This weekend, my Pastor delivered a message geared specifically to those who struggle with letting go of past hurts and issues so that they can experience the freedom and abundant life God offers through Christ. The topic has been cause for hours of rumination--you know, cud chewing.
For those who are unfamiliar with the practice of our bovine friends, they regurgitate their food and chew on it again before final digestion.
The deal is, I want to digest this subject completely, once and for all. I want to know that I know that there is no possibility that I have baggage that hasn't been disposed of and/or dealt with properly.
Sadly, I've seen (and felt) the results of clinging to junk that should have been dumped years ago, so why have I not shed the baggage? Could it be that there is a sick sort of comfort found in holding on to even the bad because it's familiar? Maybe. Otherwise, why would I (or anyone) do it?
I think this practice is another evidence of the reliability and accuracy of scripture. The Bible tells us that we have an enemy whose mission is to steal, kill, and destroy--and what could be more destructive than maintaining a vise-grip on old wounds, negative thought patterns, and mistakes from the past?
The very same verse that speaks about the thief (Satan) who plans to destroy me, also promises that Jesus Christ offers abundant life. In five different translations of scripture, John 10:10 affirms that we are all offered full, rich, satisfying, abundant life. (and He's not talking money here.)
Why then, is it frequently my habit to continue wallowing in the pain and mistakes of my past? I can only come to one cudly conclusion...
If I am not experiencing the joy of my salvation, freedom from my past, and satisfaction in my present--I have no one to blame but myself. It's available--offered to me (and you) by the One who identifies with my struggles, yet promises to rescue me from evil. 1 John 5 verse 4 says: For whatever is BORN of God OVERCOMES the world; and this is the victory that has overcome the world--our FAITH.
Maybe sometimes it's just plain easier to practice failure instead of faith. But doesn't faith practiced provide evidence and hope of things unseen? And isn't that the key to real, honest-to-goodness authentic abundance?
If overwhelming victory is ours because of Christ Jesus who loves us, (and it is according to Romans 8:37) then it's time to walk in celebration and freedom, cutting the cords that keep me tethered to the junk of this world. It's time to swallow. Once and for all. There may be other cud to chew, but I want this meal to be done.©
Monday, June 30, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Heart Condition Update
Thank you to everyone who sent an email or message letting me know you prayed for my dad. He did remarkably well despite an unexpected complication that necessitated three additional hours of surgery.
Last night, he was wide awake and feeling pretty good all things considered. His kidneys haven't yet begun to function normally so that's an issue that we continue to pray about, but otherwise, we are just extremely grateful to God for dad's good prognosis.
What a blessing it is to know that there are people out there who are faithful to pray--and what a powerful reminder that when we are weak, HE is strong!
Last night, he was wide awake and feeling pretty good all things considered. His kidneys haven't yet begun to function normally so that's an issue that we continue to pray about, but otherwise, we are just extremely grateful to God for dad's good prognosis.
What a blessing it is to know that there are people out there who are faithful to pray--and what a powerful reminder that when we are weak, HE is strong!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Conditions of the Heart
Tomorrow morning, my dad will have heart surgery. I won't be posting a morning blog, because I will be in the hospital waiting room, praying.
In the past weeks as we've awaited this scheduled procedure, I've spent a good deal of time reflecting about my dad's influence on my life and about him in general.
He grew up poorer than dirt poor, the tenth of ten children. His home had two bedrooms and a tiny kitchen. My recollection of visiting my grandparents includes dusty wooden floors, musty old furniture, smelly chicken coops and dog pens full of barking hound dogs.
Dad's tales of his childhood fascinated me as I imagined him a bonafide Huckleberry Finn. He is a talker who shares vivid details when he spins a yarn, and I am confident that given the opportunity and education, he'd have made one of the world's finest attorneys or politicians because he is a great debater.
He's a man who never sees obstacles, only opportunities. In the early 70's when the local school board decided to bus my sisters and me across town, he went to Raleigh to learn what he'd have to do to start a private school. He rallied support from a few other parents and within one year he'd not only chartered a private school, he'd gotten land donated and built a building and gymnasium.
He started his own business when I was very young, and etched in my mind are pictures of him sitting at his desk in our house late into the night, planning for the next morning's agenda.
Sometime when I was in grade school, he decided to become a pilot. I was too ignorant to be afraid and loved joining him for flights in a little Cessna where he entertained us with loops and dives that rivaled the best amusement park ride.
Daddy made us laugh, but he was also strict. His love for us was never in question and his expectations were always clear: work hard, give back, don't give up, and love God.
Tonight, I will pray for his heart to be healed by this surgery because he has always so faithfully prayed for me. He may have a "heart condition", but the condition of his heart is perfect. It was perfected when he gave his life to Christ and turned to Him as Lord.
I hope if you are a parent who stumbles across this blog you'll consider your own heart's condition--realizing that one day your son or daughter might be sitting at a computer typing about the way your loving heart profoundly impacted their life.
My dad; a crazy, goofy, amusing, Korean War veteran, contractor, pilot, motorcycle rider, house builder, teacher, storyteller, guitar player, singer, poet, God-loving father who has a truly loving heart. I hope one day my children think my heart is half as special!
Grandsitting
I love babysitting for my grown children's "children". Spending time with Ava Grace and seeing the daily changes that occur in her mobility and vocabulary is delightful and causes me to realize that due to my own age and mileage I've begun to take many little things for granted. The amusement that can be found in a paper towel roll for instance is remarkable.
I think the best aspect of being a grandparent is getting to be the "fun" person in a little one's life. And while we currently only have one human grandchild (with one on the way) we also have a granddog with which/whom we enjoy spending time.
Last Thursday, our son and his wife drove to Indiana for a family reunion, allowing us (George and I) to keep Blue, their very strong, very energetic two year old black lab.
All was well until last night. Not having a fenced yard, we devised a make-shift dog run. It worked beautifully for four days, but then the unthinkable happened. Sometime last evening between putting meat on the grill and going out to check on it, Blue escaped.
I can't convey the terror of the moment with adequate words, but suffice it to say, little else matter (including our steaks, the food inside on the stove, the guests who were expected at any minute, etc.,). George left on foot, running through the neighborhood, Steven took off in his truck, and I searched by vehicle as well. We went in different directions, leaving Leslie and Ava Grace to man the fort and call us if our wayward granddog returned.
I crossed the highway and drove down an unpaved, scary road not too far from home, calling for Blue. A Blue look-alike barked from behind an abandoned looking trailer and for a moment, I thought I'd found him. Upon closer inspection and the threat of being ripped to pieces by a not-friendly dog, I left that street and drove to a neighbor's house to ask her to be on the lookout for our M.I.A. dog.
She said they'd been outside for the past hour and that Blue had not come their way. My heart sank and I began to fear the worst. I simply could not fathom telling David and Nichole that we'd lost Blue--who is really, truly, their baby.
As I thanked my neighbor, I looked up to see a black, floppy puppy bouncing across the field toward me. I caught him by the collar and held on until George arrived to help apprehend/man-handle/restrain the strongest lab in history. While gripping his collar, I sustained a cut to my ankle, a shoulder dislocation, and a small pinky finger wound, but his desire to escape was no match for my determination to hang on! (I should probably confess to a slight exaggeration on the shoulder dislocation, but the other two injuries really happened).
Thankfully, wounds heal and we had a happy ending. Our beloved granddog Blue is now safely back at home where he belongs. His great adventure nearly gave us all heart failure, but I'm happy to report that the Paramedic's say we'll be fine-- eventually. And that means that we can Granddog-sit again one day--if David and Nichole will ever let us!
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sticking It Out
Within the last three days I've been told about several troubled marriages. Two couples are very close to separation (if they didn't go through with it over the weekend) and one decided to "take a break" already.
What bothers me is that in all of the cases, the couples are Christian. They undoubtedly know what scripture says and how God feels about marriage, but the Biblical facts aren't making any impact. It's more about how they feel (or don't feel) about each other and what they expect of their husband or wife.
My reason for blogging about such an unpleasant subject today stems from the fact that I think I can say a few things about marriage with confidence. First, God hates divorce. He loves divorced people, but the separation of what He joined together is tragic. Yes, there are Biblically allowable grounds for divorce, but is it possible that in most cases it's just a matter of giving up and throwing in the towel because the going got tough or the feelings changed? Sadly, I think so.
Having been married once and to the same man for 29 years, I know there are times of testing. I'm pretty sure there have been a few occasions when George may have wondered why he said, "I do," and maybe even a time or three that he wished he hadn't. But here's the truth--we decided that divorce would not be an option and that our vows to each other and to God mattered. We made a choice to work THROUGH the difficult times--together.
I realize that when one party is unwilling, that leaves the other with very little in the way of options and my heart grieves for those who find themselves in that situation. For others who are just tired of the work required in order to stick it out--I have four words for you-- It Is Worth It.
Every couple I know who persevered, came out of the troubled times with renewed love and a blessing that can only be described as supernatural. On the flip side, I know SO many who regret that they didn't work harder to save their marriages.
This weekend, the speaker at church shared that an elderly woman spoke to his Sunday School class about how she and her husband managed to stay together for 60 years. She said they'd stayed married because they never fell out of love at the same time.
Life's stresses and struggles can prompt a sense of longing for something different, better, more exciting, etc., but in reality, our marriages are really what WE make them--for better or worse. Walking away from marriage with the notion that another will be better is a mistake because inevitably we take our own flaws and baggage with us wherever we go.
Finally, I fear there are two insidious forces that contribute to the notion that things might be better elsewhere. First, the garbage that enters our homes via television--you know--Soap Operas, Desperate Housewives, etc., and second, the Hollywood glamorization of romance and acceptance of divorce.
If you take your cues from either, and/or frequently tune in to and accept the messages of the fantasy world of movies and TV, then you can trust that you'll be in for a battle. Don't be fooled, marriage has a real enemy masquerading as the seemingly harmless things we watch and read.
If you are a Christ-follower, please heed this warning--Satan hates your marriage and your family, but no weapon that he aims at you will succeed if you dig in your heels, walk in God's Word, and remember that LOVE is a verb. It's not about how you feel, it's about WHO He is--and He will supply ALL of your needs and heal all your hurts if you are continually walking by faith in Christ alone. ©
What bothers me is that in all of the cases, the couples are Christian. They undoubtedly know what scripture says and how God feels about marriage, but the Biblical facts aren't making any impact. It's more about how they feel (or don't feel) about each other and what they expect of their husband or wife.
My reason for blogging about such an unpleasant subject today stems from the fact that I think I can say a few things about marriage with confidence. First, God hates divorce. He loves divorced people, but the separation of what He joined together is tragic. Yes, there are Biblically allowable grounds for divorce, but is it possible that in most cases it's just a matter of giving up and throwing in the towel because the going got tough or the feelings changed? Sadly, I think so.
Having been married once and to the same man for 29 years, I know there are times of testing. I'm pretty sure there have been a few occasions when George may have wondered why he said, "I do," and maybe even a time or three that he wished he hadn't. But here's the truth--we decided that divorce would not be an option and that our vows to each other and to God mattered. We made a choice to work THROUGH the difficult times--together.
I realize that when one party is unwilling, that leaves the other with very little in the way of options and my heart grieves for those who find themselves in that situation. For others who are just tired of the work required in order to stick it out--I have four words for you-- It Is Worth It.
Every couple I know who persevered, came out of the troubled times with renewed love and a blessing that can only be described as supernatural. On the flip side, I know SO many who regret that they didn't work harder to save their marriages.
This weekend, the speaker at church shared that an elderly woman spoke to his Sunday School class about how she and her husband managed to stay together for 60 years. She said they'd stayed married because they never fell out of love at the same time.
Life's stresses and struggles can prompt a sense of longing for something different, better, more exciting, etc., but in reality, our marriages are really what WE make them--for better or worse. Walking away from marriage with the notion that another will be better is a mistake because inevitably we take our own flaws and baggage with us wherever we go.
Finally, I fear there are two insidious forces that contribute to the notion that things might be better elsewhere. First, the garbage that enters our homes via television--you know--Soap Operas, Desperate Housewives, etc., and second, the Hollywood glamorization of romance and acceptance of divorce.
If you take your cues from either, and/or frequently tune in to and accept the messages of the fantasy world of movies and TV, then you can trust that you'll be in for a battle. Don't be fooled, marriage has a real enemy masquerading as the seemingly harmless things we watch and read.
If you are a Christ-follower, please heed this warning--Satan hates your marriage and your family, but no weapon that he aims at you will succeed if you dig in your heels, walk in God's Word, and remember that LOVE is a verb. It's not about how you feel, it's about WHO He is--and He will supply ALL of your needs and heal all your hurts if you are continually walking by faith in Christ alone. ©
Friday, June 20, 2008
Electric or Gas and Change
I am an electric girl--twice over. My father started an electrical contracting company when I was a child and my husband is now president of the company. Until we moved into our current residence, I never had gas heat or gas anything.
I've always been told it's efficient and warm and cheap (gas---cheap?---not any more!-- but I digress). Last night the evening news showed a house that was blown to smithereens in a gas explosion, killing a one year old little girl and severely burning her parents. That house was less than 10 miles from my own.
The most heinous aspect of this tragedy is that our local natural gas company and fire departments were called to investigate a gas odor in the area and their meters (along with their own noses {I'm guessing here}) were unable to detect a leak, therefore no evacuations were ordered resulting in the drastic altering of three lives in a split second.
Admittedly, there are similar horrors relayed on each evening's news, but the fact that my own little infant granddaughter was sleeping in the house behind ours made this particularly difficult to hear. I thought of how protective we all feel about her--how hard we work to ensure that to the best of our ability she is safe--physically and otherwise. I am confident that the little girl who died last night had parents who felt the same way. They were in their own home going about their own routine when everything changed.
Change. It's a word I keep hearing repeated as political candidates make promises that are in all probability inflated and impossible. It's something that sounds appealing because we associate it with "better," yet in the case I've mentioned above, it's anything but.
I hope anyone who stumbles across this blog will remember to pray for the family affected by the explosion -- two burned parents and one dead child. And when you do, remember that change is not always good and doesn't always result in a desirable outcome. As my son-in-law would say, "I'm just sayin.'" ©
I've always been told it's efficient and warm and cheap (gas---cheap?---not any more!-- but I digress). Last night the evening news showed a house that was blown to smithereens in a gas explosion, killing a one year old little girl and severely burning her parents. That house was less than 10 miles from my own.
The most heinous aspect of this tragedy is that our local natural gas company and fire departments were called to investigate a gas odor in the area and their meters (along with their own noses {I'm guessing here}) were unable to detect a leak, therefore no evacuations were ordered resulting in the drastic altering of three lives in a split second.
Admittedly, there are similar horrors relayed on each evening's news, but the fact that my own little infant granddaughter was sleeping in the house behind ours made this particularly difficult to hear. I thought of how protective we all feel about her--how hard we work to ensure that to the best of our ability she is safe--physically and otherwise. I am confident that the little girl who died last night had parents who felt the same way. They were in their own home going about their own routine when everything changed.
Change. It's a word I keep hearing repeated as political candidates make promises that are in all probability inflated and impossible. It's something that sounds appealing because we associate it with "better," yet in the case I've mentioned above, it's anything but.
I hope anyone who stumbles across this blog will remember to pray for the family affected by the explosion -- two burned parents and one dead child. And when you do, remember that change is not always good and doesn't always result in a desirable outcome. As my son-in-law would say, "I'm just sayin.'" ©
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Blessings and Beggars
Today I am thankful for many things, not the least of which is the ability to get out of bed to enjoy the glorious spring-like summer morning we've been blessed with today in the usually sultry south.
As I was praying earlier, recollection of an event from yesterday tumbled into my thoughts and disturbed my prayer.
While meeting a friend in an uptown parking lot who wanted to share bags of hand-me-downs for sweet Ava Grace, we were approached by a beggar who quickly spun an implausible yarn about his hard luck and needing $35.00 for a bus ticket to Davidson. My immediate reaction was anger--this guy was taking us for fools who were gullible enough to think his ridiculous tale was true. I told him that I didn't carry cash, only a debit card so I was unable to help-- and my friend chimed in saying, "yeah, me too."
He stomped away, obviously as disbelieving of me as I was of him.
This morning, I have imagined a different outcome and regretted my reply. I wish I could turn back the hands of time and do and say what I should have done and said. No, I'm not certain I would have given him money, but I think I would have engaged him in further conversation--hopefully directing him to the help he actually needed.
Maybe he was mentally ill, strung out on drugs, or otherwise incapable of understanding what I think I should have shared--but irregardless, I know if God ever allows me to be in that situation again, I think--no I HOPE-- I will respond differently.
Why? Because it occurs to me this morning that I'm a beggar too--and apart from God's mercy, I have nothing. Lord, thank you for giving me another day and for forgiving me another failure.©
As I was praying earlier, recollection of an event from yesterday tumbled into my thoughts and disturbed my prayer.
While meeting a friend in an uptown parking lot who wanted to share bags of hand-me-downs for sweet Ava Grace, we were approached by a beggar who quickly spun an implausible yarn about his hard luck and needing $35.00 for a bus ticket to Davidson. My immediate reaction was anger--this guy was taking us for fools who were gullible enough to think his ridiculous tale was true. I told him that I didn't carry cash, only a debit card so I was unable to help-- and my friend chimed in saying, "yeah, me too."
He stomped away, obviously as disbelieving of me as I was of him.
This morning, I have imagined a different outcome and regretted my reply. I wish I could turn back the hands of time and do and say what I should have done and said. No, I'm not certain I would have given him money, but I think I would have engaged him in further conversation--hopefully directing him to the help he actually needed.
Maybe he was mentally ill, strung out on drugs, or otherwise incapable of understanding what I think I should have shared--but irregardless, I know if God ever allows me to be in that situation again, I think--no I HOPE-- I will respond differently.
Why? Because it occurs to me this morning that I'm a beggar too--and apart from God's mercy, I have nothing. Lord, thank you for giving me another day and for forgiving me another failure.©
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