sounds like a cliche, but she emanated peace. She didn't complain. She didn't seem worried about death. She trusted God. I was sure that she would not recover simply because it was so clear that God was preparing her for heaven. "To live is Christ, and to die is gain."
Kay told her husband on Sunday that she was ready to die.
Kay's son, his wife (pregnant) and their two sons drove down here from Wisconsin. They left on Sunday and drove straight through.
I visited Kay in the hospital yesterday afternoon. Visitors are not allowed in the ICU between 2 and 4 but the nurse let us in anyway. I knew Kay had lost consciousness, but it was still a shock to see her, lying with her eyes mostly but not completely shut, labored breathing with an oxygen mask over her face. Her glasses were still on her face. Another friend and I each touched her head, short gunmetal gray hair, and prayed for her. I kept stroking her hair and trying to stop. I didn't want it to bother her. I thanked God for his faithfulness to Kay and prayed that she would soon enter his Kingdom.
"I think she could hear us," my friend said.
In one of my seminary classes, our professor encouraged us to pray that we will end our lives strong. Many Christian leaders haven't, he said.
Kay did.
I am sorry now that I didn't take more time to talk to Kay about what God was doing in her these last few months. And now she's gone.
But I know that she and Dorcas and God only knows who else are now fully alive for the first time and cheering on the rest of us.
Thank you, Lord, for the life of Kay. Please comfort her family.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
being with vs. doing for
John and I ate lunch together today. Often, I give him lunch and later fix my own, but today I made almond butter sandwiches for both of us. It was pleasant eating lunch with him, even though we didn't say much and we sometimes didn't understand what the other one said.
More and more, John is becoming the companion I'd imagined our child would be. See, I knew that having a child would involve a lot of doing for him, but I pictured it more as someone to be with. I find I am a much happier mother when the being-with to doing-for ratio reaches a certain level. I'm sure that is partly because of my own selfishness, but I think that any relationship needs to have a balance between being-with and doing-for.
It surprised me that I had trouble with the high doing-for component of motherhood because in seminary, I came to see that the doing-for part of ministry was easier for me than the being-with part. That is, it was reassuring to know that I was needed, that I had something to give. Peer relationships sometimes were more difficult than being, for example, the church intern teaching Sunday School. I had to learn that I was a person in need of change helping others in need of change (to paraphrase the title of the book our small group is doing now), not a professional people-fixer, exercising my craft like a repairman fixes clocks.
We show love both by spending time with other people and by meeting their needs -- both are essential to intimate relationships. Our relationship with God, too, needs to have both components: not simply asking God to meet our needs, or doing good work for him, but also being his companion.
More and more, John is becoming the companion I'd imagined our child would be. See, I knew that having a child would involve a lot of doing for him, but I pictured it more as someone to be with. I find I am a much happier mother when the being-with to doing-for ratio reaches a certain level. I'm sure that is partly because of my own selfishness, but I think that any relationship needs to have a balance between being-with and doing-for.
It surprised me that I had trouble with the high doing-for component of motherhood because in seminary, I came to see that the doing-for part of ministry was easier for me than the being-with part. That is, it was reassuring to know that I was needed, that I had something to give. Peer relationships sometimes were more difficult than being, for example, the church intern teaching Sunday School. I had to learn that I was a person in need of change helping others in need of change (to paraphrase the title of the book our small group is doing now), not a professional people-fixer, exercising my craft like a repairman fixes clocks.
We show love both by spending time with other people and by meeting their needs -- both are essential to intimate relationships. Our relationship with God, too, needs to have both components: not simply asking God to meet our needs, or doing good work for him, but also being his companion.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
A sixth sense?
Yesterday, Michael was sitting at the kitchen table, with John in his lap. Michael got up and sat John down in the chair, and John said "Ow" for no apparent reason.
Michael and I wondered what had happened. Then Michael burned himself on the toaster oven. "Ow," he said.
"John, I guess you have a prophetic gift to foretell pain," Michael said. "'I see ouchies.'"
Michael and I wondered what had happened. Then Michael burned himself on the toaster oven. "Ow," he said.
"John, I guess you have a prophetic gift to foretell pain," Michael said. "'I see ouchies.'"
Monday, May 19, 2008
Who me, dignified?
What does the word "dignified" make you think of?
I think of someone who is too formal, perhaps trying to hide the fact that they are offended, or drunk, to humorous effect. Someone who is taking him/herself too seriously.
Or I think of the Proverbs 31 woman -- you know, "she is clothed with strength and dignity."
I've heard from a number of women that the Proverbs 31 woman makes them want to throw up. Not very dignified a response, I guess, but perhaps that's the point.
I'm probably not alone in not making an effort to be dignified. It just doesn't occur to me. I like it when people are real, authentic, honest, open about their flaws. I try to do the same. Dignity seems like formal dress -- people used to wear it regularly, but it just makes us uncomfortable in these casual days.
But the Bible has reminded me lately that dignity is good.
Paul says that overseers are to employ "all dignity" in the home; deacons and their wives "must be dignified" (1 Tim 3). Older men are to be "dignified," and Paul encourages Titus "to be a model of good works, and in your teaching show integrity, dignity, and sound speech that cannot be condemned" (Titus 2:2, 7).
Of course, these are church leaders. What about the rest of us?
Paul also says to pray "for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way" (1 Tim. 2:2). I take the "we" to include all Christians.
The dictionary helped me see the applicability of dignity to the average Christian: "The state of being worthy or honorable; elevation of mind or character; true worth; excellence" (Webster's Unabridged). We are worthy not because of our own inherent value -- we know our flaws too well to think that -- but because God has deemed us worthy, made us worthy to be his children through the death of Jesus.
If I don't act dignified, then am I giving honor to God who has elevated me from my natural state? I'm not talking about being pompous or superior, of course. I'm not sure, to be honest, what it means, in practice, to be dignified. I suspect, though, that it would require me not to deprecate myself. Or others, for that matter.
Because -- if we don't realize that we are worthy of dignity, then will we treat others with dignity? Our spouses -- worthy of honor. Our children -- worthy of honor.
Especially, will we show our leaders the respect they deserve because of their office? Our culture has become so casual, so egalitarian. That's not necessarily bad -- but it makes it more difficult, more unnatural-feeling, for us to give respect to those in authority.
Paul tells us that leaders should be dignified, and we should pray for them so that our lives can be dignified. I wish I had more insight into living a dignified life, but this is a start.
Do you have any thoughts about being dignified? If so, please comment. Thanks.
I think of someone who is too formal, perhaps trying to hide the fact that they are offended, or drunk, to humorous effect. Someone who is taking him/herself too seriously.
Or I think of the Proverbs 31 woman -- you know, "she is clothed with strength and dignity."
I've heard from a number of women that the Proverbs 31 woman makes them want to throw up. Not very dignified a response, I guess, but perhaps that's the point.
I'm probably not alone in not making an effort to be dignified. It just doesn't occur to me. I like it when people are real, authentic, honest, open about their flaws. I try to do the same. Dignity seems like formal dress -- people used to wear it regularly, but it just makes us uncomfortable in these casual days.
But the Bible has reminded me lately that dignity is good.
Paul says that overseers are to employ "all dignity" in the home; deacons and their wives "must be dignified" (1 Tim 3). Older men are to be "dignified," and Paul encourages Titus "to be a model of good works, and in your teaching show integrity, dignity, and sound speech that cannot be condemned" (Titus 2:2, 7).
Of course, these are church leaders. What about the rest of us?
Paul also says to pray "for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way" (1 Tim. 2:2). I take the "we" to include all Christians.
The dictionary helped me see the applicability of dignity to the average Christian: "The state of being worthy or honorable; elevation of mind or character; true worth; excellence" (Webster's Unabridged). We are worthy not because of our own inherent value -- we know our flaws too well to think that -- but because God has deemed us worthy, made us worthy to be his children through the death of Jesus.
If I don't act dignified, then am I giving honor to God who has elevated me from my natural state? I'm not talking about being pompous or superior, of course. I'm not sure, to be honest, what it means, in practice, to be dignified. I suspect, though, that it would require me not to deprecate myself. Or others, for that matter.
Because -- if we don't realize that we are worthy of dignity, then will we treat others with dignity? Our spouses -- worthy of honor. Our children -- worthy of honor.
Especially, will we show our leaders the respect they deserve because of their office? Our culture has become so casual, so egalitarian. That's not necessarily bad -- but it makes it more difficult, more unnatural-feeling, for us to give respect to those in authority.
Paul tells us that leaders should be dignified, and we should pray for them so that our lives can be dignified. I wish I had more insight into living a dignified life, but this is a start.
Do you have any thoughts about being dignified? If so, please comment. Thanks.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
It Could Have Been Worse
Last night, Michael said, "Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I'm sorry I didn't get you a card." Michael always writes me deep, thoughtful cards on major holidays. He and I have the flu, so I knew he hadn't done anything. No problem. It'll come.
I told him that Angie, who had been feted in advance, got a KitchenAid mixer for Mother's Day, AND they went to P.F. Chang's for dinner. I'd been sitting on this report for a few days because I didn't want to imply that I needed a similarly spectacular Mother's Day. (I cook as little as possible and would just feel pressured by a fancy mixer.)
We turned in.
Michael's voice woke me: "Kristi, John threw up all over his crib."
I'm up.
When it comes to vomiting, John is extremely considerate in aim and timing. Yet again, he limited his targets to machine-washables and the floor, and during daylight hours. And he's one-and-done. Once he's thrown up, he returns to his sweet, energetic self.
I threw John's pajamas, bedding and Blankie in the wash while Michael gave John a bath.
"Angie isn't having this special of a Mother's Day," Michael said.
Let's hope not.
Happy Mother's Day!
I told him that Angie, who had been feted in advance, got a KitchenAid mixer for Mother's Day, AND they went to P.F. Chang's for dinner. I'd been sitting on this report for a few days because I didn't want to imply that I needed a similarly spectacular Mother's Day. (I cook as little as possible and would just feel pressured by a fancy mixer.)
We turned in.
Michael's voice woke me: "Kristi, John threw up all over his crib."
I'm up.
When it comes to vomiting, John is extremely considerate in aim and timing. Yet again, he limited his targets to machine-washables and the floor, and during daylight hours. And he's one-and-done. Once he's thrown up, he returns to his sweet, energetic self.
I threw John's pajamas, bedding and Blankie in the wash while Michael gave John a bath.
"Angie isn't having this special of a Mother's Day," Michael said.
Let's hope not.
Happy Mother's Day!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Happy 60th Birthday, Israel
Amil Imani is an Iranian activist for the freedom of his nation. He writes against "the imminent and present danger of expansionistic theocratic Islam" from the United States.
He posted yesterday:
"Israel, your people, as well as people of good will, are celebrating your sixtieth birthday. We, the children of Cyrus the Great, also would like to offer our heartfelt best wishes to you on this occasion. Yet, this, in fact, is your rebirth. Your birth occurred some 4,000 years ago."
Read the rest of it here, at Imani's site.
He posted yesterday:
"Israel, your people, as well as people of good will, are celebrating your sixtieth birthday. We, the children of Cyrus the Great, also would like to offer our heartfelt best wishes to you on this occasion. Yet, this, in fact, is your rebirth. Your birth occurred some 4,000 years ago."
Read the rest of it here, at Imani's site.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
My 15 Seconds of Fame
Allow me to be self-referential for a moment. There is a point to it.
Two weeks ago, I installed a counter at the bottom of my blog. I was feeling, I confess, a little neglected as a blogger. Wondering if anyone was reading. I started the counter at 2000, figuring that was a good estimate of the number of hits I've had in the year or so I've been writing.
After a week, my counter was at 4000-plus. Could I really have that many readers? Michael suggested my counter was malfunctioning. I wondered if I had a cyber-stalker.
So after a little investigation, I found a way of tracking more information about my readers. www.sitemeter.com can tell you, for free, the times, duration, page views, referring websites, and general locations of you, my friends.
I installed it on Monday morning, and soon discovered the reason for my recent popularity.
Laminin.
Roughly calculated, between 95 and 98% of my hits were coming from google searches involving laminin, directing readers to that post -- a slight post, really, in my mind, as it wasn't original to me. And most readers don't stay too long, I must admit (a little over a minute average. I love sitemeter's statistics. Kind of addictive, though).
But I'm fascinated by the fact that THOUSANDS of people are googling about laminin. They (you, if you're reading beyond that post) come from all across the United States -- California and Oregon, Florida and Maine, and everywhere in between, plus Hawaii; England, Norway, Kenya, South Africa, Qatar, Australia. Not to mention all of the people hitting the other blogs talking about laminin.
So I'd like to hear, especially from those outside of the United States -- how did you hear about laminin? Or, just comment about whatever you want to talk about. I'd love for this to be more of a conversation than a soliloquy. And a belated welcome! I'm so glad you're here.
Two weeks ago, I installed a counter at the bottom of my blog. I was feeling, I confess, a little neglected as a blogger. Wondering if anyone was reading. I started the counter at 2000, figuring that was a good estimate of the number of hits I've had in the year or so I've been writing.
After a week, my counter was at 4000-plus. Could I really have that many readers? Michael suggested my counter was malfunctioning. I wondered if I had a cyber-stalker.
So after a little investigation, I found a way of tracking more information about my readers. www.sitemeter.com can tell you, for free, the times, duration, page views, referring websites, and general locations of you, my friends.
I installed it on Monday morning, and soon discovered the reason for my recent popularity.
Laminin.
Roughly calculated, between 95 and 98% of my hits were coming from google searches involving laminin, directing readers to that post -- a slight post, really, in my mind, as it wasn't original to me. And most readers don't stay too long, I must admit (a little over a minute average. I love sitemeter's statistics. Kind of addictive, though).
But I'm fascinated by the fact that THOUSANDS of people are googling about laminin. They (you, if you're reading beyond that post) come from all across the United States -- California and Oregon, Florida and Maine, and everywhere in between, plus Hawaii; England, Norway, Kenya, South Africa, Qatar, Australia. Not to mention all of the people hitting the other blogs talking about laminin.
So I'd like to hear, especially from those outside of the United States -- how did you hear about laminin? Or, just comment about whatever you want to talk about. I'd love for this to be more of a conversation than a soliloquy. And a belated welcome! I'm so glad you're here.
Monday, May 05, 2008
What the Church Really Needs
What if the church needs your weaknesses more than your strengths?
A friend mentioned yesterday that Joni Eareckson Tada says the weak (or needy, I can't remember) are a gift to the church.
A gift. Not a drain. Not a burden.
How hard this is to understand. When I was very depressed, my family and I needed a lot of help from our church. They gave us prayer, meals, help taking care of John, love, encouragement. They took time from their busy lives to spend with us.
It was very difficult for me to receive all of this love and attention. I want love and attention, but I would prefer it to be for my strengths, for how wonderful I am, how much I can give. In fact, though, I was at that time quite unlovable, angry, bitter, and overwhelmed.
God used that experience to humble me, to show me, through others, his love for me as I really am (as opposed to as I want to be). But God also used that experience to bless the people who blessed me.
They were reminded of God's faithfulness to them in hard times, as they encouraged me to hang in there and trust him. They probably appreciated their own situations more. Helping others puts your own problems in perspective. Then, when God suddenly freed me from the bondage of depression, they rejoiced with me. It was their victory, too. They would have been deprived of seeing God's power at work in my life if I had not gone to them for help in my weakness. (Not that I was brave in being vulnerable; just desperate.)
Needs don't have to be overwhelming to bless the giver. While I was depressed, a friend's sister and her family came to the Dallas area to live here for about six months. They needed some household items for that time. I gathered up some towels, sheets, blankets and other things to lend them. Focusing on the needs of someone other than myself gave me relief from my own pain. I know I received more than I gave.
So why aren't we more open about areas of our lives in which we need help? Pride makes it difficult for us to show how weak and needy we are. It is frightening to risk judgment and rejection. But if we act like we have it all together when we don't, we are denying the church the opportunity to grow and to bear witness to God's unconditional love by loving for us in our needs. "We love because he first loved us."
Lots of churches give parishioners opportunities to take spiritual gifts assessments to help them contribute more to the body of Christ. Why not also a spiritual weaknesses assessment? Like spiritual gifts, everyone has weaknesses.
If we see the good only in the strengths of our members, and not our weaknesses, then can we as a church embody the truth of Jesus' words to Paul: "My strength is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness"?
A friend mentioned yesterday that Joni Eareckson Tada says the weak (or needy, I can't remember) are a gift to the church.
A gift. Not a drain. Not a burden.
How hard this is to understand. When I was very depressed, my family and I needed a lot of help from our church. They gave us prayer, meals, help taking care of John, love, encouragement. They took time from their busy lives to spend with us.
It was very difficult for me to receive all of this love and attention. I want love and attention, but I would prefer it to be for my strengths, for how wonderful I am, how much I can give. In fact, though, I was at that time quite unlovable, angry, bitter, and overwhelmed.
God used that experience to humble me, to show me, through others, his love for me as I really am (as opposed to as I want to be). But God also used that experience to bless the people who blessed me.
They were reminded of God's faithfulness to them in hard times, as they encouraged me to hang in there and trust him. They probably appreciated their own situations more. Helping others puts your own problems in perspective. Then, when God suddenly freed me from the bondage of depression, they rejoiced with me. It was their victory, too. They would have been deprived of seeing God's power at work in my life if I had not gone to them for help in my weakness. (Not that I was brave in being vulnerable; just desperate.)
Needs don't have to be overwhelming to bless the giver. While I was depressed, a friend's sister and her family came to the Dallas area to live here for about six months. They needed some household items for that time. I gathered up some towels, sheets, blankets and other things to lend them. Focusing on the needs of someone other than myself gave me relief from my own pain. I know I received more than I gave.
So why aren't we more open about areas of our lives in which we need help? Pride makes it difficult for us to show how weak and needy we are. It is frightening to risk judgment and rejection. But if we act like we have it all together when we don't, we are denying the church the opportunity to grow and to bear witness to God's unconditional love by loving for us in our needs. "We love because he first loved us."
Lots of churches give parishioners opportunities to take spiritual gifts assessments to help them contribute more to the body of Christ. Why not also a spiritual weaknesses assessment? Like spiritual gifts, everyone has weaknesses.
If we see the good only in the strengths of our members, and not our weaknesses, then can we as a church embody the truth of Jesus' words to Paul: "My strength is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness"?
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