So says one of my favorite characters -- one in whom I see quite a lot of myself -- in one of my favorite children's movies called, The Secret of NIMH. I'm so much like Jeremy the bird; so attracted to sparkly, shiny, new things! I've not always been on top of the trends, but I've always loved having something new and sparkly to play with. I stole silver dollars from my sister's drawer as a child, but as an adult I've learned to pay for all my shinys myself. However, that can cause another issue -- which we will discuss at another time.
Lately I've been eying all things Apple. I've drooled over the new iPads for--- well, since they were announced! AND I just bought myself a shiny new iPhone4.... which won't be delivered until after July 14th.
Can I tell you how much that kills a sparkly lover like me!
Target is the worst place in the world for me. It's like a candy store to a hungry kid. All this great shiny stuff, and at a discounted rate. I see something and say to myself, 'oh I need this, and it's only ten dollars,' over and over till my cart is full. Then I wonder why my bill is over a hundred dollars!
It's amazing how easily I am distracted by sparkly things; by things that look wonderful on the outside, but truthfully have no real substance on the inside. I never seem to remember that these things don't satisfy me when I'm caught up in the scintillating rush of excitement of possibly owning something that dazzling.
But satisfy me they do not. And soon they are cast aside with all the other aging sparklies to lay in a pile in my closet, or in a drawer somewhere. Never used again. Eventually I'll come across it during some cleaning binge and wonder what in the world I was thinking when I bought that??
I'm realizing more and more how spiritually immature I am. My mind is more often on me and my problems -- my needs and wants and desires, all the sparklys and shiny new things -- rather than on God and bringing HIm glory. More on talking about myself than talking about Him -- even when I'm talking to Him. More about getting for me, rather than giving of me so that someone else can see Him.
Too often I forget the mercy and grace He lavishes on me every day. I don't thank Him for my life, for another day to live for Him each morning. I forget so quickly that He doesn't have to have grace and mercy on me. I forget that He is being patient and kind and generous with all of us in holding back His judgment so that everyone has ample chance to turn to Him.
Too often I forget that someday soon the streets will run red with the blood of those who rebelled against Him, who took His grace and mercy and kindness and patience for granted, assuming that it would always be offered. I forget that some day His judgment will finally be poured out in full on this earth. Some of those rebels are people I love! Like them, too often I assume His mercy will never end, His judgment will never be poured out.
Oh, Jesus, help me remember all these things every day! Get up in my face and remind me that time is short! That sparklys don't satisfy, only YOU can satisfy me! Remind me daily I was created to bring You GLORY! And that this is the greatest thing I could ever do on this earth, iPhone or no, to bring You glory!
God, teach me lessons for living so I can stay the course. Give me insight so I can do what you tell me— my whole life one long, obedient response. Guide me down the road of your commandments; I love traveling this freeway! Give me a bent for your words of wisdom, and not for piling up loot. Divert my eyes from toys and trinkets, invigorate me on the pilgrim way. (Psalm 119:36-37, The Message)
I've been trying to wrap my brain around how to express in words the deep emotions and thoughts I have regarding recent events. I've come to the conclusion that there is no concise way. There are times when words are insufficient; when they almost trivialize rather than explain.
I've been down this road before, emotionally speaking. I've dealt with unexpected tragedy, calamity, depression, disappointment. However, I've not dealt with it on such a large scale.
Where I am now is surrender; acceptance; and maybe a little serenity.
Look, I could go on and on at my anger and frustration over all that has happened to cause this current mess, and on and on about my fears for the future. But none of that will change reality.
We are in deep shit (pardon my french). We are in a recession and rapidly sliding headlong into a depression. And it's not nearly over yet; buckle up, guys. It's going to be a bumpy ride. And when it is finally over, life in the US will not be the same again; at least not in our lifetimes. The US itself may even cease to exist. We are ripe for attack from without and for tyranny from within.* Whether we implode or explode is ultimately irrelevant; what is relevant at this moment is that we have some decisions to make. And they may not be the ones you think.
A week and a half ago I posted a video in the (ungodly) early dawn hours. It was of Luci Swindoll talking about life, God's grace, and choices. I titled the post "This is the day the Lord has made... let us rejoice and be glad in it!" And I have to say, as the day progressed I thought that was an incredibly ironic title, and even more ironic post content, for such a day as that: an historic stock market drop of 777** points. I think God was really trying to get His point across to me. ;)
Here's the point: In that video Luci points out that God is always working, always moving, in everything that happens. He is always working things out for good for those who will just trust and rest in His grace, His love.
My grace is enough; it's all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness. -- 2 Cor 12:9 The Message
I love one line Luci says; she says, "...the trouble with life is it's so daily; it just shows up and there it is, another day and we have to deal with it."
Ain't that the truth.
It can be incredibly taxing on those of us struggling with depression, addiction, the effects of trauma and abuse, mounting financial pressures.... the list is endless these days. I know people who have lost half of their retirement already; others who are about to lose their home; others who have already lost their job; and others who are fighting for their lives right now. I know the feeling of laying my head on the pillow at night, grateful I've made it through another day, and yet begging God as I drift off to sleep to take me Home during the night because I don't want to live anymore; I just want to go Home to eternal rest. I just want to be in His arms and not have to deal with this crap anymore. I know that feeling because I still struggle with it from time to time. And I know others who do too.
Luci, on the video, goes on to say that we can either be positive about another day showing up, or negative about it. We have a choice. She said she chooses to be happy, "because God in His goodness has given us His grace" to get through it.
Here's what I'm learning: When you choose to trust God, to rest in His grace and love even when He takes you into poverty, pain, illness, tragedy, trauma, catastrophe,... He shows up. And He infuses His strength and a sweet serenity into your soul. You're not going to run a marathon or jump and shout "praise Jesus!" You just find that you have enough; you have what you need to get through. It's not the way you wanted things to go; it's not how you planned it out, but you are okay, and you realize you are going to be okay even if you lose everything.
I find myself clinging to a lot of phrases I once found trite, shallow. One of the ones at the top of that list was that verse I quoted on September 29th, "This is the day the Lord has made..." blah blah blah. I always heard it from peppy, perpetually happy church-pod people. You know the type; those Christians who don't ever seem to get upset, or sad, or have a bad day; that no matter what happens they cheerily say, "Praise the Lord!"
Gag me.
But on September 29th I kept remembering not only the video I'd posted, but things I'd heard at the Women of Faith conference the weekend before.
Job is quoted as saying, in essence, "the Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord," upon learning he had just lost everything he valued -- not just his wealth and possessions, but his children. ALL of them. I always had this feeling that Job was one of those church-pod people, at least at the beginning of the story, because it doesn't seem he was even sad. What is usually left out of the telling is that just before his infamous line, "Job stood up and tore his robe in grief. Then he shaved his head and fell to the ground to worship." (Job 1:20)
He did the things one does when they are grieving deeply. He did not hold back his emotions, or put on a happy face. He did not pretend that all was peachy. I am convinced that he was sobbing, that falling to the ground wasn't so much in honor of God as it was out of utter agony of his darkest night of the soul. And he just figured, while I'm down here I might as well give God the praise He deserves. 'Cause He's still God and is therefore still worthy of praise no matter what happens to me.
I'm convinced it probably took him a hour or more to speak his famous words, and I'm convinced they were said through sobs of a grieving, anguished father:
“I came naked from my mother’s womb, and I will be naked when I leave. The Lord gave me what I had, and the Lord has taken it away. Praise the name of the Lord!” (vs 21)
I'm convinced that that last line was not spoken like a pod-person, all cheery and happy, but rather was spoken in raspy sobbing gasps; not because life is all sunshine and rainbows, but because God is still God and Job still trusted His grace and His love.
I no longer think of "this is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it!" (Psalm 118:24) as a trite, annoying phrase that must be spoken with church-pod people syrupy-ness. It is now the cry of my soul every morning; through tears, through fear, through crankiness, through frustration, through anger, through whatever emotion I experience, my soul now cries, "Papa! You made this day, I will rejoice in YOU; that You are still God, and that You are still able and willing to restore me to sanity this day, regardless of what happens around me or to me. I will still praise You." Sometimes I sound like Whoopi Goldberg in "Ghost," when she's having a hard time letting go of the $4 million check: "I will!!" :) But I've discovered that even when I struggle to give it up for God, He honors it by showing up and bringing His strength and serenity with Him. And He even tells me He thinks I'm wonderful. :)
So here's the bottom line, as I see it:
We have a choice about how we face this unprecedented time in our history. We can get angry and depressed, rail against those we think are responsible and scream at God for the injustices He's allowing to happen to us. We can bury our heads in the sand and deny that anything is wrong or broken in our country. Or we can embrace life and make the most of every moment. It used to be said, "eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die." But I say enjoy every moment as if it is the best, most precious time you'll ever have; the last time you'll be able to what you are doing at that moment. Because it just may be.
Live in the moment, guys. Live day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time and suck the marrow out of every second of life. Tomorrow will probably be worse than today, so enjoy today to the fullest! (how's that for positive thinking! ;)) But seriously... Live! Find the joy in the simple, ordinary things. And when you find yourself struggling with fear or anger, or denial or apathy, cry out to God to give you the serenity to accept the things you cannot change. Because He will show up.
I couldn't end without including the scene in "Ghost" to which I refer. It's at the end of this clip -- but the whole thing is worth watching. I love Whoopi! (and this is soooo me in this scene!)
*The conclusions I have come to are based on solid, hard-core research. You may vehemently disagree with me, but that will not change my opinion of what is happening, why, and where we are headed. I have been doing a lot of research, a lot of study, a lot of digging and searching -- which I could not even summarize here without writing a twenty-five page thesis paper, complete with another five pages of bibliography and citations, which would most assuredly bore all of you to tears. :) Not to mention frustrate me to have to post all those links and sources....
** It hit me with incredible humor tonight as I wrote this.... 777 is allegedly "God's number." Seven tends to represent completeness in Scripture, so it is sometimes touted by religious folks that God's number is 7; and three sevens in a row is a trinity, don'cha know. :) Yes, that's right folks, it is MY fault the market crashed on Sep 29th.God was working overtime to teach me an object lesson -- that He is truly able and willing to take care of me no matter what happens, if I will just trust and rest in Him. Sorry ya'll had to get caught in my lesson!
You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You
show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry,
written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on
tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts. 2 Corinthians 3:2-3
I love listening to podcasts. I have several pastor/teachers that I love learning from through their sermon or talks; Rob Bell, Matt Chandler, Naeem Fazal, and of course, Erwin McManus. I used to take tapes and cds of Erwin's messages when I was going to be away from Mosaic for any length of time; I took some with me to India -- where I listened to them so often I nearly had them memorized -- and also to Cyprus, where I tried to "ration" them by listening to only one a week (over and over, of course). Even when I was at Mosaic I would get the sermon on cd and listen to it as I drove to work and back. I've found with Erwin -- with all these guys, actually -- that I learn even more on the third and fourth listening. I get so caught up in the initial things God speaks to me through their words that I miss other things. Repeated listening helps me catch what I missed earlier.
I've been going through Erwin's sermons on the billboards of LA, and today I listened to the latest (perhaps last?) in the series, entitled, "Don't Read Billboards." One thing he said that struck me hard was that we are always writing our stories on the hearts of those around us, those closest to us. How we live and who we are, and who we are becoming--who we are striving to become-- impacts those around us in such a way that it gets written on their hearts about us, and about the God we worship. Our lives are the best billboards there are; the human conversation, living and breathing and communicating messages, whether we know it or not. It really got me to thinking, what story of mine is being written on the hearts of those around me?
For some I think it's a positive one; one of striving for emotional and spiritual health, moving from unhealthy, even diseased, toward wholeness and recovery. But for others, I know I am writing a vastly different story. (please note this post continues after the jump -- see below)
A few days ago someone connected to my blog through the "Religion" category; one that I seldom use because so few things in my life seems to fall under the idea of straight religion. Rather things fall, in my mind at least, more under issues of faith, or Faith.
I often am curious what impressions first-time visitors to my site have, so sometimes I follow the link they did to my site just to see what they saw. The last post I put under that category was from January 2006, about a little quiz on theological worldviews. At that time I scored 82% as an Emergent/Post Modern. But Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan, was a very close second. So I decided to retake the quiz and see if much had changed. It has, and you can see the results below.
There is still much in the first quiz results with which I agree. I still believe that the Gospel is spread "virally" through relationship more than through "evangelization" and revivals. And I still feel alienated from some older forms of church; chiefly the forms that conjure images of the 40s and 50s, where women have a limited role, men dominate, doctrine and tradition prevail over spirituality and Truth, and where the preaching is either overly dramatic (hellfire/damnation stuff) or overly monotone (and usually focused on exegesis alone) and always in that preacher cadence (you know the one I mean; I swear, they must have a class in seminary just for developing that). I have an allergy to such churches even today.
However, I now find myself with some different priorities. I still am convinced that we followers of Christ have the secret to Abundant Life, and that it is imperative that we share it with everyone who will listen to us. But I find that the essence of what I am compelled to share, and the thing that compels me, is the unbelievable, unfailing love and grace of God. That grace is, to me, preeminent in this thing called Life. It covers us long before we even recognize God's whispers of love or His constant activity in and around us. It is what covers our sin, drives us to our knees in sorrow and repentance, and breathes fresh Life in us to try again. God's Grace is what fuels and drives our personal holiness; without it I am convinced we could not be holy; without it we cannot give grace to others when they fail or hurt us.
I'm not theologically or doctrinally trained so I cannot speak much to those issues -- the extent of my knowledge comes a little from my dad's old Barclay commentaries and my own Matthew Henry commentaries, and a lot from the various teachings of several pastors and teachers (such as Beth Moore, Erwin, Matt Chandler, and Rob Bell) who resonate with my spirit and my own and others' experiences with God Himself. But what little I have read on John Wesley's teachings and focus resonate within my spirit. It is much of what I have come to believe myself. "Methodism" (ie the Methodist church) of today not so much (at least what I know of it), but what I've seen of what Wesley said back then I like.
I'm interested in reading more on Wesley's teachings but I don't know where to look. So if any of you seminary trained (or just knowledgeable) people out there can recommend books I could read on Wesley's teachings and writings, please let me know.
You are an evangelical in the Wesleyan tradition. You believe that God's grace enables you to choose to believe in him, even though you yourself are totally depraved. The gift of the Holy Spirit gives you assurance of your salvation, and he also enables you to live the life of obedience to which God has called us. You are influenced heavily by John Wesley and the Methodists.
In a recent post I called a few radio/television personalities a bad name, not to mention cussed a few times throughout the post. Not so good. I was very angry, and unfortunately, when I get that angry, my swearing can make a sailor blush. I'm sorry ya'll had to endure that crap in print. I've since edited that stuff out of the post.
I've had this problem since high school. I learned a slew of cuss words during those years and reveled in my freedom to use them as profusely as I desired while at school, and ability to use them so very creatively. Of course, I ultimately ran into problems keeping the cuss words at school; and a few times probably came very close to having my mouth washed out with soap by one or both of my parents, who were witness to at least some of my slip-ups.
As a writer's assistant I not only heard the most creative uses of the f-word I've ever heard in my life, but also had to type it (and other very creatively used cuss words) repeatedly in script after script. That seemed to embed those lovely words deep into my memory; that place in my mind that seems, sadly, to be the only one accessible when my anger flares. I seriously struggle to find intelligent words to use when I get that outraged.
I've also discovered recently how deep that rage runs. It's a long story, one I do intend to tell at least part of at some point here, but for now I think it's enough to say that the rage is there, and it runs deep, and for some very good, but up till now unresolved (unacknowledged, even!) reasons. Tonight, driving to my polling place, and then on to the grocery store and home, I found myself beating my steering wheel in angry frustration as I listened to these different radio/television personalities. I normally reserve that kind of screaming anger for inanimate objects, such as Firefox's annoyingly quirky/bizarre behavior, not for people. But again, sadly, not tonight.
At any rate, my anger got away from me, and so did my fingers. I'm sorry. Especially if I offended any of my regular and wonderful readers.
Last year around this time I wrote a post about my realization that in all my stress and holiday blues I'd lost Baby Jesus. My realization came flooding back to me Friday evening as I did a little shopping for Christmas decorations. But this time it wasn't just about my own condition, but the condition of the world I see all around me.
It all started with my boss, who threw down the Christmas decorating gauntlet at work this week by decking his office in much garland, lights and baubles. I'm not normally competitive (yeah, right) but, frankly, my pride was wounded by his early, and classy, display, as I always fancied myself a top-notch, early bird, Christmas bedecker. I'm not early to anything except Christmas; I used to arrive sometime in July and just (im)patiently waited for November to show up so I could officially be Christmas-y. The last four years I haven't had any desire to do such things; depression has that affect on me. This is the first year in a long time that I've even felt like participating in the holiday festivities. It's progress I'm excited about, frankly. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Consequently, most of my Christmas decorations have sat idle in the attic or the closet for the last couple of years. I'm not even sure what condition they are in (note the present tense of that... more on that later) or if they are even usable. Hence my shopping trips on Friday evening. Sometimes it's easier to just buy new strands of lights and new decorations than to patch up the old stuff.
As I shopped I noticed an appalling lack of nativity scenes, or even of baby Jesuses (is that word, Jesuses??). I found myself wondering more and more passionately as time passed, "where is Baby Jesus?" I was starting to get alarmed, when I remembered where I was: Target. While it once seemed "Christian-friendly" (at least in the LA area), it never has been the mecca of Christ-centric decor (if you'll pardon the cross-religion references). So I quickly wrapped up my shopping at the Big Red Dot and headed for a place I was sure would have Baby Jesus front and center: LifeWay.
I was sadly disappointed. While there were references to Jesus and lambs and angels all over the place, I saw very few classy, non tchotchke-ish nativity scenes and only one that was worth considering, but not at its ridiculous price. Most of the Christmas decorations I saw were variations on the Santa theme, a Jesus/Christmas=the Cross theme or angels. And most were even cheaper looking than the stuff I saw at Target. I left LifeWay with only a Christmas cd (Avalon's "Joy") and a paperback copy of The Ragamuffin Gospel; no ornaments for the tree or nativity scenes for mantle (not that I have a mantle; it just sounded better than "shelf" or something...).
What have we done? Have we, the Church, become so Americanized in our celebration of Christmas that even our own specialty stores don't bother to display decorations with little more meaning and aestheticism than that of our cheapest secular (non)competitor? What happened to the Church setting the standard for beauty, art and taste?
And what about Baby Jesus? He seems to have gotten lost amid the Veggie Tales, Precious Moments, Willow Tree, and angel figurines. Instead of creating great art that inspires as it depicts the birth of our Savior, we've followed behind the World's cheap Santa and Father Christmas tchotchkes and created our own brand of cheap, Christmas knock-offs. Meanwhile, Jesus is lost in the maze, even as we blare "He is the Reason for the Season" from every church sign, Christmas card and holiday song we can. It's amazing. We can shove Jesus in the face of every non-Christian in our lives, and have His name plastered over every inch of every bauble and garland we hang, yet cannot see how empty the manger is in our own celebration of His birth, in our own heart.
Glen Beck has been shouting "doomsday is coming!" (or at least the perfect storm for doomsday is coming) for many months now and it occurred to me as I stood forehead high in LifeWay Christmas schlock that perhaps that is exactly what the American arm of Jesus' Church needs: a shake down of doomsday proportions to wake us up to the fact that we've been playing church instead being His Church. At least maybe it would be good for me. Perhaps it would finally knock me off my Americanized butt and back to the Truth of what it is to be a follower of Christ, sitting both at the foot of the cross and at the side of a manger, marveling at the Grace, Love and Courage of God that brought about my Redemption; and bringing everything in my heart to Him as a gift. No matter how ugly it seems to me.
Where is Baby Jesus for you? Is He in the manger, patiently waiting for you to come give Him a gift out of who you are -- even if all you have to give is anger, loneliness or depression? Or is He perhaps missing from the manger altogether; lost amid the glitter, garland and Santas that fill up your holiday season?
I pray this season we all rediscover the Babe in the manger and encounter Him as we never have before.
Come and behold Him Born the King of Angels
O Come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him Christ, our Lord
For He alone is worthy For He alone is worthy For He alone is worthy Christ, our Lord
I've been buried of late. School is kicking my butt right now. In a good way, and I'm loving it, but still... I'm not a good student and it's at these times that it shows. I've also had the opportunity to reconnect with some old friends, both through email and by phone. It's been awesome to catch up on their lives, and them on mine, and share all the amazing things God's been teaching us in the intervening months/years. But it's also taken a lot of my time. And then there's Harry. Harry Potter. But I'll get to him in a moment.
With all my crazy busy-ness, my house had fallen into disarray. Dishes stacked up in the kitchen, the bathroom looked like something from a horror film, laundry piles were scattered everywhere -- my good intentions to get all my remaining loads done "tomorrow" notwithstanding -- and science experiments were growing in the frig. I need a house elf. And my house is maybe 1,000 sq feet, if that. I don't know how ya'll with those big houses do it. At any rate, the possibility of my sister coming for a visit kicked me into gear the last two days and I can now declare, as the medium in the movie Poltergeist did (as she wiped her hair off her sweaty forehead), "this house is clean." I can now go back to my regularly scheduled activities -- until the mess gets too, uh, messy, once again.
You'd think I'd learn to keep things up once I got them clean. Maintenance, I think normal people call it. My sister used to try so hard to teach me to "just spend 15 minutes a day doing one chore, and by the end of the week you'll find you don't have much work to do at all."
Yeah, right. Did she not live with me for the first 18 years of my life?? Who did she think that was in the bedroom across the hall? That girl (me not my sister) never cleaned like that, either. What makes her think I would do that now?
Which brings me to Harry Potter. Unless you've been living in a cave on the Lost Island, you know that the seventh and final book in the Harry Potter series was released Saturday at 12am (or Friday at midnight, however you like to look at it). My book arrived, as Amazon promised, early Saturday afternoon. I, however, was running quite late and had to set the book aside until I got all my homework done (can I tell you how much that killed me to do!). I have rarely put the book down since. Even so, with all the interruptions (see first and second paragraphs above) I'm not done. I think that will happen tonight.
Every night has been a delicious reading fest filled with excitement, drama, wonder, humor, sorrow and joy. The television has not gotten this little attention since I got TiVo last year. And I haven't missed it. Every waking moment is consumed with Harry's adventure, even when my mind is supposed to be on the marketing chapters I was reading, the paper I'm supposed to be writing even as I write this post or the notes on my latest accounting assignment. I even dream about Harry. Monday morning I was Harry (in my dream, silly); Tuesday I was Dumbledore, traveling backwards through time to help Harry (don't ask me, I just dream it). Wednesday I was watching Harry and this morning I was Harry again. Crazy stuff.
Why can't I be this obsessed with Jesus? Why aren't I this obsessed with Him? He has been more to me, given me so much more than J.K. Rowling and all her characters ever could. He sits with me when I cry, stands by me when I run, stays by my side and talks with me even while I sin and loves me no matter what I do. I can't say that for anyone or anything else in my life. So why do I choose TiVo's recorded viewing suggestions over God's reading suggestions? Why do I choose to spend time exploring Harry's world instead of exploring my Lover's heart? I've spent more time this week reading Harry Potter's last adventure than I have reading all of God's amazing ones written in His Word all year. ---Yeah, let that sink in a moment. Because it's an ugly truth. --- As Ron Weasley says, I "need to sort out [my] priorities."
When I was preparing to go overseas I kept coming up against the idea of a "life verse." I'd never had one before, and didn't know if I could choose one at that point. However, that's what people kept telling me "ought" to go on the front of my prayer card. Other people had verses about the harvest being plenty or about being light to the world. But for me only one passage kept coming back to my mind. It's the only one that I've been truly passionate about over every other passage; the one that captures my heart and causes me to cry out, "Yeah, me too!" I decided that even though it's not all "evangelistic" and stuff, it is my life verse; the one I want to be able to say, even if I didn't achieve it, I fought like hell to. In the quiet of my home this week, with the television off and even my iPod sitting quiet and idle, this verse has quietly wormed its way back into my head, echoing into the depths of my soul and, like an enchanted wand, illuminating and bringing warmth to the darkest places of my heart. I think when I finish Harry tonight, I need to pick up a different Book and explore another Life of adventure. My own.
I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. -- Phil 3:10-11
It's no secret I struggle, or that I struggle a lot and deeply. I wish I could be one of those amazingly together women who are calm in crisis, joyful in suffering and wake up singing with the birds like Snow White.---But then, none of you who are my friends would find me as endearing as you do right now, right? ;)
Truth is, I'm more like Lily Tomlin in "9 to 5" or Josie Grossy in "Never Been Kissed" than any of my Disney princess heroines. I once told someone I was about as feminine and at home in a dress as Whoopi Goldberg. I was thinking of her character in Ghost and in my mind seeing her walking down the street looking more like a drag queen than a real woman. That's how I feel when I try to play dress up and look all "sexy."
Recently I saw Whoopi in a comedy special on Bravo. She didn't look at all awkward in her own skin. Rather she looked completely comfortable with herself, her body, her femininity, her womanness. I Googled her image and came across this photo. She looks decidedly vulnerable and feminine to me, beautiful. I realized I've completely misjudged her as a woman.
Maybe I've misjudged myself too.
Tonight I came across this post by Emily McGowin. She's a new discovery for me, and a blessing that I was in desperate need of tonight. My sexuality (apparently) took quite a beating at a very young age. It cowers in the corner most days and other days beats the living crap out of itself for merely existing. No, I'm not at all one of those amazing women who has it all together. I need to be reminded often that I don't have to be, that God loves me just the way and how I am, that, as Emily says,
"there is nothing in you that is inherently un-feminine or un-womanly. Being female, being feminine, is something very personal."
I needed to hear that tonight. I needed someone to celebrate my womanness for me because I just couldn't do it myself. Now I think I can, at least for tonight. Come celebrate with me, won't you?
This is for all you girls about 42
Tossin' pennies into the fountain of youth
Every laugh, laugh line on your face
Made you who you are today
This one's for the girls
Who've ever had a broken heart
Who've wished upon a shooting star
You're beautiful the way you are
This one's for the girls
Who love without holdin' back
Who dream with everything they have
All around the world
This One's for the girls
Erwin has often stated that in the wake of September 11th he told Aaron and Mariah, "we cannot choose how we will die, but we can choose how we will live." He realized he could not lie to his children about the dangers in this world and the distinct possibility that they will one day be face-to-face with unspeakable horror and death. But he could help them realize that every day presents new opportunities to live, truly live life to the fullest; to seize every moment of the day as if it were the only one left. Because, truthfully, we don't know if we will get another. Our next breath may well be our last.
Jerry Falwell discovered that truth this morning. He had an ordinary morning, according to Ron Goodwin, "I had breakfast with him, and he was fine at breakfast," Godwin said. His staff later found him lying on the floor unresponsive and he was pronounced dead a little while later.
I think Erwin was right, but not completely. We not only can choose how we live, we do choose, whether we realize it or not. Those little seemingly insignificant decisions we make every day have the power to alter the course of our lives and shape our character. When crises hit, our character reveals itself in how we respond in action and word, in attitude and deed.
Jerry Falwell was not well-liked. At all. A quick post regarding his death on NiT generated over 50 comments in it's first two 2 and a half hours, the first one being "prayer really does work." I admit it, I laughed. I didn't like Falwell either. I didn't ever agree with his politics or his stance on just about anything other than perhaps John 3:16. I felt he was an embarrassment to any thinking Christian and an insult to every thinking person. I realize others saw something else in him, but all I saw was a pompous ass bent on forcing his particular brand of Christianity on America.
Jerry Falwell's life was not a life well-lived. Yes, he amassed wealth and power, especially religious political power. Yes, he built a religious empire there in Virginia. Yes, his name is known and has become synonymous with the word "Christianity" (usually said with disdain and/or contempt). He made a name and reputation for himself. But sadly, it does not reflect the heart of Jesus. And now that he is dead, I dare say the vast majority of America is not the least bit sad to see him go. Not even this sister in Christ.
Isn't that the saddest thing you ever heard? Truly pitiable. I just saw a press release from another major religious-police figure expressing sadness for Falwell's family and joy for his home-going (Christian-speak for dyin' and goin' to heaven). As I read, all I could think of was the two-faced-ness of author; the disdain and enmity he expressed toward Falwell in private while to the world they kissy-faced all day long. In my heart I don't believe a single sappy word of that release. I think this religious-policeman is secretly both dancing for joy that his rival/thorn-in-the-side is gone and trembling in fear that he may be next. When he dies not as many people will notice, but probably the same percentage will not weep.
We only have one chance to get it right. I hope I live life well. I hope I continually remember (please Jesus - and friends out there! - remind me!) that every decision I make determines who I become. I don't want to be a Jerry Falwell. I want to be a Mother Theresa.
The following is an excerpt from my newsletter from April 30, 2003, while I was serving overseas as a missionary. I re-read it the other night as I was looking through old files (hunting, of course, for something completely unrelated). However, the lesson God was teaching me at the time seems so relevant to what I experienced this past month.
Isn't it crazy how I'm still struggling to learn the same lesson four years later! Yet, as I look back at what happened in that four years, the storm in my life that had been brewing for nearly a year at the time of this newsletter and then exploded with violent force just two months later, I realize how invaluable the insight in this newsletter was for me, and how it kept me deeply connected to God and confident of His presence through the darkest time of my life. Discovering that God truly wants to be not just my Savior or my God, but also my bosom friend created a new reality in me that continues to this day. What I said in that newsletter four years ago about God's desires for our relationship have now, four years later, become reality.
Earlier in this newsletter I discussed a cd-rom project I was putting together to be used for advocacy and mobilization by the various unreached people group teams working in my region. I was at the point in the project of rewriting, revising, refining and polishing. As errors or problems were uncovered by my proofreading teammates testing the cd, I became increasing frustrated and discouraged, struggling constantly with a worry that I would never get the cd-rom "right".
I have seen this process repeating itself in my walk with Christ lately, as He points out the inconsistencies, clutter and messiness of my heart, and works to move me from a woman of average character toward one of strength and godliness. I am so grateful for His deep love, and His longing to see me become who He knows I can be! But I have to tell ya, there are many days I feel overwhelmed and frustrated. And l often wonder if I’ll ever get it right.
In my failure and frustration, however, I have seen God pursue me with unbelievable abandon. The more time I spend with Him, the more I realize I’ve been missing the point of my refining fires for far too many years.
While He is very concerned about my character and desires to refine it; and while life isn’t ultimately about me and what I can “do” for God, what I have learned lately is that the ultimate purpose of the refining fires in my life is to draw me into a deeply intimate relationship with Him. He longs to be my most intimate companion, my bosom friend, as Anne Shirley would say; the first one I want to talk to in the morning and the last one I want to hear from at night, the first one I call when something amazing happens and the one I turn to when the unthinkable occurs. He is relentlessly pursuing me, in a way no hero in any romantic story could ever come close to! And He has made it clear He will never give up.
I admit, this all sounds so “me-centered” and writing this felt almost arrogant. But I have experienced the reality of it. Truthfully, I cannot fathom why the Awesome God of the Universe, who could have anything or anyone His heart desired, would choose me. But I am so grateful He has!
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