On Tuesday nights, I have an hour and a half to kill at the soccer fields. I spend about half of this time watching soccer practice and the other half walking a loop around the fields. I go up the stairs to the upper parking lot around the top, down the side, then loop to the far outside of the bottom parking lot- partly to make as big a loop as possible and also because when I started this it was August and the far side of the lot was in the shade- then circle around the back of the fields and end up back at the bottom of the stairs. I will make this loop 3-4 times on a typical night.
Last night, I noticed another lady at the top part of my loop walking the opposite direction. We passed in the middle of the upper parking lot- I noticed she was about my size and walking about my pace. I remember this because I was thinking too bad I didn't know her because we could walk together since we were walking about the same. I made my loop and as I entered the upper lot, I passed her again, I noticed something else. We weren't passing in the middle this time- she was further on my side. Hmm...that didn't make sense. Was she walking faster than me? It didn't look like it. Maybe I needed to pick up my pace a little. So I did. Next loop- same thing. She's even further on my side of the parking lot. What the heck! At this point, I am completely bothered by this. As I loop around again I am wondering how she is going so much faster than me- I knew she wasn't running because she wasn't hot and sweaty enough to be doing that.
Am I really shallow enough to be concerned about someone walking faster than me? Oh yes and not just concerned but starting to feel a little insecure about my own pace. Maybe I am much slower than I think I am? Maybe I am not in very good shape? Maybe, maybe, maybe....
Then in God's infinite grace He let me realize that I was only passing her on the upper lot and not the lower. We were walking different routes- she was taking the inside of the bottom lot while I was swinging to the outside. If we were on different paths, I certainly could not compare our pace! I was so relieved and slightly embarrassed that I had spent the last 20 minutes trying to figure this out.
The real irony was before I noticed her and became completely distracted I was praying about not feeling like I was "behind" in my life with where God wanted me to be. I see others going off to school, writing books, leading mission teams to Africa, and I feel so plain and ordinary. Like I need to "pick up the pace". He is so sweet to me- that He took my neurotic compulsion to compete with another walker to show me a truth for the rest of my life. I am on my own path. You are on your own path. I cannot compare where I am and what I am doing with anybody else- because my path is unique to me. I may pass others along the way that look similar and seem to be doing the same thing, but even though our paths cross repeatedly, I can never forget we are on a different route to our destination. This is so relieving!
Also- as a little side note- since I was taking the outside lot, I was most likely walking faster...not that it matters...I'm just sayin'.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Chicken
Chicken Run is a kids movie about a chicken farm where the chicken's owners decide that eggs are not profitable enough and go into the business of pot pies. The whole movie is about the chickens trying to escape from these horrible owners who are going to eat them. As horrifying as it sounds, it's actually a pretty funny little movie. Halle and one of her friends pulled out the old VHS tape to watch it again this past weekend- yes, VHS still exists and yes, I still have a VCR in my house and no, Fred Flintstone is not running it. As the girls sat eating lunch and watching the movie- rooting for the chickens to be victorious, I found it quite ironic that they were eating fried chicken. The girls would be the first to say the owners were wrong for wanting to kill the chickens but they saw no problem eating the ones on their plates.
Life is like a box of chicken...Just kidding. But more often than I would care to admit, I have loudly denounced something in someone else's life as I sit feasting on the bones of that very thing in my own. Oh that I would get to a place where I can see clearly my hypocrisies and would not rush in so quick to judge others! The Bible calls for wisdom but it says to be wise as serpents, gentle as doves. It's that last part that really needs some work. How is it possible to have the wisdom to see other people's "stuff" and not judge? When we realize, not know it in our heads but way deep down in our guts-realize that we have not only some of the same stuff- but even more stuff- then we can love well. Then we become "chief sinners" like Paul called himself. If we know we are the worst of the worst then we are okay with everybody else's pretty bad. But the only way we can face our stuff and our worst of the worst status is if we are secure in what Jesus says about us.
We are not just loved, but lovely..not just forgiven, but holy and righteous...not just accepted, but favored,...not servants, but children. He sees Himself when He looks at us because He covered all of our "stuff" with His "stuff"- and His stuff is pretty darn good. I will gladly accept who I am -the worst of the worst- for who I get to be..a lovely, holy, righteous, favored child of the King of Kings.
Life is like a box of chicken...Just kidding. But more often than I would care to admit, I have loudly denounced something in someone else's life as I sit feasting on the bones of that very thing in my own. Oh that I would get to a place where I can see clearly my hypocrisies and would not rush in so quick to judge others! The Bible calls for wisdom but it says to be wise as serpents, gentle as doves. It's that last part that really needs some work. How is it possible to have the wisdom to see other people's "stuff" and not judge? When we realize, not know it in our heads but way deep down in our guts-realize that we have not only some of the same stuff- but even more stuff- then we can love well. Then we become "chief sinners" like Paul called himself. If we know we are the worst of the worst then we are okay with everybody else's pretty bad. But the only way we can face our stuff and our worst of the worst status is if we are secure in what Jesus says about us.
We are not just loved, but lovely..not just forgiven, but holy and righteous...not just accepted, but favored,...not servants, but children. He sees Himself when He looks at us because He covered all of our "stuff" with His "stuff"- and His stuff is pretty darn good. I will gladly accept who I am -the worst of the worst- for who I get to be..a lovely, holy, righteous, favored child of the King of Kings.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Facial
I went to get a facial yesterday. This is usually a quite pleasant experience- an hour of relaxation and I leave with glowing skin. Yesterday, however, I happened to tell Jan that my skin was looking a little splotchy. Big mistake. She says, very casually, " Oh I have a great treatment for your skin. It's called fire-and-ice." That really should have been enough said but I was so relaxed on the table with the quiet room-no kids asking me for anything, no dogs barking, or phones ringing...You see how I could get caught up. I naively agreed to the treatment and prepared to be pampered. After an hour of intense burning pain I am done. She told me as I left I might be a little red in some spots the next day. That was to be expected since the whole purpose was to get rid of the sun damaged areas on my skin that were under the surface causing the splotches.
I woke up this morning looking like I had been mauled by an alley cat. The right side of my face is particularly bad, apparently because of the sun coming in the car window and hitting that side of my face. It looks like shrapnel sprayed my face with all these red spots and patches everywhere. My daughter asked why I had a black eye. I explained it was not black, it was a "little red", that was all- just ask Jan. What is most disturbing is that I asked for this. I wanted to get rid of those splotches and the only way was to bring them to the surface to remove them.
I have had this same experience with God many times. I tell Him the things I want to get rid of in my life, and He casually says, "Oh I have a great treatment for that..." The things I want gone don't disappear, no- He brings circumstances that draw them to the surface where I can see them for what they are- ugly...very ugly. I would rather the process not go this way. I would like for them to disappear under the surface never to be heard from again. But He knows this cannot be. They have to come out. Then and only then can they be healed. We don't like to wear our flaws and imperfections out in the open for other people to see but if we never face our failures then how can we overcome them? Fortunately we are not alone in this. Jan sent me home to deal with my face but He never sends us on this journey alone. He will face those ugly spots with us and He will heal all those places. He will not let us be put to shame in our broken and frail state. he promises to cover our ugliness with His beauty, our failure with His victory. It is sometimes a painful process, so maybe it is true- beauty really is pain. But with Him it has a purpose and even better- the pain is only temporary and the results are even more impressive than un-splotchied skin!
I woke up this morning looking like I had been mauled by an alley cat. The right side of my face is particularly bad, apparently because of the sun coming in the car window and hitting that side of my face. It looks like shrapnel sprayed my face with all these red spots and patches everywhere. My daughter asked why I had a black eye. I explained it was not black, it was a "little red", that was all- just ask Jan. What is most disturbing is that I asked for this. I wanted to get rid of those splotches and the only way was to bring them to the surface to remove them.
I have had this same experience with God many times. I tell Him the things I want to get rid of in my life, and He casually says, "Oh I have a great treatment for that..." The things I want gone don't disappear, no- He brings circumstances that draw them to the surface where I can see them for what they are- ugly...very ugly. I would rather the process not go this way. I would like for them to disappear under the surface never to be heard from again. But He knows this cannot be. They have to come out. Then and only then can they be healed. We don't like to wear our flaws and imperfections out in the open for other people to see but if we never face our failures then how can we overcome them? Fortunately we are not alone in this. Jan sent me home to deal with my face but He never sends us on this journey alone. He will face those ugly spots with us and He will heal all those places. He will not let us be put to shame in our broken and frail state. he promises to cover our ugliness with His beauty, our failure with His victory. It is sometimes a painful process, so maybe it is true- beauty really is pain. But with Him it has a purpose and even better- the pain is only temporary and the results are even more impressive than un-splotchied skin!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Raod trip
We had a football game in Augusta last weekend. Brad was out of town, Kenzie was away at a cross-country meet so Halle and I were left to attend and cheer the Knights on, specifically #22. The day before the game I got a text from Brandt asking if a friend of his could ride to the game with me and stay the night with us in the hotel. I asked him if this boy really wanted to ride 3 hours in a car with people he doesn't know? Awkward. No reply from Brandt. When I get home Brandt, taking my question as a "no" instead of just a question, has prepared for me all the reasons why I should let this kid ride. As he is going through this convincing speech about how great this boy is and how much I will like him and what his background is ,etc.. I thought if Brandt only understood that I don't have to know this boy because I know the one asking me. That is all I needed to bring Nate along. I know the boy asking and I love him. It is irrelevant who Nate is and what his personality is like.
We try so often to convince God to answer our prayers with all these reasons we feel are valid. And we forget we are the beloved children. He doesn't answer us because we have convinced Him or because we deserve it- He answers out of love for us. He just loves us. He doesn't do what we want anymore than I always give Brandt what he wants. The point here is the heart from which He responds. Out of an overflow of love and affection for an imperfect child- but the imperfection is not what He notices- He sees that it is His child asking- the child He knows and loves. If we really understood how He longs to have relationship with us we would run to Him and not away from Him. We would long to know Him more- to be with Him more. We would rest in knowing He is for us and He is good and He is not in a bad mood all the time, irritated with our failure. He is a good dad, the best there ever has been.
We try so often to convince God to answer our prayers with all these reasons we feel are valid. And we forget we are the beloved children. He doesn't answer us because we have convinced Him or because we deserve it- He answers out of love for us. He just loves us. He doesn't do what we want anymore than I always give Brandt what he wants. The point here is the heart from which He responds. Out of an overflow of love and affection for an imperfect child- but the imperfection is not what He notices- He sees that it is His child asking- the child He knows and loves. If we really understood how He longs to have relationship with us we would run to Him and not away from Him. We would long to know Him more- to be with Him more. We would rest in knowing He is for us and He is good and He is not in a bad mood all the time, irritated with our failure. He is a good dad, the best there ever has been.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Lost
This weekend I was in a very small town with 2 friends and none of us were familiar with the area. We were leaving a local restaurant and heading to a church. We were told it was 5 minutes away. It was 6:50. We made it into church at 7:40. Did we break down? Did we stop to help someone? Did we make a pit stop for dessert and coffee? No to all of these. We got lost. Going in a straight line. With 2 GPS systems.
"Wow" is what I'm sure you're thinking. Rightfully so- that is totally deserving of a wow. I actually would not have thought it was possible had I not been in the car. How can you get lost going in a straight line? Well first you don't go in a straight line. You arbitrarily turn and then turn again, and then turn around. Then you ask people walking for directions and they tell you they don't live there. Really? Who comes to Moultrie on vacation? Then you drive and turn some more. Then ask someone else for directions. It all comes down to bad Intel.
First we didn't research ahead of time to know where we were going and we had to rely on locals for directions. Now every person we asked truly believed they knew where that church was and how to get us there. Ironically- the lady digging through the trash for lottery tickets is the only one who sent us the right way.
I see this all around the world. People are searching for direction, looking for the truth. We, the church, should be the "local" authorities on Truth and not just point people to him but introduce them. Sadly, this is not happening. People are getting bad intel. They are running in circles and everywhere they turn is more misinformation. We misinform by misrepresenting. When i was in Guatemala the missionary showed us one of the few evangelical churches in the city, then he told us a young girl in a wheelchair fro one of the local villages used to attend church there. Until the Pastor told her to stop coming because she was a distraction. In her wheelchair. To her, this man represents God. If he thinks she is taking up valuable space in his church and needs to go away- what does this say about God?
I want to run to this girl and hold her and tell her my God is not like that man- He would be pulling her out of that wheelchair to dance. He would laugh with her and love her and heal her. She is precious to Him and He never wants her out of His presence. And I would like to scream at this pastor. How dare he! But then I know I am just like this pastor- broken and afraid. Maybe he's embarrassed that he cannot offer her the healing Christ died for or maybe he really does believe he is too busy to help the sick. I don't know but I know I have misrepresented Christ more often than I have done Him justice. I cannot judge his actions or his heart but I can weep over the hurt of the girl and the man- and the God who wants to heal them both- but they don't understand who He is or what He came to do.
We need good directions so we can give good direction. We have to be healed ourself before we can offer healing to someone else. To say we've heard God can do mighty things is great- but to say He has done mighty things for us is believable. Suddenly we are credible and not just good storytellers. We don't need a GPS, we need an encounter. And you never know- sometimes those encounters come in the most unlikely places or people. Even a lady digging through the trash can point you in the right direction sometimes.
"Wow" is what I'm sure you're thinking. Rightfully so- that is totally deserving of a wow. I actually would not have thought it was possible had I not been in the car. How can you get lost going in a straight line? Well first you don't go in a straight line. You arbitrarily turn and then turn again, and then turn around. Then you ask people walking for directions and they tell you they don't live there. Really? Who comes to Moultrie on vacation? Then you drive and turn some more. Then ask someone else for directions. It all comes down to bad Intel.
First we didn't research ahead of time to know where we were going and we had to rely on locals for directions. Now every person we asked truly believed they knew where that church was and how to get us there. Ironically- the lady digging through the trash for lottery tickets is the only one who sent us the right way.
I see this all around the world. People are searching for direction, looking for the truth. We, the church, should be the "local" authorities on Truth and not just point people to him but introduce them. Sadly, this is not happening. People are getting bad intel. They are running in circles and everywhere they turn is more misinformation. We misinform by misrepresenting. When i was in Guatemala the missionary showed us one of the few evangelical churches in the city, then he told us a young girl in a wheelchair fro one of the local villages used to attend church there. Until the Pastor told her to stop coming because she was a distraction. In her wheelchair. To her, this man represents God. If he thinks she is taking up valuable space in his church and needs to go away- what does this say about God?
I want to run to this girl and hold her and tell her my God is not like that man- He would be pulling her out of that wheelchair to dance. He would laugh with her and love her and heal her. She is precious to Him and He never wants her out of His presence. And I would like to scream at this pastor. How dare he! But then I know I am just like this pastor- broken and afraid. Maybe he's embarrassed that he cannot offer her the healing Christ died for or maybe he really does believe he is too busy to help the sick. I don't know but I know I have misrepresented Christ more often than I have done Him justice. I cannot judge his actions or his heart but I can weep over the hurt of the girl and the man- and the God who wants to heal them both- but they don't understand who He is or what He came to do.
We need good directions so we can give good direction. We have to be healed ourself before we can offer healing to someone else. To say we've heard God can do mighty things is great- but to say He has done mighty things for us is believable. Suddenly we are credible and not just good storytellers. We don't need a GPS, we need an encounter. And you never know- sometimes those encounters come in the most unlikely places or people. Even a lady digging through the trash can point you in the right direction sometimes.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Tight tuck
All right- this is going to be short and sweet tonight. All you older guys out there- stop it with the tight tuck and the pants pulled up to your pits. I do not know when this was ever in fashion but I know it has never been flattering. It elongates the butt to about 5 times its original size (atleast I hope it's not really that size) and shortens your torso to almost nonexistent. Please, for the love of all that is attractive, if you have to hike your pants up (and I really do not understand how guys of all people could find this comfortable), but if you must- then at the very least leave your shirt untucked so the rest of us aren't forced to look and wonder how you can possibly get your pants that high. And if you MUST tuck - why the tight tuck? Must the shirt be jammed so tightly into your pants that it keeps your arms pinned at your side? How about a litle give- a little blousing out? Come on, it's 2010- give whatever decade that was a rest and try something daring...bootcut.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Culture
I realized the state of my life tonight as I had a very serious conversation with Halle about why Nick is my favorite Jonas brother. Even more alarming than the fact that I actually have a favorite Jonas brother is that I can substantiate my preference. Disney is running my life.
I thought back to our summer in New York- seeing Broadway plays and spending afternoons at MOMA, walking through Central Park and Chelsea Market..thinking at the time of all the culture my kids' were being exposed to. Yesterday we went to a local arts festival and they had painted the porta-pottys with famous artwork- classy, I know. We passed one with the Mona Lisa on it and Halle pointed out to her friend- "Look, it's Queen Latifah"...Alarming. The upside is it atleast rhymed with Mona Lisa. But seriously? Is this all I have taught my children? They will be adults and remember discussing Hannah Montana and NASCAR with their mother but have no idea who Michelangelo is.
Our culture shapes so much about us- but it's funny how little we step outside of it and look at what exactly it is making of us. It's not just my kids, but my own life. There are a million things competing for my time and attention- which of these will I let have the biggest voice in my life? Which will I let shape me? Or will I shape my culture? Will I be a force that has an effect on those around me for their betterment? Or will I let myself be entertained to death? It's hard to be counter-cultural and still be relevant. I wish I could find that balance as easily as I can pick my favorite Jo Bro. I think this will be a battle not won in a day but over a lifetime. I pray I keep my eyes and my focus on what has true value and don't settle for art on a porta-potty.
I thought back to our summer in New York- seeing Broadway plays and spending afternoons at MOMA, walking through Central Park and Chelsea Market..thinking at the time of all the culture my kids' were being exposed to. Yesterday we went to a local arts festival and they had painted the porta-pottys with famous artwork- classy, I know. We passed one with the Mona Lisa on it and Halle pointed out to her friend- "Look, it's Queen Latifah"...Alarming. The upside is it atleast rhymed with Mona Lisa. But seriously? Is this all I have taught my children? They will be adults and remember discussing Hannah Montana and NASCAR with their mother but have no idea who Michelangelo is.
Our culture shapes so much about us- but it's funny how little we step outside of it and look at what exactly it is making of us. It's not just my kids, but my own life. There are a million things competing for my time and attention- which of these will I let have the biggest voice in my life? Which will I let shape me? Or will I shape my culture? Will I be a force that has an effect on those around me for their betterment? Or will I let myself be entertained to death? It's hard to be counter-cultural and still be relevant. I wish I could find that balance as easily as I can pick my favorite Jo Bro. I think this will be a battle not won in a day but over a lifetime. I pray I keep my eyes and my focus on what has true value and don't settle for art on a porta-potty.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Revenge
Last night we had the collision of two perfect moments at my house. Hale and Brad were wrestling on the couch when it took an ugly turn, like it nearly always does. Her newly pierced ears were bumped by Brad's flailing arms as he tried to avoid her tickling. This resulted in Halle running upstairs in tears and Brad sending me after her since she was no longer speaking to him. This was the beginning.
When I found her upstairs, she was in my bathroom crying and nursing her ears. Since we were beyond the point of reason, I did what any good mother would do when their child has been wronged and suggested revenge. This brought an immediate sparkle to her eye and grin to her face. My idea was toothpaste. I said "Get some on your finger, and go down like you're hugging dad and smear it on him." In my mind, this looked like a pea size amount of toothpaste gently smeared across Brad's cheek. As with most things, though, it did not go the way I imagined.
Before Halle could enact Operation Make-Dad-Pay, Brad came upstairs and laid across the bed. At the exact moment Halle is plotting her revenge, Brad looks at me unknowingly and says,"I've just decided to adopt an I don't care attitude about everything." How appropriate.
So now that he's laying down the hug would be awkward but ever the quick thinker, Halle came up with her own way. She asked me to pull Brad's shirt up like I was going to scratch his back and ever so discreetly block his view of the incoming wrath of Halle-which turned out to be a handful of gel toothpaste (again,not the kind I was imagining as it is a lot goopier and, well, disgusting) smeared all over his back. Gel toothpaste, by the way, is remarkably colder than you might think right out of the tube. Brad eventually catches his breath, finds out what has just happened to him, and asks Halle to get a wash rag to clean it off. I think he was envisioning a warm rag- but again- this would be wrong to assume. Halle throws, literally, an ice cold rag across his back. I really thought he was going to come up off the bed this time.
What is the point of this whole story? I guess the first lesson here would be- don't mess with Halle. Second- it's just a whole lot like life. The moment you decide nothing is going to bother you- something will come along to see if you really mean it.
When I found her upstairs, she was in my bathroom crying and nursing her ears. Since we were beyond the point of reason, I did what any good mother would do when their child has been wronged and suggested revenge. This brought an immediate sparkle to her eye and grin to her face. My idea was toothpaste. I said "Get some on your finger, and go down like you're hugging dad and smear it on him." In my mind, this looked like a pea size amount of toothpaste gently smeared across Brad's cheek. As with most things, though, it did not go the way I imagined.
Before Halle could enact Operation Make-Dad-Pay, Brad came upstairs and laid across the bed. At the exact moment Halle is plotting her revenge, Brad looks at me unknowingly and says,"I've just decided to adopt an I don't care attitude about everything." How appropriate.
So now that he's laying down the hug would be awkward but ever the quick thinker, Halle came up with her own way. She asked me to pull Brad's shirt up like I was going to scratch his back and ever so discreetly block his view of the incoming wrath of Halle-which turned out to be a handful of gel toothpaste (again,not the kind I was imagining as it is a lot goopier and, well, disgusting) smeared all over his back. Gel toothpaste, by the way, is remarkably colder than you might think right out of the tube. Brad eventually catches his breath, finds out what has just happened to him, and asks Halle to get a wash rag to clean it off. I think he was envisioning a warm rag- but again- this would be wrong to assume. Halle throws, literally, an ice cold rag across his back. I really thought he was going to come up off the bed this time.
What is the point of this whole story? I guess the first lesson here would be- don't mess with Halle. Second- it's just a whole lot like life. The moment you decide nothing is going to bother you- something will come along to see if you really mean it.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Giants
Someone said today "When I stand among giants, I feel taller." I thought that was such a great statement. She was talking about surrounding yourself with people that are further along than you- that have something you want in your own life but haven't quite got yet. And I thought how often this has the opposite affect. When you are around people with more money- you get envious. More in shape- you get depressed. More knowledge- you feel foolish.
But when someone has more Jesus- that's a different story. I said more Jesus, though, not more religion. Religion is suffocating and oppressive and makes you feel guilty and worthless. But having more Jesus really just translates to having more freedom- and we always want more of that when we see it. We were created to be free- precisely why the Tree of Life was smack dab in the middle of the garden. The devil didn't put it there- God did. Because He knew if we couldn't choose, it wasn't really love. The whole basis of our life and relationship with Him is freedom- before us is life and death, blessing and curse- but it is always our choice.
And being around people that consistently choose life makes you want to choose it more for yourself. Because they don't choose Him out of obligation or guilt- they choose Him out of love. They realized that they were meant for freedom and He was the only One who loved them enough to give them theirs. So I will stand a little taller among the giants I am lucky enough to know.
But when someone has more Jesus- that's a different story. I said more Jesus, though, not more religion. Religion is suffocating and oppressive and makes you feel guilty and worthless. But having more Jesus really just translates to having more freedom- and we always want more of that when we see it. We were created to be free- precisely why the Tree of Life was smack dab in the middle of the garden. The devil didn't put it there- God did. Because He knew if we couldn't choose, it wasn't really love. The whole basis of our life and relationship with Him is freedom- before us is life and death, blessing and curse- but it is always our choice.
And being around people that consistently choose life makes you want to choose it more for yourself. Because they don't choose Him out of obligation or guilt- they choose Him out of love. They realized that they were meant for freedom and He was the only One who loved them enough to give them theirs. So I will stand a little taller among the giants I am lucky enough to know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)