Conviction

November 24, 2008 in Uncategorized with 11 Comments

I am somewhat hesitant to read too much into secular songs when it comes to their meaning. I am, after all, a Christian, and I hopefully I see things from that perspective. But I also believe that God can use anything for His Glory, despite the original intent. I heard this song years ago. Only recently did I hear it in a way that was truly convicting to me.

I May Know the Word

I may know the word
but not say it
I may know the truth
but not face it
I may hear a sound
a whisper sacred and profound
but turn my head
indifferent

I may know the word
but not say it
I may love the fruit
but not taste it
I may know the way
to comfort and to soothe
a worried face
but fold my hands
indifferent

If I’m on my knees
I’m begging now
if I’m on my knees
groping in the dark
I’d be paying for deliverance
from the night into day

but it’s all grey here
it’s all grey to me

I may know the word
but not say it
this may be the time
but I might waste it
this may be the hour
something move me
someone prove me wrong
before the night comes
with indifference

if I’m on my knees
I’m begging now
if I’m on my knees
groping in the dark
I’d be praying for deliverance
from the night into the day

but it’s all grey here
but it’s all grey to me

I recognize the walls inside me
I recognize them all
I’ve paced between them
chasing demons down
until they fall
in fitful sleep
enough to keep their strength
enough to crawl
into my head
with tangled threads
they riddle me to solve

again and again and again

“>

Father Can You Hear Me?

November 22, 2008 in Diary of a Mad Black Woman,forgiveness,grace,mercy,redemption,Tyler Perry with 11 Comments

If you have never seen the Tyler Perry movie “Diary of a Mad Black Woman” then you are truly missing out. As a matter of fact, you should probably turn off your computer, go to the nearest Hollywood Video or Blockbuster and rent it. Better yet, buy it. If you’re like me, you will watch it over and over. Why? Because it is incredibly funny and incredibly poignant. And while the main character is indeed a “mad black woman”, it is not a “black” movie. (If there is such a thing.) It is a story of forgiveness and redemption; of God’s mercy and grace for us even though we don’t deserve it. I was a bit disappointed at how neatly everything was tied up at the end, but it is, after all, a movie and the message of the film is a powerful one despite the convenient ending.

The following clip is from the movie. Here’s a brief outline of the cast of characters:

-The young girl singing is Tiffany, the daughter of Brian, the gentlemen with the beard wearing a brown suit (Tyler Perry)

-The bald gentlemen is Charles, an attorney and the husband of the “mad black woman” who, after years of marriage to her, kicked her out their beautiful mansion and moved his girlfriend in. Before their divorce was final, he was shot by one of his clients and had to undergo some major rehab to regain the ability to walk and talk.

-The woman in the pink hat is Helen, the “mad black woman”. After the accident, she moved back into their home and helped nurse him back to health. (The girlfriend split after the shooting, but not before cleaning out Charles’ bank account.)

-The woman sitting next to Helen is Myrtle, Helen’s mother and a devout Christian.

-The woman who enters the church towards the end of the scene is Brenda, wife of Brian and mother to Tiffany. She no longer lives with Brian because she became a junkie. She was also Helen’s childhood friend. Just prior to this scene, she checked herself into a detox center and has presumably kicked her drug habit (like I said, it’s a movie).

Okay. Were you able to follow all that? There is so much more in this movie that I won’t mention here, but hopefully I’ve set the scene up adequately. To truly appreciate how awesome this clip is, you have to see the movie. I have seen this movie at least 10 times and I have yet to watch this clip without crying. (But I’m kinda sappy that way.)

Even if you don’t like the movie, you gotta admit that is some SERIOUSLY AWESOME gospel going on up in that church! Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned Madea – Helen’s aunt. She alone is worth the price of admission! Just go get the movie!

Hope springs eternal

November 21, 2008 in all things fancy,but I digress,children,family,gratitude,heredity,hope,turkey with 15 Comments

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17
I honestly believe that. I believe that whatever good traits and talents we have are His gifts to be used for His Glory. I also believe that if it is God’s will for you to be a great writer, even if you don’t know how to read, He will provide circumstances in your life to see His will accomplished. With God, all things are possible.
Having said that, I also believe that certain abilities and traits (good and bad) are passed down either by heredity or simply by growing up around said traits and abilities. I’d be willing to bet that anyone who has a child over the age of 3 has seen a personality trait in their child that they immediately recognize as one that is shared by either themselves or their spouse. Of course, the bad ones can usually be attributed to the spouse, but I digress.
Both my children are good examples of this hypothesis. But I will focus on my daughter Rachel for the purposes of this blog post. She loves all things creative (me), is a problem solver (Ron), a bit of a diva (Ron, okay me), loves to sing (me), paint (me), is good at building things (Ron), likes to read (me), is sensitive to the feelings of others (hopefully both of us), laughs easily (me), and is a total grouch in the morning (totally Ron). And while she is completely unique and has her own distinct personality, she is also a combination of the two of us. She looks more like me, but I’ve got dominant genes on my side (brown hair, eyes, etc.).
There is one thing about her that kinda baffles me. She is a total girly girl. It’s not that I don’t love that about her, I think it’s incredibly adorable. I just don’t know where that came from. She love pink, Barbies, her American Girl dolls, fashion (i.e. – all things fancy), and jewelry. I’m just not like that at all. And Ron, well, don’t even go there. As evidence, I present Exhibits A, B and C: Rachel’s room circa 2004, 2006 and 2008, respectively. Not to stray off topic, but I feel the need to say that while I have redecorated this space several times, everything you see was either given to me, bought from a garage sale, made by my own hands, or bought at a low, low sale price. (Elbow grease and paint can go a long way and retail is for suckers.)
Now, back to the my original train of thought. As a parent, I secretly delight when I see my children take interest in or excel at something that I’m into. Just as I cringe when I see a less desirable trait that I share, like forgetting where they put anything, rear its ugly head. But in all honesty, as long as she is true to who she is, I’m good with it. I have accepted the fact that my daughter is the living embodiment of “Fancy Nancy”.
Tonight was open house at the kids’ school. When I walked into my daughter’s classroom, her teacher greeted my husband and me, then immediately asked if we had seen Rachel’s turkey. Typically, kids this age and younger make a paper turkey, and on each feather write something they are thankful for. On this particular turkey, their instructions were to imagine the turkey could talk and write some of the things that he or she would say. (Her teacher is awesome.) Imagine my surprise when I read the following on Rachel’s turkey:
-Please do not eat me because I am pregnant.
-Please do not eat me because I am krazy.
-Please do not eat me because I am too big for your oven.
-Please do not eat me because I will explode in your oven and cover it with blood.
-Please do not eat me because I have diarrhea.
Perhaps the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree after all. (*smile*)

The Nuts and Bolts of Christianity

November 19, 2008 in christianity,ragamuffin,Rich Mullins with 9 Comments

If someone were to ask you why you are a Christian what would you tell them? (Provided of course, that you are a Christian. I don’t mean to be presumptuous.) This is a questions that I have struggled with. It’s not because I don’t know, it is because I fear anything I attempted to put into words would be woefully inadequate. A couple of years ago, my friend Jeff lent me his copy of a book by Rich Mullins. In the first chapter of “The World as I Remember It: Through the Eyes of a Ragamuffin”, Rich’s explanation was, for me, absolutely spot on perfect. The portion of the excerpt highlighted in red is also my all time favorite quote in the whole, wide world! (Which a big deal, considering how much I love quotes.)
The only thing worse than the joke you don’t get is the explanation that is bound to follow: an explanation that, while it may help you see why you should have seen the humor that you so lamely missed, is little likely to make you laugh. It may provoke you to muster a sympathy snicker so as to avoid more of an already tedious and misdirected lecture. It may inspire a mild giggle of recognition, but it will hardly ever raise a real belly-laugh, which was the original desired effect.
And so, here I go — me and a dozen thousand other people — trying to explain a joke that we would do better to learn to better tell. I am setting out to explain again why Jesus is the only true hope for the world, why we should put faith in Him, and what all of that won’t mean. I am collecting the information, selecting from what I hope will be usable as evidence, arranging my findings into arguments, framing it for presentation and recognizing that, while it may be fine as far as it goes, it doesn’t go far enough.

But then I remember two things. The first thing I remember is how I once won an argument with a heathen friend of mine who — after I had whacked away his last scrap of defense, after I had successfully cut off every possible escape route that he could use, after I backed him into an inescapable corner and hit him with a great inarguable truth — blew me away by simply saying, “I do not want to be a Christian. I don’t want your Jesus Christ.” There was no argument left to be had or won. Faith is a matter of the will as much as it is of the intellect. I wanted to believe in Jesus. My friend wanted to believe in himself. In spite of how convincing my reason was, my reason was not compelling.


So the second thing I remember is this: I am a Christian because I have seen the love of God lived out in the people who know Him. The Word has become flesh and I have encountered God in the people who have manifested (in many “unreasonable” ways) His Presence; a presence that is more than convincing, it is a Presence that is compelling. I am a Christian not because someone explained the nuts and bolts of Christianity to me, but because there were people who were willing to be the nuts and bolts, who through their explanation of it, held it together so that I could experience it and be compelled by it to obey. “If I be lifted up,” Jesus said, “I will draw all men unto me.”

So, here I offer what is possibly the worst thing that can be offered: an explanation of a joke. And, what makes this more inexcusable than the fact that this is that, is the added fact that this is an explanation of a joke you’ve already gotten. I offer it anyway. I offer it in the hope that it might somehow encourage you to live out your lives and, by your living, tell the joke that I, in my writing, so feebly attempt to explain. Love one another, forgive one another, work as unto God, let the peace of Christ reign in your hearts. Make it your ambition to lead quiet lives. Obey. Greet one another with a holy kiss. No one will argue with that.

I don’t know about you, but I could not have put it any better myself — not even close.

Dear Lurker: A love letter

November 17, 2008 in but I digress,cluster map,Crocodile Dundee,gratitude,hobbits,hyperlink codes,other blogs with 10 Comments

“Lurker” has such a negative connotation to it. I prefer the term “Friends without Comments”, or FWOCs. As is often the case, yesterday I started out at a blog that I read on a regular basis, found a comment that peaked my curiosity, which lead me to numerous other sites. One of the blogs I went to was called Blog Around the World. It’s a really cool site where fellow bloggers can get tips and share ideas. There’s even a little button widget that you can paste on your sidebar. I considered putting it on here, but it seems that the target audience is female. And while I am a female and most certainly write from that perspective, I don’t consider this a “women’s blog”. I hope it’s not, anyway. Okay, that last post was not something many men could relate to, but I don’t write too many of those. That post has, however, inspired me to re-write the lyrics to Kelly Clarkson’s song “Beautiful Disaster” and devote my version to my new friend Beth. I’m calling it “Muffintop Disaster”. (That STILL cracks me up!) But once again, I digress…
Anyhoo, here’s where I was going with this: In researching this post, I found some blog articles that were centered around why people should comment on other people’s blogs, how to get people to comment on your blog, yadda, yadda, yadda. If I’m being honest, I WOULD like more people to comment. Partly because it is a boost to my ego (a bad thing), and partly because I’m really curious who is reading and why. (Well, maybe not so much why. I’m not even sure why I WRITE some of the things here.) If you scroll waaaaay down to the bottom of HLAC, you will find a site hit counter and a cluster map. Now, the counter updates each time someone views my blog – even me – every time they check my blog. But, according to the FAQs on the cluster map feature, it only counts the hits from any particular html (or whatever it’s called) in one 24 hour period. And while I think cluster map has some kinks in it (for instance, I know Mare checks in on a regular basis, but there’s no dot in Nigeria), using my daft math skills, I figure even with my chatty girl blogger pals going back and forth on each other’s blogs, there’s still quite a few others reading and not commenting. Besides, with the exception of Mare, we’re all here in the states. I have friends that have told me they read this blog, and I can see their dots on the map, but that doesn’t explain all the dots in states where I don’t know anyone or the dots in South America, Africa, Western Europe, Indonesia, Asia, Australia, New Zealand, et. al. Incidentally, Australia and New Zealand are the two places I most want to visit before I go to heaven. Although I’m sure Aussies probably want to kill us when we go over there sporting horrible Crocodile Dundee accents and saying things like, “Gooday mate!” Just as I’m sure Kiwis probably roll their eyes when a bunch of silly Americans come over there looking for Hobbits. I promise if I have the privilege of visiting “down under” I won’t do that…..much. Yet again, I digress.
The point I was trying to make about 100 words ago is this: Whether you comment or not, I’m incredibly humbled and grateful that you would take the time to check in on me and my ramblings and rantings. I hope that I have provided a giggle or two; maybe even challenged you in one way or another. So, again — thank you so very much. If you have any suggestions or ideas about the content of this blog, feel free to leave me a comment…(Hey, it was worth a shot.)

And speaking of being grateful, I am incredibly grateful to my blogger pal Angela, without whose help I would not be able insert hyperlink codes with such annoying frequency.

Aging, weight loss and plumber’s crack

November 15, 2008 in aging,all things fancy,clothing,me being silly,weight loss with 12 Comments

So, I recently lost some weight. Not a lot, but enough weight that I can no longer wear any of my pants without them falling down. For a while I could simply belt them to keep them up. But now when I try to wear a belt all the fabric gets bunched up and I kinda look like some backwoods hillbilly holding up their jeans with a rope. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that; I’m just saying. No offense, West Virginia.)
I bought some smaller jeans at Sam’s Club the other day. Which, BTW is where all the trendsetters buy their clothes while shopping for toilet paper and paper towels in bulk. I got these jeans pretty cheap (the best kind) and they were Levis bootcut, so I knew there was a possibility they might fit me — a rare quality in a pair of jeans. The problem with buying clothing at Sam’s is, there are no dressing rooms, so you can’t try anything on. (Actually, you can, but I’ve found that they tend to frown upon this practice.)
Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, I remember now. I get home, put away all my bulk items and tried on my new jeans. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they actually fit very well. The only problem is that they are the low rise variety. Which is fine. But these are the really low rise variety. I modeled them for my hubby and he thought they looked good. My daughter saw them and asked that I wear them to school when I came to read to her class. She likes to pick out my clothes so that I can look “fancy”.

Now, I’m at a point in my life where I think twice about what I’m wearing. As much as I try not to, I do care what other people’s impressions are of my outward appearance. Did I look like a middle-aged housewife trying to look hip? I’ve been told by friends that they don’t think of me as being 43, but I’ve always chalked that up to the fact that I’m extremely immature, not from any youthful appearance. I don’t want to become a parody like Sally O’Malley going around screaming, “I’m 50!” It bugs me that so many women (and men nowadays) are so afraid to age gracefully. I say this somewhat hypocritically because I color my hair every month to cover up the grey. So I ask you — how old is too old to wear low rise jeans?

I decided to go ahead and wear my new, hip jeans. They were a bit on the long side so I wore some high heeled boots. (Not real boots, but those slip on ones that look like boots. I have huge calves that make wearing most boots impossible — but that’s another story.) I gotta admit that I was feeling pretty sassy when I went up to my daughter’s class. My daughter gave me a big hug and told me I looked “fancy”. That’s pretty high praise from her. As I do each Friday, I read to her class then went to the cafeteria to have lunch with her. The lunch tables are basically large, picnic tables — no chairs only benches. When I sat down, I was not feeling sassy. I was feeling a draft. I was feeling grateful that grapes were not on the menu because kids from neighboring tables could have enjoyed a rousing game of butt-crack basketball. Awkward…

So, enough about me, how was your Friday?

Update: Speaking of weight loss (or not), have you tried the new deep fried macaroni and cheese bites from Jack in the Box? They’re delightful!

Yet another lousy excuse for a blog post: The Holiday Edition!

November 13, 2008 in blog posts,Christine,Christmas,other blogs,re-gifting with 16 Comments

While I am a firm believer that quality always supersedes quantity, I also tend to be kinda lazy, so when I come across something I can pass off as a post, I tend to gravitate towards it. So when my friend Christine sent me one of those “fill in the blank” emails, I figured, what the heck? So here goes:

Welcome to the Christmas edition of getting to know your friends. Okay, here’s what you’re supposed to do, and try not to be a SCROOGE!!! Just Copy (not forward) this entire email blogpost and paste into a new e-mail blogpost that you can send post to your own blog. Change all the answers so that they apply to you. Then send this to a whole bunch of people you know, INCLUDING the person that sent it to You……Tis the Season to be NICE!

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?

Whatever — My mom usually brings gifts to my house in the bags they gave her at the store. So really, I don’t have high expectations when it comes to packaging.

2. Real tree or Artificial?
Artificial. Again, this stems from laziness. My friend Desiree had a “Christmas tree closet” put in her house. She just rolls it out, plugs it in and presto! Instant Christmas! (I’m more than a little jealous.)

3. When do you put up the tree?

Usually the weekend after Thanksgiving, but not always.

4. When do you take the tree down?
Ah, well. I take a cue from my Catholic friends here: Epiphany (Jan 9?). Gives me a little extra time to procrastinate. (My original answer was “Advent”, but my friend Dee set me straight on that one.)

5. Do you like eggnog?

Yes, in small quantities. One year my mom had a big punchbowl full of eggnog spiked with rum. Our cats got into it. Not pretty. We were all hoping not to draw the short straw when it came time to decide who was going to change the litter box. (I know, I know — TMI.)

6. Favorite gift received as a child?A battery operated pink poodle on a leash that walked and barked. I walked that thing up and down the street until it died. Good times.

7. Hardest person to buy for?

My husband, who says “Don’t buy me anything”, and actually means it. Conversely, when I say, “Don’t buy me anything, just pray for peace on earth and good will towards men”, what I actually mean is “Buy me that tricked-out zoom lens for my Canon EOS.”

8. Easiest person to buy for?

My 7 year old daughter who wants all things “American Girl”. (I said easy, not cheap!)

9. Do you have a nativity scene?

I have several. Or, as my friend Kara’s old boss is fond of saying, “They got 4 or 5 of them barn sets!”

10. Mail or email Christmas cards?

Are you kidding me? I can barely get my bills to the mailbox.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?

When my dad walked out on my mom on Christmas Day. That was pretty sucktacular. The good news is that I gave him (and myself) the gift of forgiveness. Something that some other family members have yet to do. So, for them, it’s the gift that keeps on giving.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie?

Movie? Elf. But I’m a sucker for the Charlie Brown Christmas Special, Little Drummer Boy, Santa Claus is coming to Town, Rudolf and the like.

13. When do you start shopping?

Oh, right about now.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?

Does a bear (rhymes with) sit in the woods?

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?

Everything except the obligatory fruitcake. Like funny man Jim Gaffigan says: “Fruit? Good. Cake? Great! Fruitcake? Nasty crap.”

16. Lights on the tree?

Yes – my tree is pre-lit. But I miss the days of the big, multi-color lights. I think they’re making a come back, though.

17. Favorite Christmas song?

“The Gift” (from Garth Brook’s “Beyond the Season” Christmas Album):

A poor orphan girl named Maria was walking to market one day
She stopped for a rest by the roadside where a bird with a broken wing lay
A few moments passed till she saw it for it’s feathers were covered with sand
But soon clean and wrapped it was travelling in the warmth of Maria’s small hand

She happily gave her last peso on a cage made of rushes and twine
She fed it loose corn from the market and watched it grow stronger with time

Now the Christmas Eve service was coming and the church shone with tinsel and light
And all of the town folks brought presents to lay by the manager that night
There were diamonds and incense and perfumes in packages fit for a king
But for one ragged bird in a small cage, Maria had nothing to bring

She waited till just before midnight so no one would see her go in
And crying she knelt by the manger for her gift was unworthy of Him

Then a voice spoke to her through the darkness “Maria, what brings you to Me?
If the bird in the cage is your offering, open the door let Me see”
Though she trembled she did as He asked her and out of the cage bird flew
Soaring up into the rafters on a wing that had healed good as new

Just then the midnight bells rang out and the little bird started to sing
A song that no words could recapture whose beauty was fit for a king
Now Maria felt blessed just to listen to that cascade of notes sweet and long
As her offering was lifted to heaven by the very first nightingale’s song.

That song gets me EVERY TIME!

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?

Stay home.

19. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer’s?

Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner & Blitzen, and Rudolf

20. Angel on the tree top or a star?

Star.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?

One on Christmas eve, the rest Christmas morning.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?

Too much money spent on things people won’t even remember come February. (Do you remember what you got last year?) Also, people who ignore the Salvation Army guy. He’s ringing a bell for goodness sake! You don’t have to give him anything, but at least acknowledge that he’s standing out there in the cold. (Well, unless he’s in Houston, then he might be sweating.)

23. Favorite ornament theme or color?

Fred Flintstone Santa from my childhood. (I actually stole it from my brother Fred. Shhhhh!)

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner?,

Turkey, cranberry sauce and stuffing sandwich the next day. Yes, I know that technically I’m eating a meat, jelly and bread sandwich, but dang! It’s good!

25. What do you want for Christmas this year?

For someone to read my blog in Antarctica. Then I’ll have dots on every continent. Incredibly self-absorbed — I know.

26. Who is most likely to respond to this?

Helen, Beth, Mare, Sherri, Angela, Kris

27. Who is least likely to respond to this?

Antarctica

28. What was your most memorable magical memory from your adulthood?

Coming home from Christmas eve services in the SNOW (in Katy, Texas). Amazing!

29. Have you ever been involved in a Christmas gift prank?

If by “prank” you mean, after hearing the 21 year old fill in pastor begin his sermon (2 weeks before Christmas) by saying, “Do you remember when you found out there was no Santa Claus?”, then secretly placing a Grinch doll in his office chair, then yes. Yes I have. Funny thing is, in a church with over 400 members, everyone just assumed it was me. Am I that transparent? Dang!

30. Favorite Christmas Cartoon?

The Grinch who stole Christmas. But it used to scare me a bit when I was little.

Well, that was tons of fun. For an exquisitely beautiful post on the best Christmas gifts to give this year, check out Annie’s Blog

"That’s what she said…"

November 13, 2008 in me being silly,that's what she said,the office with 11 Comments

While I have several ideas for blog posts, I can’t seem to stay on topic without traveling down several different rabbit trails today. I ran out of my prescription Vyvanse (ritilin) yesterday and my doctor has yet to return my phone call. So for the next few posts — be afraid, be very afraid…

If you are not a fan of “The Office”, please forgive me as I indulge in posting this youtube video. It makes me smile! (that’s what she said…)
“>

What does God look like?

November 11, 2008 in God,Jesus,judgement,Paul,prayer,wretched with 13 Comments

When (if) you get an image of God in your mind, how do you imagine Him?

Like this?

or this?

or even this?

While I’m a bit uncomfortable admitting it, my mind’s eye has pictured God in all of the above ways. (Not when I’m praying — when I pray I tend to see the face of Jesus, which is a subject best left to another blog post.) But until today, I have never pictured God looking like this:
That is, until I checked my email today and read a prayer request that was posted on a prayer chain. In the original, unedited version of this post, I simply cut and pasted the prayer request. But because I am feeling terribly convicted about sharing a prayer request that was not meant to become fodder for some cynical blog post, I’ll just give you the basics. The author of this prayer request began by stating, “There are things I want.” His wish list included: a great career, a great marriage to a wonderful woman, awesome martial art skills so that he could protect the woman God may give him, a great income and a great family. He asked that those reading his request would pray that these blessings be given to him so that he could experience said blessings.
My initial reaction was, “Are you kidding me?!” I even forwarded the request to a friend saying as much. But, as I mentioned, I felt convicted and incredibly uneasy about simply raking this guy over the coals without stopping to consider what the circumstances of his life might be. Who am I to judge what blessings God may choose to bestow on him or anyone else for that matter? I actually stopped typing, turned off my computer and prayed for forgiveness. While God may determine that this man’s heart needs to be changed, I realized that it is the condition of my own wretched heart that requires further examination. (*Smile* — I love that word “wretched”. Jake – if I ever write a book entitled “My Wretched Heart”, I intend to give you a portion of the proceeds. But I digress.) Why did I feel compelled to share this man’s prayer? Was it because it made me feel superior to him; miles ahead of him on the road of my Christian walk? Yes. I think that’s it. And if that’s the case, am I not missing Paul’s point when he writes in Philippians 2:
If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.
Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Um…Ouch! So, with an attitude adjustment that only face time with God can achieve, I am grateful that God’s grace is extended to all of us, and I am reminded of Jesus’ instructions on how to pray:

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in
heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil:
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for
ever. Amen.

I am going to end this post and pray that the author of this prayer request finds comfort and peace in the arms of the Savior whose grace is sufficient; whose power is made perfect in our weakness. Also, I need to pray for God to remove this giant plank from my eye…

The Teddy Bear

November 10, 2008 in Uncategorized with 7 Comments

Yesterday was a fantastic day! We held services in our back yard for the second week in a row. It was a beautiful, breezy day, and aside from the occasional airlplane flying by and my dog Buddy attempting to engage in a bark-off with the neighbor’s dog, everything was great.

Jeff started a new series about who Convergence Christian Church (C3) will be as a church. He reintroduced us all to “Zeke” (that cute little stick guy you see in the sidebar of this blog). I’ll tell you more about him another time. I’m so very excited about what he represents and some of the ways he we help spread the word. (Mare, you’ll be getting a little “Zeke” in your package.) I want to tell you all about him, but for purposes of journalistic integrity, I need to talk to Jeff and make sure I get things straight.

After a late lunch yesterday, I met my dad in LaGrange, TX to pick up my son. He played in a golf tournament near Austin. He got third place, BTW. Driving by myself gave me time to think. I have a gazillion ideas I want to write about (well, okay — 5, 6 tops, but you know what I mean.) All these ideas are in their infant stages, so for now I want to share an excerpt from one of my favorite books. May it bless you as it has blessed me.

Excerpt from: I became a Christian and all I got was this lousy t-shirt: Replacing Souvenir Religion with Authentic Spritial Passion, by Vince Antonucci

Even though I had become a Christian, even though I was preaching sermon after sermon on the topic, still I couldn’t feel like I was the one Jesus loves, and it held me back from living a life with him.

I continued to wrestle with the question: how could Jesus love me when I knew I wasn’t worth loving?

Finally, the answer came out. Actually, the answer came down, again, from my mom’s attic.

We were visiting my mother, who would soon be moving from our old house into a condo. She informed us that we’d be leaving with with a bunch of stuff she had been saving for me. Soon it all came down — Legos, matchbox cars, books and…a teddy bear. It was my teddy bear, from when I was little. It was a mess. Years earlier, my mother had sewn an ear back on. She had done reconstructive surgery on its neck and back. It was missing fur around its eyes, on both feet, and on his back by the little music handle. It had a big scar across its head. The cutest thing was the four little pieces of fur missing from where my four fingers used to hold it constantly. My finger marks had become permantly embedded in my bear.

When I was little, I loved this bear. I carried it everywhere. My mother would turn the music handle and it would make music, bad music, but I would move in tight and that music would comfort me and lull me to sleep.

I loved this bear, but there was nothing lovable, nothing valuable about the bear itself. Even when it was new it was obviously not an expensive stuffed animal. It probably cost a few dollars at the time. If you tried to sell it at a garage sale today you might ask for a quarter. It’s just not valuable, except that it is to me, and especially back when I was a kid.

I loved this bear. But I didn’t love it because it was valuable. I loved it because…I loved it. I loved it because it was my bear. My love was not based on its value, rather my love made this bear valuable. My love gave this bear significance. When I was a kid, you could have offered me a vacation to Disney World and I wouldn’t have traded my bear for it. If my parents had held a yard sale back then and asked me how much we should sell my bear for, I would have said a million dollars…and that wouldn’t have been enough. They would have said, “Well, silly, it only cost us a couple of dollars, and it’s gotten really beat up since then.” I would have said, “I don’t care. I won’t sell it. It’s my bear and I love him.”

And finally I understood how Jesus could love me when I wasn’t worth loving.

I realized that the love I had for my bear is essentially the same kind of love God has for me. It’s not a love that loves because the object of the love is valuable; it’s a love that gives value.

God knew me. He knew what I was worth in the beginning, he knew the damage that had been done to me over the years, he knew my current condition. But the most significant thing God knew about me was that I was his. I may have been beat up, pulled out of shape, ripped, and left with the stuffing hanging out, but I was his. I may not have looked like much to anyone else, but I was his. And so he loved me. And his love gave me value, significance and importance.

Now, I have to admit, I still struggle with this sometimes. Because it’s not just realizing that I’m loved. It’s living it. It’s abiding in Jesus, in his love, moment by moment. And I have good days and bad when it comes to living in his love. It’s like I constantly need reminders….

Well, other people may have told you that you’re not worth much, but the truth is that God wouldn’t trade you for anything. In fact, when he set the price tag on you, it was his Son.

And you may be torn and broken. You may still bear the marks of deep wounds. But God is a master at reconstructive surgery.

And perhaps, because of all of this, you have difficulty connecting with God. You feel like your prayers bounce back at you off the ceiling. At church others sing out worship songs, but you struggle to, not necessarily because you have a bad voice, but because the words come from a bad heart. And so you’re sure that to God, it’s bad music. But no, when God hears you, he moves in tight.

You know why? Because you are his. Because since the beginning of your life, you have belonged to him. He shaped you in your mother’s womb and his finger marks are permanently embedded in you.

You are the one Jesus loves.

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