This morning I was engaging in one of my most favorite activities; cleaning while listening to Beth Moore. (If you have never read/watched/listened to her teaching, I cannot possibly encourage you too strongly to do so.) I was feeling so encouraged and comforted by what she was teaching, and as I made myself a cup of coffee, I started thanking God for blessing me so richly with such an incredible friend/mentor/teacher.
I headed across my living room with my cup, intending to sit on the patio a moment and talk to my Father. But I suddenly stopped in the middle of the room and, lifting up my empty hand, I began to pray. I pray that the Lord will enable me to remember what I said word for word, because it was such an awesome moment to me. I prayed aloud:
"Lord, I don't know what to pray. I'm so overwhelmed and so stressed by the things going on right now. There's just so much that's making me anxious and I know so little about how to fix it all that I can't even pray specifically. All I can pray is that You'll fix it."
Tears started streaming down my face and I lifted my hand even higher. There was this swelling feeling in my chest as I went on:
"Lord, I'm just so confused by everything that's going on. And I don't know how and I don't know when and I don't know why and I don't know where....but I DO know WHO...I know YOU, and that's really the only answer I absolutely must have. If in Your grace and mercy and compassion, You would see fit to show me the answers to these other questions, I would be so grateful. But, I don't HAVE to have those answers. Glory to God, all I need to know is Who. It is YOU who I turn to, YOU who I rely on, YOU who will hear me."
It's funny, but this morning is a page right out of my novel, "Losing Faith", when the main character is listing for God all of the things she doesn't know, all of the unanswered questions that are driving her to despair and God asks her, "What DO you know?"
She replies, "I know that You are God. I know that You are who You say You are. I know that Jesus Christ is the Son Of God. I know that He came to earth in the form of man. I know that He was crucified for my sin. I know that He rose again and is alive today. I know that the Word of God is true. I know that they who believe in Christ have eternal life."
And God replies quietly to her, "What else do you need to know?"
Amen.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Hard Lesson, Soft Heart
Not long ago, I reached a place in my walk where I was willing to do whatever God directed me to do.
That sounds commonplace, but it isn't really. I'm not talking about a willingness to obey God because I'm a Christian. I'm talking about a commitment to do whatever it is God asks of me, regardless of what it is or what I think about it. Not all of us spend all of our time in that place. Some of us struggle mightily with trying to work out our own problems and make our own decisions based on what we know, think or feel.
I've been in this place of eager obedience before. I remember 25 years ago arriving in Chapel Hill, North Carolina the night before I was to meet the #2 melonoma researcher in the country.
I remember being completely lost and afraid ten years ago when my husband left us.
I wonder if others come to this place most often during times of great fear and confusion. I've often told my older children that sometimes God has to remove everything else from your life so that He is the only place left to turn. Stinks to need that kind of refocusing, but the benefits, if you acccept them, are beyond reason.
This time around, it isn't fear that has propelled me to this willingness to do whatever God has in mind. This time, it is a product of having spent the last year paying for a wrong decision. Not a bad decision, just the wrong one. One more instance of asking for wisdom and then not waiting for it.
Since God is the perfect parent, He understands that sometimes the best way to teach your children is to let them suffer the consequences of thier own actions. The harder the lesson, the better the memory.
So now I have committed to do whatever I need to do to be where God was trying to get me a year ago. Of course, I've advised my Father that I would be ever so pleased if He would scratch it on a stone tablet and chuck it at my head. Just to be safe.
That sounds commonplace, but it isn't really. I'm not talking about a willingness to obey God because I'm a Christian. I'm talking about a commitment to do whatever it is God asks of me, regardless of what it is or what I think about it. Not all of us spend all of our time in that place. Some of us struggle mightily with trying to work out our own problems and make our own decisions based on what we know, think or feel.
I've been in this place of eager obedience before. I remember 25 years ago arriving in Chapel Hill, North Carolina the night before I was to meet the #2 melonoma researcher in the country.
I remember being completely lost and afraid ten years ago when my husband left us.
I wonder if others come to this place most often during times of great fear and confusion. I've often told my older children that sometimes God has to remove everything else from your life so that He is the only place left to turn. Stinks to need that kind of refocusing, but the benefits, if you acccept them, are beyond reason.
This time around, it isn't fear that has propelled me to this willingness to do whatever God has in mind. This time, it is a product of having spent the last year paying for a wrong decision. Not a bad decision, just the wrong one. One more instance of asking for wisdom and then not waiting for it.
Since God is the perfect parent, He understands that sometimes the best way to teach your children is to let them suffer the consequences of thier own actions. The harder the lesson, the better the memory.
So now I have committed to do whatever I need to do to be where God was trying to get me a year ago. Of course, I've advised my Father that I would be ever so pleased if He would scratch it on a stone tablet and chuck it at my head. Just to be safe.
Friday, August 13, 2010
God Talking
I had a really bad day yesterday.
I was wounded, frustrated and overwhelmed and I really just wanted a word from God. I didn't care what it was, I just needed some kind of reassurance that THIS too would pass.
I got my word in a song on the radio. I didn't really understand what God was trying to say specifically, but I was comforted by the fact that He was saying something. Make any sense?
For the rest of the drive home, I thought over a few of the things that I know about God talking. These are some of the things I thought about.
1. Understanding what God is talking about isn't always necessary. Knowing
that He's talking is sometimes enough.
2. We may not always like what God is saying, but the fact that He's still talking to us is a whole lot better than silence.
3. God is always up for a little conversation. How cool is that? We always have someone to talk to at 3am.
4. Sometimes the reason we can't hear God's answer to prayer is that we're still praying. Now and then, you have to shut up long enough to listen.
5. There is always an answer. Sometimes it's "no", sometimes it's "yes", sometimes it's "wait". Rewording your prayer doesn't change the answer. The answer was right the first time.
6. There is one thing God is ALWAYS quick to say, in any situation: "I love you still".
By the time I got home last night, I had come to a funny realization. I had gotten that word I needed. God just had me give it to myself.
Made me smile.
I was wounded, frustrated and overwhelmed and I really just wanted a word from God. I didn't care what it was, I just needed some kind of reassurance that THIS too would pass.
I got my word in a song on the radio. I didn't really understand what God was trying to say specifically, but I was comforted by the fact that He was saying something. Make any sense?
For the rest of the drive home, I thought over a few of the things that I know about God talking. These are some of the things I thought about.
1. Understanding what God is talking about isn't always necessary. Knowing
that He's talking is sometimes enough.
2. We may not always like what God is saying, but the fact that He's still talking to us is a whole lot better than silence.
3. God is always up for a little conversation. How cool is that? We always have someone to talk to at 3am.
4. Sometimes the reason we can't hear God's answer to prayer is that we're still praying. Now and then, you have to shut up long enough to listen.
5. There is always an answer. Sometimes it's "no", sometimes it's "yes", sometimes it's "wait". Rewording your prayer doesn't change the answer. The answer was right the first time.
6. There is one thing God is ALWAYS quick to say, in any situation: "I love you still".
By the time I got home last night, I had come to a funny realization. I had gotten that word I needed. God just had me give it to myself.
Made me smile.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The Proverbs 31 Woman-Somebody Slap Her!
The Proverbs 31 Woman and I go way back. We're not intimate, but I know her well enough to wave to, smile at or trip in the cereal aisle.
Over the years, I've analyzed Proverbs 31 Women, and I've noticed that they seem to fall into two main categories or types. I wonder if you'll recognize them and agree. Mind you, these women frustrate, intimidate and inspire me all at the same time, so I'm not bashing them in any way. If you are one, don't be offended. Actually, if you are one, you must be reading this blog for research or entertainment, because you are not a Clumsy Christian Woman.
Anyhoo, here are the two main categories of P31 Women that I have identified through my years of observation and careful thought.
1. The Yuppified P31 Woman: This woman can be identified by her perfectly cut and always styled hair, a perpetually fresh manicure and makeup that looks like it was done by someone with some actual skill.
She works outside the home, but somehow manages to be at every little league game, dance recital and troop meeting. Her house looks professionally decorated and nothing is ever out of place. She drives an SUV that has never had Cheetos glued to the back seat. Her children's birthday parties are always themed, her little girl's outfits match down to the barrettes and, on vacations, the family wears matching polos with thier khaki shorts. She actually TIVOs and cooks her favorite recipes from the Food Network. When you sit behind her in church, you're often distracted by the brilliance of her husband's white, beautifully ironed shirt. You've missed whole sermons wondering if her family only wears thier white things once. She makes you feel clunky, disorganized, frumpy and inferior.
2. The Homesteader P31 Woman: This woman can be identified most easily by her denim jumpers, long flowered dresses and lack of make-up. Everything about her is a little out-of-date, but she manages to appear beautiful anyway. She is a SAHM, and has no trouble making it to games, recitals and troop meetings. In fact, she usually organizes them, despite the fact that she homeschools her (usually many) children. She sews most of the family's clothing. Her house is decorated in country cuteness with furniture she found and refinished herself. She cooks everything from scratch and grows most of the ingredients. Her favorite show would be the Duggars', but she seldom watches TV. On vacations, her family all wear matching T-shirts she painted herself. She never raises her voice at her children, they've been obedient since birth. When you sit behind her in church, you're often distracted by the fact that she's not distracted by anything. She makes you feel lazy, too modern and temperamental.
It's not that I don't like these women. I'm related to a few, and love them dearly. I wish I was more like them. I wish it constantly. I sometimes wish I could spend a month in thier homes going through Proverbs 31 Boot Camp. I do not, I repeat, I do not dislike them.
I just wish they would screw up more often.
Over the years, I've analyzed Proverbs 31 Women, and I've noticed that they seem to fall into two main categories or types. I wonder if you'll recognize them and agree. Mind you, these women frustrate, intimidate and inspire me all at the same time, so I'm not bashing them in any way. If you are one, don't be offended. Actually, if you are one, you must be reading this blog for research or entertainment, because you are not a Clumsy Christian Woman.
Anyhoo, here are the two main categories of P31 Women that I have identified through my years of observation and careful thought.
1. The Yuppified P31 Woman: This woman can be identified by her perfectly cut and always styled hair, a perpetually fresh manicure and makeup that looks like it was done by someone with some actual skill.
She works outside the home, but somehow manages to be at every little league game, dance recital and troop meeting. Her house looks professionally decorated and nothing is ever out of place. She drives an SUV that has never had Cheetos glued to the back seat. Her children's birthday parties are always themed, her little girl's outfits match down to the barrettes and, on vacations, the family wears matching polos with thier khaki shorts. She actually TIVOs and cooks her favorite recipes from the Food Network. When you sit behind her in church, you're often distracted by the brilliance of her husband's white, beautifully ironed shirt. You've missed whole sermons wondering if her family only wears thier white things once. She makes you feel clunky, disorganized, frumpy and inferior.
2. The Homesteader P31 Woman: This woman can be identified most easily by her denim jumpers, long flowered dresses and lack of make-up. Everything about her is a little out-of-date, but she manages to appear beautiful anyway. She is a SAHM, and has no trouble making it to games, recitals and troop meetings. In fact, she usually organizes them, despite the fact that she homeschools her (usually many) children. She sews most of the family's clothing. Her house is decorated in country cuteness with furniture she found and refinished herself. She cooks everything from scratch and grows most of the ingredients. Her favorite show would be the Duggars', but she seldom watches TV. On vacations, her family all wear matching T-shirts she painted herself. She never raises her voice at her children, they've been obedient since birth. When you sit behind her in church, you're often distracted by the fact that she's not distracted by anything. She makes you feel lazy, too modern and temperamental.
It's not that I don't like these women. I'm related to a few, and love them dearly. I wish I was more like them. I wish it constantly. I sometimes wish I could spend a month in thier homes going through Proverbs 31 Boot Camp. I do not, I repeat, I do not dislike them.
I just wish they would screw up more often.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Did God Make Me This Way For His Own Entertainment?
I often grow irritated by my own weirdness.
In my better moments (I'm due for one soon), I can laugh at myself. I'm usually not the only one laughing. Often, I know God is laughing, too. But, I wonder if God created me with my little quirks and idiosyncrocies with the intent of being entertained by them, or if biology and psychology created them independent of His design.
I don't mind a bit if God did make me a little "off" just so He could have some fun with me. If anyone needs a little humor in His day, it's my Daddy. God's God-ness does not make Him immune to feeling the pain of everything He has to see every day. And God certainly is the Creator of laughter. He knew we needed it and I'm thinking He needs it, too.
In my better moments (I said I'm ready now, Lord), my weirdness is funny to me, too.
I'm not talking about Big Weird, I'm talking about little weirdnesses that seem to be unique to me, or at least, to my DNA chain.
For instance:
I've been wishing I had ceiling fans in my apartment, to cut down on my AC use and save a little money. If I had a ceiling fan, I'd leave the sliding door open more often so I could have fresh air. Yesterday, I remarked to myself that in FL, every apartment seemed to have ceiling fans. I decided that if I choose to move, I want an apartment that has ceiling fans. As I sat down to write this blog, I noticed the ceiling fan above my dining room table. I've lived here for two years. God had a yuk, surely. I just feel, well, like I always feel when these things happen.
My quirks (what my doctor calls disorders) sometimes get in the way of my addictions (what my doctor calls addictions). Last night, my dishwasher overflowed again. I didn't notice until I went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and my feet hit the water. Up I go onto my tippy toes because I can't handle water on the floor (disorder). But, I need my coffee (addiction). Normal people would go put on a pair of shoes. I tippy-toed in place several minutes. I grew more and more disturbed by the water on the floor and the "things" from the floor that were now in the water waiting to pounce under my feet. My need for the coffee was intensified by both my increased stress level and the fact that the coffee was within sight yet unattainable. I finally sucked it up and tippy-toed in a weaving, water-avoiding but very indirect path to the coffeemaker. Then I tippy-toed back, not easy with a cup of coffee and extra long yoga pants.
Additionally, I forgot all about the water until I went to get another cup of coffee an hour later. Again, normal people would go put some shoes on or even reach for the mop. I repeated the above process.
Okay, Lord, have your fun. But please count my weirdness as part of my Christian service.
In my better moments (I'm due for one soon), I can laugh at myself. I'm usually not the only one laughing. Often, I know God is laughing, too. But, I wonder if God created me with my little quirks and idiosyncrocies with the intent of being entertained by them, or if biology and psychology created them independent of His design.
I don't mind a bit if God did make me a little "off" just so He could have some fun with me. If anyone needs a little humor in His day, it's my Daddy. God's God-ness does not make Him immune to feeling the pain of everything He has to see every day. And God certainly is the Creator of laughter. He knew we needed it and I'm thinking He needs it, too.
In my better moments (I said I'm ready now, Lord), my weirdness is funny to me, too.
I'm not talking about Big Weird, I'm talking about little weirdnesses that seem to be unique to me, or at least, to my DNA chain.
For instance:
I've been wishing I had ceiling fans in my apartment, to cut down on my AC use and save a little money. If I had a ceiling fan, I'd leave the sliding door open more often so I could have fresh air. Yesterday, I remarked to myself that in FL, every apartment seemed to have ceiling fans. I decided that if I choose to move, I want an apartment that has ceiling fans. As I sat down to write this blog, I noticed the ceiling fan above my dining room table. I've lived here for two years. God had a yuk, surely. I just feel, well, like I always feel when these things happen.
My quirks (what my doctor calls disorders) sometimes get in the way of my addictions (what my doctor calls addictions). Last night, my dishwasher overflowed again. I didn't notice until I went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and my feet hit the water. Up I go onto my tippy toes because I can't handle water on the floor (disorder). But, I need my coffee (addiction). Normal people would go put on a pair of shoes. I tippy-toed in place several minutes. I grew more and more disturbed by the water on the floor and the "things" from the floor that were now in the water waiting to pounce under my feet. My need for the coffee was intensified by both my increased stress level and the fact that the coffee was within sight yet unattainable. I finally sucked it up and tippy-toed in a weaving, water-avoiding but very indirect path to the coffeemaker. Then I tippy-toed back, not easy with a cup of coffee and extra long yoga pants.
Additionally, I forgot all about the water until I went to get another cup of coffee an hour later. Again, normal people would go put some shoes on or even reach for the mop. I repeated the above process.
Okay, Lord, have your fun. But please count my weirdness as part of my Christian service.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
God The Maytag Repairman
I'm not sure why, but I tend to analyze things to an extreme, and most often, I do it by fitting the thing into some kind of analogy. I love me some good analogy, if you hadn't noticed.
Not long ago, I had to get my clothes dryer fixed. It was taking me three hours to dry a load of clothes and this is a problem when you have three kids and are basically laundry-challenged to begin with. A dryer that worked would be just about life-changing.
It turned out that the heating element was shot, and when I was having coffee on the patio later, an analogy started weaving itself in my brain. Fixing my dryer was reminding me a lot of my spiritual walk, and the restrictions I try to put on God when something in my walk needs fixing.
My dryer wasn't dead, it wasn't even necessarily broken. It was functioning. It was spinning, it was tossing the clothes around; it just wasn't accomplishing anything. All of this energy used for nothing was costing me a lot of money and it was having a domino effect in my life; I was getting more and more behind, we never had enough clean clothes and the growing piles were making me crazy.
My faith wasn't dead, it was alive and functioning. There was a lot of activity going on, but there was no growth, no joy, no sense of accomplishment. A lot of work with no return, really. Just going through the motions. All of this was costing me something, too. Frustration, feeling like a failure, wondering why I couldn't be the vital, fruit-bearing Christian I was supposed to be. Losing out on seeing God move.
I realized, too, that the problem with my spiritual life was a lot like the problem with my dryer: they were both having trouble with their heating element. God's Word, and a lot of Christian teachings, make reference to spiritual fire; that burning, powerful alive-ness inside us that comes from really living our faith and constantly seeking intimacy with God. That spiritual heating element inside us is a lot like the one in our dryers; it requires upkeep and maintenance. You gotta clean the lint out of the filter and keep the hoses clear, you know what I mean?
When the guy came to fix the dryer, I was disappointed that he was going to have to pull the thing out and take it apart to fix it. Somehow, I was hoping he could just kind of reboot it. I had called an expert to come fix it, but I wanted him to fix it in a way that was convenient for me. I do that to God, too.
I find that I have a habit of asking God to fix a problem (usually created by me) and then telling Him how I want Him to fix it. This takes a lot of nerve, when you think about it. I cry out in panic, God comes running, and then I give Him a lot of stipulations. "Lord, thank You so much for coming when I called, and I really need You to make this right. But, could you do it without taking my whole life apart, please? Could You do it without making a mess? Would You please fix this part that isn't working without removing any parts I'm okay with?"
What I'm telling God is that I want Him to make the problem go away without actually working on the parts of me that caused the problem.
The thing is, God's not into instruction too much, at least, not from me. His response is something along the lines of, "I not only built this dryer, I created the materials that made it, the atoms and molecules that form the materials, and as a matter of fact-the air it heats. So, would you like me to fix it, or would you like to try?"
When I really gave this some thought, I ended up asking myself what I could possibly be afraid of. So what if God has free reign when He works on me? He invented me. He knows how to keep my heating element working.
Not long ago, I had to get my clothes dryer fixed. It was taking me three hours to dry a load of clothes and this is a problem when you have three kids and are basically laundry-challenged to begin with. A dryer that worked would be just about life-changing.
It turned out that the heating element was shot, and when I was having coffee on the patio later, an analogy started weaving itself in my brain. Fixing my dryer was reminding me a lot of my spiritual walk, and the restrictions I try to put on God when something in my walk needs fixing.
My dryer wasn't dead, it wasn't even necessarily broken. It was functioning. It was spinning, it was tossing the clothes around; it just wasn't accomplishing anything. All of this energy used for nothing was costing me a lot of money and it was having a domino effect in my life; I was getting more and more behind, we never had enough clean clothes and the growing piles were making me crazy.
My faith wasn't dead, it was alive and functioning. There was a lot of activity going on, but there was no growth, no joy, no sense of accomplishment. A lot of work with no return, really. Just going through the motions. All of this was costing me something, too. Frustration, feeling like a failure, wondering why I couldn't be the vital, fruit-bearing Christian I was supposed to be. Losing out on seeing God move.
I realized, too, that the problem with my spiritual life was a lot like the problem with my dryer: they were both having trouble with their heating element. God's Word, and a lot of Christian teachings, make reference to spiritual fire; that burning, powerful alive-ness inside us that comes from really living our faith and constantly seeking intimacy with God. That spiritual heating element inside us is a lot like the one in our dryers; it requires upkeep and maintenance. You gotta clean the lint out of the filter and keep the hoses clear, you know what I mean?
When the guy came to fix the dryer, I was disappointed that he was going to have to pull the thing out and take it apart to fix it. Somehow, I was hoping he could just kind of reboot it. I had called an expert to come fix it, but I wanted him to fix it in a way that was convenient for me. I do that to God, too.
I find that I have a habit of asking God to fix a problem (usually created by me) and then telling Him how I want Him to fix it. This takes a lot of nerve, when you think about it. I cry out in panic, God comes running, and then I give Him a lot of stipulations. "Lord, thank You so much for coming when I called, and I really need You to make this right. But, could you do it without taking my whole life apart, please? Could You do it without making a mess? Would You please fix this part that isn't working without removing any parts I'm okay with?"
What I'm telling God is that I want Him to make the problem go away without actually working on the parts of me that caused the problem.
The thing is, God's not into instruction too much, at least, not from me. His response is something along the lines of, "I not only built this dryer, I created the materials that made it, the atoms and molecules that form the materials, and as a matter of fact-the air it heats. So, would you like me to fix it, or would you like to try?"
When I really gave this some thought, I ended up asking myself what I could possibly be afraid of. So what if God has free reign when He works on me? He invented me. He knows how to keep my heating element working.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Think You’re Too Prodigal For God? Part 2
Every time I’ve wandered away from God, whether a few steps or into a whole new neighborhood, I’ve always eventually noticed that niggling, persistent, “I need to get back where I’m from” feeling. (The Holy Spirit, with His version of, “Hey, Stupid!”) At times, I’ve ignored it, because I didn’t really feel like I’d wandered. At times, I ignored it because I knew that in order to go home, I’d have to give up whatever it was that had caused me to wander. Isn’t it funny how we do that? Rich Mullins (currently hogging the coffee in Heaven, most likely) had a great line in his song, “Hold Me Jesus”. It goes, “I’d rather fight You for something I don’t really want/Than take what You give that I need”. Profoundly true, I think.
Eventually, some times later than others, I’ve reached a place where I KNEW I needed and wanted to go home. That’s when the doubts would kick in. Had I used up all of God’s patience? Had I gone too far, offended Him too deeply? Would God welcome me home, reluctantly allow me home on a legal technicality (the saving grace of Jesus Christ) or turn me away altogether?
I always wanted God to tell me beforehand what His response would be, because I was afraid that the responses He’d already preserved in His word may no longer apply to me. I wanted some sign, some assurance that He still loved me, still wanted me.
I don’t remember ever getting a sign. Not once. I had to go ahead and start on the road home that the prodigal son of the Bible trod. But, I usually only had to take one or two steps before I heard from my Father. Then I got my assurance; then I got my sign. And I got my welcome. Every time.
If you’ve felt like a perpetual prodigal, I know the fears you’re struggling with. Maybe you’ve wandered one time too many. Maybe you’ve wandered too far. Maybe your sins have been too dire, too dark.
I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve done, but I do know this: You haven’t out-wandered or out-sinned me. I’ve done things I don’t whisper to myself in the dark. If you felt led to read this, it’s because you can still hear the gentle voice of the Holy Spirit and that means you haven’t managed to wander out of earshot.
If, like me, you’ve wanted some sign from God that He’ll take you back, you’re in luck. You don’t need a burning bush or a white-robed angel backed by a full orchestra. You’ve got me, the Forrest Gump of Christian women, clanking down the prodigal road. And there’s God, down at the gate, yelling, “RUN, Forrest, RUN!”.
Believe me, my friend: If He welcomed me back, He’s going to be all kinds of excited to see you.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The First Ten Things I’ll Thank God For In Heaven
1. His unimaginable grace.
2. Salvation
3. Everyone who’s there
4. That my earthly life is over and my eternal life has begun.
5. Complete and total unity and desegregation….finally!
6. That my ADD is cured!
7. That I can sing and dance.
8. That my lack of time management skills is no longer relevant.
9. That I now have access to the REALLY GOOD COFFEE.
10. That I’m finally at my ideal weight.
Think You’re Too Prodigal For God? Part One
As I’ve said in my previous post, “The Forrest Gump Of Christian Women”, I have been what seems like perpetually prodigal. I walk away, I slink home. I drift away, I crawl home.
Unlike the prodigal son Jesus told about in Luke 15:11-32, I didn’t decide at some point that I wanted to try life elsewhere from my Father’s house. Not once did I intentionally leave His side. It’s more like God and I were at WalMart, I wandered a few steps to look at something shiny and poof, “Where’s my Daddy?”
I did this so many times in my life that you would think I’d learn to stick so close that God Himself would trip over me. But, like I’ve said, I’m a slow learner.
Each time I returned, it was with deep shame and regret. Each time, I was overjoyed that the Lord welcomed me back into His arms. But each time, I was increasingly afraid that I had used up my second chances. Each time, I was more and more worried that God had had enough of my comings and goings.
I clung to verses like Romans 8:38-39: “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
I hoped on promises like "Yea, I have loved you with an everlasting love" and "I will never leave you or forsake you".
I knew these words were real. I knew the promises were true. The problem was, every time I needed to return to God, I became less sure that those promises still applied to me.
Mind you, I’m talking about a pattern I repeated many times over the almost thirty years that I have been a living, breathing, redeemed, paid-for miracle. I’ve got a genius IQ but my common sense is developmentally-disabled. I’ve often wondered, “What’s the point of being so smart if I still have to live the life of an idiot?”, but what I should have been wondering was, “What’s the point of living like an idiot when you’re actually pretty smart?"
Fortunately, God has a habit of loving the dim-witted.
Unlike the prodigal son Jesus told about in Luke 15:11-32, I didn’t decide at some point that I wanted to try life elsewhere from my Father’s house. Not once did I intentionally leave His side. It’s more like God and I were at WalMart, I wandered a few steps to look at something shiny and poof, “Where’s my Daddy?”
I did this so many times in my life that you would think I’d learn to stick so close that God Himself would trip over me. But, like I’ve said, I’m a slow learner.
Each time I returned, it was with deep shame and regret. Each time, I was overjoyed that the Lord welcomed me back into His arms. But each time, I was increasingly afraid that I had used up my second chances. Each time, I was more and more worried that God had had enough of my comings and goings.
I clung to verses like Romans 8:38-39: “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
I hoped on promises like "Yea, I have loved you with an everlasting love" and "I will never leave you or forsake you".
I knew these words were real. I knew the promises were true. The problem was, every time I needed to return to God, I became less sure that those promises still applied to me.
Mind you, I’m talking about a pattern I repeated many times over the almost thirty years that I have been a living, breathing, redeemed, paid-for miracle. I’ve got a genius IQ but my common sense is developmentally-disabled. I’ve often wondered, “What’s the point of being so smart if I still have to live the life of an idiot?”, but what I should have been wondering was, “What’s the point of living like an idiot when you’re actually pretty smart?"
Fortunately, God has a habit of loving the dim-witted.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The First Ten Things I’m Going To Do In Heaven
1. Fall on my face before God and Christ in thanksgiving and humility too profound for my small mind to imagine.
2. Touch and stare at the face of my Savior.
3. Crawl into my daddy God’s lap and cry with joy.
4. Find my kids if we’ve been raptured or they’ve gone before me.
5. Find out where God keeps the really good coffee (the stuff the archangels have been drinking all this time) and have about six big cups (four extra shots of espresso, 125 degrees, four raw sugars……….. and full fat, ‘cause WHO CARES!)
6. Find my grandma and love her up one side and down the other.
7. Go find the guys from Third day, thank them, love on them and then jam with them, because in heaven I can SING, praise God!
8. Go find Steven Curtis Chapman, rinse and repeat.
9. Go find Beth Moore and take her back to the coffee shop for another six cups and a laughter-filled, girl to girl yammer. (Come to think of it, I’ll look for her there first. She’s probably already there, looking for her list.)
10. Make a list of my next ten things. I’ve got lots of time.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Forrest Gump Of Christian Women
I am the Forrest Gump of Christian women; slow to learn, quick to leap, armed with a ton of good intentions and very little judgment.
Like Forrest, I’ve spent a good portion of my life wandering from one misadventure to another and have finally decided to go back home. Home to my Father, home to my faith. I have been a perpetual prodigal and I’m here to tell you-it’ll wear you out.
Like Forrest, I started my (Christian) life with a set of leg braces. His were made of metal, mine were made of sin. Unfortunately, it took me longer to realize that I could chuck ‘em. My braces weren’t made of the sin I bore when I first came to Christ-God yanked those off the moment I said, “Amen”. But, I fashioned myself some new ones, made of every sin I committed thereafter. The really strong parts were made of the sins and mistakes that I just kept repeating.
This would account for the fact that snails zipped right past me on the road to Christian maturity. It’s hard to get anywhere when you’ve got a few hundred pounds of metal attached to your legs. Oh, I tried to ditch the weight. Every time I flattened myself before God, recommitted myself and begged for forgiveness and revival, I’d get my screwdriver out and start to work. More often than not, before I’d even finished muttering, “lefty-loosey, righty-tighty”, I’d commit the same old sins, make the same old mistakes, toss the screwdriver and add a few more pounds to my burden.
As I said, like Forrest, I’m a bit slow to learn. I understood when the Bible said that Christ died to set me free from sin. I got that it meant I wouldn’t pay the price for my sin. I understood that it meant I was no longer a slave to sin, but had the power to escape it. What took me a while was understanding that when I did sin, I didn’t have to drag it around with me forever.
I spent too many years clumping along, not realizing that my legs worked just fine; I just had to ditch the braces.
Maybe you, like me, are a little on the Gumpy side. Don’t worry….God has classes for slow learners, too. He may even have a few things for us to teach.
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