Okay, okay, so I haven't blogged in 5 months -- give a girl a break!!
So much has changed in my life in the last five months, and I have much to say about many things, but it's dinner time and I'm hungry. . .
More blogging to follow - stay tuned!!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
It's all in how you look at it.
** This has been in my draft file for a while. Thought it was time to break it out. Hope you enjoy.***
The Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
The Cat's Diary
Day 983 of My Captivity
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Idiots!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...
Two animals living in the same house, but with a completely different perspective from one another. Definitely a good reminder for me that life is what you make it.
Charles Swindoll is quoted as saying: "The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.
Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill. It will make or break a company ... a church ... a home.
The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude ... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me, and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you ... we are in charge of our Attitudes."
The Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
The Cat's Diary
Day 983 of My Captivity
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Idiots!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...
Two animals living in the same house, but with a completely different perspective from one another. Definitely a good reminder for me that life is what you make it.
Charles Swindoll is quoted as saying: "The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.
Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill. It will make or break a company ... a church ... a home.
The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude ... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me, and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you ... we are in charge of our Attitudes."
Sunday, May 18, 2008
A.S.K.
Matthew 7:7-8 says "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."
Ask, Seek, Knock = A. S. K.
The Message version sums it up like this:
7-11"Don't bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need. This isn't a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we're in. If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? As bad as you are, you wouldn't think of such a thing. You're at least decent to your own children. So don't you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?"
This passage has taken on an even deeper meaning for me lately. On reflecting on my prayer life, I think that sometimes my prayers are ineffective. Not because God isn't listening or because he gets tired of hearing from me, almost like "Oh geez, it's her again. What does she want now?"
On the contrary. I think that my prayers can become ineffective because they morph into venting sessions. I tell God my problems, ad nauseam I'm sure, but I don't ASK him to act. I don't ASK him to solve. I don't ASK him to heal, to right injustice, for His hand to move, for His touch to restore, for his love to flow free.
I've been treating God like a friend. I want him to listen, and I know that he does and that he always will. But I've forgotten that my God has male likenesses -- he wants to act. He wants to solve. He wants to ride in like the prince on his horse and save the day.
But I haven't asked him lately.
My prayers have not been prayers of asking, seeking, knocking.
I sit in the middle of a raging sea and do not ask. My ship is battered, yet I do not ask. The winds whip around me, yet my lips are closed. And all the while my Lord waits.
I realize that in order to make my prayers more effective I must ASK. But these prayers must be in earnest. I must fall to my face and spend time with Him. They cannot be fleeting prayers that get lost among my laundry and checkbook and errands. They cannot be short bursts uttered as I drift off to sleep. They must be bathed in time. I must present them to the Lord in a manner in which He knows my sincerity.
Asking and seeking and knocking require effort. Almost all that effort must be mine. After all, what right do I have to require the Lord to read my mind, after all he's done for me. . .
Ask, Seek, Knock = A. S. K.
The Message version sums it up like this:
7-11"Don't bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need. This isn't a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we're in. If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? As bad as you are, you wouldn't think of such a thing. You're at least decent to your own children. So don't you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?"
This passage has taken on an even deeper meaning for me lately. On reflecting on my prayer life, I think that sometimes my prayers are ineffective. Not because God isn't listening or because he gets tired of hearing from me, almost like "Oh geez, it's her again. What does she want now?"
On the contrary. I think that my prayers can become ineffective because they morph into venting sessions. I tell God my problems, ad nauseam I'm sure, but I don't ASK him to act. I don't ASK him to solve. I don't ASK him to heal, to right injustice, for His hand to move, for His touch to restore, for his love to flow free.
I've been treating God like a friend. I want him to listen, and I know that he does and that he always will. But I've forgotten that my God has male likenesses -- he wants to act. He wants to solve. He wants to ride in like the prince on his horse and save the day.
But I haven't asked him lately.
My prayers have not been prayers of asking, seeking, knocking.
I sit in the middle of a raging sea and do not ask. My ship is battered, yet I do not ask. The winds whip around me, yet my lips are closed. And all the while my Lord waits.
I realize that in order to make my prayers more effective I must ASK. But these prayers must be in earnest. I must fall to my face and spend time with Him. They cannot be fleeting prayers that get lost among my laundry and checkbook and errands. They cannot be short bursts uttered as I drift off to sleep. They must be bathed in time. I must present them to the Lord in a manner in which He knows my sincerity.
Asking and seeking and knocking require effort. Almost all that effort must be mine. After all, what right do I have to require the Lord to read my mind, after all he's done for me. . .
Thursday, April 17, 2008
little boy lost
As I sit down to write this it's late in the evening. Everything always seems bleak when it's late and I'm tired. For some reason hope diminishes as the sun hides its face. Things seem darker, figuratively speaking, when darkness falls.
But still I can't seem to shake this feeling that started early this morning. Maybe the dark mood was because the sun chose not to grace us with its presence today. Maybe it was the irritating mist of a rain that never came but never left. I'm unsure.
Nonetheless, I felt my spirit sink low into the depths of me as I rounded the corner this morning. I don't know why this day was different, I mean, I've rounded this particular corner before many a time in the last several years. And while I felt a certain sadness on those days too, it's never been anything like this morning. This morning was different.
Oppression seems to seep into everything when you round this particular corner. Joy fades. Hope seems to flicker and die, like the match as it's hit by too much air.
I round the corner and take a deep breath.
The first thing you see is a parking lot. A sizable one, but not gigantic. Certainly not big enough for the purpose it should serve. And so the cars spill out of the parking lot and on to the street. They flow up and down both sides of the road. I slow the car and begin the search for a space big enough to squeeze into.
Further down the street. The cars are lined. I look at them as I pass, wondering who drives them. Some are battered and worn, old from overuse perhaps. Those are the ones you might expect to see in a place like this, I think to myself. But as quickly as I think it I'm reminded by the Mercedes and Lexus and other luxury cars that my stereotyping is truly unfair. I don't know their circumstances. I don't know exactly why they're here.
I only know that whatever the reason their car is parked here it is surely not on good terms. It's never a joyous occasion to be here.
I keep driving, this time up and down the side streets. Not a vacant spot in sight. It's surreal to me that this place is located smack in the middle of a residential neighborhood. The homesteads of a working class people. Up and down I go. I pass the second parking lot, which is still under construction. They just built a new facility, with more space and more seating.
They had outgrown their last building a long time ago.
I peer into the second parking lot, which is smaller in size than the first. I know I shouldn't even bother to look in there; there's never a free space in there.
Rounding the third side street I find a spot and quickly parallel park the car. I grab my umbrella, lock the car and start walking. I pass a few occupied cars and breathe in the smell of cigarettes. I'd probably smoke too, if I were waiting for someone inside there, I think to myself.
Once inside I quickly retract my umbrella, placing it and my briefcase on the conveyor belt. Dump my keys and my phone in the plastic container and walk with purpose through the metal detector. It doesn't go off. I grab my things and start the long walk down the hallway. The hallway is probably the size of a football field.
On the left side of the hallway is a wall of windows, with rows and rows of seats, almost all of which are filled each time I visit here. Today is no exception. The windows let in a glorious sort of light, even on this dismal day. It's an absolutely beautiful light on a sunny day. As I pass quickly by the rows of people I try to look unimpressed, unshaken. I feel like I'm being sized up by each person. As I try to guess their purpose for being in this building I'm sure they're trying to guess mine.
On the right side of the hallway are doors. Big, heavy doors. With tiny windows.
I've never taken the time to peer into the tiny windows. I've never even had the faintest desire to.
The last door at the end of the hallway is my destination. I walk in, then walk a few steps down another hallway. I grab what I came for, then quickly double back my steps, through the door, down the long hall with the windows, then finally through a set of double doors and into the damp air again.
I always try to go as fast as I can when I'm in that building. The pain is too much to bear.
Last year there were over 2,600 cases in the juvenile department in our county. 1,638 of those were listed under the title "juvenile offender". 992 of those cases were listed under "child in need of care". I'm sure you all know what a juvenile offender case would pertain to. The child in need of care cases are where there are circumstances in the child's home that were shown to be detrimental to the child's welfare.
2,638 cases in 2007. That's 220 new cases each month.
I'm thankful that I don't have to go into this building a lot. I'm thankful that I don't have to sit and listen to the cases, the stories, the people involved. It's always difficult. At times it's been emotionally scarring. Hearing the stories of "kids gone bad". Hearing the stories of abuse, neglect, hunger, pain, molestation. Knowing that these little lives are so broken. And that these little children grow up to be adults, still broken, still marred by their past. People who walk among us. People who we pass in the market. People who are in line behind us at the bank. People who serve us our meals at restaurants.
I wonder if they know about a person who would fix them. I want so badly to tell them of the person who fixed me. Hope springs eternal with this healer. In fact, I'm pretty sure hope sprung eternal from his woundings. His abuse. His neglect. His hunger. His pain. His name is Jesus. And he's the only person I know of that can fix the problem of our overcrowded, overbooked juvenile system.
Luke 23:28 -- Jesus turned and said to them, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children."
So tonight I weep.
But still I can't seem to shake this feeling that started early this morning. Maybe the dark mood was because the sun chose not to grace us with its presence today. Maybe it was the irritating mist of a rain that never came but never left. I'm unsure.
Nonetheless, I felt my spirit sink low into the depths of me as I rounded the corner this morning. I don't know why this day was different, I mean, I've rounded this particular corner before many a time in the last several years. And while I felt a certain sadness on those days too, it's never been anything like this morning. This morning was different.
Oppression seems to seep into everything when you round this particular corner. Joy fades. Hope seems to flicker and die, like the match as it's hit by too much air.
I round the corner and take a deep breath.
The first thing you see is a parking lot. A sizable one, but not gigantic. Certainly not big enough for the purpose it should serve. And so the cars spill out of the parking lot and on to the street. They flow up and down both sides of the road. I slow the car and begin the search for a space big enough to squeeze into.
Further down the street. The cars are lined. I look at them as I pass, wondering who drives them. Some are battered and worn, old from overuse perhaps. Those are the ones you might expect to see in a place like this, I think to myself. But as quickly as I think it I'm reminded by the Mercedes and Lexus and other luxury cars that my stereotyping is truly unfair. I don't know their circumstances. I don't know exactly why they're here.
I only know that whatever the reason their car is parked here it is surely not on good terms. It's never a joyous occasion to be here.
I keep driving, this time up and down the side streets. Not a vacant spot in sight. It's surreal to me that this place is located smack in the middle of a residential neighborhood. The homesteads of a working class people. Up and down I go. I pass the second parking lot, which is still under construction. They just built a new facility, with more space and more seating.
They had outgrown their last building a long time ago.
I peer into the second parking lot, which is smaller in size than the first. I know I shouldn't even bother to look in there; there's never a free space in there.
Rounding the third side street I find a spot and quickly parallel park the car. I grab my umbrella, lock the car and start walking. I pass a few occupied cars and breathe in the smell of cigarettes. I'd probably smoke too, if I were waiting for someone inside there, I think to myself.
Once inside I quickly retract my umbrella, placing it and my briefcase on the conveyor belt. Dump my keys and my phone in the plastic container and walk with purpose through the metal detector. It doesn't go off. I grab my things and start the long walk down the hallway. The hallway is probably the size of a football field.
On the left side of the hallway is a wall of windows, with rows and rows of seats, almost all of which are filled each time I visit here. Today is no exception. The windows let in a glorious sort of light, even on this dismal day. It's an absolutely beautiful light on a sunny day. As I pass quickly by the rows of people I try to look unimpressed, unshaken. I feel like I'm being sized up by each person. As I try to guess their purpose for being in this building I'm sure they're trying to guess mine.
On the right side of the hallway are doors. Big, heavy doors. With tiny windows.
I've never taken the time to peer into the tiny windows. I've never even had the faintest desire to.
The last door at the end of the hallway is my destination. I walk in, then walk a few steps down another hallway. I grab what I came for, then quickly double back my steps, through the door, down the long hall with the windows, then finally through a set of double doors and into the damp air again.
I always try to go as fast as I can when I'm in that building. The pain is too much to bear.
Last year there were over 2,600 cases in the juvenile department in our county. 1,638 of those were listed under the title "juvenile offender". 992 of those cases were listed under "child in need of care". I'm sure you all know what a juvenile offender case would pertain to. The child in need of care cases are where there are circumstances in the child's home that were shown to be detrimental to the child's welfare.
2,638 cases in 2007. That's 220 new cases each month.
I'm thankful that I don't have to go into this building a lot. I'm thankful that I don't have to sit and listen to the cases, the stories, the people involved. It's always difficult. At times it's been emotionally scarring. Hearing the stories of "kids gone bad". Hearing the stories of abuse, neglect, hunger, pain, molestation. Knowing that these little lives are so broken. And that these little children grow up to be adults, still broken, still marred by their past. People who walk among us. People who we pass in the market. People who are in line behind us at the bank. People who serve us our meals at restaurants.
I wonder if they know about a person who would fix them. I want so badly to tell them of the person who fixed me. Hope springs eternal with this healer. In fact, I'm pretty sure hope sprung eternal from his woundings. His abuse. His neglect. His hunger. His pain. His name is Jesus. And he's the only person I know of that can fix the problem of our overcrowded, overbooked juvenile system.
Luke 23:28 -- Jesus turned and said to them, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children."
So tonight I weep.
Friday, April 11, 2008
"Develop a passion for learning. If you do, you will never cease to grow."
-- Anthony J. D'Angelo.
So, it's been a little over a month since my last blog. Many reasons for this to have happened, although I won't bore you with listing them.
The above quote really sums up where I'm at right now. I feel like I'm being stretched and molded of late, and I must say it brings so much joy to say that. Just as the season we're in, it's a growing period for me as well.
Some of the things that I've been pondering:
~ Proverbs 29:11 "A fool vents all his feelings, but a wise man holds them back."
~ Luke 10:19 "Look, I have given you authority over all the power of the enemy, and you can walk among snakes and scorpions and crush them. Nothing will injure you."
~ God's glory is found in all things. All things. ALL things. He has the last word. Our circumstances do not throw Him for a loop. He's seen the end of our dilemmas. And at the end of said circumstances and dilemmas I know without a doubt that we will look back and see His glory in those things.
~ Habukkuk 3:17 - 20 "Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, yet I will rejoice in the Lord! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation! The Sovereign Lord is my strength! He makes me as surefooted as a deer, able to tread upon the heights."
~ While sitting in a church service last weekend the Lord stirred my heart and this is the prayer I wrote: Lord, make me the kind of person that when I touch other people they will FEEL Christ, when others look into my eyes they will SEE Christ, and when I speak to others may they HEAR Christ.
~ There have been a couple of worship songs that the Lord has really pressed upon my heart. I find myself humming them throughout the day, or I wake up singing the words, or as I do things around the house I'm singing them in my head. The first one is called "Can't Get Away" by Rush of Fools. The other is "Yes you have" by Leeland.
Yes You Have
Every tree and every stone
Every rushing wind that moans
They sing Your praise
My God, they sing Your praise
Every star and open sky
Tell of Your glory divine
They shout Your praise
They shout Your praise, yeah
You've stolen my heart
Yes, You have!
You've stolen my heart
Yes, You have!
You've wiped away the stains
And broke away the chains
Yes, You have!!
With Your love You set me free
Three nails gave me liberty
So I'll sing Your praise
My God, I'll sing Your praise
Oh, with Your love You forgave my sin
Forgot my past and brought me back again
So I'll sing Your praise
I'll sing Your praise, yeah
If I ascend into the sky
Or hide behind the night
I can not run
Your love is chasing me
If I fall into the sea
Your hand will rescue me
No one will take Your place
Because
This is all for You
Yes, this is all for You
You're the King of the world
You're the King of the world
"Man's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions." ~Oliver Wendell Holmes
So, it's been a little over a month since my last blog. Many reasons for this to have happened, although I won't bore you with listing them.
The above quote really sums up where I'm at right now. I feel like I'm being stretched and molded of late, and I must say it brings so much joy to say that. Just as the season we're in, it's a growing period for me as well.
Some of the things that I've been pondering:
~ Proverbs 29:11 "A fool vents all his feelings, but a wise man holds them back."
~ Luke 10:19 "Look, I have given you authority over all the power of the enemy, and you can walk among snakes and scorpions and crush them. Nothing will injure you."
~ God's glory is found in all things. All things. ALL things. He has the last word. Our circumstances do not throw Him for a loop. He's seen the end of our dilemmas. And at the end of said circumstances and dilemmas I know without a doubt that we will look back and see His glory in those things.
~ Habukkuk 3:17 - 20 "Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, yet I will rejoice in the Lord! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation! The Sovereign Lord is my strength! He makes me as surefooted as a deer, able to tread upon the heights."
~ While sitting in a church service last weekend the Lord stirred my heart and this is the prayer I wrote: Lord, make me the kind of person that when I touch other people they will FEEL Christ, when others look into my eyes they will SEE Christ, and when I speak to others may they HEAR Christ.
~ There have been a couple of worship songs that the Lord has really pressed upon my heart. I find myself humming them throughout the day, or I wake up singing the words, or as I do things around the house I'm singing them in my head. The first one is called "Can't Get Away" by Rush of Fools. The other is "Yes you have" by Leeland.
Yes You Have
Every tree and every stone
Every rushing wind that moans
They sing Your praise
My God, they sing Your praise
Every star and open sky
Tell of Your glory divine
They shout Your praise
They shout Your praise, yeah
You've stolen my heart
Yes, You have!
You've stolen my heart
Yes, You have!
You've wiped away the stains
And broke away the chains
Yes, You have!!
With Your love You set me free
Three nails gave me liberty
So I'll sing Your praise
My God, I'll sing Your praise
Oh, with Your love You forgave my sin
Forgot my past and brought me back again
So I'll sing Your praise
I'll sing Your praise, yeah
If I ascend into the sky
Or hide behind the night
I can not run
Your love is chasing me
If I fall into the sea
Your hand will rescue me
No one will take Your place
Because
This is all for You
Yes, this is all for You
You're the King of the world
You're the King of the world
"Man's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions." ~Oliver Wendell Holmes
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
I QUIT!!! I QUIT!!! I QUIT!!!
So, I quit my job today. Okay, maybe not in reality -- but in my head I totally did. :(
More on why I feel this way in a couple of days.
More on why I feel this way in a couple of days.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
"Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."
I'm not a J.K. Rowling fan, and I confess I've never read any of her books, but this quote seemed fitting for the mood I find myself in today.
It's been a couple of weeks in the making. If you're any kind of cook you'll know that the longer a soup sits and is allowed to simmer, the better it ends up tasting. I believe the correct term is that you want your ingredients to "marry". I guess God wanted me to really taste the flavors He's been cooking up for me. He's been adding a pinch of this and a touch of that; conversations, circumstances, etc. to the pot and slowly stirring.
Earlier today I sat in our church service listening to a sermon that I'm convinced the pastor spoke just for my ears to hear. It seemed to be the dollop that topped the whole thing off.
God is an excellent cook.
Our sermon this morning was about giving. And our attitude when we give. And lately, mine has been more than sour. He spoke of how we can't live our life holding back what we're supposed to be giving all because we feel like we're not being given to in return.
For many listening to him this sermon might have been about money. But that's not what I heard. I heard how I've been selfish in many of my relationships lately. And that's not me. Not that I'm trying to be a braggart or anything.
Lately I've been holding on to things I know I should be giving away, and I've become fearful. And fear makes you hold on to anything and everything, doesn't it? I'm fearful that if I give you all that I have that you won't give all that you have to me in return. I want and need these friendships so badly that I'm fearful to allow myself to get too close to you. Because you might hurt me. It wasn't until I had that exact conversation with someone that I realized how dumb that really sounds. The expression, "It's better to have loved and lost than to never have had loved at all." came to mind.
And along with being fearful I've become a counter. I've been counting the cost of giving. I've been counting what others have been giving me. And in the process, I've allowed myself to become numb. I don't want to be hurt, so I numb the potential hurt. And in that process I've hurt others.
I'm sorry if you were one of them.
The moment of clarity hit with these words -- "What did you give to Christ before he gave his LIFE for you?"
Hmm. What did I give Christ before he died for me?
Not a thing.
But he gave his life anyway.
That's the kind of giving we're called to be doing. Every day. He gave his life for me and wasn't EVER concerned with what I would give him in return. So why the heck am I doing that? Why am I looking to the relationships in my life as if we were on the playground exchanging our toys? "I'll give you my BEST pencil if you give me your. . . "
I've come to the conclusion that I haven't been myself. I've heard this from three people in my life in the last month. "Jamie, you're not acting right." "Jamie, what's wrong with you? You're just not the same." "Jamie, what's going on? You're so preoccupied."
Well girls, there's the truth. I've been selfish. I was in that horrible place of insecurity yet again. I was waiting to see which of your best pencils you would give to me before I anteed up my own.
And I realize how wrong I've been. I want to be the kind of person who gives you all I have. I want to be the friend who really would give my life for yours. And I can't be that person if I'm trying to hang on to any shred of pride or selfishness.
My Jesus didn't hang on to his pride or his selfishness. And he could have. But he didn't. And because he didn't I'm assured a life that will never end. A life that will never hold sorrow. A life of never-ending worship. All because he's my friend. He gave me his best pencil, then turned and walked away. He didn't even want to see what I had in my hand behind my back.
So, I will try my best to reset my focus. To be the kind of friend that gives without condition. That gives without fear. That gives without limits. Because my Jesus did it first.
It's been a couple of weeks in the making. If you're any kind of cook you'll know that the longer a soup sits and is allowed to simmer, the better it ends up tasting. I believe the correct term is that you want your ingredients to "marry". I guess God wanted me to really taste the flavors He's been cooking up for me. He's been adding a pinch of this and a touch of that; conversations, circumstances, etc. to the pot and slowly stirring.
Earlier today I sat in our church service listening to a sermon that I'm convinced the pastor spoke just for my ears to hear. It seemed to be the dollop that topped the whole thing off.
God is an excellent cook.
Our sermon this morning was about giving. And our attitude when we give. And lately, mine has been more than sour. He spoke of how we can't live our life holding back what we're supposed to be giving all because we feel like we're not being given to in return.
For many listening to him this sermon might have been about money. But that's not what I heard. I heard how I've been selfish in many of my relationships lately. And that's not me. Not that I'm trying to be a braggart or anything.
Lately I've been holding on to things I know I should be giving away, and I've become fearful. And fear makes you hold on to anything and everything, doesn't it? I'm fearful that if I give you all that I have that you won't give all that you have to me in return. I want and need these friendships so badly that I'm fearful to allow myself to get too close to you. Because you might hurt me. It wasn't until I had that exact conversation with someone that I realized how dumb that really sounds. The expression, "It's better to have loved and lost than to never have had loved at all." came to mind.
And along with being fearful I've become a counter. I've been counting the cost of giving. I've been counting what others have been giving me. And in the process, I've allowed myself to become numb. I don't want to be hurt, so I numb the potential hurt. And in that process I've hurt others.
I'm sorry if you were one of them.
The moment of clarity hit with these words -- "What did you give to Christ before he gave his LIFE for you?"
Hmm. What did I give Christ before he died for me?
Not a thing.
But he gave his life anyway.
That's the kind of giving we're called to be doing. Every day. He gave his life for me and wasn't EVER concerned with what I would give him in return. So why the heck am I doing that? Why am I looking to the relationships in my life as if we were on the playground exchanging our toys? "I'll give you my BEST pencil if you give me your. . . "
I've come to the conclusion that I haven't been myself. I've heard this from three people in my life in the last month. "Jamie, you're not acting right." "Jamie, what's wrong with you? You're just not the same." "Jamie, what's going on? You're so preoccupied."
Well girls, there's the truth. I've been selfish. I was in that horrible place of insecurity yet again. I was waiting to see which of your best pencils you would give to me before I anteed up my own.
And I realize how wrong I've been. I want to be the kind of person who gives you all I have. I want to be the friend who really would give my life for yours. And I can't be that person if I'm trying to hang on to any shred of pride or selfishness.
My Jesus didn't hang on to his pride or his selfishness. And he could have. But he didn't. And because he didn't I'm assured a life that will never end. A life that will never hold sorrow. A life of never-ending worship. All because he's my friend. He gave me his best pencil, then turned and walked away. He didn't even want to see what I had in my hand behind my back.
So, I will try my best to reset my focus. To be the kind of friend that gives without condition. That gives without fear. That gives without limits. Because my Jesus did it first.
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