Taste Good, Good Taste

Am I worth more than a taste?  Everything I know tells me yes.  Screams it.  I’m an educated woman.  I’ve lived over 54 years.  Why can’t I say no to the prospects of taste?  Why am I driven by my appetites?  Why do I give into the temptation of what tastes good instead of sticking to what I know is good for me?

I don’t like thinking that I am weak—pathetically weak.  I am Goliath when there’s no food in front of me, but it all fades to fuss and bluster when I step before a buffet table covered with tasty morsels whose carb, fat, and calorie counts woo me into a submission that makes Samson look like an altar boy.  Where does my resolve go then?  What sucks out my brain leaving me alone with my voracious tongue and empty belly?

Are you ready for the oddest of confessions?  I have, and on more than one occasion, asked God to inspire someone to create a food replicator.  You know, like the one’s that were used on Star Trek.  I have pleaded with Him for a machine that could take spinach taste like peppermint bark over chocolate (think the current decadent Gerahdelli chocolate commercials) or prunes melt in your mouth like New York cheesecake.  Maybe He heard me, because now they’re finding ways to hide an extra serving of veggies in kids’ Beefaroni and apple juice.

It will probably come as no surprise to you that one of the most used metaphors in the Bible to make a spiritual point is food and eating.  In the Old Testament we are told to taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8).  Then in the New Testament, Jesus tells the disciples at the Last Supper to take the bread and cup for they are his broken body and spilt blood for them.  And as oft as they eat it they, and we are to remember Him.

In Psalm 42, the psalmist declares that his soul thirsts for God and yet goes on to say that his tears have been his food day and night.  Not a very satisfying diet, but I get it.  How many times have you stood at either the refrigerator or cupboard, door open, just staring?  Maybe, like me, you’re hoping that the perfect food choice will just jump out at you and take away that gnawing hunger that has a hold of your mouth.  In a fleeting attempt to quell the taste monster you grab something quick and snarf it down.  But it doesn’t slay the beast so in a few minutes you’re back searching.  This process can go on infinitely and leave you feeling completely unsatisfied.

Paul got this concept spiritually and describes in his speech in Acts 17.  In Athens Paul found himself surrounded by a religious people who were very spiritually hungry.  They had created numerous idols in an attempt to fill that internal void.  It should probably come as no surprise that there were even some Epicurean philosophers in the crowd (Known for “Eat, drink, for tomorrow we die” and their Epicurean delights).  You remember, this is the crowd who in an attempt to cover all their spiritual bases even erected a statue to the unknown God (vs. 23).

So my soul thirsts for God, but I give it a diet of tears.  What kind of sense does that make?  About as much as continuing to eat baby food when we become adults.  The writer of Hebrews points out how ridiculous that is.  The believers had reached the point where they should have moved on from the milk of infants to the solid food of the mature.  They should be craving this, Peter writes (1Peter 2:3) if in fact they have truly tasted that the Lord is good.  Baby food is bland, somewhat tasteless, lacks texture and variety.  There is no salt in baby food, no cayenne pepper.  You don’t see jars of Gerber General Tso’s chicken or Pizza Hut super supreme pizza.  Squash, pears, and mashed bananas, with milk or water to drink.  My soul thirsts for McDonald’s sweet tea or cafe latte from Starbucks, served up with a generous meal cooked by Food Network’s Bobby Flay, but I settle for Similac and strained sweet potatoes.

My soul knows what it wants and needs, but seems to lack the ability to shout loudly enough over my roaring appetites.  Jesus looked at the hungry crowds that followed him, heard their rumbling bellies and sensed their starving souls.  He told them that if they wanted to be filled, completely satiated like we will be after we plow through our Thanksgiving spreads, that they need to hunger and thirst after righteousness.  Later in that sermon, he tells them to not worry about what they will eat because God can and will feed them.  They knew it to, because they still told the stories of the daily manna and the quail flying into camp.  They knew that the Good Shepherd would provide for their every need.  And if I’ll get honest, close my mouth, and listen to my heart and not my tongue, I know it, too.  So do you.

The problem is that even though I know this, I’m not disciplined enough to live it.  My focus is off. Instead of eating to live, I live to eat.  God made food taste good and then gifted individuals who know how to bring out layers and layers of goodness.  I want the goodness.  And this becomes idolatry.  It’s not what God wants for me, not physically and definitely not spiritually.  It’s just as wrong to want the goodness of God, to crave the grace and blessings without hungering for the one gives those.  I’m not supposed to fill myself with the gifts.  I’m to hunger after the giver.

Jesus got this.  We find in John 4 Jesus has an encounter with the Woman at the Well.  Perhaps because they shouldn’t be talking at all, we find them talking in a kind of spiritual code, referring to water that will leave them never thirsty again.  When the disciples show up, they try to offer Jesus food and he tells them that he has food they don’t even know about.  They’re a bit miffed because they had just been to the local Kroger’s to get lunch.  Jesus tells them this: My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work (vs. 34).

I’m going to enjoy our family Thanksgiving feast tomorrow.  I will partake of the turkey, all the yummy sides, and finish it off with my mother-in-law’s delicious pecan pie.  I will count my blessings and return thanks.  And I will remember.  I will remember that this is just a meal.  It will fill my stomach and increase my fat cells, but for all the goodness, it is not my food.  For as much attention as I give this body of mine, the truth is: I am so much more than this body.  It will not last forever.  My soul, however, will, and it is my soul that I need to be much more intention about caring for and feeding because it is what matters the most to God.

Am I worth more than a taste?  God thinks so.  He invites me, and you, to taste and find his goodness.  He is so much better than the tears and bland baby food I have been trying to live on.  David writes, “How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” (Psalm 119:103)  His promise is to completely fill and satisfy if we will hunger and thirst after him.  No wonder Jesus taught his disciples to pray for daily bread.  We can be sure that it is a prayer that will be answered!

I will probably still struggle with feeding myself with things that are less than satisfying, physically and spiritually.  But hopefully I will get better at realizing when I need to be filling myself with more of Him.  Remember the prayer we prayed as children gathering at mealtime: God is great, and God is good.  And we thank him for our food.  Amen.  Maybe we were on the right track.  Maybe it’s still a good track to be on.  Amen and Amen!


Donuts or Honey?

I’m not sure whether God has an incredible sense of humor or just the most uncanny way of getting my attention, or both, but He did it again this morning in my quiet moments with Him.

It had been a rough morning.  Perhaps you have these kinds of mornings: I felt fat and ugly and I was contemplating just wearing a Snuggie (think weird looking blanket thing with sleeves).  I had made the mistake on this kind of morning of also stepping on the scales to check my weight.  What I saw was quite disheartening.  I have put back on  lmost all the weight I had proudly worked so hard to take off during the summer.  I was quickly sliding down a slippery slope into depression.  I began thinking that  I might need to stop at the grocery on the way to work and buy a big fat apple fritter to drowned my sorrows.

I didn’t stop.  I did find a pair of sweat pants that were baggy enough to hide in.  I got to work and while I was downing my egg sandwich on diet bread and dish of fruit, I decided to pull up a couple devotional readings.

The first devotional drew from Hebrews 6:1-2 and discussed how as believers we need to move from spiritual baby food to the meat of scripture so that we can grow strong in our faith.  The second one I pulled up was based on King David’s words in Psalms comparing the Word to the wonderful sweetness of honey.  Irony?  Coincidence?  I think not.  God knew what my heart needed.  And it sure wasn’t an apple fritter.

When I was losing the weight this summer I was being very intentional about my diet.  I counted everything and journaled each calorie, carb, and fat.  I was also exercising on a daily basis and in a variety of ways.  I felt good.  And I was starting to look better.  But I started to get lazy and I took my eyes off the prize.  I began to reward myself with the poisonous things that I had been cutting out of my diet.  Then right on schedule I developed plantar faceitus.  It became too painful to exercise.  I had some chest pains so llowed fear to park my bike.  Then I caught a cold that cut my breathing way back.  Of course I became depressed as I watched the numbers on the scale creep back up, but I kept telling myself I would get back to doing what I knew.  What I knew was that I knew better.

What I also knew is that what was happening to me physically mirrored what was also happening to me spiritually.  I carry my Bible and my journal with me everywhere, and I have great spiritual apps downloaded on my phone and wonderful sites constantly running on my Twitter feed. But having these things is not enough. Being satisfied with appearing pious is like spiritually drinking poison.

Thankfully I woke up feeling fat and ugly today or I might have continued drinking the poison and sliding down the slope.  Thankfully I have enough strength and desire right now to begin eating healthier, both physically and spiritually.  I’m probably going to have to endure a lecture from my doctor when I see her later this week.  I deserve it.  But I’m back on track.  My head and my heart feel like they’re reconnected again and I’ll be able to put into practice the things that I know to be good for me both physically and spiritually.

I’m not saying I won’t eat another donut, but I’m not going to be looking for one to solve my problems.  Hopefully with a more steady diet of the sweet honey of the Word, I’ll be better equipped to face the problems, avoid the poison, and live stronger with my God.  That’s my plan and I’m sticking to it. (honey, sticky, sticking to it…get it?)

It Said Pray

Something seemed to whisper in my ear that I should go home by a different route, but it was such a pretty day that I ignored the prompt and headed home the route I travel  daily and enjoy for it’s winding around town and by so many beautiful trees.  My smile faded as I pulled into a long line of cars traveling about 25mph (on a 55mph state route) following a huge piece of farm equipment lumbering down the road.  I was going nowhere fast.

Too merely say this was a huge piece of farm machinery barely describes the enormity.  Its right back tire was riding in the berm and took up the whole berm.  Its left back tire   riding on the center yellow line.  It’s not too surprising to come upon machinery on this road, and the sizes and speeds all vary.  Sometimes the slow down could also be a horse and buggy, in no hurry to get anywhere.  Perhaps my expectations were exactly what helped me to be more comfortable with slowing down and not wigging out about the delay.

Part of the delay, other than just snailing behind the bouncy mammoth on wheels, was that there is very little opportunity to pass on this stretch of road.  It is well traveled and there are very few sections where a brave soul can pass.   This afternoon there was no passing happening.  And the guy in front of me was fit to be tied.  His arms were flailing and he was jerking across the center line checking on whether he could pass.  This behavior was interspersed with long periods of laying on his horn.  I must confess that the longer I followed him the more I found myself laughing at his exasperation.  I might have had a bit more compassion, but he had already passed up three opportunities to turn  off and thereby get around the frustration.

I had been keeping my distance from the erratic driver in front of me and then I noticed a small green oval sticker on the back of car.  I thought I was reading it right, but wanted to be sure so I eased a little closer.  Sure enough.  The sticker contained one word: Pray.  It hit me so funny at first that I busted into a full out laugh. Really?  Hey buddy, did you forget your faith?  Your fickleness is showing, and it’s not becoming of your witness.

And then I got one of those nudges from the Spirit.  You know the kind.  It sounds very much like your mother, or teacher.  It starts simply with a throat clearing—just enough to get your attention, that is if you’re paying attention. That’s always followed by The Look.  Now, I’m not sure how the Spirit manages to give a look, but the feeling is just the same. I was caught and I knew it.

So I did the one thing I probably should have done to begin with, the one thing that I was being passively asked to do all along: I prayed.  I prayed that the driver would be safe.  I prayed that other drivers would drive safely and intelligently also.  Then I asked for forgiveness.  How dare I question this guy’s faith?  In my attitude I threw a stone when I had no right.  My fickleness hangs out way more than I care to admit. Someone might mistake me for Peter’s little sister.  I guess that’s why I never put any Christian symbols or stickers on my car.  Maybe that’s why I laughed so hard and quick.  That guy’s behavior was too familiar.  Oh, sure, I was cruising that afternoon, peaceful and unruffled, but it was because I had nowhere special to be.  What if I had been late for something very important?

I think if I were to have a pray sticker on my car, it would be better for me if I put it on the dashboard, not the bumper.  It’s on my list now to get this week.  I wonder if I could find one that said, Pray first,  Laugh later.  I’ll be looking!

On Prisoners and Freedom–When will we be restored?

(I was reading over some “old” writing of mine and this one asked to be published…perhaps it is a chairos thing….)

Luke gives us a picture of Jesus’ early preaching/teaching ministry. In it Jesus appears to be clearly stating his purpose as he unfolds the words of the prophet. We find it in Luke 4:16-21:

16He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. And he stood up to read. 17The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:
18″The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to release the oppressed, 1
9to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”[a]
20Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, 21and he began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” (NIV)

The phrase that grabbed my attention was in verse 18. Jesus tells them in verse 21 that today that scripture is fulfilled in their hearing, so it seems to me that he is saying that God sent him to proclaim freedom for the prisoners.

I remember when I met with my lawyer for the first time. He cautioned me in my zeal to be honest. He recounted that many believers who found themselves on the wrong side of the law, who thought that by telling the truth they would be set free from their consequences. I don’t find that in scripture. My understanding of many texts throughout the Bible portrays a loving God who doesn’t remove the consequences (just take a look at David who lost his son) but who promises to walk with us through the consequences even to restoration (see Micah 7: I will be patient as the Lord punishes me, for I have sinned against him…The Lord will bring me out of my darkness into the light and I will see his righteousness.).

What then is this freedom of which Jesus spoke and the prophet wrote? Let me first begin by pointing out how important this message must have been both to the heart of God and the ministry of Jesus: this is his first recorded message. Position is a powerful indicator of the importance of a topic. This passage is heart and soul to everything that Jesus would be about.

With that in mind, I believe that the message was to the prisoners. Unfortunately, as with many of the things that Jesus taught, I believe that it was highly likely that Jesus was misunderstood. To a people who had known captivity and injustice this was a message of physical and national redemption. I don’t, however, believe that was the emphasis Jesus wanted to make. I believe that the freedom was not so much freedom from something as much as it was freedom within it. There would not be the removal of consequences, but there definitely was promised the grace to endure and actually be able to count it all joy.

I’m finding that one of the toughest places for a prisoner to find freedom is freedom from judgment. No matter how much time one has done in jail or prison or on paper, there will be those who feel it is never enough. And that leads me to the second audience for Jesus’ message: those who have never broken the law.

I remember the interview I had for my present position. One of the board members asked me when I had experienced restoration. In part, it depends on where I am. With my family, it feels complete. Among my closest friends it is complete. But it is in the church where I still struggle to feel forgiveness. It is in the church where I feel the oppressiveness of judgment. It is in the church where I feel the least free.

Now, please let me hasten to say that there are pockets of loving, accepting, and forgiving people in the church. They have ministered abundant grace to my aching heart and reached out in love and forgiveness. But this experience has not been across the board. And quite honestly, I don’t expect it to be. That’s why I believe that Jesus’ message is twofold. First, I can’t wait to find freedom from my circumstances. There will be people who feel totally justified in their daily role of judge and jury (and sometimes executioner). I have to accept them and accept the freedom in my circumstances that Jesus offers.

But I also believe that Jesus is challenging those who have stood in judgment and continued to hold crime against a person, never allowing for repentance or restoration. His challenge is that they should bring freedom to the prisoner as well. If a person expresses genuine remorse and repentance, restoration should follow.

Jesus’ words are life-giving to those who have been through poverty, prison, illness, and oppression, but the joy is short-lived if we aren’t lovingly restoring the wayward back into life and fellowship. Remember, it isn’t much further into His ministry that Jesus makes it quite clear that with the same measure of mercy and forgiveness we offer to others we ourselves will be judged.

(This is just a start…but I wanted to put the thoughts out there.)
More thoughts…

Let’s consider a few biblical examples.  Let’s start with Paul, or Saul as he was still known.  He is a murderer and an all out zealot to squelch this new band of believers.  God has other plans and there on the Damascus road Saul experiences God in a whole new way.  His life will never be the same.  The problem was: who does he tell and how?  No one is going to believe him.  How will he ever experience the full freedom of following Christ and answering his calling if he constantly is judged for who he was?  What if Barnabas had never stood up for him and in doing so set him free to serve?

Caught Again

Earlier in this week a friend and I were having a discussion that came from a post she made on Facebook.  She had posted a cute pic with a saying that basically was “grace isn’t just a short prayer before dinner.”  It caused quite a stir among her friends.  Oddly, our conversation wasn’t about the theological concept or amazing experience of grace but about praying before meals.  She was really clear that she felt it was just a public show, whereas I shared that for me it meant more.  It has always been about knowing I needed to be grateful for the blessing of another meal, for being thankful that I have never really had to go without or wonder when I would eat next.  It has also been about being committed to saying thanks no matter where, no matter when.  We waded through our mutual frustration with those who bow and pray loud to draw attention  (The whole discussion started because we were translating the passage from Matthew’s sermon on the mount of praying in secret.) and finally came to agreement that conviction and commitment, matters of the heart, were what really counted.

So it caused me no small amount of giggling at myself this morning at breakfast when I quickly nabbed  a forkful of fried potatoes off my husband’s plate before we said grace.  I had shoved the decadent bite into my mouth and was ohing and ahing while he just sat there in disbelief.  As I recovered from my reverie I was immediately aware that I acted like a greedy child, accepting the gift without saying thanks.  The potatoes went down hard.  My husband reached for my hand and I bowed my head and without hesitation thanked God for the amazingly wonderful potatoes, and the special blessing of having time to enjoy the company of my husband on an early Saturday morning.  I asked Him to bless the bounty and make our witness a blessing unto Him. Fortunately, my childish haste and afterthought of a prayer did not ruin the rest of the meal.

Someone once asked me to consider my life and what it would be liked if God removed all the things I failed to thank Him for.  I didn’t even care for the possibility.  Two things became the outcomes of this exercise in awareness.  First, I was overcome with how blessed I am.  If I truly sat to count my blessings nothing else would be accomplished in my day.  Second, I don’t take those blessings for granted.  I live gratefully.  Paul’s words to the Philippians resonate in my the depths of my heart: I know what it is like to have much and I know what it’s like to have everything taken away (thankfully only temporarily) and I have learned and continue to learn how to be content no matter what situation I find myself in (see Philippians 4:10-11ish).

One of the special people I have connected with online (and look forward to meeting in person someday) has been writing a daily gratitude.  I came three days late to the process, but have been enjoying verbalizing a gratitude each day.  (I’ve been posting these on my twitter feed.)  Today I am thankful for the ability to enjoy good food.  When I think over the amazing meals that I have had through my life, I am just overcome with how blessed I truly am.  I love yummy food.  And God has gifted people to bless me and my palate.  I grew up in household where meals were plain, simple, literally out of a box, and repeated often.  There were no baked goods, unless we were at a grandmas’ house.  It wasn’t until I got married that my cheftastic husband opened the culinary world to me and for nearly 33 years I have revelled in it!

I’m glad God knows I’m abundantly thankful, but I don’t ever want to take that for granted.  I’ll try not to be greedy, but I can’t promise that there won’t be anymore prayers that thank Him right in the middle of that first fantastic bite.  How about you?  How’s your grateful meter reading today?

Consuming Fire

Reflection October 10, 2011

Verse: Hebrews 12:29  Our God is a consuming fire.

The key note or theme to our pastor’s message yesterday morning was to “fan the flame.”  How interesting that today I again find myself considering fire.

I spent a lot of time this past weekend shopping.  My husband and I celebrate the anniversary of our first meeting on October 8.  He usually does the planning, but left that to me this year.  So, I planned our time around several of the things we enjoy doing: eating good food, shopping, enjoying a scenic drive, and singing.  We had a very special time together.

On Saturday our shopping took us to Amish country.  There were so many beautiful things, but reflecting back, I realize that almost all of it was decoration.  Very little was functional or necessary.  It was all about outward adornment or display.  Chotzkies and gewgaws, as my aunt would call them.  How much of that does one really need?

Not long ago I was sitting in my living room with my grandson and he asked me why I had so much stuff?  I’m sure his little mind was comparing my overdecorated home to his where his mother operates on the “less is better” philosophy.  I really didn’t have an answer for him.  What I do know is that I need very little.  It reminded me of the Value Clarification exercise I did as a teenager.  We were told that our house was burning down and we were only allowed to grab three items to save from the fire (not including people or pets)–what would we grab?

God is a consuming fire.  Are we grabbing at the things of life?  Are we trying to protect pieces or parts of our lives from Him, telling Him they are off limits?  What do we think we can’t live without?

As I meditated on God as a consuming fire, I began to see some things.  First, a consuming fire, by its very nature, takes everything.  A consuming fire is not controllable.  I pictured several fires where the fire fighters stated that they knew they couldn’t stop the burning, and felt helpless to even contain it.  I also pictured many of the recent fires across our country that were unquenchable.  Water and chemicals were poured on in massive amounts, but those tending the fire could only wait for it to burn itself out.  Finally, the result of the fire was purifying, leaving room for  a fresh start.

Is God a consuming fire in my life, in yours?  Are there things we are trying to withhold from Him, or does he consume us completely?  Do we allow Him free rein, or are we trying to control Him?  How foolish does that even sound: me control God?  Have we tried to put out the unquenchable consuming fire?  Have we tried to tell God that we’ve had enough?  Would we propose to tell God how to cleanse our lives?  Peter tried when Jesus wanted to wash his feet–it didn’t work then, it won’t work now.

The verse just prior to the one we’ve considered here tells us that God is giving us a Kingdom “that cannot be destroyed, therefore let us be thankful and please Him by worshipping him with fear and awe.”

My prayer is that I would surrender to the consuming fire and find freedom and joy in receiving that which cannot be destroyed from the one who really knows what I need.  Will pray that with me?




I peeked in on my little lady around 10:30AM.  She’s been sleeping later and later.  But this time I found her sitting on the edge of her bed looking very confused.  I checked back in five minutes and she was still there.  Five minutes later I found that she had moved to her comfy chair beside her bed.

She still looked puzzled, so I asked her if she was okay.  The conversation was a bit difficult because she hadn’t put in her hearing aids yet. She quickly held out her hand, as if to explain her confusion and sort of mumbled, “I lost my tooth.”  There in her hand was a bridge of two teeth, screws protruding.  She took it back from me and fitted it back into her mouth.

I left the room and went to call one of the daughters.  I knew that they several of them would have gathered for dinner the night before and probably knew something about the “loose” tooth.  Sure enough, the bridge had come loose and someone was going to be calling the dentist.  She just didn’t know who.  She would have to get back to me.

It was now time for lunch.  I carefully selected a meal that wasn’t crunchy, in hopes of not irritating the now gaping area of her gum.  Part way through the meal, she fiddled with the bridge and it came out.  Still with no hearing aids in, I tried to explain that it had come loose and we were trying to get her into the dentist.  She put the bridge in her now empty med cup.

What happened next brought tears to my eyes.  As she ate, right after each bite, she would look down at the cup and puzzlement would come across her face as she tried to figure out why those teeth were in that little cup.  With every bite.  After two more tries at explaining, I simply watched as the paiful process continued through the remainder of the meal.

My heart just ached for her and her inability to recall.  How horrifyingly sad.  When we were done eating I scooped the cup up with the rest of her dishes, hoping that perhaps if she didn’t see the teeth, she wouldn’t be so confused.  I was wrong.  After we ate she returned to her room and her comfy chair and I found her there three, maybe four times, digging at the empty spot.  “I guess I lost a tooth,” she finally said to me one time when I checked on her.

I was still feeling the sadness when my daughter stopped by with my 5 year old grandson.  We don’t often see them on Mondays, since it’s her day off, but he needed to wrestle with Pepa.  Boys are like that sometimes.

In the middle of the tickle fest, Pepa stopped and asked Asher how his tooth was.  Asher, who just recently started kindergarten, has his very first loose tooth.  Just last week he bounded out of the school building when I picked him up, and his very first words were the excited declaration regarding this new milestone in his very young life.  He fiddled with it all evening.  The way he was working it, I thought I’d be hunting down dollars for the Tooth Fairy’s first arrival.  But he didn’t lose it then, and it was going anywhere tonight–even with all the rough housing with Pepa.

After they left and Pepa was in bed, I was alone with my thoughts of the day and the image of bookends came to mind.  On the one hand, I experience the exuberance of life through the energy and excitement of my grandson, and on the other, the sad reality of life quickly slipping away both in time and memory, while I live somewhere in the middle.

Sometimes it seems hard to live in the middle.  There is much press and encouragement to live in the moment, being very present in the here and now.  My struggle comes as the reality of being closer to the end than the beginning presses in on me.  I don’t have an official “bucket list,” but there are things I still think I’d like to do, while not forgetting the precious things I’ve experienced.  It all gets my head to spinning.

I know this for sure: I don’t want to lose touch with either!  My prayer today is: Teach me to count my days that I may gain a wise heart (paraphrase of Psalm 90:12, NRSV).

I looked this verse up in several translations, and the New Living Translation really helped me focus my thoughts: “Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.”  Life is short, and often seems to go by so quickly.  I need a wise heart as I face all the phases: beginning, middle, and end.




Howdy, Neighbor.


Beginning of the week.

Opportunity to put yesterday’s message into practice out where I work and associate with others.

Do I even remember yesterday’s message?

Yes.  Asking the wrong question.

Who is my neighbor?

I have heard, and even said myself, that there are no stupid questions.  Yesterday the speaker at my corporate worship service reminded me of that as he brought a message about “The Good Samaritan.”  He pointed out that the teacher of the law who approached Jesus to check out whether he was on track with his doctrine and teaching asked a wrong question.  Put more clearly, he asked a question with a wrong motive.  While asking “who is my neighbor” might seem an innocent and obvious question, it is more likely that he was really wanting to know: who isn’t my neighbor?  Who don’t I have to care about?  Is there anyone that I can cross off my list?  Anyone I can ignore?  Anyone I am not responsible for?  Anyone I don’t have to love?  Anyone I don’t have to forgive?

And I believe Jesus would say, “No.”  I believe that Jesus would wish that we would look out over the multitudes and be moved with compassion, just as he was.

I just recently began a study of the Sermon on the Mount.  Matthew records that when Jesus saw the crowds he went up the mountain with his disciples, he sat down, and he began to teach.  The teaching that follows begins with what we commonly refer to as The Beatitudes.  Reading through this list of unusual attributes and their promised blessing and grace, it occurred to me that quite possibly Jesus came up with each of these as his eyes scanned the crowd.  He saw a clearly destitute family, devoid of earthly treasures eagerly seeking to hear his teaching.  He saw the tears of a woman recently widowed and alone.  He saw the kindness of men as they helped a cripple move closer so he could hear and not be trampled on by the crowd.  He saw a man seeking to settle a dispute between two others.  He looked out at the earnest and eager ones who had left so much behind to follow him unreservedly.  And his heart ached because he knew the road they chose in following him would not be easy but would be fraught with chastisement, persecution, and for many death.

When we walk through Walmart do we see our neighbors or just people out to steal our bargain or place in the shortest and fastest checkout lane?  How quickly do we judge the driver who cuts us off without considering what tragedy he or she may be facing?  As we’re checking out at the grocery do we click our tongues when the woman in front of us with four stair-step children pulls out her WIC card or foodstamps?  When we see someone with a different skin tone, speaking a different language, wearing foreign garb or head coverings do we give them a wide berth and hold tighter to our purses and children?

Really, who isn’t my neighbor?

If there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.  Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.  Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.  Let this same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,  (Philippians 2:1-5, NRSV)

Make Every Effort

This week I led a midweek Bible study at church.  My text was 2 Peter 1:3-11:

3 His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 4Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.

5 For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; 6 and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; 7 and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. 8 For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.

10 Therefore, my brothers and sisters,[a] make every effort to confirm your calling and election. For if you do these things, you will never stumble, 11 and you will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

The eleven of us gathered had a good time looking at the verses and discussing their meaning, and how to apply them to our lives.  Early in our conversation one of the men present made a reference to the older portion of the population in the congregation.  He referred them to the “experienced” members.  I liked it.

So there I was, surrounded by several of the “experienced” members of the congregation, talking to them about “making every effort.”  How crazy was that?  I’m not sure I would be able to add up all their combined years of following the Lord.  They were at a phase in their lives when perhaps they could rest in their walk.  And then it hit me: being there was part of their making every effort.  One woman had a walker and two others came in with canes, but there was no place they would rather be.  They are living proof that the pursuit of knowledge and a deeper relationship with God is life-long, and the process is well-worth it.

Being there with them really started me thinking about what I am doing.  I found myself taking stock of my effort level.  I have a lot of room for improvement.  Some of the holiness people I used to know made reference to how we are “saved, sanctified, and on our way to heaven,” but their lives appeared to be more “saved, sanctified, and satisfied.”  I pray that God never lets me get satisfied.  Like Paul, I want to press on (Phil. 3: 13).  How about you?

I’m Here!

(Now that kind of entrance should be sort of sing-songy, and since it’s me, probably accompianied by a kind of Dick VanDyke entrance-picture the Mary Tyler Moore show…hopefully you’re old enough to remember or get oldy reruns on one of your cable networks.)

I feel like a little kid with a brand new box of crayons: overwhelmed by all the possibilities.  What shall I draw?  What colors shall I use?  Will it be a good picture?  What happens if no one sees it?  Or worse, no one likes it?

I’m a simple writer.  I tend to see God in the ordinary, and point him out to others.  I’m not very deep.  I’ve been told I’m pretty naïve.  Oddly, I’m really okay with that.  I don’t pontificate.  I ponder.  Sometimes I wonder.  And true to my ADD, I think out loud–or in this case through my fingers.

Hopefully as we journey together we’ll into new areas of understanding, but also into the big expanse of awe!


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