Totally out of the blue I have been invited to consider making a major change. What's weird is that I'm not currently discontent. This causes me to find myself without some of the usual mechanisms for making a big decision: does this new thing fill a gap or meet a need? (well, not if there are not gaps or needs) does it inject excitement into my life? (well, not if I'm not bored)
Is it possible that this should therefore be a less stressful decision? Would it simply be a lateral move from good to good? Strange...
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
abundance
By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us—set us right with him, make us fit for him—we have it all together with God because of our Master Jesus. And that's not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God's grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.
There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!
~Romans 5:1-5 (The Message)
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
a little backwards
Apparently it takes something a little strange on a morning radio show to get me back to blogging...
I was listening to a radio station this morning on my way to work that was promoting the work of an organization that produces Bibles for the world. I know and admire this organization, but the personal story that was shared over the air as a way of encouraging people to give money towards purchasing Bibles made my eyebrows raise (yeah, can't to the cool one-eyebrow thing) and wonder if they didn't have it a little backwards.
The woman who called in had spent time in a country in Eastern Europe on a short-term mission trip. She found herself in the home of a woman who wanted to share her most valuable possession with her new friends. It was a Bible, but no ordinary Bible. It had been her only Bible for over 50 years, during which all of the Russian occupation and whatnot had clouded the Christian scene in Eastern Europe. But it wasn't just that it was her only, and old, Bible. It had been pieced together word-by-word with words that were originally published/printed in a newspaper. She, and many other faithful believers, had called to mind countless Bible verses that they held in their memory and "put the Bible back together." I was awed and inspired, and put in my place, because I certainly could not even begin to embark on such a journey (though, perhaps, there is beauty in such a project coming out of a community rather than from one individual).
Anyway, what bothered me so much was that when the story was finished, the woman telling it, as well as the two people on the radio show, could only talk about "those poor people in the world who don't have Bibles when we in America have so many." I wanted to say, "shame on me for not knowing Scripture in my heart so that no matter what the circumstances I will have God's Word in my heart!" I wished that they had even given a nod to this. They were so intent on raising money to send Bibles to the world (which is not a bad endeavor in itself) that they neglected to point out how "poor" the memories and spirits of we Americans are, those of us who take for granted the Bibles in our bedrooms (and every other room in the house), but don't bother to carry the Word around in our hearts and minds.
A missed opportunity, in my humble opinion.
I was listening to a radio station this morning on my way to work that was promoting the work of an organization that produces Bibles for the world. I know and admire this organization, but the personal story that was shared over the air as a way of encouraging people to give money towards purchasing Bibles made my eyebrows raise (yeah, can't to the cool one-eyebrow thing) and wonder if they didn't have it a little backwards.
The woman who called in had spent time in a country in Eastern Europe on a short-term mission trip. She found herself in the home of a woman who wanted to share her most valuable possession with her new friends. It was a Bible, but no ordinary Bible. It had been her only Bible for over 50 years, during which all of the Russian occupation and whatnot had clouded the Christian scene in Eastern Europe. But it wasn't just that it was her only, and old, Bible. It had been pieced together word-by-word with words that were originally published/printed in a newspaper. She, and many other faithful believers, had called to mind countless Bible verses that they held in their memory and "put the Bible back together." I was awed and inspired, and put in my place, because I certainly could not even begin to embark on such a journey (though, perhaps, there is beauty in such a project coming out of a community rather than from one individual).
Anyway, what bothered me so much was that when the story was finished, the woman telling it, as well as the two people on the radio show, could only talk about "those poor people in the world who don't have Bibles when we in America have so many." I wanted to say, "shame on me for not knowing Scripture in my heart so that no matter what the circumstances I will have God's Word in my heart!" I wished that they had even given a nod to this. They were so intent on raising money to send Bibles to the world (which is not a bad endeavor in itself) that they neglected to point out how "poor" the memories and spirits of we Americans are, those of us who take for granted the Bibles in our bedrooms (and every other room in the house), but don't bother to carry the Word around in our hearts and minds.
A missed opportunity, in my humble opinion.
Friday, April 25, 2008
strange
It's strange that now that things are moving forward in my life (an apartment, almost a 'real' job), I'm feeling less inclined to blog. I acutally think this is a problem, considering that I began this to chronicle ways in which I've been humbled by God's Word, other people and my own experiences. So, now I've warned myself publically that it is more important now than ever to continue to ask for God's eyes with which to see the world, so that even as I'm emerging from some hibernation of the soul, I'm attentive to those things which keep me grounded and humble. Amen.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
simple, yet
I've seen this a few times now and it's intrigued me each time, so here goes:
What Privileges Do You Have?
Based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University.(If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)
Directions: Bold the statements that apply to you.
1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher social class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp (yes, I went to band camp, and choir camp.)
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parents owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.
I find myself wanting to say 'yes, but...' to most of the ones I bolded, but somehow I don't think that's the point...
What Privileges Do You Have?
Based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University.(If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)
Directions: Bold the statements that apply to you.
1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher social class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp (yes, I went to band camp, and choir camp.)
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parents owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.
I find myself wanting to say 'yes, but...' to most of the ones I bolded, but somehow I don't think that's the point...
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
little easters
This year through Lent, Holy Week and Easter, my inner emotional journey did not quite match up with this particular cycle of the church year. I didn't really set out to give anything up for Lent and the church of which I'm a part did not follow a particular theme that led us deeper and deeper toward Good Friday and the cross.
But it's not as if I didn't 'get' that part: the anticipated emotional turmoil, the being troubled about the sinful state of my being, etc. Oh, I 'get' that alright. I 'get that' to the point that when I heard a sermon on Friday about how Christ's decent into hell meant that he went there to be with me because I put myself there in my own little hell, well, she was preaching to me. I 'got' that. But naming how I was feeling was only that. Naming it. Just because it had a name doesn't mean it went away.
And so I wasn't sure what to expect on Easter morning. I helped lead the service that I had helped plan. We did an Easter Lessons and Carols service where we traipsed through Scripture like we sometimes do right before Christmas to see that Christ is who was prophesied about. The promises of salvation and resurrection are there too, just like those for incarnation. So that was cool, but it just kind of washed over me instead of through me like I hoped it would.
I was finally able to articulate this to a friend yesterday over coffee. That I didn't follow the dramatic decrescendo to Good Friday and even more dramatic crescendo (or subito forte, for any music geeks reading) of Easter. I was apologetic about this but she appropriately gave me the permission I needed to have for this to be okay.
So I didn't have this grand Easter 'resurrection from the death of Lent' experience that I've had in the past, but instead have tried to claim the little Easters that have sprouted in random places. The sum total of them maybe get me to a place of joy and rest, but they've been separated enough that they've really only provided small respites as they come. Here's a few:
- fresh strawberries with French Silk ice cream
- a house full of family that was totally empty a few days before
- a phone call with an invitation for a beer and a pool lesson
- a purple hyacinth that replaces the smell of Easter dinner with the smell of spring
- a meeting where the agenda was prayer and love, and only that
- a morning walk in total sunshine
In some ways it's a comfort to know that the realities of Easter are not confined to the date on the calendar that we set aside to remember what happened. As 'Easter Chrsitians' we live in a 'resurrection reality' all the time. But sometimes this means that Lent is not confined to the six weeks prior to Easter either. It gets to--has to--be both. The dying and the rising. Death and life. Both.
But it's not as if I didn't 'get' that part: the anticipated emotional turmoil, the being troubled about the sinful state of my being, etc. Oh, I 'get' that alright. I 'get that' to the point that when I heard a sermon on Friday about how Christ's decent into hell meant that he went there to be with me because I put myself there in my own little hell, well, she was preaching to me. I 'got' that. But naming how I was feeling was only that. Naming it. Just because it had a name doesn't mean it went away.
And so I wasn't sure what to expect on Easter morning. I helped lead the service that I had helped plan. We did an Easter Lessons and Carols service where we traipsed through Scripture like we sometimes do right before Christmas to see that Christ is who was prophesied about. The promises of salvation and resurrection are there too, just like those for incarnation. So that was cool, but it just kind of washed over me instead of through me like I hoped it would.
I was finally able to articulate this to a friend yesterday over coffee. That I didn't follow the dramatic decrescendo to Good Friday and even more dramatic crescendo (or subito forte, for any music geeks reading) of Easter. I was apologetic about this but she appropriately gave me the permission I needed to have for this to be okay.
So I didn't have this grand Easter 'resurrection from the death of Lent' experience that I've had in the past, but instead have tried to claim the little Easters that have sprouted in random places. The sum total of them maybe get me to a place of joy and rest, but they've been separated enough that they've really only provided small respites as they come. Here's a few:
- fresh strawberries with French Silk ice cream
- a house full of family that was totally empty a few days before
- a phone call with an invitation for a beer and a pool lesson
- a purple hyacinth that replaces the smell of Easter dinner with the smell of spring
- a meeting where the agenda was prayer and love, and only that
- a morning walk in total sunshine
In some ways it's a comfort to know that the realities of Easter are not confined to the date on the calendar that we set aside to remember what happened. As 'Easter Chrsitians' we live in a 'resurrection reality' all the time. But sometimes this means that Lent is not confined to the six weeks prior to Easter either. It gets to--has to--be both. The dying and the rising. Death and life. Both.
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