Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Santa Syndrome



We were really good at being Santa Claus for our kids. Really good at it. Filled the stockings on Christmas Eve with little toys, candy and goodies. Wrapped some of their presents, but always kept aside some of the bigger, better ones...because Santa brought those. Baked cookies with them, then set some out for the fat guy in the red suit to enjoy. Yeah, those were good times and often I miss them.

I've often wondered if playing Santa Claus ruined them for believing in God? I mean, we basically lied to them at an impressionable time of their lives. We tried to convince them that Santa was real, when all along WE were really playing Santa Claus...working behind the scenes, helping Santa out. I often wish we had let them in on the fun, so they would understand it was all just pretend.

And now I wonder if the whole "helping Santa out" scenario has stuck with us. Maybe we have transferred our behind-the-scenes Santa impersonation to a behind-the scenes God impersonation.

But God IS real. He doesn't need us to help Him out by working behind the scenes. If we believe it, then why do we continue to try "play God" with our grown up children? We try to rescue them and protect them, and somehow wrap life up in a perfect gift for them. If there is a problem...we try to fix it...still working hard to make "Christmas" happen for them.

Short of dressing up in a red suit, we have become their Santa-gods.

Have you been been stuck in this place? Maybe it's time to dust off the soot and allow God to take over, with the perfect gifts only He can give. You can trust Him. He is working behind the scenes with your kids. 
Relax, put your feet up...have a cookie. He's got it covered. Merry Christmas!

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Knock It Off!!!





As a mother, there is nothing that brings more grief to my heart than to hear my children fighting. It doesn't happen often, but when it does it really hurts my parent heart. Because when all is said and done, no matter what else goes wrong in my family, there has always been an underlying love and respect for one another that brings me peace. I have always known that ultimately, we have each others backs. I believe that's kind of the whole point of relationship. To get past our differences, unified in our humanity...we're family.

When they were little, I used to sit my kids on the couch when they were fighting, until they could get along and be nice to each other. It's a bit more complicated now that we're all adults. As a parent, I can see both sides. I know the hearts involved. I know the wounds, the pain, and the back stories. So from this perspective, I can see they each have valid points. I can see why both sides believe they are right.

There is currently a rift in my family, and it hurts. Some days I just want to get them all in a room and yell "Knock it off!!!" like I did when they were young and fighting over a toy. While I know that this division in my family won't last forever, I have struggled with a deep grief that seems to be disproportionate to what is going with us. And I have been asking God why...I mean, we have been through worse. Much worse. Yet, this grief seems to have a grip on my heart.

Then this morning, I woke up feeling a deeper kind of sadness. I was thinking how sad our Father in Heaven must feel over his children. Because His kids are fighting. And it's getting ugly.

You see, I don't mind if my kids argue over music, or movies, or any other differences of opinion they may have. But if I heard any one of them calling another horrible names, attacking their character, or questioning their humanity...making fun of each other...or accusing each other to be some sort of devil...well, that would be crossing a line. And that's a line that brothers should never cross. Ever. 

And we do it all the time. 

Almost every post on social media that has to do with politics has crossed that line. I have Facebook friends from all political parties and walks of life. (if you don't, you really need to broaden your existence) And from what I read, each side makes valid points. Each side is passionate and compassionate about right things. But the fighting on each side has gotten ugly.
And God sees it all. He sees every heart, and every fear, and every passion. And while I don't believe He expects His children to agree on everything, I do believe He desires us to act respectfully toward each other.

Each time we de-humanize those with whom we disagree, we have turned our backs on the One who created us all in His image. Every time we enter into slander, name-calling, and accusation, we are agreeing with the accuser. The enemy of Love. The very one we are supposed to be unified against.

My brothers and sisters, can we choose to disagree while remaining dignified? Can we stay above all of the petty name-calling and try to find a common ground?
Really, how can we come before God and pray in agreement with Him when there is so much hate and animosity in our hearts against His other kids? Will He answer our prayers?
Believe me, He isn't standing with His arm around your shoulder, taking your side against your brother! He isn't saying "You're right, he's wrong, I love you more, and I can't stand him" any more than I could do that with my own kids.

No, a parent is a parent, and a parent's love stretches beyond every argument and difference. A parent's love hurts when it's kids are being awful to each other.

I can hear God saying to us today,  "KNOCK IT OFF!!" 

Ugh. I'm sorry, Dad. Teach me how to fight a good fight. Teach me to play well with others. Remind me that we are all Your kids, none of us completely right or completely wrong. And I promise to disagree with dignity. And I'll stop the hateful name-calling...I will even take a time out on the couch if I need it. Oh, and thanks for never taking sides against me.

Monday, November 16, 2015

Entrenched





I have been being lovingly corrected by God this morning. He is always so gentle, and his correction never feels like punishment. It is more like He reminds me who I am, who He is, and steers me back in the right direction.

I left my post yesterday. I allowed fear and anger to come in and threaten to replace the love, grace and peace that God has worked out in me over the past almost 30 years. And because I was in a place of fear, I shared something on Facebook that I shouldn't have...because it wasn't for me to post. I don't even know who edited the video, or what their agenda is. Because, let's face it, everything that we view on TV or other online sources are not simply "facts"...they are all presented by flawed  human beings who have their own fears and angry places...some that have evolved into hatred. These videos or articles are supposed to convince us of a certain view or stance or "side" in this war we have been dropped into.
But I'm not talking about the war between religious zealots and the rest of us. I am talking about the battle called "life"...this battlefield where we live in the trenches every day of our lives.

My biggest battle is to continue to allow God to speak through me, and use me, as he designed. And I know my place in this battle. My post, the character of God that I have been given to share with others and to re-present is His love, grace, and goodness. That is my message. The Bible talks about how we are "living epistles" or letters...love letters to God and about God. So when I get caught up in anything fearful, or propaganda-ish, or hateful...well, I have strayed from my original God-design. I don't ever want to be "entrenched" in those things.

I have received His gentle correction. If you find that you have strayed...it is easy to get back on track. 
I am going to spend even more time in the presence of love, and allow the One who holds it all to remind me that He's got this. I am committed to staying in touch with the life-giving Spirit who speaks of grace and love and goodness and kindness and faithfulness and joy. I am going to be less about "world news" and more about the Good News. Because the battlefield is right here, every day. And we battle not against flesh and blood. Remember? Know your place, fellow warriors. Stay there. Don't stray from your post, as I did mine.

We are all called into this battle...the battle of life! We each have a place in the trenches. But remember how we fight. Don't allow fear or hatred to rear their ugly heads. Let's get back on our knees...keeping our heads down so we don't get them blown off. There is safety in this place.

Now let the Commander of the army come...

And it came to pass, when Joshua was by Jericho, that he lifted his eyes and looked, and behold, a Man stood opposite him with His sword drawn in His hand. And Joshua went to Him and said to Him, “Are You for us or for our adversaries?”
So He said, “No, but as Commander of the army of the Lord I have now come.”



Wednesday, November 11, 2015

A Book?

I was pondering with God the other day, and realized that I've lived through a lot. Sort of like I have lived a bunch of different lives. There was my young hanging-out-with-the-rich-and-famous life. Then the farm years with all of the animal stories. And let's not forget my more recent living-in-an-RV adventures. Yep, I have a lot of stories.

Having just gone back through some old blog posts and letters, and because I am a writer (there, I said it for the first time), I was thinking about how I would love to publish a book of short stories, just a few pages each...to leave behind for my grandkids. So they would know me. Sort of a recap of the most interesting times of my life. I mean, they know me...but I would love for them and their children to really know me, and what better way than through personal stories...little snippets of my life?

So, I'm talking to God and telling him, "I think I wanna do this. I want to compile these stories and share with them who I am. In a book. Yeah. A book of stories. That would be cool.  Don't you think that's a good idea?"

And He said "Yes I do!" Then in His perfect comedic timing He said, "You know...I did that myself." (smile)

Oh my gosh!! Yes you did!!! (laughter)

We're funny, huh God?

"Yes, my dear. We are delightful."

He totally gets me.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Betrayal


It happened again. Love came around to bite me in the butt. At least it felt like it.

You know the feeling, that horrible moment when you realize that you trusted someone only to find out you'd been duped. Fooled again by their lies and deceit. Manipulated. You played right into the hands of betrayal...again.

This time, well this time was not as harsh. This time I was able to recover within hours instead of days or even weeks. This time I remembered. I remembered that time...that beautiful time when God spoke to me...powerful words that wiped out the aftermath of betrayal.

I remember it so clearly. Sitting in the hot tub...soaking in the hot water, face wet with tears. I was railing at God, "How could I be so stupid? Why did You let me believe it? Why didn't You tell me it was all lies? I usually have discernment, where was it this time? When will I learn? I am just so angry with myself, and with You!!! I should have known better than to trust again! I feel like a fool..."

"Love is nothing to be ashamed of."

It was as clear as I have ever heard His voice...that voice that pierces my heart...now spoke to me so gently.

I wept more tears, but now they were different. No longer was I crying from shame. No longer did I feel so foolish or deceived. All anger was diffused. I felt the warmth of His love...bypassing the warmth of the spa.

I don't have to feel ashamed for believing the best about someone! That is exactly what love does! And love is who God is, and He is working love out in me...and in all humanity. And I get to be a part of that. I get to keep my heart open, and pour love upon everyone I meet...while He protects my heart from being completely broken when trampled upon...because I trust Him! Betrayal, where is your sting?

Are you feeling betrayed? Have you been lied to by someone you love? The wound of betrayal is a deep wound. Often our response is to fight back, or retreat. Either response is unproductive, really.

Don't close yourself off from love. Don't allow betrayal to win. Do you want to really get revenge on betrayal?

Stand tall in love! Don't cower, don't be ashamed, and don't be afraid to love again. Ever.

Stand in the power of these words:

Love is patient; love is kind. 

Love is nothing to be ashamed of.  

 

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Saving Face

We sing songs about it, "Show Me Your Face, Lord" and we cry out, "I wanna see Your face!! Jesus!!!" And I always wondered why I don't see it? Why don't I see his face? Still, I continued to ask. What was I expecting to happen? What are you expecting to happen? I was expecting to have the face of Jesus suddenly appear to me, so that I would know what he looks like. That is exactly what I thought would happen. And, it was exactly what I thought I wanted. But it isn't exactly what did happen.

I know many people who have seen what Jesus looks like. To them, anyway. And they can describe his face. And that is way cool. And I am sure open to having that experience myself (are you listening to me, Lord?) But...what is actually happening and how he is actually answering my prayer is way different. And I think it is way more needed than a close up on his beard. So, I will share. Because I believe it might be helpful in your quest.

Even though I haven't actually had a vision of him, I recently realized that I now see him. And seeing him has changed my life. I see him in situations that I never saw him in before! I see him in people that I never saw him in before! I see him everywhere! (Not like I-see-dead-people see him.) I just see him. Better yet, I notice him. Because he really was always there. I just didn't notice him before. I was so busy being frustrated with how "not there" he seemed to be. People I love who weren't living as I think they should be living would frustrate me, because I couldn't see him. But now I do. Now I see that he is there, in those lives, orchestrating love, and joy, and moments of wonder...the very things that he orchestrated in my life before I knew him. Before I saw him!!!




In painful and awful situations, I see him! I can now recognize the strange ways that he is present. I am able to see him...even if it seems dark and hopeless. He always shows up. And now that I know what he looks like, I  know that he is beautiful. Even though I have never actually "seen" his face. (If I did see his face, I am not sure that it would be the kind of beautiful like it is in paintings...so handsome with his long flowing hair and Birkenstocks.) Now that I see him, I see how amazing he is at working things out for good. I see the wonder of him in us...in our perseverance in the face of adversity...in the touch of a hand...in laughter...in grief...in birth...in death...in sickness and health...in sun and rain...in frustrating moments when I can't breathe and I am not sure if my broken heart can ever mend...I SEE HIM. And, because my eyes have been opened to him, and because I know how he looks...I am forever changed.

So if you are where I was, praying and asking to see the face of Jesus...trust and know that your prayer will be answered. You just may not see his face in the way you imagine. But once you learn what he looks like, you will never again doubt that he is there...and here. Always.

Friends, he truly is beautiful. And once you see his face, you can face...anything. 

Friday, October 9, 2015

The Line


God is our defender,
But we really don't believe it as we
stand in line...to buy a gun...
To defend ourselves.

We say we know the truth
As we turn our cheek to His command
To turn our cheek to our enemies
And take His hand.

Reading that He came in peace
To show us how to live a different way.
While we worship war,
And believe our enemies must pay.

He came to set us free!
There's a line between freedom and hypocrisy, I see.
Between justice that demands payment,
And a Father who requires trust
Because His Son...paid...it all.

But we'll just go on, shouting "Heaven is real!"
While we cower behind our guns,
Protecting this life at any cost.
Because we're afraid to die...are we still lost?

There's a fine line between righteous anger and fear
And that line is near...right here.
But like yellow tape surrounding a crime scene,
It's a line I am unwilling to cross.
Because...my line is...the Cross.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

A Thigh Sigh...






It has happened. I knew this dreaded day would come. I was getting dressed before my morning walk, and the sun must have been coming in the window just right, because I looked down and saw (gasp!!!) my thighs are sagging!!! SAGGING!!! I have old lady thighs!! How did this happen? I walk every day and thought I would avoid such signs of aging. I mean, I eat well...exercise...I'm SUPPOSED to last forever!

OK, calm down. Breathe. You can deal with this. (I say to myself as I'm lifting up on my skin to see how to fix it maybe support hose or rubber bands would help?)

I remember years ago, probably 10 years at least, I heard someone say she no longer wore sleeveless tops. I asked why? She replied that their arms were old. OLD? How do your arms get old? And even if they do, aren't you hot in long-sleeves? It's gotta be 90 degrees out here!! Wait, are we supposed to stop being comfortable because our old arms might offend someone? Why do old arms offend? Oh well, I took it in and stopped wearing sleeveless tops. For about a year, maybe two, until I decided I was too damned hot to care. I do remember when the saggy skin started to appear under my arms, but if I keep them down I can easily pretend it doesn't exist.

The thing I find so disturbing is that I don't notice or care what other women in their various stages of weight or aging look like. I truly think women are beautiful! And it is my deepest desire to see all women set free in their beauty and comfortable in their skin...sagging or firm. Yet the changes in my own body are...a bit unnerving.

Still, I am determined to keep blazing on this trail...this new territory where the years of my future are less than the years of my past. I want to age gracefully...and by that I don't mean that I want to look younger than my years. I mean I want to show the daughters in my life, and particularly my granddaughter some day, that aging isn't scary. I want them to know that beauty truly does come from within and can shine just as brightly from a saggy and wrinkled body. When the world is bombarding them with anti-aging messages and distorted and fake images of perfection, I want them to see how wonderful growing old can be.

So, I will bravely push on...in sleeveless tops when it's hot out...even flaunting my saggy thighs in a swimsuit. I refuse to succumb to peer pressure at my age. Life is way too short and beauty too complex to be defined by a magazine cover. Come on, saggy thighs...we're going for a walk!

Monday, September 14, 2015

The Void

I wish I could talk to you. But when things aren't good you disappear. Not physically, although that happens too sometimes. It's the void, this blackness that you seem to fall into. I feel it. I sense it. Is it shame that pulls you in and holds you there?

I wish I could tell you that I know. Even though I don't know, I know. I may not have details...but my heart...always...knows. I don't even want the details. No, they wouldn't help anything. They are always the same, really. Pain. Injuries. Setbacks. Lies...oh the lies. I hate the lies the most! Lies hurt. Lies steal from relationships in ways nothing else can. No distance is further than the distance between two hearts with a lie...that lies...in between.

Why can't you reach out, come clean, admit when you've fallen? Do you think you are protecting us? This is not protection. There is no protection. There is no safety in the void of not knowing. We see it in the eyes of those around you. Other loved ones who know the truth...know the gory details. Veiled eyes. "Please don't ask" eyes. We don't ask. They don't tell. But we know.

So...we go on...avoiding the void...dancing around it. Dancing the dance. Hoping the hope. Believing love is strong enough to pull you up out of that dark place of stumbling, falling frustration. We wait...we breathe, or try to. We try not to let the void seep into our lives and into our love.

But sometimes...I'm just too tired to dance...

Friday, September 11, 2015

Distortion





Sometimes I put my contacts in the wrong eyes. I put the left one in my right eye, and the right one in my left eye. I have made this mistake for so long now, that I don't know any more which way is correct. How can I see? Well, that's the thing. I can see. I am probably not seeing well, but I can see. Things are distorted, and I may even feel dizzy. But it seems right, at first. And when I reverse them it always looks strange at first too. Which is why I cannot figure out which way is correct. And it makes me feel dumb.

I realize that I spend a lot of time (waste a lot of time) feeling dumb. Beating myself up. Calling myself "dork" and "lame" and "clumsy". The other night I was loading a glass into the dishwasher...one of my favorite glasses that I love to drink out of that I got at IKEA and why didn't I buy more than two of them? I hit it on the counter top and it shattered. Into the dishwasher. And I was so mad at myself. How stupid could I be? I'm such an idiot!!!

Why is that always my first reaction?

God is talking to me a lot lately about loving myself better. It all boils down to grace. I have grace (for the most part) for other people. When they do dumb things, I am right there to tell them it's no big deal. I will even help clean up their mess. I am able to extend grace in very ugly and messy situations, even to very ugly and messed up people. But me? I should have it all together.

I have grace for everyone else. But I...don't...need...it. I should be perfect. 

What is this and where does it come from? Maybe the grace I think I am extending isn't grace at all. Maybe it is pride in it's purest form. Maybe it's pity. When I see the sins or mistakes of others, in my warped mind I am thankful that it isn't me...thankful that I have it more together. I am the bigger person therefore I can extend myself to help. Ugh...I am not seeing clearly.

Grace was given by God to us through the only perfect person, who was willing to experience everything we have and ever will go through. On the cross, Jesus experienced every single sin we could ever imagine. The grace that we have been given is born of compassion, not pity. When we trip ourselves up, thinking perfection is our goal, all we have to offer others is pity. Coming from our self-perceived higher position, we look down upon sinners. Compassion doesn't look down upon anyone...compassion gets down in the dirt with people, dirt that has turned into mud from their tears; and compassion cries with them. It is from this kind of compassion that grace was given to us.

I can see how hard I've been on myself. I have become overly frustrated with my imperfections...because I have forgotten my own need for grace.

It is such a fine line, and one I no longer want to balance upon. I want the grace I give others to be pure, and unadulterated...served up from the cracked pot that is me. I am no better, no less needy, and no more together than my brothers and sisters. And this, my friends, is the beauty of grace. I am able to give it to others by remembering I'm alive because someone perfect gave it to me. The only perfect Someone.

So...the pressure's off. No more distorted vision of myself. I see the subtle error in my thinking.
No more abusive, judgmental, self-talk. I am going to start right here and now, giving myself what I know I need. Grace. 




 


Monday, August 10, 2015

Cursing and $h*t

On my walk this morning, I heard a young man talking to another young man. They were using a lot of profanity. My radar went up, and I immediately judged that they weren't "nice" young men. And God immediately called me out. He was a lot less concerned about their "language" than He was my thoughts toward them which were anything but grace-full.


I'm sure I'm not the only one (if we're being honest) who makes these snap judgments. (Let's see a show of hands...)

Some people won't type or write the word God. They put a dash or asterisk in the middle, like this: G-d. They believe that His name is so Holy that writing it would be desecrating it. But then is that read aloud as "GD"? Because if it is, other people would think you were using the acronym for "Goddamn" which is really bad.

I said "crap" from the pulpit during a sermon once. I honestly didn't think "crap" was a "bad word" but the pastor's wife thought differently.

Sometimes I say "shit" when I stub my toe. I know I'm not a bad person. I know Jesus loves me. You might think otherwise though.

I know so many people who use "colorful" language...so many good, kind, loving people. So why in the hell do I judge those I don't know? (See what I did there?)

I used to judge people who smoke cigarettes. Which is absolutely insane. My Dad smoked all his life. He was an amazing guy. I have kids who smoke. Again, amazing guys. I used to smoke. And we all know how amazing I am! But my immediate judgment when I'd see someone smoking was that they are lower on the food chain because it is such a stupid addiction, therefore they must be stupid. I'm happy to report that got over that judgment. But first I had to acknowledge it was there...

Cursing. There is acceptable cursing and then the unacceptable stuff. We all have our lines we draw. (Well, all of us who are still tormented by the judgment radar thingy...)

But when I really think about it from a heavenly perspective, what kind of cursing is God concerned with? I think He hates it when we curse other people...with slander and gossip...or by wishing them ill-will. I'm not sure He loves it when we call the guy who changed lanes in front of us an idiot. Yet this kind of cursing happens within circles of people who would never utter a four-letter word.

It's stupid, really...all of this judging. It is so wasteful and not life-giving. But it is something that dammit, we all do...
I'm working on it. Better yet, God is working on me.








Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Faith and Stuff...y

After an afternoon of Play-doh and Legos and so much fun, I was snuggled into the twin bed with Mr. Brilliance. It is my favorite time of the day. We lie there together in the semi-darkness and I give powerful renditions of our favorite songs (right now it's Best Friend by Harry Nilsson) and he tells me profound facts about dinosaurs, and life in general. Then Nonny starts to fade with hopes that he will soon.

But on this particular night, there was no fading happening. "Nonny, I usually fall to sleep with a stuffy." You all know what a stuffy is, right? (I didn't at first, but quickly figured it out.) "Oh shoot, buddy. We were supposed to bring one, but we forgot..." "But Nonny, I need a stuffy...(whiny voice starting to kick in. We were really tired...) "How about you snuggle this furry pillow?" "No, I don't like to snuggle pillows. It's not the same." (OK, that clearly didn't work.) Well, Sweet Pea...I'm sorry but I don't have a stuffy." Silence for a minute. I thought he had found some acceptance, and fatigue took over. But that was not the case. "Nonny, could you please go look for one?" What? Go look for a stuffy? Where? Am I really gonna have to get dressed and drive to Safeway? Does Safeway even have stuffies?

All of you grandmas out there know that we aren't accustomed to saying "no" to these children. We had to raise our own kids with a lot of "no"s and this is one of the rewards of being grandparents. But here I was feeling like a big failure...what kind of Nonny doesn't have stuffies?

"Nonny, pleeease? Please just go look?"

"OK buddy, I'll go look..." I said without a lot of hope. I was thinking at this point maybe he would fall asleep during the time I was searching, and the problem would be solved until the next day when I would be going stuffy shopping at first light.

As I walked down the stairs I breathed a quick "Oh God, help me here" and headed to the garage. We have moved a lot in the past few years, and we have a remnant of boxes left to be sorted through...garage sale, keepsakes, and stuff we've toted around and kept for almost 20 years in case our offspring ever want it. I was looking for just such a box.

First box I looked into was old curtains and linens. We clearly need a donation pile out here. This garage floor is cold. Oh yeah, hubby told me not to come out here barefoot until he gets "OUCH!!!" something cleaned up. This is futile. How am I gonna get this dear boy to sleep tonight? One more box...AHA!! I can't believe it!! STUFFIES!!!

You know how Jesus taught that we need to become as little children to enter His kingdom? I get it now! I mean, I really get it!! My grandson didn't question "if" I had a stuffy! I'm his Nonny for goodness sake, of COURSE I have one! I didn't know it, but he did. He asked. He received. Simple. Childlike. Faith.

And what do we do after we have made our request? We rest...


Wednesday, July 29, 2015

The Big One

A lot of talk lately...a lot of chatter in the news, and on social media. The big one, the earthquake that will cause a tsunami that will destroy the Oregon and Washington coast, is coming. I am afraid. Even though I don't live at the coast, I am terrified. Do I have water and supplies in the garage? No. Maybe I'll start stockpiling. Maybe I'll forget to. But all of the water and supplies won't assuage my fears. Because what terrifies me most isn't the natural disaster. The thing that makes me shake in my boots is the aftermath. The devastation that will hit us when all of the water recedes and the dust has settled. This is when all of the voices will begin to speak, all of those sure-of-themselves, "I'm always right" Scripture-quoting voices will begin to speak for God. "I told you so. It was sure to happen. God is angry. Judgment was sure to come upon us. We are being punished!" Punished for...(choose one) abortion, homosexuality, flag burning, taking prayer out of school, not saying the pledge of allegiance every morning, and the list goes on. Trust me, friends. The big one is coming. I may not be sure about when or if this natural disaster will hit, but the disaster of its aftermath will surely hit. And it will be disastrous. It always is. When we superimpose our fear and false image of God onto things that happen to us in this life, it does tremendous damage. Not just to ourselves and our relationship with God, but damage to others and their relationship with Him, or their image of Him. I think that is the greatest disaster of all. That, to me, is the big one. The one we must prepare for. God help us.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Sinfully Ignorant, Perfectly Loved

After my last post "Gay Thoughts" I was asked if I thought homosexuality is a sin. I answered that I don't know because I'm not God. People say "How can you say you don't know? It is right there in the Word!!"

How easy it is for us to have our black and white Christianity, and our righteous judgments. But from where I'm sitting things aren't so cut and dried. Oh, but we fear falling into "situational ethics" don't we? We prefer to stay within the boundaries of the law.

One of the commandments is "Thou shalt not kill." It doesn't get more basic than that. We find little confusion in it, and we don't spend much time arguing about it. I know many Christians who own guns for "protection" and who fight adamantly for the right to do so. How does that compute?

Someone breaks into your house to steal your TV. You hear him downstairs, and grab your gun from the drawer by your bed. You sneak down, gun drawn, and confront the robber. He turns around, and he has a gun too. You feel  threatened, so you pull the trigger and shoot. You get lucky, and hit him right in the heart...he hits the floor. In an instant, you have taken a life. You have broken the basic command, "Thou shalt not kill." You have sinned. Even worse, you have chosen to sin.

I know, you say, "But it was self-defense."  I don't see that addendum to the commandment. "Thou shalt not kill...unless it is self-defense." Yet, that is how we have come to interpret it. Wait, isn't that situational ethics?
And is it really even self-defense when it was pre-meditated? After all, you bought the gun for this purpose. You chose to take it out and use it. Jesus taught that even if a man thinks it in his heart he has already committed the sin. Hmmm. Clearly sin.

The dead man's family feels he was murdered. "Thou shalt not steal" is pretty clear. He is a sinner. But wait. He had a very sick child at home who needed life-saving surgery. He had no insurance, and no money. Sort of changes our perspective, doesn't it?

You say you were protecting your family. He was trying to protect his. God knows both hearts. I don't. I can only judge on appearances. If I were to judge based on the law, both have broken it. Both have sinned.

God is a righteous judge, and only He knows our hearts. He knows every situation and every circumstance. He knows why we do what we do. He knows our fears. He knows our struggles. He knows our past, our future, our pain and sorrows. He knows our weaknesses and our strengths. He knows why we think like we think, and do what we do. God has chosen to forgive us in Jesus. In spite of it all, He loves us! And that's what makes His grace so scandalous!!

So, to the question "Is homosexuality a sin?"  I'm choosing to remain sinfully ignorant...and perfectly loved.


Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Gay Thoughts




I don't know much. I admit it. But I have known and loved gay people all of my life. These friends have been some of the kindest and most good hearted people to cross my path. Since becoming a follower of Jesus over 20 years ago, they tell me I am supposed to shun these dear people. Well if not shun them, then at least make sure they know their wicked and sinful ways are unacceptable to God...and to me!

But I cannot. I just don't see it as my job to condemn others. I also do not see it commanded that I try to change people or convict them of any "sin." From what I read, that is the job of the Spirit.

I also can't find the command telling me it is my duty to change a secular government system to conform to "godly" standards. I see where I am told to pray for my leaders. So I do that.

My "duty" as Jesus puts it, is to love God...and love others. To live humbly before my God. To serve others. My job is to love others as I love myself. To have grace for them, as He has had grace for me...and continues to have...every day.

My privilege is to see the Divine in every other human being, because God says we are ALL created in His image.

And my Bible tells me that Jesus died for us all. Every one of us. Yes...even people who are gay. (gasp)

So I am going to focus on loving God. And I will leave the rest of it up to Him. But I will continue to love, and allow Him to love through me. It is the one thing that I know for sure. And it keeps me feeling gay.

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Progress



Writing...no longer pen to paper...but fingers to keyboard...progress.
Progress...all of our progress...sucking the life out of us.

Progress...life...moving so fast...a blur, glimpsed from the back seat of an old Studebaker screaming down the highway of my youth...before there were limits on speed. Life...with no limits. 

Life...so wild, so crazy at times. Wanna tie it down to get my hands around it...wanna control it.

Control...illusion...not living at all.

Can't know what lies around the next bend in the road...need courage to keep going...scared of getting lost in the unknowns and pits and ditches and bad weather and flat tires and broken down dreams scattered along the highway of regret. 

More time...tomorrow looming large in front of me...wear it like a talisman around my neck...wrapping all of my hopes and dreams up in it. Tomorrow...ignoring today...numb to this moment...the only one I really have.  One day, some day, I will really live.


My life...lived well...my best reality...it's all that I am and all I can give..my bravest and most holy contribution to humanity and to Him....I have been given life by the One who is life.

Truth...so deep and profound and hard to hang onto...progress.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Dear Caitlyn

I don't know you, and you don't know me. We will never meet. But I have seen  you in the news, on my Facebook wall, and a couple times on TV. I'm not like so many people who have strong opinions about your life. You see, I realize that I don't know you. And I also don't feel it is my responsibility as a co-human being to have a strong opinion about your life. I do, however, feel it is my responsibility to have compassion and love toward you. Because you are a fellow human being, and because God has taught me that we are all connected. Every one of us. So, even though I don't know you personally, I know you are human. And I believe humans to be created beings. And I respect God so I respect His creation as well. All of it.

If I ever did meet you, I would want to give you a hug. I can imagine your life has been full of hardships and difficulties. I don't know of any life that hasn't. Yours however, has been lived before a huge audience...whether by your own making, or the media's I don't know. You are the hot topic of today, and people who live in glass houses have no place to hide from the stones being hurled at them. It seems you have had a life of torment and confusion and shame and frustration, and these are the very things that make you like me and the rest of humanity.

There is so much debate. Why are you like this? Is something in your brain sick, and is that why you feel this way? Are you God's mistake or the result of our fallen world? I wonder if maybe God sent you here just like this to teach us more about compassion and love? Whether He did or didn't, I pray that will be the outcome of your life...greater love and compassion.

Caitlyn, all I want to say to you is that God loves you. You can hide under the shelter of His wing. He knows everything about you. He has seen every hurt and wound in your life. And He loves you. He is in constant pursuit of you. It doesn't matter much what you call yourself because He has a name for you...one that He alone calls you. He knows your heart. He knows what makes you cry and what makes you laugh. He chose to create you, because He wanted you.

Thank you, Caitlyn. Because of you, I have had to examine what I believe and who I am in connection to God and His creation. I realize that I am but a learner on this earth. God is my teacher. So I thank Him for you, Caitlyn. I thank Him because in His perfect wisdom He uses our brokenness to shine His light on the parts of us that need more of Him. Because we all do...need Him. Which is yet another way that we are more alike than we are different.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

The Dish



"I want to stop by later and say hi" he said. These are not everyday words. But this was not an everyday visit.

He walks in sober and full of life. Hugging. Smiling. Eyes shining.

"I have a little present for you," he says. He hands it to me wrapped in pretty paper. Sort of oval in shape. Weighty in my hands.

To the unknowing eye, it would look like a glass soap dish with an ornate silver frame. Ah, but this is no ordinary gift.

In this little dish lies year after endless year of broken dreams, broken promises, and broken needles.

This dish is full of hatred so deep it's consuming...and deception - always looming in the dark corners of every hopeful encounter.

And it holds that hope, my hope, often slip-sliding away, like a glimmer of something hidden in the mud...the mud of so many tears...
(Car wrecking, hospitalizing, baby crying, vodka smelling, bleeding, oh God...he's dying!! tears...)

This little dish contains it all. All of the gut-wrenching, back alley, life-or-death, (more death than life), nightmares too intense for sleeping...devastating love.

It holds my shattered heart.

I look into his clear, bright eyes and hug him hard..."Thank you" barely squeezing out past the lump in my throat.

Could any gift be sweeter? Is there a treasure in this world of more value?

This beautiful, wonderful, marvelous, enchanting, best-gift-ever...dish.




Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Symphonies




It was just another morning. And just like I do most mornings, I got my suit on, grabbed a towel, and headed out the side door to soak in the spa. On this morning, I was very "in tune" with God, the Creator, the Being that we all know is there but some of us refuse to acknowledge. I had been sitting in stillness, allowing him to teach me some new stuff...or rather, to rework my old thinking. Anyway, having been in that state of oneness with him...I was more "open" to what took place next.

I slid down into the hot water, and noticed the sun coming up over the neighbor's yard...as it does every morning (well, every morning that there is sun to be seen in the northwest). I adjusted my position to watch the sun's rising. Suddenly I heard bird singing. Not just a few, I mean I heard what sounded like hundreds of birds...each singing their own song. I listened a moment, not remembering ever having heard so many birds singing at once. Then the bullfrog who lives in our pond croaked. More bird songs, and a croak here and there. It was fantastic. I was dumfounded. You know the part of the movie where you don't want anyone to bust in and disturb you because you are so full of emotion and immersed in the scene? That is what this was.

So I listened. I watched. The sun rising slowly over the neighbor's yard, sending shafts of light onto the trees in bloom...pink...white...while the birds sang to welcome it. Glory. That's what I thought. This must be what glory means.

Then...the song slowly faded. Things went back to normal. There were a few birds still singing, so few I could pick out each one. The frog stopped croaking. The sun was up.

And I wondered...how many symphonies just like this one does our loving Creator orchestrate for us each day? How many of them do I miss?

Wednesday, February 11, 2015



This morning, I was walking up the hill above my house. Haven't been up there in a while. Maybe since I picked up trash after the 4th of July last year. There was a lot more litter along the side of the road. It seems my beautiful walk is being destroyed by the thoughtlessness of some skate-boarding youth.

I continued to lament the tarnished beauty as I ascended the hill. When I got to the top, I ventured off the road, into the thicket which has a path to the edge. The little wooden bench was still there, along with more beer cans and other trash. But the view!! It still took my breath away!! My attention was quickly diverted from the litter to the magnificent beauty.

As I made my way back down the road, I began to sing "You are welcome in this place, Mighty God. You are welcome in this place, Holy Spirit..." and I felt His presence. And I heard Him speak to me "I like your song, but I am already here you know. Every place that there is litter, garbage, trash...whether it be in a human heart, a life littered with drugs and alcohol, or a dirty landscape...I am there. And it is holy ground."

Wow, I began to understand what holy ground really is. I guess I used to think that "spiritual places" (up near the alter of church) were holy ground. You know, clean places. Perfect places.

 But now I see. Every place that needs light, that needs grace, that needs Him...is holy! This is why Jesus came. And this is where He came! And where He continues to come...through us. Every place that I stand or walk or sit or "am" there He is also. And that place is holy ground.

God is in everything. He is in us. Wow.
I cried all the way home.

Friday, January 9, 2015

Winter Vacation




This winter vacation we spent 2 weeks in a motor home, the same motor home in which we lived for 8 months. We learned that actually traveling in a motor home is way different than living in a parked one. I learned that I don't ever want to travel that far in a motor home again. I learned how much I appreciate a quick flight that transports me somewhere. I learned that I am and will always be a "hotel girl". That's right. I enjoy the comforts of a beautifully made bed with white linens, and a well appointed bathroom.

We had a great trip, don't get me wrong. We visited hubby's family, which was our goal, and we enjoyed every moment of time spent with them. On our way to California, we stopped in southern Oregon for meals and fun with dear friends. We also saw our grandkids on both ends of our trip, along with getting to share food and fellowship with dear friends on our way home. All of this was good, very good. But I am still left wondering why people think spending their "golden years" traveling in one of these things is...well, golden?

Let me just say that this voyage was challenged from the beginning, when we pulled out of our driveway at 6:00 in the evening to avoid the Friday night traffic in Portland, and realized that we had no headlights. Hubby pulled into a church 2 blocks from home to assess the situation. Knowing that I had packed every scrap of food and clothing we owned, I was determined to sleep in that parking lot for the night. But he quickly discovered that our high beams worked, and with the help of a little electricians tape, we were back in business.

One would imagine that this "setback" would deter us. Oh no. We ventured on. After leaving southern Oregon, we headed west to take the coastal route to California. Through flooding. I mean, torrential flooding on both sides of the road. Rivers washing over the highway from waterfalls plummeting down from the hillsides. Over the coastal hills we went, noticing that as we ascended over them the engine was beginning to sort of sputter and lose power. Uh oh. What could this be? Hubby determined it was either fluid in the gas, bad fuel, or a dirty filter. He stopped for some additive, and the problem immediately improved. Yay! Nothing can stop us now!

Traveling on the next day, through the beautiful northern California wine country, I mentioned an odor. Hubby smelled it too. I thought it smelled like rotten eggs. He said it smelled like coolant. He began watching the temperature gauge and it soon began moving toward the hot side. He immediately pulled over into the dirt beside a farm. After scooping coolant out of an outside compartment with gloved hands, and re-attaching the hose that must have jiggled off from driving over bumpy California highways, I filled up a couple gallon water jugs for him to re-hydrate the system and off we went. A quick stop at Walmart to get more coolant and we were (ahem) golden.

"Let's hear a little music" hubby says, trying to lighten the mood. It was a great idea, considering he had ordered a new stereo online and installed it, just for this trip. But while it worked fine at home, it didn't work now. At all. The CD wouldn't play. The radio skipped on and off. And...well let's just say it didn't lighten the mood.

You might be thinking "Wow, these poor people. Surely nothing else could possibly happen!!" because that is pretty much what I was thinking at this point. And it was smooth sailing for the next day or two, until we pulled into hubby's brother's house and hooked up to his electricity and water. Thankfully, shortly thereafter the bros went out to check on the RV and found it flooded...water was pouring out from underneath. The water pressure was way too strong, which blew the hose off the toilet, filling the bathroom and hallway. It was a sloshy mess, but could have been way worse if not discovered fairly quickly. The water pressure valve was found, and quickly installed, and the carpet dried in a couple of days. And a couple of margaritas later, I forgot all about it.

While preparing to leave brother-in-law's house, the moho wouldn't start. Our battery was dead. It had something to do with the engine battery not switching over to the house battery. Lots of internet searching led the guys to believe it was a faulty switching over switch thingy...which was purchased, and the battery charged...and we were down the road to spend a couple of days camping on the beach in Carlsbad. All went well there, for the most part, though hubby spent one whole morning installing the new switch and found that it must not have been the source of the dead battery problem after all. Getting to watch whales migrating down the coast made up for the wasted morning though, and hubby wasn't even annoyed. I was amazed.



The trip back to Washington went smoothly. Well, except for the Pismo Beach experience, where we were camped next to the biggest campground New Year's Eve party in the history of campground New Year's Eve parties, and tortured by booming "ghetto rap" (as requested by the blond 40'ish neighbor women who were hosting the event) until almost 3 AM (evidently they don't enforce the 10:00 curfew on NYE and why didn't we know that? and why didn't they tell us that the guy who vacated the space earlier that day did so because of these already super loud partying neighbors? but oh well we moved to another site the following day...)

The return trip went smoothly until...well, until we got home and hubby had to park around the corner till he could move our 3 other vehicles out of the way, and as he was driving the moho around the corner trying to swing wide to make the driveway, he was a bit too close to the curb, which had a manhole cover sticking out about 5 inches, and he hit the back tire on the sharp concrete corner. He didn't know it until he parked and heard a hissing sound. Yes, the back tire was slashed and losing air fast. So he jacked up that side, which raised the moho up just enough so that when he opened the door it hit the underside of the eave of the house, putting a big dent into the siding.

May I conclude this vacation saga by saying with much love, adoration, and admiration, that my husband was incredible through it all. He calmly dealt with everything that was thrown at him and never allowed it to dampen his mood or ruin our trip. I think the slashed tire might have been my last straw...but not him. His only comment was "Well, that was a $400 error..."

I know this was long, but I felt it had to be shared, because it is such a testimony of perseverance, as well as having peace in the midst of life's storms, and joy in trials...a story of how love grows even stronger in the face of adversity. And these are all beautiful things. But still...I'll take a jet and a nice hotel room next time. Cheers!


Tears

This morning I read in Revelation 7:17 "And God will wipe from their eyes every last tear."  We all know that scripture. And I'...