"You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit -- fruit that will last." (This is Jesus talking to His disciples in John 15:16a.)
In this particular leg of my emotional healing, God has been dealing with all kinds of rejection issues that I didn't know were there. Long story. But He's been teaching me a ton in the process. I'm going to be pretty vulnerable in this post, reader, so please be kind.
I've noticed something about the way that I choose my friends and/or choose to spend time with people in general. I'm very focused, deliberate, and intentional, and I think it freaks people out sometimes. I've been thinking about a time on the school playground when I was a kid. There was a little girl in my class who was in a wheelchair. From what I can remember, I wanted to be her friend, and I was probably accidentally annoying the crap out of her. "Leave me alone, Tirzah!" still stings in my ears.
So, I've been talking to God my Friend lately about rejection, and I've basically told Him, "I'm so sick of people rejecting me!" And He's basically answered, "How do you think I feel?" God gets rejected all the time. If I'm created in His image, and He's capable of feeling emotion to the infinity degree that I can feel emotion... oh, my goodness. I feel acute emotional pain when I'm rejected, forgotten, unchosen, or unwanted. But when God is treated that way, He probably feels emotional pain that's to such a huge degree that it makes me tremble just to think about it. Up until this point in time, people haven't usually chosen me. I think all the guys who haven't returned my feelings for them in the past 17 years can vouch for that. People haven't always chosen Jesus, either. Isaiah 53:2-3 says, if I understand it correctly, that He wasn't physically attractive, was rejected, and is familiar with sorrow and grief. Jesus knows what it's like to hurt. The good news is that He's a Healer and that He chose me.
"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." (Ephesians 2:10)
I've noticed another quirky thing about the way that I choose to spend time with people in general. If I invite someone to hang out with me on a specific date or time, I'll reserve that specific time slot for that specific person. I'll leave that slot open for them until I hear from them. If they can't make it, we can reschedule. If they don't respond to my invitation at all, and the specific time comes, I'll spend the time doing something else. I don't want to double-book myself or keep other backup people around in case the chosen person says no. (Years ago, I had a friend who invited me somewhere, and she told me that I was her fourth choice because three other people had told her no. I'm glad she was honest with me, but gosh, thanks a lot.)
Why am I so ridiculously extravagant with my time? I don't know, but I'm finding out that God is very similar. If He chooses Tirzah for a destiny at a certain slot in time, He doesn't keep backup Tirzahs around just in case Tirzah doesn't respond. He wants ME to fulfill the destiny that He created for ME. I'm not saying that if He gives me a talent and I don't use it like in Matthew 25 that He'll give my talent to someone who will use it. I'm saying that if Tirzah doesn't find out what her specific destiny is at this specific time, who else will be Tirzah? I'm sure God would work around my not responding to His call or flat-out saying no, but only I can be Tirzah. He chose me!
"O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek You; my soul thirsts for You, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water." (This is David talking to God in Psalm 63:1.)
I basically told God recently, "I'm tired of pursuing people. I want people to pursue me for a change." And suddenly I realized that God is the same way sometimes. All those verses in the Bible about seeking God make sense to me now. I know how He feels about me. I know that He loves me so much that He gave up His only Son Jesus for me. I know He chose me and accepts me. So, what's stopping me from pursuing Him in a very focused, deliberate, and intentional way?
A good friend of mine has four awesome, precious kids. One of them is a girl I'll call Clinger. One day, I was sitting around minding my own business when suddenly Clinger walked up to me with her shoes in her hand, climbed onto my lap, and hugged me. It was adorable yet startling simultaneously at first. I asked her if she needed me to help her put her shoes on, but she shook her head no. It turned out that she just wanted affection. We were in a living room full of people. I don't know exactly why she chose me. Maybe she knows I like kids. Maybe I appeared snuggly to her. Maybe my lap was just available. But I sure am glad she chose me. Her arms clung to my neck for a few minutes, and she delighted my heart while we talked about random things.
Another one of my friend's cool kids is a boy I'll call Levi. He is very attached to his mother. One day, I observed his panicked demeanor after my friend left the room and he basically said repeatedly, "I want Mama. I want Mama." I've had clinginess issues of my own, so I can very much understand how he feels.
I think that's how God wants me to want Him. In Psalm 63:8a, David tells God, "My soul clings to You." Yes, God's presence is very available, and He can rush to our aid very quickly (Psalm 46:1). But He also wants to be wanted. I think He wants us to pursue Him, to seek Him, to desperately cry out in every fiber of our beings, "I want Abba! I want Abba!" and to walk right up to Him while He's sitting on His throne, throw our arms around Him, and just love on Him, get to know Him, and let Him get to know us. I think this is one of the hugest things that we were created for: To want God. He created us, so He wanted us first. He wants us to want Him back. He wants us to choose Him. And if we accept His Son Jesus and earnestly seek Him, I don't think He'll kick us away or exclaim, "Leave Me alone, child!" Heck no. His lap is very available. He wants us to hunger, thirst, and pant after Him (Psalm 42:1-2).
I told my coworkers recently that I need to stop writing when I'm hungry; I end up writing about food. Hmm. Did you know that Ocean Spray makes very nice blueberry-juice-infused craisins? I think I might choose them for dessert tonight instead of gummi bears. Wait. I don't want gummi bears to feel rejected. Aagh! Have to choose! Hmm. I could just have both... D'oh! Sorry, reader. I hope my stream of consciousness didn't freak you out.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Aww, look at that face
Just
look at my little Choochie. She's perfect for me. She fits perfectly into my
life. May I share with you what God has been showing me about her? He made her
for me. He designed a cat just for me! Every little detail about her looks and
personality, from every stripe to every fluff, from every trill to every purr
-- God knew what I would like in a cat. He knew that she would like to jump up
on my coffee table and perch next to me when I eat breakfast in the mornings.
He knew that she would be standing next to my little computer while I'd be
typing this. She is my cat. Her purpose in life is to be my cat. Therefore,
right now, she's living out her destiny.
Officially, Choochie was my first cat. So, reader, if you don't mind me loosely quoting Matthew 25, I was faithful in little, and then I became ruler over MUCH. After I got my Choochie, I got my Macho. God has been showing me that Macho's purpose in life is a little different. His destiny is to simply be a masculine specimen of a cat.
Officially, Choochie was my first cat. So, reader, if you don't mind me loosely quoting Matthew 25, I was faithful in little, and then I became ruler over MUCH. After I got my Choochie, I got my Macho. God has been showing me that Macho's purpose in life is a little different. His destiny is to simply be a masculine specimen of a cat.
See?
Manly cat. I remember a time back in his kittenhood when his kitten masculinity
was questioned. So he has a high-pitched meow. So what? So he would get
frightened easily. He's a cat. But I don't want to listen to the naysayers. I
know who he is. We've been working through fear issues. It's going to be OK.
He's my masculine, manly Macho. Nuff said.
My cats can be secure in the facts that I love them, they belong to me, and they can be free to be themselves in the confines of my apartment. (They aren't allowed outdoors.) I talk to them frequently. Maybe they get tired of hearing me, but I don't care. They're mine. I want to speak life to them. It's OK. They trust me. "Hello, I love you. You're my kitten. I'm your mama." They know that they can get as much love, attention, and affection from me as they want. There are limitations with me, of course. There are times when I need both of my hands free for typing. There are certain times when they're not allowed in the bathroom. When it's time for me to sleep at night, they need to let me sleep.
One reason why my friend Powerhouse and I have become good friends is because we know that we love each other. She knows that I like her and thoroughly enjoy her company. I know that she wants to know me and be there for me. And vice versa. We keep the lines of communication open. There are limitations with us, though. We're human, and we have healthy boundaries. We work on our friendship to keep it growing healthy and strong. We encourage each other and keep pointing one another to the one most important Person that we could ever know.
Yeah, that's right. God is the One Person who will always meet every need that I have. He doesn't have the same constraints that I do. He doesn't have to type or spend time in the bathroom or sleep. He doesn't make mistakes. He's already perfect.
If I'm secure in my identity, I can live out my destiny. I can be the Tirzah that God designed me to be. If I'm secure in the fact that my God loves me and likes me and believes in me and wants me to succeed and wants me to enjoy the life that He's given me and wants me to stay in His house, then I can be as Tirzah of a Tirzah as I want to be.
Psalm 127 says that He loves me and He gives me sleep. I think He likes to even watch me sleep. One of my favorite movies is Kramer vs. Kramer (minus one completely unnecessary scene that I cut out when I taped it from TV). It's basically a movie about a guy who's learning how to be a good father. There's one scene where his son is playing innocently, dangerously on a playground, and he falls and gets hurt. The dad literally carries him and runs to the emergency room, where his son gets stitches. That night, while his son is asleep in bed with his freshly bound-up wound, his dad hums to him and loves on him.
I believe God is a lot like that. He likes to take care of me. He wants to help me. He wants to have a relationship with me. He made me because He wants me. And now I'm learning how to not be afraid of the unknown things in my life, because what I do know is that I can be secure in my God's truth. He loves me, He made me, and He wants me.
My cats can be secure in the facts that I love them, they belong to me, and they can be free to be themselves in the confines of my apartment. (They aren't allowed outdoors.) I talk to them frequently. Maybe they get tired of hearing me, but I don't care. They're mine. I want to speak life to them. It's OK. They trust me. "Hello, I love you. You're my kitten. I'm your mama." They know that they can get as much love, attention, and affection from me as they want. There are limitations with me, of course. There are times when I need both of my hands free for typing. There are certain times when they're not allowed in the bathroom. When it's time for me to sleep at night, they need to let me sleep.
One reason why my friend Powerhouse and I have become good friends is because we know that we love each other. She knows that I like her and thoroughly enjoy her company. I know that she wants to know me and be there for me. And vice versa. We keep the lines of communication open. There are limitations with us, though. We're human, and we have healthy boundaries. We work on our friendship to keep it growing healthy and strong. We encourage each other and keep pointing one another to the one most important Person that we could ever know.
Yeah, that's right. God is the One Person who will always meet every need that I have. He doesn't have the same constraints that I do. He doesn't have to type or spend time in the bathroom or sleep. He doesn't make mistakes. He's already perfect.
If I'm secure in my identity, I can live out my destiny. I can be the Tirzah that God designed me to be. If I'm secure in the fact that my God loves me and likes me and believes in me and wants me to succeed and wants me to enjoy the life that He's given me and wants me to stay in His house, then I can be as Tirzah of a Tirzah as I want to be.
Psalm 127 says that He loves me and He gives me sleep. I think He likes to even watch me sleep. One of my favorite movies is Kramer vs. Kramer (minus one completely unnecessary scene that I cut out when I taped it from TV). It's basically a movie about a guy who's learning how to be a good father. There's one scene where his son is playing innocently, dangerously on a playground, and he falls and gets hurt. The dad literally carries him and runs to the emergency room, where his son gets stitches. That night, while his son is asleep in bed with his freshly bound-up wound, his dad hums to him and loves on him.
I believe God is a lot like that. He likes to take care of me. He wants to help me. He wants to have a relationship with me. He made me because He wants me. And now I'm learning how to not be afraid of the unknown things in my life, because what I do know is that I can be secure in my God's truth. He loves me, He made me, and He wants me.
See
how adorable my cats are when they're asleep? (or trying to sleep when I'm
flashing my camera at them) Aww, look at that, uh... face! Yes, even the backs
of their heads are adorable!
Reader, do you get tired of hearing me talk about this yet? "Hello, God loves me. I belong to Him. He loves you, and He wants you to belong to Him, too."
Reader, do you get tired of hearing me talk about this yet? "Hello, God loves me. I belong to Him. He loves you, and He wants you to belong to Him, too."
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Three conversations
If you'll indulge me for a little while, reader, I'd like to show you a little bit of my imagination. Meet three fictional characters: George, Stephanie, and Max. In this blog post, they will be conversing with Father God. Please check out Luke 18:9-14 as a reference. I hope you enjoy.
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George: Uh, dear Lord... Oh, gosh. This is hard. You know I, uh, haven't been a praying man, but I'd like to become one.
Father God: That's wonderful, George! I always love hearing from you. Keep going. You're doing fine.
George: Uh, please bless my family. And, uh, please bless my pastor. (Sighs.) You know, my Sunday School teacher keeps telling me how I should pray, but it doesn't always make sense to me.
Father God: He didn't tell you that prayer is a two-way conversation. It's OK, because you're still learning, and you're very willing to learn. Keep going. You're doing fine.
George: I, uh, I'm not really sure if You can even hear me.
Father God: Sure I can. You need help hearing Me.
George: (Pauses.) I think maybe You want to talk to me. (Chuckles.) You know, I'd really like that.
Father God: I knew you would, My friend. I really look forward to us getting to know each other.
George: Uh, if you don't mind, Lord, I'd really like to ask You to bless me at my job. I'm having a really hard time right now. My supervisor is on my tail and making me work long hours and... I'm not sure I can take it here anymore. But my family needs my paycheck. Could You please help me?
Father God: I'm on it. You can count on Me.
George: (Sighs.) I don't even know if You're listening. I just don't talk fancy. When I pray, I don't sound like Max at all.
Father God: Please don't worry about that. You just need to be yourself. You can talk to Me about whatever you want. I just want to hear from you. I just want you.
George: (Chuckles.) Lord, I get the impression that all that fancy prayer talk don't really matter to You. You can hear me, right?
Father God: Loud and clear, My friend. I love you.
George: Well, my coffee break is almost over. But, uh, I guess You already knew that. Maybe I could pray to You again tonight after work.
Father God: Of course, My faithful, stouthearted son. Keep praying, and please don't ever stop. I love you.
George: In Jesus' Name I pray, Amen.
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Stephanie: Father! I'm here!
Father God: Child! I'm here, too!
Stephanie: (Laughs.) Oh, Father, You're so funny! You're so wonderful! (Begins to cry.) You're so holy. You're so worthy. You're so merciful. There's absolutely no one like You. There never will be.
Father God: I know, precious one. And you love Me.
Stephanie: (Sniffles.) Yes, Lord. You know that I love You. And I want to love You more.
Father God: Keep talking. I like it.
Stephanie: (Pauses.) Lord... I just don't feel worthy to be in Your presence. (Gasps.) I suddenly feel dirty because of that bad thought I had earlier today.
Father God: You know what to do with it, precious one. You know I'm training you. And you're already worthy because of my Son.
Stephanie: (Begins to cry again.) I'm so sorry, Lord. Can I please pour out my heart to You?
Father God: Yes, please, precious one. I want to take care of you.
Stephanie: (Sobs.) You love me so much! Please hold me, Father. I need You.
Father God: I love you, precious one. I'm building you up to be a queen in My kingdom.
Stephanie: Lord?
Father God: That's right, precious one. You are going to become a tree planted by streams of water, like it says in Psalm 1, and your life will be a shield and a refuge for others. Your life will be like a beacon for many men and women. You've been faithful in little, and you will be ruler over much. Well done, My good and faithful servant. I love you.
Stephanie: (Sniffles.) You mean, after all I've done, You still want to use me?
Father God: "Use" is not a very descriptive word. I want to move through you. I want to come alongside you. I want to help you. I want you to work with Me. I want you to abide in the love of My Son. I love you.
Stephanie: Can I please pour out more of my heart to You, Lord? I want to forgive Max. The way he was so rude to me in Sunday School the other day really offended me. He made me feel like an idiot, Lord. But I'm not an idiot. And I choose to forgive him, Lord. He didn't know what He was doing. (Sighs.) I feel a little bit better now, Lord.
Father God: I knew you would. I understand how Max can be. Please keep loving him. I'm his Father, too. I love you. I love being your Father. I'm so glad that I made you and that I know you.
Stephanie: You mean, even after all those terrible thoughts I've had, You still want me to be close to You?
Father God: Heck yes, precious one. I want us to enjoy a sweet relationship with one another. Stay close to Me, and point people to Me.
Stephanie: (Gasps.) Oh, I want that, Father. I want to show people how to know You. I want to teach people how to seek You. I want to run to You, and I want people to follow me into Your presence, right into Your lap, like in Psalm 45!
Father God: There you go, precious one. Keep talking. I like it!
Stephanie: Lord, start with my Sunday School class. But why stop there, Lord? I want to reach people in my neighborhood, Lord, in my workplace, Lord, and in the rest of this city, Lord! You said in Psalm 2 that if I ask, You will make the nations my inheritance! So, I'm asking You now, Father, please give me the nations!
Father God: (Roars.) Do you hear that, angels?? That's My girl!!
Stephanie: (Laughs.) Oh, Abba, Father, I can hear You roaring! Lion of Judah, roar!
Jesus: (Roars.) Yeah!
Father God: (Roars.) I love you!!
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Max: Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name.
Father God: Thank you, but you live in 2011. You aren't required to talk like it's 1611.
Max: Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Father God: My beloved little boy, do you even understand what you're asking for?
Max: Give us this day our daily bread.
Father God: This prayer is an excellent place for you to start, but you're still a baby. You're still drinking milk. Are you hungry yet for the bread that I want to feed you? I have the finest of wheat that I'm just waiting to feed you. Ahem! Pick up your Bible, little boy, and read Psalm 81.
Max: And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
Father God: I recently had conversations with two people who you've hurt. You've been forgiven much. Please stop harming My children, My little son.
Max: And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
Father God: I love you. I believe in you. I know how I've made you. There is so much that I'm waiting for you to ask for. There is so much that I'm longing to teach you. There is so much that I want you to become. Ahem!! Seriously, pick up your Bible. Psalm 81! Honey from the rock! You're starving! I want to satisfy you!
Max: For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.
Father God: I know what you're about to do. Please, My beloved little boy. Listen to Me!
Max: I thank Thee, oh, my great Father, for the works of Thine hands. I thank Thee for the way that Thou hast madest me.
Father God: (Screams.) Even your King James English is grammatically incorrect! Do you not know that I created language? or that I created speech? or that I created those very lips, that very tongue of yours?
Max: I thank Thee, oh, grand Father in Heaven, for Thy bounty, and now I count my many blessings before Thy heavenly throne, as Thou hast commandest me to do.
Father God: (Screams.) No! Not the clanging cymbal again! Not the noise again!
Max: I thank Thee, oh, merciful heavenly Father, for allowing me to obtain an education in one of the finest institutions that this country hast ever seeneth.
Father God: Stop it, please! Please be quiet! Please open your ears for once and listen to Me! You have no idea how merciful I truly am!
Max: And I thank Thee, oh, my heavenly Father, that I am not like the people in my Sunday School class.
Father God: Quiet! You have allowed yourself to turn into a hypocritical pharisee! You are crippling the people that you're supposed to be equipping! They want to know Me and love Me! To you, I am just a snack machine! Do you not hear Me spewing out the coins that you just deposited? Can you not hear this clanging, deafening cacophony?
Jesus, covering His ears: I can hear it. Father, can he not even tell that You're speaking in his vocabulary range?
Max: I pay my tithe, I read my Bible, and I minister to the needy. Oh, Thou Father of mine, in Thy timing, if it be Thy will...
Father God: Yes, you're doing some of the things that you're supposed to be doing, My beloved little boy, but you don't get it.
Holy Spirit: (Shouts.) Pick up thy Bible, Maximillian, and read Psalm 66, verse 18!
Max: ...please move the heart of Stephanie, so that she would desire me. I wish to have and to hold her someday as my lawfully wedded wife.
Jesus: You gotta be kidding.
Holy Spirit: Nope, he's serious.
Father God, covering His ears: Please! I already told you to stop!
Max: She, as You well know, my Lord, is a ravishing beauty who would suit me very well. She would make a lovely addition to my household someday. She would make a lovely pastor's wife.
Father God: At least you stopped with the King James English. But now you're talking nonsense. Her heart isn't compatible with yours. And if you can't be faithful in handling one Sunday School class, what makes you think I'd give you a pulpit or an entire church to care for? If you don't stop worshiping yourself and your education, if you don't lift up your eyes to see Me and open your ears to hear Me, I will see to it that Stephanie takes your place as Sunday School teacher.
Max: I pray, oh my Lord, that Thou wouldst make her worthy of me someday...
Father God: (Screams.) Stop!
Jesus: I love this guy, but his words are almost as clangy as Tirzah's used to be.
Tirzah: Huh?
Jesus: Hey, squirt. Play Me a song.
Father God: You're a groovy chick.
Tirzah: (Sobs.) You like me?!?
Father God: Come on, play Us a song.
Max: ...and if it be Thy will, I asketh that Thou wouldst grant me children and a reliable vehicle so that I may keep the bulk of my humble income available to giveth to the worthy works of Thy kingdom...
Tirzah: (Gasps.) What would You like to hear?
Holy Spirit: Whatever you want, just as long as it's one of your songs.
Max: ...and in Thy worthy house of worship, may Thy offerings increase, especially in the offering plate on Sunday, and if it be Thy will, may the gardener please remember to trim the hedges this Saturday before our services start this Sunday at 9:45 a.m., or at least perhaps on Sunday afternoon before the evening services commence anew...
Father God: Max, please listen to Me. And please excuse Me. It's time for Me to end what's supposed to be a two-way conversation. I've got a freckled little ipod who's warming up her guitar so that she can sing Me a groovy song. She used to be a lot like you, Max. I'm still healing her and squeezing out a lot of terrible patterns that she's carried for years. Maybe you could meet her someday.
Tirzah: (Gasps.) You wanna hear the groovy song??
Father God: I love you, Max, not because of anything you've done, but because of who I am.
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Also included in these preceding conversations were the nonfictional characters Tirzah, Father God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. Thank you for reading!
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George: Uh, dear Lord... Oh, gosh. This is hard. You know I, uh, haven't been a praying man, but I'd like to become one.
Father God: That's wonderful, George! I always love hearing from you. Keep going. You're doing fine.
George: Uh, please bless my family. And, uh, please bless my pastor. (Sighs.) You know, my Sunday School teacher keeps telling me how I should pray, but it doesn't always make sense to me.
Father God: He didn't tell you that prayer is a two-way conversation. It's OK, because you're still learning, and you're very willing to learn. Keep going. You're doing fine.
George: I, uh, I'm not really sure if You can even hear me.
Father God: Sure I can. You need help hearing Me.
George: (Pauses.) I think maybe You want to talk to me. (Chuckles.) You know, I'd really like that.
Father God: I knew you would, My friend. I really look forward to us getting to know each other.
George: Uh, if you don't mind, Lord, I'd really like to ask You to bless me at my job. I'm having a really hard time right now. My supervisor is on my tail and making me work long hours and... I'm not sure I can take it here anymore. But my family needs my paycheck. Could You please help me?
Father God: I'm on it. You can count on Me.
George: (Sighs.) I don't even know if You're listening. I just don't talk fancy. When I pray, I don't sound like Max at all.
Father God: Please don't worry about that. You just need to be yourself. You can talk to Me about whatever you want. I just want to hear from you. I just want you.
George: (Chuckles.) Lord, I get the impression that all that fancy prayer talk don't really matter to You. You can hear me, right?
Father God: Loud and clear, My friend. I love you.
George: Well, my coffee break is almost over. But, uh, I guess You already knew that. Maybe I could pray to You again tonight after work.
Father God: Of course, My faithful, stouthearted son. Keep praying, and please don't ever stop. I love you.
George: In Jesus' Name I pray, Amen.
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Stephanie: Father! I'm here!
Father God: Child! I'm here, too!
Stephanie: (Laughs.) Oh, Father, You're so funny! You're so wonderful! (Begins to cry.) You're so holy. You're so worthy. You're so merciful. There's absolutely no one like You. There never will be.
Father God: I know, precious one. And you love Me.
Stephanie: (Sniffles.) Yes, Lord. You know that I love You. And I want to love You more.
Father God: Keep talking. I like it.
Stephanie: (Pauses.) Lord... I just don't feel worthy to be in Your presence. (Gasps.) I suddenly feel dirty because of that bad thought I had earlier today.
Father God: You know what to do with it, precious one. You know I'm training you. And you're already worthy because of my Son.
Stephanie: (Begins to cry again.) I'm so sorry, Lord. Can I please pour out my heart to You?
Father God: Yes, please, precious one. I want to take care of you.
Stephanie: (Sobs.) You love me so much! Please hold me, Father. I need You.
Father God: I love you, precious one. I'm building you up to be a queen in My kingdom.
Stephanie: Lord?
Father God: That's right, precious one. You are going to become a tree planted by streams of water, like it says in Psalm 1, and your life will be a shield and a refuge for others. Your life will be like a beacon for many men and women. You've been faithful in little, and you will be ruler over much. Well done, My good and faithful servant. I love you.
Stephanie: (Sniffles.) You mean, after all I've done, You still want to use me?
Father God: "Use" is not a very descriptive word. I want to move through you. I want to come alongside you. I want to help you. I want you to work with Me. I want you to abide in the love of My Son. I love you.
Stephanie: Can I please pour out more of my heart to You, Lord? I want to forgive Max. The way he was so rude to me in Sunday School the other day really offended me. He made me feel like an idiot, Lord. But I'm not an idiot. And I choose to forgive him, Lord. He didn't know what He was doing. (Sighs.) I feel a little bit better now, Lord.
Father God: I knew you would. I understand how Max can be. Please keep loving him. I'm his Father, too. I love you. I love being your Father. I'm so glad that I made you and that I know you.
Stephanie: You mean, even after all those terrible thoughts I've had, You still want me to be close to You?
Father God: Heck yes, precious one. I want us to enjoy a sweet relationship with one another. Stay close to Me, and point people to Me.
Stephanie: (Gasps.) Oh, I want that, Father. I want to show people how to know You. I want to teach people how to seek You. I want to run to You, and I want people to follow me into Your presence, right into Your lap, like in Psalm 45!
Father God: There you go, precious one. Keep talking. I like it!
Stephanie: Lord, start with my Sunday School class. But why stop there, Lord? I want to reach people in my neighborhood, Lord, in my workplace, Lord, and in the rest of this city, Lord! You said in Psalm 2 that if I ask, You will make the nations my inheritance! So, I'm asking You now, Father, please give me the nations!
Father God: (Roars.) Do you hear that, angels?? That's My girl!!
Stephanie: (Laughs.) Oh, Abba, Father, I can hear You roaring! Lion of Judah, roar!
Jesus: (Roars.) Yeah!
Father God: (Roars.) I love you!!
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Max: Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name.
Father God: Thank you, but you live in 2011. You aren't required to talk like it's 1611.
Max: Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Father God: My beloved little boy, do you even understand what you're asking for?
Max: Give us this day our daily bread.
Father God: This prayer is an excellent place for you to start, but you're still a baby. You're still drinking milk. Are you hungry yet for the bread that I want to feed you? I have the finest of wheat that I'm just waiting to feed you. Ahem! Pick up your Bible, little boy, and read Psalm 81.
Max: And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
Father God: I recently had conversations with two people who you've hurt. You've been forgiven much. Please stop harming My children, My little son.
Max: And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
Father God: I love you. I believe in you. I know how I've made you. There is so much that I'm waiting for you to ask for. There is so much that I'm longing to teach you. There is so much that I want you to become. Ahem!! Seriously, pick up your Bible. Psalm 81! Honey from the rock! You're starving! I want to satisfy you!
Max: For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.
Father God: I know what you're about to do. Please, My beloved little boy. Listen to Me!
Max: I thank Thee, oh, my great Father, for the works of Thine hands. I thank Thee for the way that Thou hast madest me.
Father God: (Screams.) Even your King James English is grammatically incorrect! Do you not know that I created language? or that I created speech? or that I created those very lips, that very tongue of yours?
Max: I thank Thee, oh, grand Father in Heaven, for Thy bounty, and now I count my many blessings before Thy heavenly throne, as Thou hast commandest me to do.
Father God: (Screams.) No! Not the clanging cymbal again! Not the noise again!
Max: I thank Thee, oh, merciful heavenly Father, for allowing me to obtain an education in one of the finest institutions that this country hast ever seeneth.
Father God: Stop it, please! Please be quiet! Please open your ears for once and listen to Me! You have no idea how merciful I truly am!
Max: And I thank Thee, oh, my heavenly Father, that I am not like the people in my Sunday School class.
Father God: Quiet! You have allowed yourself to turn into a hypocritical pharisee! You are crippling the people that you're supposed to be equipping! They want to know Me and love Me! To you, I am just a snack machine! Do you not hear Me spewing out the coins that you just deposited? Can you not hear this clanging, deafening cacophony?
Jesus, covering His ears: I can hear it. Father, can he not even tell that You're speaking in his vocabulary range?
Max: I pay my tithe, I read my Bible, and I minister to the needy. Oh, Thou Father of mine, in Thy timing, if it be Thy will...
Father God: Yes, you're doing some of the things that you're supposed to be doing, My beloved little boy, but you don't get it.
Holy Spirit: (Shouts.) Pick up thy Bible, Maximillian, and read Psalm 66, verse 18!
Max: ...please move the heart of Stephanie, so that she would desire me. I wish to have and to hold her someday as my lawfully wedded wife.
Jesus: You gotta be kidding.
Holy Spirit: Nope, he's serious.
Father God, covering His ears: Please! I already told you to stop!
Max: She, as You well know, my Lord, is a ravishing beauty who would suit me very well. She would make a lovely addition to my household someday. She would make a lovely pastor's wife.
Father God: At least you stopped with the King James English. But now you're talking nonsense. Her heart isn't compatible with yours. And if you can't be faithful in handling one Sunday School class, what makes you think I'd give you a pulpit or an entire church to care for? If you don't stop worshiping yourself and your education, if you don't lift up your eyes to see Me and open your ears to hear Me, I will see to it that Stephanie takes your place as Sunday School teacher.
Max: I pray, oh my Lord, that Thou wouldst make her worthy of me someday...
Father God: (Screams.) Stop!
Jesus: I love this guy, but his words are almost as clangy as Tirzah's used to be.
Tirzah: Huh?
Jesus: Hey, squirt. Play Me a song.
Father God: You're a groovy chick.
Tirzah: (Sobs.) You like me?!?
Father God: Come on, play Us a song.
Max: ...and if it be Thy will, I asketh that Thou wouldst grant me children and a reliable vehicle so that I may keep the bulk of my humble income available to giveth to the worthy works of Thy kingdom...
Tirzah: (Gasps.) What would You like to hear?
Holy Spirit: Whatever you want, just as long as it's one of your songs.
Max: ...and in Thy worthy house of worship, may Thy offerings increase, especially in the offering plate on Sunday, and if it be Thy will, may the gardener please remember to trim the hedges this Saturday before our services start this Sunday at 9:45 a.m., or at least perhaps on Sunday afternoon before the evening services commence anew...
Father God: Max, please listen to Me. And please excuse Me. It's time for Me to end what's supposed to be a two-way conversation. I've got a freckled little ipod who's warming up her guitar so that she can sing Me a groovy song. She used to be a lot like you, Max. I'm still healing her and squeezing out a lot of terrible patterns that she's carried for years. Maybe you could meet her someday.
Tirzah: (Gasps.) You wanna hear the groovy song??
Father God: I love you, Max, not because of anything you've done, but because of who I am.
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Also included in these preceding conversations were the nonfictional characters Tirzah, Father God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. Thank you for reading!
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Owie
Disclaimer: Over the past few months, I've written about friendship, housecleaning, and healing. I think this post will probably involve all of that plus more. Or maybe it won't. Or maybe I'm just in one of my crazy artsy-fartsy abstract moods. Or maybe I'm just crazy. An artist named Helen Van Wyk used to have a painting show on PBS, and during the intro of one episode where she was about to teach us viewers how to paint a painting of a pot and onions, she added the humorous disclaimer, "Or maybe I'll just teach you how to make soup." I don't think I've ever made homemade soup. But I've made homemade casserole. Maybe I'll just show you nice readers how to make casserole. Or maybe I'm just hungry. Thanks in advance for reading and listening.
My friend and I have recently outgrown IHOP. (Powerhouse isn't her real name, of course. She's a superhero. She leaps tall buildings in a single bound and has a secret identity. Insert fanfare here.) It's time for us to branch out and find a new hangout restaurant. So, I decided to hit the highway and scout out the land, which is how I found IHOP in the first place, which happens to be in a location that's about halfway between where she lives and where I live. So far, the candidates are a Mexican food place close to where I live and a Tex-Mex place close to where she lives... and there's also a Denny's. Yay, variety!
No, we haven't yet officially decided on the new hangout spot, but my point is that it delighted my heart to scout out this territory -- to go first and check out the options. I think it's part of how God made me. I'm a firstborn. When I was growing up, I was the first child to experience lots of things. Then I'd report back.
"He is the image of the invisible God, the Firstborn over all creation." (Colossians 1:15, talking about Jesus)
Now to abruptly switch gears. The other day, I enthusiastically ripped off part of one of my guitar calluses (because it felt like it was about to peel off, anyway). I think I ripped off a teensy bit too much, because it's somewhat raw underneath, as you can tell on the second digit from the right in the picture. Yes, I snapped this picture after playing my guitar. Yes, that red line is from playing my guitar on the somewhat raw part of my finger. Yes, I chose this particular photo partially to elicit pity. Yes, owie. And then...
...almost a week later, I felt like more of the callus wanted to rip off, so I ripped more of it off. Perhaps you can see in the photo that an even rawer, more tender part of my skin is exposed at the bottom of the rip. I discovered this morning how doubly painful it can be to play my guitar by pressing this very exposed area of my finger on a steel string. Double owie!
My emotional and spiritual healing is kind of going through the same thing right now. Hard, cushiony protection has been ripped off, and softer, raw undercoating has been exposed, and words can't even do justice to describe how much it hurts. "Owie" is too teeny-tiny of an expression. But the good news is that Jesus is a Healer, and God is binding up my wounds like it says in Psalm 147.
Now to switch metaphors. Jesus and I have been cleaning house, and we found at least one trash can that has been full and decaying. It's time to take out the trash... or possibly to discard the disgusting trash can altogether. I'm not exactly sure yet. You know who knows? Jesus, my Big Brother. He's gone before me and knows what's coming up next. He knows the next turn. He's scouted out the land, so to speak. He found the new IHOP, and I believe He wants to tell me all about it.
"A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs 18:24)
"And He made known to us the mystery of His will according to His good pleasure, which He purposed in Christ..." (Ephesians 1:9)
John 15:15 says that Jesus, my Big Brother, is the Friend who will tell me everything that He's doing. The thing is, I need to listen to Him. I need to be close enough to God to let Him talk to me, give me direction, and show me His will. I've had a couple of conversations recently in which the person I was talking to was questioning if it was possible for a person to know God's will. This really bothered me. Perhaps when we're growing up, we have communication issues with our parents that can make it difficult to know what their will is for our lives. Hopefully, you the reader grew up with parents who had excellent communication and relationship-building skills. Hopefully, the idea of walking up to a parent and having a face-to-face conversation with them isn't intimidating. More importantly, hopefully the idea of walking up to God's throne, so to speak, in prayer and conversation, and talking with Him plainly is even less intimidating as time goes by. "Hi, Lord. I like You." "Hey, you're going to go through [insert trial here]. Are you OK with that?" "Um... if You're OK with it, then I'm OK with it." "It's OK. I'm right here."
Sometimes I just want somebody to listen to me. Sometimes I just want somebody to spend a little time developing a relationship with me. Sometimes I just want to talk to a friend face to face. It bothers me when someone won't listen to me. It bothers me when someone won't take the time to get to know me. It bothers me when someone won't let me talk to them. I wonder if God is the same way. I wonder if maybe He's got tons of plans and thoughts and revelations that He's just waiting to share with a listening ear. I wonder how many times my head has been so noisy that I haven't been able to hear my God, my Big Brother, my Best Friend talking to me. I want to delight myself in Him and let Him meet the desires of my heart, like it says in Psalm 37. I want Him to feed me the finest of wheat and let Him satisfy me with honey from the rock, like it says in Psalm 81.
Regardless of how many awesome friends I have in my life, Jesus will always be THE Best Friend I could ever have, and He is my Big Brother who sticks even closer than a natural brother ever could, like it says in Proverbs 18. Regardless of how ravenously I seek physical food like at IHOP or spiritual food like the Bible, regardless of how ravenously young lions seek their food, if I seek God, I won't lack any good thing, like it says in Psalm 34. Regardless of how many tall buildings any of us could ever leap in a single bound, no one will ever hold a candle to Jesus, who is THE Hero who made a way for us to have direct access to Father God, and Jesus' identity is NOT a secret.
Hmm. All this talk about IHOP and casseroles has made me hungry again. I wonder if bacon and eggs will be included in the banqueting table in Heaven. Nah, on second thought, I think the food there will be infinitely more delicious. Wowie!
My friend and I have recently outgrown IHOP. (Powerhouse isn't her real name, of course. She's a superhero. She leaps tall buildings in a single bound and has a secret identity. Insert fanfare here.) It's time for us to branch out and find a new hangout restaurant. So, I decided to hit the highway and scout out the land, which is how I found IHOP in the first place, which happens to be in a location that's about halfway between where she lives and where I live. So far, the candidates are a Mexican food place close to where I live and a Tex-Mex place close to where she lives... and there's also a Denny's. Yay, variety!
No, we haven't yet officially decided on the new hangout spot, but my point is that it delighted my heart to scout out this territory -- to go first and check out the options. I think it's part of how God made me. I'm a firstborn. When I was growing up, I was the first child to experience lots of things. Then I'd report back.
"He is the image of the invisible God, the Firstborn over all creation." (Colossians 1:15, talking about Jesus)
Now to abruptly switch gears. The other day, I enthusiastically ripped off part of one of my guitar calluses (because it felt like it was about to peel off, anyway). I think I ripped off a teensy bit too much, because it's somewhat raw underneath, as you can tell on the second digit from the right in the picture. Yes, I snapped this picture after playing my guitar. Yes, that red line is from playing my guitar on the somewhat raw part of my finger. Yes, I chose this particular photo partially to elicit pity. Yes, owie. And then...
...almost a week later, I felt like more of the callus wanted to rip off, so I ripped more of it off. Perhaps you can see in the photo that an even rawer, more tender part of my skin is exposed at the bottom of the rip. I discovered this morning how doubly painful it can be to play my guitar by pressing this very exposed area of my finger on a steel string. Double owie!
My emotional and spiritual healing is kind of going through the same thing right now. Hard, cushiony protection has been ripped off, and softer, raw undercoating has been exposed, and words can't even do justice to describe how much it hurts. "Owie" is too teeny-tiny of an expression. But the good news is that Jesus is a Healer, and God is binding up my wounds like it says in Psalm 147.
Now to switch metaphors. Jesus and I have been cleaning house, and we found at least one trash can that has been full and decaying. It's time to take out the trash... or possibly to discard the disgusting trash can altogether. I'm not exactly sure yet. You know who knows? Jesus, my Big Brother. He's gone before me and knows what's coming up next. He knows the next turn. He's scouted out the land, so to speak. He found the new IHOP, and I believe He wants to tell me all about it.
"A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs 18:24)
"And He made known to us the mystery of His will according to His good pleasure, which He purposed in Christ..." (Ephesians 1:9)
John 15:15 says that Jesus, my Big Brother, is the Friend who will tell me everything that He's doing. The thing is, I need to listen to Him. I need to be close enough to God to let Him talk to me, give me direction, and show me His will. I've had a couple of conversations recently in which the person I was talking to was questioning if it was possible for a person to know God's will. This really bothered me. Perhaps when we're growing up, we have communication issues with our parents that can make it difficult to know what their will is for our lives. Hopefully, you the reader grew up with parents who had excellent communication and relationship-building skills. Hopefully, the idea of walking up to a parent and having a face-to-face conversation with them isn't intimidating. More importantly, hopefully the idea of walking up to God's throne, so to speak, in prayer and conversation, and talking with Him plainly is even less intimidating as time goes by. "Hi, Lord. I like You." "Hey, you're going to go through [insert trial here]. Are you OK with that?" "Um... if You're OK with it, then I'm OK with it." "It's OK. I'm right here."
Sometimes I just want somebody to listen to me. Sometimes I just want somebody to spend a little time developing a relationship with me. Sometimes I just want to talk to a friend face to face. It bothers me when someone won't listen to me. It bothers me when someone won't take the time to get to know me. It bothers me when someone won't let me talk to them. I wonder if God is the same way. I wonder if maybe He's got tons of plans and thoughts and revelations that He's just waiting to share with a listening ear. I wonder how many times my head has been so noisy that I haven't been able to hear my God, my Big Brother, my Best Friend talking to me. I want to delight myself in Him and let Him meet the desires of my heart, like it says in Psalm 37. I want Him to feed me the finest of wheat and let Him satisfy me with honey from the rock, like it says in Psalm 81.
Regardless of how many awesome friends I have in my life, Jesus will always be THE Best Friend I could ever have, and He is my Big Brother who sticks even closer than a natural brother ever could, like it says in Proverbs 18. Regardless of how ravenously I seek physical food like at IHOP or spiritual food like the Bible, regardless of how ravenously young lions seek their food, if I seek God, I won't lack any good thing, like it says in Psalm 34. Regardless of how many tall buildings any of us could ever leap in a single bound, no one will ever hold a candle to Jesus, who is THE Hero who made a way for us to have direct access to Father God, and Jesus' identity is NOT a secret.
Hmm. All this talk about IHOP and casseroles has made me hungry again. I wonder if bacon and eggs will be included in the banqueting table in Heaven. Nah, on second thought, I think the food there will be infinitely more delicious. Wowie!
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Courage
"I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you." (This is Jesus talking to His disciples in John 15:15.)
"They feast on the abundance of Your house; You give them drink from Your river of delights." (This is David talking to God in Psalm 36:8.)
In my post on 8/15/11, I mentioned my friend who has been accidentally teaching me about being friends with God just by being herself. (I sense a motif, Powerhouse. :)) I would like to elaborate about that a little more. My friend and I sometimes eat at IHOP, and it isn't unusual for us to sit around and chat for quite a while after we finish eating. And then we have a healthy competition where we basically fight over who gets to pay the bill and who gets to hold the door open on the way out to the parking lot. (Unless I beat her to the punch and offer to pay for the meal before we even order our food. Maniacal laughter!) We don't always agree on everything, but we sharpen each other, challenge each other, and encourage each other to be the chicks that God wants us to be.
As I mentioned in my post on 12/26/10, I'm an introvert. Big-time. I recharge when I'm by myself, and being around people is usually a lot of work for me. So, there's a delicate balance of knowing when I need to pull back and recharge, and knowing when I need to come out of solitude and hang out with people. Solitude is a healthy thing that lets me spend time recharging, think through creative ideas, (blog!) and spend extended time with God. Yet it can be tempting sometimes to isolate myself. Isolation is bad because, well, if I spend TOO much time by myself, I could go stir-crazy. I've noticed that being around people helps me to keep a good perspective. Not everybody has the same personality, interests, or gifts that I do. I think I need different people's perspectives to sharpen and refresh me, and they need my perspective to sharpen and refresh them. A balance to this is choosing your friends and acquaintances wisely so that you don't welcome bad influences into your life, but I think that's another blog topic altogether. Here's another important fact that I've learned about friendship: Friends give you courage.
Hmm. Shortly after I typed that, I got an idea. I think the following might be a good way to test whether or not someone is a good friend or a bad friend. If a person gives you courage (encourages you) and points you to God, this person might be a good friend. If a person kicks you and constantly, mercilessly criticizes you (in a non-constructive way), this person might be a bad friend. It really is important to choose your friends wisely, because I really think I treat people the way that people treat me. If I treat people badly, it might be because I was mistreated. If I treat people well, it's because of God, and it might be because I've spent time with Him and have received love and encouragement from Him.
As I mentioned in a Bible verse above (and as I hinted at in a post on 7/27/11), God has a banqueting table where we can eat whatever we want and need, and He has a river where we can drink as much as we want and need. I attended a class at church where I was given very good advice: I need replenishing relationships. A replenishing relationship is a person who you look forward to spending time with, they refresh you while you're spending time with them, and you leave the hangout time refreshed. Even though I'm a big-time introvert who recharges when she's by herself, I need replenishing relationships. My abovementioned friend is one. God is another One.
He's the most important One, actually. God is my Best Friend, and He's the One who gives me courage. Like I mentioned in a Bible verse above, Jesus doesn't call me a servant who is given an assignment, and He isn't a hands-off manager who just leaves and expects me to finish the assignment perfectly without His help. He calls me His friend. I don't have to guess what He's doing; He can tell me directly, and I want to listen to Him. He sent me a Helper (the Holy Spirit), and He walks alongside me and gives me courage to do the things that He wants me to do. He cheers me on. He's walked in my shoes, and He was tempted in the same way that I've been tempted, so I can ask Him unabashedly for mercy and grace (Hebrews 4:15-16). That blows me away. Jesus was tempted in EVERY WAY that I've been tempted?? I've been tempted with some extremely disgusting, terrible things. Yet He wants to HELP me resist temptation and live an abundant life (John 10:10)?? And, as if that weren't awesome enough, I'm already MORE than a conqueror through Him (Romans 8:37)?? HE is my Best Friend.
Metaphorically speaking, Jesus is the Friend who will always go with me to IHOP and let me order whatever I want, and He'll pay the bill. Heck, He's the OWNER of IHOP, and I can eat as much as I want and not get fat, and I can drink as much as I want and not get drunk. We can stay at our table as long as we want, and the waiters won't shoo us away. I can talk to Him and tell Him whatever I want. He can talk to me and tell me whatever He wants, and I want to listen to Him, enraptured, my metaphorical mouth hungry to feast on whatever He wants to speak. After I eat and am satisfied, He can hold the door open for me, walk with me, and sing with me on the way home. Another cool thing about Jesus is that He'll never leave me.
Hmm. This post wouldn't be complete without me mentioning one of my cats. I'm currently typing this with one of my arms under her purring belly. Yeah, that's right. She knows she can come to me unabashedly and get as much affection as she wants, because she's mine. I hope it encourages her to know that.
"They feast on the abundance of Your house; You give them drink from Your river of delights." (This is David talking to God in Psalm 36:8.)
In my post on 8/15/11, I mentioned my friend who has been accidentally teaching me about being friends with God just by being herself. (I sense a motif, Powerhouse. :)) I would like to elaborate about that a little more. My friend and I sometimes eat at IHOP, and it isn't unusual for us to sit around and chat for quite a while after we finish eating. And then we have a healthy competition where we basically fight over who gets to pay the bill and who gets to hold the door open on the way out to the parking lot. (Unless I beat her to the punch and offer to pay for the meal before we even order our food. Maniacal laughter!) We don't always agree on everything, but we sharpen each other, challenge each other, and encourage each other to be the chicks that God wants us to be.
As I mentioned in my post on 12/26/10, I'm an introvert. Big-time. I recharge when I'm by myself, and being around people is usually a lot of work for me. So, there's a delicate balance of knowing when I need to pull back and recharge, and knowing when I need to come out of solitude and hang out with people. Solitude is a healthy thing that lets me spend time recharging, think through creative ideas, (blog!) and spend extended time with God. Yet it can be tempting sometimes to isolate myself. Isolation is bad because, well, if I spend TOO much time by myself, I could go stir-crazy. I've noticed that being around people helps me to keep a good perspective. Not everybody has the same personality, interests, or gifts that I do. I think I need different people's perspectives to sharpen and refresh me, and they need my perspective to sharpen and refresh them. A balance to this is choosing your friends and acquaintances wisely so that you don't welcome bad influences into your life, but I think that's another blog topic altogether. Here's another important fact that I've learned about friendship: Friends give you courage.
Hmm. Shortly after I typed that, I got an idea. I think the following might be a good way to test whether or not someone is a good friend or a bad friend. If a person gives you courage (encourages you) and points you to God, this person might be a good friend. If a person kicks you and constantly, mercilessly criticizes you (in a non-constructive way), this person might be a bad friend. It really is important to choose your friends wisely, because I really think I treat people the way that people treat me. If I treat people badly, it might be because I was mistreated. If I treat people well, it's because of God, and it might be because I've spent time with Him and have received love and encouragement from Him.
As I mentioned in a Bible verse above (and as I hinted at in a post on 7/27/11), God has a banqueting table where we can eat whatever we want and need, and He has a river where we can drink as much as we want and need. I attended a class at church where I was given very good advice: I need replenishing relationships. A replenishing relationship is a person who you look forward to spending time with, they refresh you while you're spending time with them, and you leave the hangout time refreshed. Even though I'm a big-time introvert who recharges when she's by herself, I need replenishing relationships. My abovementioned friend is one. God is another One.
He's the most important One, actually. God is my Best Friend, and He's the One who gives me courage. Like I mentioned in a Bible verse above, Jesus doesn't call me a servant who is given an assignment, and He isn't a hands-off manager who just leaves and expects me to finish the assignment perfectly without His help. He calls me His friend. I don't have to guess what He's doing; He can tell me directly, and I want to listen to Him. He sent me a Helper (the Holy Spirit), and He walks alongside me and gives me courage to do the things that He wants me to do. He cheers me on. He's walked in my shoes, and He was tempted in the same way that I've been tempted, so I can ask Him unabashedly for mercy and grace (Hebrews 4:15-16). That blows me away. Jesus was tempted in EVERY WAY that I've been tempted?? I've been tempted with some extremely disgusting, terrible things. Yet He wants to HELP me resist temptation and live an abundant life (John 10:10)?? And, as if that weren't awesome enough, I'm already MORE than a conqueror through Him (Romans 8:37)?? HE is my Best Friend.
Metaphorically speaking, Jesus is the Friend who will always go with me to IHOP and let me order whatever I want, and He'll pay the bill. Heck, He's the OWNER of IHOP, and I can eat as much as I want and not get fat, and I can drink as much as I want and not get drunk. We can stay at our table as long as we want, and the waiters won't shoo us away. I can talk to Him and tell Him whatever I want. He can talk to me and tell me whatever He wants, and I want to listen to Him, enraptured, my metaphorical mouth hungry to feast on whatever He wants to speak. After I eat and am satisfied, He can hold the door open for me, walk with me, and sing with me on the way home. Another cool thing about Jesus is that He'll never leave me.
Hmm. This post wouldn't be complete without me mentioning one of my cats. I'm currently typing this with one of my arms under her purring belly. Yeah, that's right. She knows she can come to me unabashedly and get as much affection as she wants, because she's mine. I hope it encourages her to know that.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Another reason why I'm hated
Did the subject of this post get your attention? Good. :) Now I'll share some Bible verses. (Incoming!)
"Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one's youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate." (Psalm 127:4-5)
"Praise be to the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle. He is my loving God and my fortress." (Psalm 144:1-2a)
Somewhat continuing on what I blogged about last week, I'm God's friend, and I'm God's child (because I accepted Jesus as my Savior, as John 1:12 explains). God is a loving, forgiving, and gentle God who wants to be close to us, and He wants us to know Him intimately. Yet He's also an almighty, triumphant King. He and His family are at war with an enemy who hates us. Technically, we've already won, but we still need to be ready for battle. I'm talking about spiritual battles and a spiritual war.
There's a quote from the movie Scarface: "Say hello to my little friend." I usually hear that quote repeated so casually. However, I watched that movie for the first time last year. (It was on TV, so it was a cleaned-up version that muted out like every other word.) The actual context of that quote is Al Pacino screaming, "SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!!!" right before he shoots an assault rifle. His "little friend" is his weapon.
If I understand Psalm 127 correctly, if I'm God's child, then I'm like an arrow in His quiver. In this sense, I'm His weapon. I don't think I'm necessarily like a grenade that you can only use once to do some major damage. (Although if God wanted to do something like that, that would be pretty darn cool.) If I'm like an arrow in a quiver, I'm probably cared for a great deal. I'm probably constructed, shaped, and sharpened. And then, when the time is right, I'm selected, carefully aimed at the target, and suddenly released to plunge into the area where I can do the most damage. SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!
Revelation 12 says that there's an accuser (the enemy, i.e., the devil) who is overcome by the blood of the Lamb (Jesus) and the word of "their" testimony. From what I understand, the "their" is talking about me -- the "brethren" who are members of God's family. To me, this all comes together in a sweet way in the following verses.
"I do not trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory; but You give us victory over our enemies, You put our adversaries to shame. In God we make our boast all day long, and we will praise Your name forever." (Psalm 44:6-8)
What? you say you suffer from codependence, and you feel doomed to live in a codependent prison forever? (Picture God reaching into His quiver and pulling me out.) SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND! (The bow makes a "sproing" noise right before I hit the target.) "My name is Tirzah, and let me boast about what God has done for me. He set me completely free from codependence, and now He's at the center of my universe. And He can do the same for you."
What? you say you suffer from depression? you've been suicidal? and you were told that you are doomed to medication and therapy forever? (Picture smoke rising from His nostrils as God hurriedly reaches into His quiver and aims me passionately at the target.) SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!! (I make a loud whizzing sound as I scream towards the target.) "My name is Tirzah! Let me boast about what God has done for me! He set me completely free from depression, He rescued me from a pit, He set my feet on a rock, and now I sing a new Psalm-40 style song to Him! And He can do the same for you!"
The enemy already hates me because he hates God, and I belong to God. So, I'm at war, anyway. I'm also like a secret weapon. Or maybe I'm a not-so-secret weapon. Either way, just as long as God wants me in His family, I'm good to go. :) (Incoming!)
"Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one's youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate." (Psalm 127:4-5)
"Praise be to the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle. He is my loving God and my fortress." (Psalm 144:1-2a)
Somewhat continuing on what I blogged about last week, I'm God's friend, and I'm God's child (because I accepted Jesus as my Savior, as John 1:12 explains). God is a loving, forgiving, and gentle God who wants to be close to us, and He wants us to know Him intimately. Yet He's also an almighty, triumphant King. He and His family are at war with an enemy who hates us. Technically, we've already won, but we still need to be ready for battle. I'm talking about spiritual battles and a spiritual war.
There's a quote from the movie Scarface: "Say hello to my little friend." I usually hear that quote repeated so casually. However, I watched that movie for the first time last year. (It was on TV, so it was a cleaned-up version that muted out like every other word.) The actual context of that quote is Al Pacino screaming, "SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!!!" right before he shoots an assault rifle. His "little friend" is his weapon.
If I understand Psalm 127 correctly, if I'm God's child, then I'm like an arrow in His quiver. In this sense, I'm His weapon. I don't think I'm necessarily like a grenade that you can only use once to do some major damage. (Although if God wanted to do something like that, that would be pretty darn cool.) If I'm like an arrow in a quiver, I'm probably cared for a great deal. I'm probably constructed, shaped, and sharpened. And then, when the time is right, I'm selected, carefully aimed at the target, and suddenly released to plunge into the area where I can do the most damage. SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!
Revelation 12 says that there's an accuser (the enemy, i.e., the devil) who is overcome by the blood of the Lamb (Jesus) and the word of "their" testimony. From what I understand, the "their" is talking about me -- the "brethren" who are members of God's family. To me, this all comes together in a sweet way in the following verses.
"I do not trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory; but You give us victory over our enemies, You put our adversaries to shame. In God we make our boast all day long, and we will praise Your name forever." (Psalm 44:6-8)
What? you say you suffer from codependence, and you feel doomed to live in a codependent prison forever? (Picture God reaching into His quiver and pulling me out.) SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND! (The bow makes a "sproing" noise right before I hit the target.) "My name is Tirzah, and let me boast about what God has done for me. He set me completely free from codependence, and now He's at the center of my universe. And He can do the same for you."
What? you say you suffer from depression? you've been suicidal? and you were told that you are doomed to medication and therapy forever? (Picture smoke rising from His nostrils as God hurriedly reaches into His quiver and aims me passionately at the target.) SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!! (I make a loud whizzing sound as I scream towards the target.) "My name is Tirzah! Let me boast about what God has done for me! He set me completely free from depression, He rescued me from a pit, He set my feet on a rock, and now I sing a new Psalm-40 style song to Him! And He can do the same for you!"
The enemy already hates me because he hates God, and I belong to God. So, I'm at war, anyway. I'm also like a secret weapon. Or maybe I'm a not-so-secret weapon. Either way, just as long as God wants me in His family, I'm good to go. :) (Incoming!)
Monday, August 15, 2011
AAH! Face to face!
“The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks with his friend.” (Exodus 33:11a)
In the past, I blogged about friendship and about rejection. These two topics have been swirling around in my head lately, so I thought I'd combine them into a blog post. Let me tell you a secret, though, about my head: It's comfortable with abstractness, so you may end up reading swirling abstractness. Wait. If I just told you, it's not a secret anymore. D'oh!
Recently, I've been spending a lot of time with a new friend. Technically, she isn't a "new" friend, because we've known each other for about a year, but lately our friendship has blossomed big-time because we've grown closer to each other. (Hey, Powerhouse, you know who you are. :)) We've found out about a zillion things we have in common, and we've shared deep things with each other. I mean, we're chicks. We've been chick-bonding. We laugh, we cry, we talk, we listen, we hurt, we comfort, we inquire, we counsel. I've heard that guys bond slightly differently than women do -- they play basketball together or go hunting together or watch football together or something. But that's only what I've heard. Or maybe it's exactly like chick-bonding, and it just happens in a realm that's supposed to be a complete mystery to me. My point is that while spending time with my "new" friend -- and I say "new" because it's as if I've suddenly looked around and AAH! hello! brand-new closeness in a friend! yay! -- God has been showing me things about my friendship with Him.
I began this post talking about Moses. From what I understand, he's the one who wrote Exodus, so we're basically getting a firsthand account. From what I understand, he's describing what his relationship with God was like. Jesus died so that we could have this type of relationship with Father God, too. I'm learning that it's a relationship that's designed to be so simple, but so many complicated things can get in the way of it. First of all, we can't see God with our physical eyes. (Or they'd probably explode or something.) Then there are things like lies, fears, pride, etc., that can totally get in the way of simply enjoying God as a Friend and letting Him enjoy us as His "new" friends. The "new" friend I wrote about in the preceding paragraph is very good at telling me to stop beating myself up during our conversations that are supposed to be simple. God basically has to do the same thing during my conversations with Him, too. I'll be like all, "Am I doing this right?? Am I saying the right things?? Why do You like me??" And He'll be like all, "Chill out. I've got you. Keep going." And He'll be infinitely patient with me and calm me down.
Rejection is something that could seriously mess with you. If one or more people, either overtly or indirectly, tell you that they don't want you, you could eventually believe that nobody will ever want you. Failure could seriously mess with you in a similar way. If you mess up over and over again (which anyone who's human has the potential of doing), or worse -- if people repeatedly tell you that you're a failure, when you're really not -- you could eventually believe that you'll never do anything right. These terrible beliefs can seep into pretty much every aspect of your life. At the risk of oversimplifying what's been going on with me these past several months, I'll say that it took me years to finally realize that people kept pooping this crap into my life. In a nutshell, I had friends who were harming my soul. So, I defriended them. To make several very long stories very short, there are some people who I absolutely cannot and will not be friends with anymore, and there are others for which I've left the door open because I would like for the friendship to be repaired someday.
Meanwhile, God is my Best Friend. No one is ever going to hold a candle to Him, no matter how many awesome people come into my life. The Bible says that if we draw near to Him, He'll draw near to us. It's true! If He's my Lord, that means He can get as close as He wants and come near to me anytime I want. So, sometimes I'll be minding my own business, and then suddenly He'll be right there, and I'll be like, AAH! hey, Lord, how's it going? I'm not complaining. I like it. :) It's just that He can be very spontaneous and sudden sometimes.
Switching gears a little bit, I think life and death can happen very suddenly sometimes. This evening, while I was at a dealership getting the oil changed on my car, I went to the cashier and found out that one of the service guys recently got killed in a motorcycle accident. There's a memorial fund set up in his honor, so there was a picture of him and his children on display. I didn't know him, but I used to see him for like 2 minutes every few months while he'd take my information and my key before I'd head for the waiting room. He seemed like a nice guy, but I didn't know him, and now he's gone. It was hard for me to maintain my composure while I was at the cashier, but I wept during the ride home. I don't know if he knows God or not. I sure hope he does. But if what I felt was a teeny-tiny little fraction of the grief that God feels at the death of someone who He created... oh, man. I bet that freakin' hurts.
Remember how I blogged about how rejection can be a dangerous thing and that rejecting God has serious consequences? Please don't reject God. He wants to be your Friend. He wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of sending His Son Jesus to die on the cross for you, in your place, if He didn't want to bridge the gap between you and Him. Life doesn't end when we die. There's an eternity afterwards -- life with God and life without God. Everyone has to choose which one. Again, this might be oversimplifying, but it's kind of like my recent defriending process. If you reject God before you leave Earth, He absolutely cannot and will not be friends with you; but while you're still here, He's left an open door because He wants to have a relationship with you and be your friend.
That's not to say that everyone who knows God and has a relationship with Him has to have the exact same kind of friendship with Him as everybody else. I think God will meet us right where we are. He wants to know us and spend time with us. I've known God for 25 years. For the first 8 years of our very distant relationship, I knew God a lot like I knew the mailman -- ooh, you got something for me? give it! thank you! I'm gonna go hang out with my "friends" now! see ya! And now, I would much rather aim to be close to God and look forward to a lifetime of aiming to be closer and closer with each passing season -- ooh, You wanna have lunch with me? cool! can You talk to me about this problem I have? thank You! I dig hanging out with You, and I don't care what anybody thinks about us! I know You love me, You'll never leave me, and I belong to You!
So, God spoke to Moses face to face, as a man speaks with his friend. Jesus told His disciples in John 15 that He doesn't call them servants anymore, but He calls them friends, because a servant doesn't know what his master is doing. Psalm 91 talks about dwelling in the secret place of God. What do friends do? Tell each other secrets. From what I understand, God revealed Himself tangibly through Jesus. Yet God is still a mystery. From what I understand, He's got lots more secrets that He wants to share with His friends.
AAH! God wants to be close to me?? He knows everything about me, but He still wants to be my friend?? Wait. I think I need to chill out. D'oh!
In the past, I blogged about friendship and about rejection. These two topics have been swirling around in my head lately, so I thought I'd combine them into a blog post. Let me tell you a secret, though, about my head: It's comfortable with abstractness, so you may end up reading swirling abstractness. Wait. If I just told you, it's not a secret anymore. D'oh!
Recently, I've been spending a lot of time with a new friend. Technically, she isn't a "new" friend, because we've known each other for about a year, but lately our friendship has blossomed big-time because we've grown closer to each other. (Hey, Powerhouse, you know who you are. :)) We've found out about a zillion things we have in common, and we've shared deep things with each other. I mean, we're chicks. We've been chick-bonding. We laugh, we cry, we talk, we listen, we hurt, we comfort, we inquire, we counsel. I've heard that guys bond slightly differently than women do -- they play basketball together or go hunting together or watch football together or something. But that's only what I've heard. Or maybe it's exactly like chick-bonding, and it just happens in a realm that's supposed to be a complete mystery to me. My point is that while spending time with my "new" friend -- and I say "new" because it's as if I've suddenly looked around and AAH! hello! brand-new closeness in a friend! yay! -- God has been showing me things about my friendship with Him.
I began this post talking about Moses. From what I understand, he's the one who wrote Exodus, so we're basically getting a firsthand account. From what I understand, he's describing what his relationship with God was like. Jesus died so that we could have this type of relationship with Father God, too. I'm learning that it's a relationship that's designed to be so simple, but so many complicated things can get in the way of it. First of all, we can't see God with our physical eyes. (Or they'd probably explode or something.) Then there are things like lies, fears, pride, etc., that can totally get in the way of simply enjoying God as a Friend and letting Him enjoy us as His "new" friends. The "new" friend I wrote about in the preceding paragraph is very good at telling me to stop beating myself up during our conversations that are supposed to be simple. God basically has to do the same thing during my conversations with Him, too. I'll be like all, "Am I doing this right?? Am I saying the right things?? Why do You like me??" And He'll be like all, "Chill out. I've got you. Keep going." And He'll be infinitely patient with me and calm me down.
Rejection is something that could seriously mess with you. If one or more people, either overtly or indirectly, tell you that they don't want you, you could eventually believe that nobody will ever want you. Failure could seriously mess with you in a similar way. If you mess up over and over again (which anyone who's human has the potential of doing), or worse -- if people repeatedly tell you that you're a failure, when you're really not -- you could eventually believe that you'll never do anything right. These terrible beliefs can seep into pretty much every aspect of your life. At the risk of oversimplifying what's been going on with me these past several months, I'll say that it took me years to finally realize that people kept pooping this crap into my life. In a nutshell, I had friends who were harming my soul. So, I defriended them. To make several very long stories very short, there are some people who I absolutely cannot and will not be friends with anymore, and there are others for which I've left the door open because I would like for the friendship to be repaired someday.
Meanwhile, God is my Best Friend. No one is ever going to hold a candle to Him, no matter how many awesome people come into my life. The Bible says that if we draw near to Him, He'll draw near to us. It's true! If He's my Lord, that means He can get as close as He wants and come near to me anytime I want. So, sometimes I'll be minding my own business, and then suddenly He'll be right there, and I'll be like, AAH! hey, Lord, how's it going? I'm not complaining. I like it. :) It's just that He can be very spontaneous and sudden sometimes.
Switching gears a little bit, I think life and death can happen very suddenly sometimes. This evening, while I was at a dealership getting the oil changed on my car, I went to the cashier and found out that one of the service guys recently got killed in a motorcycle accident. There's a memorial fund set up in his honor, so there was a picture of him and his children on display. I didn't know him, but I used to see him for like 2 minutes every few months while he'd take my information and my key before I'd head for the waiting room. He seemed like a nice guy, but I didn't know him, and now he's gone. It was hard for me to maintain my composure while I was at the cashier, but I wept during the ride home. I don't know if he knows God or not. I sure hope he does. But if what I felt was a teeny-tiny little fraction of the grief that God feels at the death of someone who He created... oh, man. I bet that freakin' hurts.
Remember how I blogged about how rejection can be a dangerous thing and that rejecting God has serious consequences? Please don't reject God. He wants to be your Friend. He wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of sending His Son Jesus to die on the cross for you, in your place, if He didn't want to bridge the gap between you and Him. Life doesn't end when we die. There's an eternity afterwards -- life with God and life without God. Everyone has to choose which one. Again, this might be oversimplifying, but it's kind of like my recent defriending process. If you reject God before you leave Earth, He absolutely cannot and will not be friends with you; but while you're still here, He's left an open door because He wants to have a relationship with you and be your friend.
That's not to say that everyone who knows God and has a relationship with Him has to have the exact same kind of friendship with Him as everybody else. I think God will meet us right where we are. He wants to know us and spend time with us. I've known God for 25 years. For the first 8 years of our very distant relationship, I knew God a lot like I knew the mailman -- ooh, you got something for me? give it! thank you! I'm gonna go hang out with my "friends" now! see ya! And now, I would much rather aim to be close to God and look forward to a lifetime of aiming to be closer and closer with each passing season -- ooh, You wanna have lunch with me? cool! can You talk to me about this problem I have? thank You! I dig hanging out with You, and I don't care what anybody thinks about us! I know You love me, You'll never leave me, and I belong to You!
So, God spoke to Moses face to face, as a man speaks with his friend. Jesus told His disciples in John 15 that He doesn't call them servants anymore, but He calls them friends, because a servant doesn't know what his master is doing. Psalm 91 talks about dwelling in the secret place of God. What do friends do? Tell each other secrets. From what I understand, God revealed Himself tangibly through Jesus. Yet God is still a mystery. From what I understand, He's got lots more secrets that He wants to share with His friends.
AAH! God wants to be close to me?? He knows everything about me, but He still wants to be my friend?? Wait. I think I need to chill out. D'oh!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Feasting
“He has taken me to the banquet hall, and His banner over me is love.” (Song of Solomon 2:4)
“His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor His delight in the legs of a man; the Lord delights in those who fear Him, who put their hope in His unfailing love.” (Psalm 147:10-11)
I think this is the first time I’ve ever blogged about this topic: fasting. It’s basically when you abstain from something (usually food) so that you can seek God and He can meet you in a deeper way. I won’t go into all the biblical reasons for/benefits of fasting here, but I’d like to share with you a little bit about it from my perspective.
A leader at a former church of mine used to fast a lot, and I remember him saying once that fasting was like a self-imposed trial. I like this definition. Trials are basically things that God allows in our life where He tests our character, squeezes us, and makes us go, “God, I need You! Help!” The same thing basically happens when you fast. You’re hungry, and whether you or not you say it with your mouth, you’re saying with your actions, “God, I need You more than I need food!” Sometimes I can hear Him speaking more clearly when I’m fasting, and sometimes I don’t hear Him speak very clearly until after I’m done fasting. I think the key is to just obey God, seek His face and His heart, and let Him do whatever He wants with you.
Another topic that I don’t think I’ve officially blogged about yet is spiritual abuse. It’s basically when somebody gives themselves too much spiritual authority over you, almost as if they’re God for you, and they make you think that you’re sinning when you’re not, and it makes you feel ashamed, and it makes you feel like God isn’t happy with you unless you do all sorts of “works” for God. Fasting can be one of these “works.” Phew! Spiritual abuse is terrible. It’s something that I learned about for the first time last year. I won’t go into detail about this yet, but to make a very long story very short, I’ve found out that the abovementioned church family was in a spiritually abusive environment. One of the leaders there said once, regarding fasting, “Water will get to the issue a lot quicker.” I think he meant that if you completely abstain from everything except water, God will speak to you a lot quicker. OK, yes, if God tells you you need to fast from everything except water, then that’s what you need to do. Or if you’re so desperate for God to move in your situation that as an expression of your desperation, you fast from everything except water, I’m sure God will see your heart and meet you in an awesome way. But for somebody to make you feel inferior because you can’t do a three-day water fast the way they can is just terrible. Besides -- not everyone is even medically able to abstain from food. People who have certain medical conditions need to eat and stick to their special diets. There are other things to fast from besides food.
Fast-forwarding years later, I was at another spiritually abusive church (aaagh! God is healing me from this junk, and the church I’m at now is non-abusive, honest!) where I believed that God wanted me to fast from non-work-related TV for a few days. At the time, I was working at a media-related job and had to watch TV and movies for my job. But after work, I was used to turning on the TV and watching it for fun. But not during the fast. I figured it would be much easier than fasting from food. Boy, was I wrong! I didn’t know what to do with myself during the evenings, and I would have rather given up food! Anyway, I basically told this to my lifegroup leader at the time, and she looked at me like I was crazy.
No, sorry, but I’m not crazy. If God says to do something, I need to do it. And if I’m abstaining from something, it’s probably something that my flesh is going to want all the more. It’s usually hard to do. Right now, for example, I’m fasting meats and sweets. I thought this was going to be an easy fast. WRONG! I didn’t totally realize how accustomed I’d gotten to grabbing those beautiful little bags of candy from the breakroom at work and munching on it in my cubicle. I WANT CANDY! And a couple of nights this week, I had to grab some quick deli food for dinner. I thought it would be easy to find a non-meat sandwich like pimento cheese. WRONG! I had to get a regular sandwich and eat everything but the cold cuts, which I brought home and fed later to my curiously carnivorous cats. I WANT CHEWY, BEAUTIFUL MEAT WITH SAVORY, BEAUTIFUL GREASE DRIBBLING DOWN MY CHIN! So, anyway, yeah, a meat-and-sweet fast ain’t necessarily all that easy.
But I need God more than candy and greasy meat. I need to be close to Him. I need Him so much, it ain’t even funny. I’m choking up just typing this. This morning, while I was crying on His shoulder, He showed me some important stuff related to my healing. Later that morning, He showed me even more stuff. By the time I got to my work cubicle, I was so satisfied with His food that I don’t even think I craved candy. God has been feeding me what I need, and I need to trust that He’s been squeezing out the bad junk and replacing it with His good things. I like to eat from His banqueting table.
So, if you’d like to learn how to lean on God at a deeper level, try fasting. If you want to cultivate a desperation for God at a deeper level, try fasting. If you want to practice crying out to God and expressing your need for Him at a deeper level, try fasting. Well, definitely pray about it first and make sure that it’s something He wants you to do. (Doing a meat-and-sweet fast in the middle of the summer wasn’t my idea, honest!) The most important thing is that you obey Him and seek Him and love Him.
Tomorrow morning (Thursday) when my fast is over, I think I’ll eat yogurt with chocolate syrup on toast and maybe a side of scrambled eggs. Hmm. On second thought, my tummy doesn’t like the sound of that idea. Maybe I’ll just pour some sugar in my coffee. Sorry, kitties, no cold cuts for you tomorrow!
“His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor His delight in the legs of a man; the Lord delights in those who fear Him, who put their hope in His unfailing love.” (Psalm 147:10-11)
I think this is the first time I’ve ever blogged about this topic: fasting. It’s basically when you abstain from something (usually food) so that you can seek God and He can meet you in a deeper way. I won’t go into all the biblical reasons for/benefits of fasting here, but I’d like to share with you a little bit about it from my perspective.
A leader at a former church of mine used to fast a lot, and I remember him saying once that fasting was like a self-imposed trial. I like this definition. Trials are basically things that God allows in our life where He tests our character, squeezes us, and makes us go, “God, I need You! Help!” The same thing basically happens when you fast. You’re hungry, and whether you or not you say it with your mouth, you’re saying with your actions, “God, I need You more than I need food!” Sometimes I can hear Him speaking more clearly when I’m fasting, and sometimes I don’t hear Him speak very clearly until after I’m done fasting. I think the key is to just obey God, seek His face and His heart, and let Him do whatever He wants with you.
Another topic that I don’t think I’ve officially blogged about yet is spiritual abuse. It’s basically when somebody gives themselves too much spiritual authority over you, almost as if they’re God for you, and they make you think that you’re sinning when you’re not, and it makes you feel ashamed, and it makes you feel like God isn’t happy with you unless you do all sorts of “works” for God. Fasting can be one of these “works.” Phew! Spiritual abuse is terrible. It’s something that I learned about for the first time last year. I won’t go into detail about this yet, but to make a very long story very short, I’ve found out that the abovementioned church family was in a spiritually abusive environment. One of the leaders there said once, regarding fasting, “Water will get to the issue a lot quicker.” I think he meant that if you completely abstain from everything except water, God will speak to you a lot quicker. OK, yes, if God tells you you need to fast from everything except water, then that’s what you need to do. Or if you’re so desperate for God to move in your situation that as an expression of your desperation, you fast from everything except water, I’m sure God will see your heart and meet you in an awesome way. But for somebody to make you feel inferior because you can’t do a three-day water fast the way they can is just terrible. Besides -- not everyone is even medically able to abstain from food. People who have certain medical conditions need to eat and stick to their special diets. There are other things to fast from besides food.
Fast-forwarding years later, I was at another spiritually abusive church (aaagh! God is healing me from this junk, and the church I’m at now is non-abusive, honest!) where I believed that God wanted me to fast from non-work-related TV for a few days. At the time, I was working at a media-related job and had to watch TV and movies for my job. But after work, I was used to turning on the TV and watching it for fun. But not during the fast. I figured it would be much easier than fasting from food. Boy, was I wrong! I didn’t know what to do with myself during the evenings, and I would have rather given up food! Anyway, I basically told this to my lifegroup leader at the time, and she looked at me like I was crazy.
No, sorry, but I’m not crazy. If God says to do something, I need to do it. And if I’m abstaining from something, it’s probably something that my flesh is going to want all the more. It’s usually hard to do. Right now, for example, I’m fasting meats and sweets. I thought this was going to be an easy fast. WRONG! I didn’t totally realize how accustomed I’d gotten to grabbing those beautiful little bags of candy from the breakroom at work and munching on it in my cubicle. I WANT CANDY! And a couple of nights this week, I had to grab some quick deli food for dinner. I thought it would be easy to find a non-meat sandwich like pimento cheese. WRONG! I had to get a regular sandwich and eat everything but the cold cuts, which I brought home and fed later to my curiously carnivorous cats. I WANT CHEWY, BEAUTIFUL MEAT WITH SAVORY, BEAUTIFUL GREASE DRIBBLING DOWN MY CHIN! So, anyway, yeah, a meat-and-sweet fast ain’t necessarily all that easy.
But I need God more than candy and greasy meat. I need to be close to Him. I need Him so much, it ain’t even funny. I’m choking up just typing this. This morning, while I was crying on His shoulder, He showed me some important stuff related to my healing. Later that morning, He showed me even more stuff. By the time I got to my work cubicle, I was so satisfied with His food that I don’t even think I craved candy. God has been feeding me what I need, and I need to trust that He’s been squeezing out the bad junk and replacing it with His good things. I like to eat from His banqueting table.
So, if you’d like to learn how to lean on God at a deeper level, try fasting. If you want to cultivate a desperation for God at a deeper level, try fasting. If you want to practice crying out to God and expressing your need for Him at a deeper level, try fasting. Well, definitely pray about it first and make sure that it’s something He wants you to do. (Doing a meat-and-sweet fast in the middle of the summer wasn’t my idea, honest!) The most important thing is that you obey Him and seek Him and love Him.
Tomorrow morning (Thursday) when my fast is over, I think I’ll eat yogurt with chocolate syrup on toast and maybe a side of scrambled eggs. Hmm. On second thought, my tummy doesn’t like the sound of that idea. Maybe I’ll just pour some sugar in my coffee. Sorry, kitties, no cold cuts for you tomorrow!
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Eww, what’s that smell? It’s a sequel.
“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Ephesians 6:12)
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
Last week, I wrote about housecleaning. This week, I found something else to talk about, and I think I can best illustrate my point by NOT sparing you the gory, disgusting details. Warning: I think I’m going to have to rate this blog post PG-13. Ready? Here we go.
Yesterday evening, I was minding my own business at the parking lot of a local grocery store. I had been driving for about 45 minutes, and I hobbled out of my car and was heading for the store entrance. Behind me, I heard a woman shout, “Nasty-lookin’ dyke! Nasty-lookin’ bitch!” It took a moment for it to register that she possibly could have been shouting at me. I felt prompted to just keep walking. I entered the store, and all sorts of things started rushing into my head. Wait -- was that woman really shouting at me? Why would she shout at me? I’m straight. I mean, I was wearing a T-shirt and baggy jeans, and I recently chopped my hair down to the same length that I wore it about 10 years ago. I thought I looked adorable. I mean, what the heck happened? So, I paced the store aisles a little bit and composed myself and prayed and forgave the shouting woman.
I would like to reiterate that I’m not gay, and I don’t want to disrespect anyone who is or who struggles with homosexuality. To read my full opinion on this issue, please refer to my blog post from a couple of years ago. I didn’t see the shouting woman, and yes, there’s a strong chance that she wasn’t even shouting at me, but I felt very unsafe during and after that weird episode. I don’t want to make light of serious situations that have seriously happened, but I think I got a tiny taste of what it’s like to be stereotyped that way or shamed that way or to even possibly be the target of a hate crime. I’m thankful that God protected me from such a thing, aside from the majorly huge, majorly ironic detail -- HELLO, PEOPLE, I’M STRAIGHT!
I forgave the shouting woman multiple times, but her words, even though they may not have been directed at me, resounded through my spirit for many hours afterwards. I spent the rest of yesterday evening and most of today working through it. I lost my self-confidence for a while. Should I not have cut my hair? Should I change the way I dress? Is this why guys don’t ask me out? Does everybody else agree with the shouting woman?
So, what it boiled down to wasn’t the shouting woman. It was her words, whether they were directed at me or not. My spirit gulped them down, I think because I have a history of abuse (long story!), and I’m used to consuming those types of toxic, deathly words inside me. I really need to get un-used to it. Proverbs 18:21 says that death and life are in the power of the tongue. The shouting woman was speaking words of death. The Bible says that the devil is the father of lies. Lying is like a language to him. Unfortunately, I think the shouting woman was letting the devil use her, and she was speaking his language. It was like a fiery dart that needed to be extinguished in the shield of faith.
If I understand correctly, God showed me that the shouting woman was looking for a fight, and she thought I was somebody else. Anyway, regardless of how or why this happened, I hope what I’ve gone through will change me for the better and help somebody else. The truth is, I’m fearfully and wonderfully made, and my soul knows it very well (Psalm 139:14). I’m probably not going to change the way I dress anytime soon. I like my style. I’m not going to try to be somebody I’m not. I’ve almost always been nerdy and dorky, and the more God frees me up, the more artsy-fartsy I get, and lately I’ve been going back to my old punk-wannabe look. Sometimes when I’m in a very good mood, I strut. I’m a girl, but I’m not a girly-girl. Dang it, I like men! (Especially when they’re older, wiser, and starting to get gray! (swooning)) I don’t want to care what people think about me. I want them to get to know me and my heart. I want them to know the One who made me and redeemed me. He loves me, He cherishes me, and He likes me.
Speaking of love, here I am with my little girl cat. Just look at that face. I dote over her. OK, if you squint a little, she kind of looks like E.T. in this picture, but I still love her. (Actually, in some lighting, she looks more like Yoda. Dang it, she’s my cat! I love her!) I believe that God healed her of a heart murmur a few years ago. I took her to the vet, who said that she heard a heart murmur during the examination. I brought my little girl cat back home and prayed and wept over her. Remember when I said that death and life are in the power of the tongue? I was so afraid of somebody accidentally speaking death over my cat that I didn’t tell anybody about her condition for an entire year. At the next vet visit, the vet didn’t hear any murmur! And no vet has mentioned it ever since! Hallelujah!
Back to the housecleaning metaphor. God showed me that the shouting woman speaking words of death was like somebody puking in my closet after I’d just cleaned it. Sometimes when I’m thinking or praying through an issue, I’ll want God to show me what I have to do to fix it, and I’ll treat it like a formula. He’s showing me that it isn’t a formula but a relationship with Him. He also showed me that one reason why I’ve taken so long to learn how to clean house (literally) was because I believed that it was hard. In the past, I was shown that the proper way to clean was to use a certain product and/or tool. But the truth is, cleaning house (literally) really isn’t that hard. Just pick up whatever product and/or tool you have available, and just go for it. If somebody pukes in your closet (literally), maybe after you clean up the actual puke and you spray stain remover on the carpet, you might need to wait for it to dry before vacuuming over the puked-on area. Hmm. I might have too much experience cleaning up puked-on carpets (literally) because I own two cats. And because of other things.
Several months ago when I blogged about equilibrium, I mentioned getting a dizzy spell, and I will now share some details of how sick I got. While I was driving home, I puked on myself. I literally lost my lunch on my car and my clothes. I gotta say, that home ec class I took in high school did NOT prepare me for this cleanup job. Hmm. How to discreetly cover up one’s soiled self while laboring up the stairs to one’s apartment... how to wipe up puke chunks from one’s car with old towels... how to scrape dried puke chunks out of one’s steering wheel a couple of days later after one is well enough to notice that the steering wheel isn’t completely clean yet... how to hope that the old puke stench will disappear by the time one offers someone a ride in one’s car. Nope, I don’t remember reading about any of this in the home ec book.
I think that’s kind of how it is when somebody pukes in your clean closet (metaphorically). Sometimes it isn’t just an unwelcome Christmas present that sits there and takes up dust. It’s a defiling mess that stinks and needs to be cleaned up right away. There isn’t necessarily a verse in the Bible with every one of my specific situations. There isn’t a “Tirzah, when somebody calls you bad names in a grocery-store parking lot, here’s what you do” verse in my Bible. I need to lean on God and let Him show me what to do. He told me to keep walking, so I did. I knew I needed to forgive, so I did. I know that I’m fearfully and wonderfully made, so I need to just be who I was created and designed to be. My relationship with God is the most important thing in my life. I want to depend on Him for everything. He speaks words of life to me all the time, and I need to listen. Sometimes He sends people to help with the cleanup. And sometimes He sends experts with professional, sophisticated, stain-removing equipment. Just as long as it gets clean, just as long as He’s in charge of the cleaning, and just as long as He’s at the center of the cleaning job, I think He’s OK with it. I think He wants the closet to be just like new, if not better than new.
So, tomorrow I plan to heavily gel and spray my hair like usual. My self-confidence is back, my shame is gone, and I might do some strutting. I feel a song parody coming on. Ha, ha, ha, ha, speaking the life, speaking the life. Ha, ha, ha, ha, better than new, better than new.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Eww, what’s that smell? an onion? Nope, a house.
“The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.” (Proverbs 14:1)
“Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.” (Psalm 127:1)
If you’re tired of me talking about emotional healing, this isn’t the blog post for you. Yep, that’s right! I’ve unearthed plenty more to talk about! And it’s probably going to be one big metaphor!
I’ve heard several people say that healing is a lot like peeling an onion -- it happens in layers. That simile, however, isn’t a very good description for what I’ve been going through recently. Besides -- when I cook with onions, I don’t really do that much peeling. I mostly just chop and hack away.
These past several months, God has been talking to me a lot about houses. I live in an apartment, but for the purposes of this blog post, I’m going to say “house.” For me, this particular season of emotional healing has been a lot like cleaning house -- a house that’s accumulated decades worth of junk, dirt, crap, etc. Yep, that’s right! God is cleaning house.
In the actual physical “house” that I live in and pay rent for, I’ve rarely invited anybody over lately because I’ve needed to catch up on my housecleaning. (Hey, Tirzah, get off your laptop and do some cleaning!) Also because my furniture was built in 1975 and needs to be replaced, but that’s another story.
Yes, I actually did take a housecleaning break after typing that last paragraph. If you’ve kept up with my blog for the past couple of years, you know that keeping a clean house is something I’ve struggled with for some time. (And if you’ve kept up with me on Facebook for the past year, you know that I’m not the least bit domestically inclined. I don’t think my cats mind, though. I’m currently typing this with one arm under a purring feline belly.) I won’t go into the gory details now to explain why, but I’m thankful to report that my house is much cleaner than it used to be. The other night, I almost snapped a triumphant photo of an empty sink... because the dishes were all clean! (ecstatic shock) One practical thing that God has shown me is that I need to clean a little bit at a time (rather than pull an all-nighter to cram in all the cleaning at once). If you’ve ever lived alone, worked full-time, and been very involved with church and socializing, and if you don’t have it in your budget to hire a maid, you understand how truly difficult it can be to keep a clean house. (Mental note: Train cats to scrub shower tiles.)
I have what I call my File Pile, which is a pile of documents (bills, junkmail, notes, etc.) that I need to file away later. “Later” doesn’t always happen. As I was quickly going through my File Pile, I was reminded of events in my life that caused me to put filing on hold: getting laid off, getting a new job, buying a new car, working overtime to pay for the new car, etc. OK, I’ll be completely honest. I have 5 File Piles, some of which with materials that have been waiting for about 8 years to actually be filed anywhere, throughout the house. It’s tempting to just lug in a trash can and say goodbye to my File Piles forever with one fell swoop. I haven’t touched some of it in 8 years, so what have I been missing? It’s garbage, right? Well, I suppose some of it is. But I do have some important documents buried under there somewhere, and I really do need to go through it (someday). I should probably sit down for a few minutes at a time to work on it gradually.
OK, The File Piles are tame. Have you ever seen (or smelled) what happens when you go literally for weeks (or months) without cleaning something like the bathroom or the dishes? I have, and it’s not something I’m proud of. It’s something that happens when you work more than 40 hours a week and feel too tired to do anything besides park your butt on the couch and stare at the TV. You’ll be surprised at how gradually you get used to the mold and mildew that develops, and you’ll be shocked at how gradually you get used to the smell (or convince yourself that it isn’t there). I mean, if nobody comes by your place to check on you, where’s the accountability? If it’s just you and two animals under one roof, the three of you just adjust.
Then there are the closets -- the piles of forgotten junk! Some of the junk were Christmas presents given by people who didn’t know me or my tastes very well, so now they just sit there and take up valuable space. Closets can be scary. When I was moving into my current house, I was stressfully packing up my stuff at my old house; right before I left, I swung open the closet door and noticed in horror that I had completely forgotten to pack the closet. Another pile of crap! (chilling shriek)
Now for the metaphor. The good news is, I don’t own my house. It’s a temple that God owns. He’s the reason for the housecleaning. He’s the One who’s cleaning it with me. And He’s got some serious stain-removing, mold-killing, power-dusting, pile-filing equipment. Sometimes He works really fast, and other times He isn’t in a hurry.
I think I understand one reason why I got so clinically, dangerously depressed 11-12 years ago. My house was dirty. It was filthy, cluttered, dusty, and moldy. There was a stench in the air, I couldn’t quite figure out where it was coming from, and I didn’t completely understand that I was worth investigating its source. The people who frequently visited my house either didn’t smell the stench, or they’d come over with a can of air freshener to cover it up, tell me I was doing OK, and then leave. What none of us realized was that there were some closets that were desperately cluttered to overflowing with sweaty, dirty, old socks that needed laundering. The shower tiles were so mildewy that roaches were making themselves at home in the plumbing. Deep in the bottom of the kitchen sink, somebody neglected to clean a platter after cooking some raw meat, and the dish had been sitting there for so long that the thought of even going near the sink was unbearable. In a sense, it seemed much easier to just declare the house condemned and wait for the bulldozers to come finish it off.
But God is in the business of rescuing houses. He’s in the business of remodeling. He’s in the business of restoration. Sure, there were a few dishes and socks here and there that just needed to be thrown away, and there was a termite problem that’s been taken care of. You’ll be surprised how much junk can accumulate in one place in 35 years. Some of the stuff is junk I brought in myself, and some of it is junk that was given to me like unwelcome Christmas presents that just sat around, took up valuable space, and collected dust. But this house is not condemned. This house is valuable. This house is a place that God looks forward to visiting, spending time in, living in, and enjoying. And He’s more than welcome here. It all belongs to Him. He helps me clean up, tidy up, and sanitize. There are some rooms that are cleaner than others, but there are other rooms that still need lots of attention. There are File Piles that have junkmail mixed in with important documents, and I think God wants to sit down with me and work through it gradually. And yes, sometimes I don’t even feel like a house but an onion that doesn’t get peeled but chopped at and hacked at. But it’s OK. However He lovingly repairs, remodels, and restores my house, I want Him to make Himself at home here.
Back to literal stuff. I really do have company coming over soon, so I do need to catch some Zs, wake up early, and do a bit more tidying up tomorrow morning. Maybe I can bribe the cats to help me out. I’d try using tuna, but I don’t want to ruin how nice and un-stenchlike it smells in here right now. Hmm.
“Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.” (Psalm 127:1)
If you’re tired of me talking about emotional healing, this isn’t the blog post for you. Yep, that’s right! I’ve unearthed plenty more to talk about! And it’s probably going to be one big metaphor!
I’ve heard several people say that healing is a lot like peeling an onion -- it happens in layers. That simile, however, isn’t a very good description for what I’ve been going through recently. Besides -- when I cook with onions, I don’t really do that much peeling. I mostly just chop and hack away.
These past several months, God has been talking to me a lot about houses. I live in an apartment, but for the purposes of this blog post, I’m going to say “house.” For me, this particular season of emotional healing has been a lot like cleaning house -- a house that’s accumulated decades worth of junk, dirt, crap, etc. Yep, that’s right! God is cleaning house.
In the actual physical “house” that I live in and pay rent for, I’ve rarely invited anybody over lately because I’ve needed to catch up on my housecleaning. (Hey, Tirzah, get off your laptop and do some cleaning!) Also because my furniture was built in 1975 and needs to be replaced, but that’s another story.
Yes, I actually did take a housecleaning break after typing that last paragraph. If you’ve kept up with my blog for the past couple of years, you know that keeping a clean house is something I’ve struggled with for some time. (And if you’ve kept up with me on Facebook for the past year, you know that I’m not the least bit domestically inclined. I don’t think my cats mind, though. I’m currently typing this with one arm under a purring feline belly.) I won’t go into the gory details now to explain why, but I’m thankful to report that my house is much cleaner than it used to be. The other night, I almost snapped a triumphant photo of an empty sink... because the dishes were all clean! (ecstatic shock) One practical thing that God has shown me is that I need to clean a little bit at a time (rather than pull an all-nighter to cram in all the cleaning at once). If you’ve ever lived alone, worked full-time, and been very involved with church and socializing, and if you don’t have it in your budget to hire a maid, you understand how truly difficult it can be to keep a clean house. (Mental note: Train cats to scrub shower tiles.)
I have what I call my File Pile, which is a pile of documents (bills, junkmail, notes, etc.) that I need to file away later. “Later” doesn’t always happen. As I was quickly going through my File Pile, I was reminded of events in my life that caused me to put filing on hold: getting laid off, getting a new job, buying a new car, working overtime to pay for the new car, etc. OK, I’ll be completely honest. I have 5 File Piles, some of which with materials that have been waiting for about 8 years to actually be filed anywhere, throughout the house. It’s tempting to just lug in a trash can and say goodbye to my File Piles forever with one fell swoop. I haven’t touched some of it in 8 years, so what have I been missing? It’s garbage, right? Well, I suppose some of it is. But I do have some important documents buried under there somewhere, and I really do need to go through it (someday). I should probably sit down for a few minutes at a time to work on it gradually.
OK, The File Piles are tame. Have you ever seen (or smelled) what happens when you go literally for weeks (or months) without cleaning something like the bathroom or the dishes? I have, and it’s not something I’m proud of. It’s something that happens when you work more than 40 hours a week and feel too tired to do anything besides park your butt on the couch and stare at the TV. You’ll be surprised at how gradually you get used to the mold and mildew that develops, and you’ll be shocked at how gradually you get used to the smell (or convince yourself that it isn’t there). I mean, if nobody comes by your place to check on you, where’s the accountability? If it’s just you and two animals under one roof, the three of you just adjust.
Then there are the closets -- the piles of forgotten junk! Some of the junk were Christmas presents given by people who didn’t know me or my tastes very well, so now they just sit there and take up valuable space. Closets can be scary. When I was moving into my current house, I was stressfully packing up my stuff at my old house; right before I left, I swung open the closet door and noticed in horror that I had completely forgotten to pack the closet. Another pile of crap! (chilling shriek)
Now for the metaphor. The good news is, I don’t own my house. It’s a temple that God owns. He’s the reason for the housecleaning. He’s the One who’s cleaning it with me. And He’s got some serious stain-removing, mold-killing, power-dusting, pile-filing equipment. Sometimes He works really fast, and other times He isn’t in a hurry.
I think I understand one reason why I got so clinically, dangerously depressed 11-12 years ago. My house was dirty. It was filthy, cluttered, dusty, and moldy. There was a stench in the air, I couldn’t quite figure out where it was coming from, and I didn’t completely understand that I was worth investigating its source. The people who frequently visited my house either didn’t smell the stench, or they’d come over with a can of air freshener to cover it up, tell me I was doing OK, and then leave. What none of us realized was that there were some closets that were desperately cluttered to overflowing with sweaty, dirty, old socks that needed laundering. The shower tiles were so mildewy that roaches were making themselves at home in the plumbing. Deep in the bottom of the kitchen sink, somebody neglected to clean a platter after cooking some raw meat, and the dish had been sitting there for so long that the thought of even going near the sink was unbearable. In a sense, it seemed much easier to just declare the house condemned and wait for the bulldozers to come finish it off.
But God is in the business of rescuing houses. He’s in the business of remodeling. He’s in the business of restoration. Sure, there were a few dishes and socks here and there that just needed to be thrown away, and there was a termite problem that’s been taken care of. You’ll be surprised how much junk can accumulate in one place in 35 years. Some of the stuff is junk I brought in myself, and some of it is junk that was given to me like unwelcome Christmas presents that just sat around, took up valuable space, and collected dust. But this house is not condemned. This house is valuable. This house is a place that God looks forward to visiting, spending time in, living in, and enjoying. And He’s more than welcome here. It all belongs to Him. He helps me clean up, tidy up, and sanitize. There are some rooms that are cleaner than others, but there are other rooms that still need lots of attention. There are File Piles that have junkmail mixed in with important documents, and I think God wants to sit down with me and work through it gradually. And yes, sometimes I don’t even feel like a house but an onion that doesn’t get peeled but chopped at and hacked at. But it’s OK. However He lovingly repairs, remodels, and restores my house, I want Him to make Himself at home here.
Back to literal stuff. I really do have company coming over soon, so I do need to catch some Zs, wake up early, and do a bit more tidying up tomorrow morning. Maybe I can bribe the cats to help me out. I’d try using tuna, but I don’t want to ruin how nice and un-stenchlike it smells in here right now. Hmm.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Tirzah’s Travel Thoughts: Oklahoma-Missouri Randomness 2011
It’s been said that variety is the spice of life. I would say, however, that randomness is the background against which I live my life. Last year, I drove through Oklahoma and Missouri to visit my very good friend Liz in Columbia. This year, I embarked on that adventure once again. I thought I would snap and post photos of the beautiful scenery I saw last year, now that I have a real digital camera. Instead, however, I thought I’d share road-trip experiences that were so random that I couldn’t just keep them all to myself.
Can anyone help me figure out why anyone would display this particular monument for all to see on a small-town highway in Oklahoma?
Behold! The rusted mailtruck! *triumphant fanfare plays*
I liked small-town Oklahoma. The people there were nice and friendly indeed. Whoever owns Braum’s was very smart in building an eatery/grocery store at nearly every town on Highway 69. During one such visit, an elderly lady who was wearing what appeared to be an antique football helmet entered the lady’s room and greeted me with “Howdy.” Perhaps she chose that particular headgear for medical reasons, but that has to be one of the most random restroom greetings I’ve ever had.
Then there was the overly excited cashier at a Love’s truck stop just past the Missouri border. “Hello, and welcome to Love’s!” he shouted in a mostly-sincere-but-with-maybe-a-dash-of-sarcasm eloquence as I scurried inside. Later, right before I purchased a Pepsi Throwback and peanuts, I heard him discussing with his coworker how much money he spends every month on cigarettes. Perhaps he owes his near-thespian performance of a greeting to nicotine.
What made me laugh out loud were billboards along Highway 44 that were advertising a Cheese Outlet. My mind was flooded, of course, will all kinds of cheese jokes. What do you do at a Cheese Outlet? Is there a line of children who are waiting to cut the cheese? No offense if you’ve ever visited a Cheese Outlet. Hopefully the cheese was delicious. Hopefully your experience wasn’t cheesy at all. *muffled snickering*
I hope you enjoyed these random tidbits from my travels. If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to get back to the randomness I encounter in my everyday life. (Maybe someday technology will advance to where you can hear my cat purring if you put your ear to your computer monitor. Hark! Feline happiness!)
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The Carrier
My nickname for my orange boy cat is Macho. So, it’s simultaneously sad and funny when he screams like a woman. Why was he screaming? Well, all I did was put him inside the pet carrier so he could get his annual shots at the vet this morning. As usual, this freaked him out. I think Macho woke up at least one of my neighbors with his high-pitched screeches.
I tried to make the car ride as enjoyable as possible. I even played “Message in a Bottle” on my stereo as a humorous soundtrack to Macho’s melodramatic meowing. I tried to be as playful with him as possible. “You like it when Mama drives fast?” I asked as I zoomed onto the highway with The Police on my stereo. I told Macho, “I love you!” He replied, “MEOW!!!” He calmed down a tiny bit after we arrived at the vet’s office and I pried him out of the carrier. He was literally trembling and snuggled next to my arm, bosom, and tummy during the examination and injections. This was a very scary process for him. See the panicked look on his face in the photo above? (I snapped it after I brought him back home).
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)
In a previous blog post (on 8/22/10), I briefly mentioned what happened when my girl cat, nickname: Choochie, had to live in the pet carrier while she healed from her spay surgery several years ago. (Last night and this morning, she was hanging out in the pet carrier while Macho was avoiding it.) She became obsessed with her stitches and licked/scraped them so much that she gave herself an infection. I kept a close watch on her during her healing process, and I love how the two of us bonded during that time. (Perhaps you’ve seen Facebook pictures of her perching on my shoulder. Aw, I love my Choochie!)
Lately, I’ve been going through a very intense emotional healing process with God. He’s been slicing me open, cleaning out the dirt, squeezing out the infectious puss, and washing it all out with hydrogen peroxide, so to speak. I wonder if the healing process is even more painful than the initial wounding! It’s a very scary process for me. I don’t want God my Father to pick me up, while I’m kicking and screaming, and stuff me into my carrier and drag me to the spiritual doctor’s office. It’s scary to be examined, poked, and prodded. But when I’m trembling, I can nestle close to my Father and bury my freaked-out head in His arm, bosom, and tummy. He can calm me down and tell me everything is going to be OK. He can assure me that it’s all going to be over soon and that He’ll be there with me the entire time.
To clarify, I don’t want this scary process... yet I want it. Make sense? :) I don’t want to remember terrible memories or make amends where I need to or face fears or smell the stench of an old infection. But I want to get cleaned out as much as possible, and I want to be all healed up, freed up, brand-new, ready to fly and soar above whatever’s coming up next. I want to be as close to my Father as possible. I’m glad that He wants to be close to me, I’m glad that He’s patient with me, and I’m glad that He cares enough about me to take the time to heal me.
If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go check on Macho. Sometimes he gets feverish after his shots, but he’ll be back to normal in about 24 hours or so. At least the womanish screams are only a memory now. MEOW!!!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The Nest
Disclaimer: In this post, I may ramble a little bit, I may be weirdly metaphorical, and/or I may be in your face and stomping on your toes. Or I may just confuse you. I may say stuff that will make you go, “Well, duh,” because it’s something you’re already familiar with, but I’m articulating something that I’m experiencing for the first time or that’s clicked for me at a deeper level. Please humor me. I'm a writer. If the light bulb turns on for me, I want to communicate it in such a way that it will hopefully help other people see the light, too. :o) Maybe my cats can help me clean up after myself later. Phew.
“Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young -- a place near Your altar, O Lord Almighty, my King and my God.” (Psalm 84:3)
I’ve been thinking about “nests” and “feeding” lately, especially with my new church responsibilities and, well, there’s a nifty little visual aid outside my apartment now. Meet mama and daddy swallow.
...they can be demanding little cheepers. At least, I hope the photo quality enables you to see how adorable they are with their little beaks wide open at even the slightest hint of mama swallow incoming with breakfast.
It’s really something how they instinctively open their mouths: “Aaaah! Incoming food!” I even saw a yellowjacket fly by the nest once, and the baby birds did the same thing: “Aaaah! Incoming food! I don’t know if it will sting my esophagus on the way down or if it’s healthy for me at all, but I’m hungry, and this food is buzzing straight at me!”In John 21, Jesus told Peter to feed His sheep. In a nutshell, that’s basically what church leaders do for people. One of the worship pastors at my church basically said once that you have to be careful what you feed yourself, because that’s what you’ll feed your little ones. What if they’re thirsty? He said you don’t want to give them a drink of toilet water. No way. You need to give them clear, clean water.
Sometimes it helps to take a closer look at the water you’re drinking and the vessel you’re drinking from, literally and metaphorically. The other day, I wondered why my purified drinking water left a weird taste in my mouth. I took the lid off my thermos and saw that there was a paper towel soaking at the bottom. (gag)
Recently, I went through some of my old journal entries (from 1997-2000). Once the shock wore off from reading and remembering the type of crap that I used to scream at God, I read some of the stuff that one or two of my “mamas” in the Lord used to feed me. Now that I'm out of their “nests,” I can see that I wasn’t always fed good things. I believe that they loved me, their intentions were good, and they fed and cared for me the best way they knew how. But I didn’t have to swallow everything they tried to feed me. In my journal entries (for privacy’s sake, I won’t share specifics on this forum), I could see some good mixed in with the chaos. I could tell that God was peacefully feeding me Himself in the midst of the crazily confused environment that I lived in. Maybe there was a yellowjacket nest right next to mama’s nest, and in my demanding hunger, I devoured the harmful insect along with the nourishing worm.
OK, so I’m not a scientist -- maybe baby swallows really are supposed to eat yellowjackets. My point is that if the food or water is bad, I’m learning to spit it out. If I have my own swallows or sheep to feed, I have to be careful what I consume. I have to be careful to provide the best food and water that I can to whoever I’m responsible for feeding. Another thing I’m learning is that after eating bad food, well, I can expect a bad poop.
That’s another thing about nests and birds -- so much poop to clean up! (I’ve heard that it’s the same way with human children and that it involves diapers or something.) I think that’s part of life. When it’s time to eat, you eat, and when it’s time to poop, you poop. As you grow, hopefully you learn to eat better food that helps you grow healthy and strong. Hopefully, you avoid bad food. Hopefully, you’re in a nest where mama and daddy swallow are teaching you how to be a swallow who will leave the nest someday and go build your own nest and have your own baby swallows. Hopefully, mama and daddy swallow are teaching you how to fly.
The baby swallows are growing so fast! I think it’s only been two or three weeks since they’ve hatched, and they’re already stretching their wings and tumbling out of the nest. (I saw one on the ground the other day. It looked like daddy swallow was supervising and giving him a pep talk.) I think they’ll all fly away pretty soon. (sniff) Also, I did snap a miraculous swallow-pooping photo, but I’ll spare your eyes, reader. Incoming!
Friday, May 13, 2011
Reflections of the third decade, part X
It’s time for another decade contrast! This time, I thought I’d compare 1981 to 2011. I think a lot has changed since then... or has it??
Me at 5: I don’t remember this event, but I have a cool snapshot of me wearing khaki bellbottoms.
Me at 35: I like my khaki pants or my corduroy pants even more than I like blue jeans.
Me at 5: My family used to put me on stage at church, make sure I had a mic in my hand, and make me sing for everybody.
Me at 35: I would really like to try out for the worship team at church.
Me at 5: I used to listen to my mom’s Oliver record.
Me at 35: I bought The Best of Oliver on cd a couple of years ago.
Me at 5: I would watch cool TV shows like The Great Space Coaster and The Kid Super Power Hour with Shazam!
Me at 35: I recently finished working at a job where I would watch cool and not-so-cool TV shows.
Me at 5: I watched the world premiere of Gimme a Break! on my parents’ TV.
Me at 35: Hmm. It might be time once again to whip out my Gimme a Break! Season One DVD set to enjoy while I’m washing dishes. (“There ain’t no Julio here!” Wait. That wasn’t from Season One. Who cares? Such a delightful TV quote!)
Me at 5: After being disappointed and somewhat traumatized by my hostile, scratching white male kitten named Puff who ran away from home, I welcomed a new puppy named Wendy into my life. (I have a somewhat nice memory of marching around the garage and singing while holding onto Puff. He abandoned me and our family. I wonder if this had anything to do with all those years I spent hating cats??)
Me at 35: I’m thoroughly enjoying my fuzzy white/black/gray mixed Siamese girl cat who is crouching beside me while I type this. (My favorite form of exercise is marching around my living room and dancing (usually to disco) while holding onto my orange boy cat. He’s such a good dance partner! He usually lets me lead.)
Me at 5: I didn’t know God yet. I depended on my parents for everything.
Me at 35: I know God. I depend on Him for everything.
Me at 5: I walked around the house telling stories while my family took dictation.
Me at 35: I sit around and type up blog posts so the world can read my stream-of-consciousness.
Me at 5: I don’t remember this event, but I have a cool snapshot of me wearing khaki bellbottoms.
Me at 35: I like my khaki pants or my corduroy pants even more than I like blue jeans.
Me at 5: My family used to put me on stage at church, make sure I had a mic in my hand, and make me sing for everybody.
Me at 35: I would really like to try out for the worship team at church.
Me at 5: I used to listen to my mom’s Oliver record.
Me at 35: I bought The Best of Oliver on cd a couple of years ago.
Me at 5: I would watch cool TV shows like The Great Space Coaster and The Kid Super Power Hour with Shazam!
Me at 35: I recently finished working at a job where I would watch cool and not-so-cool TV shows.
Me at 5: I watched the world premiere of Gimme a Break! on my parents’ TV.
Me at 35: Hmm. It might be time once again to whip out my Gimme a Break! Season One DVD set to enjoy while I’m washing dishes. (“There ain’t no Julio here!” Wait. That wasn’t from Season One. Who cares? Such a delightful TV quote!)
Me at 5: After being disappointed and somewhat traumatized by my hostile, scratching white male kitten named Puff who ran away from home, I welcomed a new puppy named Wendy into my life. (I have a somewhat nice memory of marching around the garage and singing while holding onto Puff. He abandoned me and our family. I wonder if this had anything to do with all those years I spent hating cats??)
Me at 35: I’m thoroughly enjoying my fuzzy white/black/gray mixed Siamese girl cat who is crouching beside me while I type this. (My favorite form of exercise is marching around my living room and dancing (usually to disco) while holding onto my orange boy cat. He’s such a good dance partner! He usually lets me lead.)
Me at 5: I didn’t know God yet. I depended on my parents for everything.
Me at 35: I know God. I depend on Him for everything.
Me at 5: I walked around the house telling stories while my family took dictation.
Me at 35: I sit around and type up blog posts so the world can read my stream-of-consciousness.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
No comprendo
Hello, reader. It’s time once again for Here’s What It’s Like To Be Single Theater. [Easy listening trumpet solo plays in background.] In today’s episode, we’ll have a crash course on marital status diversity training. (For previous “episodes,” see my previous blog posts from 2/13/11 and 6/30/10.)
I love my church. It has, in my opinion, one of the best, life-giving singles ministries I’ve been honored to be a part of. My church makes sure we singles have a place to be planted and thrive the way God wants us to. Yet even in a place where singles are wanted, valued, and not treated like outcasts, we are sometimes accidentally singled out by married people. I can’t speak for everybody, but what I have experienced is that my singlehood is sometimes spotlighted accidentally by married people. They don’t mean to do it, and I know they love me, but let me give you an example. I recently received an email encouraging me to get the “man in my life” to attend a men’s retreat. Do you know who the man in my life is? Let me show you his picture.
This is my orange cat. I snapped photos of him last spring because I wanted to capture how he marks his territory on my tuna cans. This is a bird’s-eye view of him jumping up and wiping his cheek on an unopened can. Yes, he is completely missing my hand and exclusively paying attention to the tuna. Good thing he isn’t my boyfriend. Our relationship would be in serious trouble!
I kid around. But in all seriousness, I’m OK with being single right now. That doesn’t mean I’m “dating Jesus.” That means I understand that God has me single right now because He hasn’t given me a man yet (not a cat, an actual man). Yes, I would much rather be married. I’ve never been married, and I’ve gone approximately 17 years without a date, and none of this has been my choice. God has been healing me, especially from rejection, etc. I’m content with my marital status right now, meaning that I don’t want it, but I’ll take it, and if I’m where God wants me, I’m OK with it. Yet sometimes, out of nowhere, a wave of pain will slap me in the face. It will remind me, “You’re alone. You’re husbandless. You’re boyfriendless. You’re dateless.” This is a painful truth. I take my pain to God, and He lets me cry on His shoulder. I get closer to Him. I appreciate that. Unfortunately, what I don’t appreciate is the wave of pain that slaps me in the face. That email I received about the “man in my life” is one such example. The married people (at least, I assume they’re married) who sent that email were just doing some clever advertising. They weren’t trying to hurt me.
I know that the married people in my church love me because they try to give me metaphorical examples of what God’s character is like. Unfortunately, they give me examples that I really can’t relate to -- for example, “God loves and accepts His children in a similar way that I love and accept my children.” Um, good for you. Uh, what were we talking about again? Or even worse -- “Such and such is a lot like dating. Remember when you went on your first date and you were nervous about what the other person would think of you?” Um, no, and I don’t have time to go into detail and explain why. Uh, dating -- I’m not sure the rewind button in my brain can even travel back that far!
You’re speaking to me in a foreign language. I’m sorry, but no comprendo. That means, “I don’t understand.” If you want me to grasp what you’re trying to communicate, please speak a language that I understand. Otherwise, I may tune you out. ¿Entiendes lo que estoy diciendo? Yeah, I didn’t think so. :) Perhaps you should try translating your message into cat-lady. “What? You mean the way I feel about my cats is a teensy little fraction of how humongously much God loves me? Because He made me, redeemed me, and wants me?? Wow! I get it!!” See? Transmission received and understood. :) Or you could try speaking in general-truth terms. “God loves you and wants the very best for you.” See? I understand that language, too! :)
Let’s go back to the diversity training for a bit. I’m not quite sure how to go about this, but I’m just gonna get it all out there. If you’re married and/or have children, just because I’m single and live alone doesn’t mean that my time isn’t as valuable as yours. Being single doesn’t mean that my life is meaningless or useless. Do you know what it’s like to live alone? Do you know what it’s like to have to pay all your living expenses, clean your entire apartment, carry all your groceries and luggage up several flights of stairs on a regular basis, work full-time, have a social life, and juggle all of the above, constantly having to manage your time and tweak your schedule -- alone? Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean that I’m bored, unhappy, empty, or pathetic. To clarify, I belong to Jesus, and He’ll never leave me or forsake me, so even though I’m alone, I’m technically not by myself. :)
My being single might not necessarily be my fault. Singlehood is a season of life. It is not a problem that needs to be solved. However, I think a relationship would be an extremely delicate equation that God will need to balance. I’m only one variable in the equation. My future man is another important variable. Even my therapist confirmed this for me about 10 years ago. After he helped me through some depression issues, during our last session, I thought he could help me figure out the mystery of how to get a guy. He looked at me like I had asked him a dumb question. I don’t remember his exact response, but he replied blankly, “If you like him and he likes you, then go out with him.” Easier said than done, doc! I’m not the One who’s in control here.
Some things in life were just meant to be a mystery. Some mysteries need to be respected. I can’t speak for everybody, but for myself I can say that I’m beginning to believe that singlehood isn’t some crazy punishment that God has given me. For me, I believe that God has kept me single because He’s been protecting me from some bad things and preserving me for some good things. And I’m OK with that now. And even if He never gives me a husband or a boyfriend or a date or children or a family, I need to be OK with that, too. I need to be OK with belonging to a good God who loves me. Reader, I hope you can be OK with that, too.
Mil gracias por estar aquí conmigo en Here’s What It’s Like To Be Single Theater. [Flamenco music plays in background. Cat lady dances, twirling around wildly while clutching her surprised-looking feline.]
I love my church. It has, in my opinion, one of the best, life-giving singles ministries I’ve been honored to be a part of. My church makes sure we singles have a place to be planted and thrive the way God wants us to. Yet even in a place where singles are wanted, valued, and not treated like outcasts, we are sometimes accidentally singled out by married people. I can’t speak for everybody, but what I have experienced is that my singlehood is sometimes spotlighted accidentally by married people. They don’t mean to do it, and I know they love me, but let me give you an example. I recently received an email encouraging me to get the “man in my life” to attend a men’s retreat. Do you know who the man in my life is? Let me show you his picture.
This is my orange cat. I snapped photos of him last spring because I wanted to capture how he marks his territory on my tuna cans. This is a bird’s-eye view of him jumping up and wiping his cheek on an unopened can. Yes, he is completely missing my hand and exclusively paying attention to the tuna. Good thing he isn’t my boyfriend. Our relationship would be in serious trouble!
I kid around. But in all seriousness, I’m OK with being single right now. That doesn’t mean I’m “dating Jesus.” That means I understand that God has me single right now because He hasn’t given me a man yet (not a cat, an actual man). Yes, I would much rather be married. I’ve never been married, and I’ve gone approximately 17 years without a date, and none of this has been my choice. God has been healing me, especially from rejection, etc. I’m content with my marital status right now, meaning that I don’t want it, but I’ll take it, and if I’m where God wants me, I’m OK with it. Yet sometimes, out of nowhere, a wave of pain will slap me in the face. It will remind me, “You’re alone. You’re husbandless. You’re boyfriendless. You’re dateless.” This is a painful truth. I take my pain to God, and He lets me cry on His shoulder. I get closer to Him. I appreciate that. Unfortunately, what I don’t appreciate is the wave of pain that slaps me in the face. That email I received about the “man in my life” is one such example. The married people (at least, I assume they’re married) who sent that email were just doing some clever advertising. They weren’t trying to hurt me.
I know that the married people in my church love me because they try to give me metaphorical examples of what God’s character is like. Unfortunately, they give me examples that I really can’t relate to -- for example, “God loves and accepts His children in a similar way that I love and accept my children.” Um, good for you. Uh, what were we talking about again? Or even worse -- “Such and such is a lot like dating. Remember when you went on your first date and you were nervous about what the other person would think of you?” Um, no, and I don’t have time to go into detail and explain why. Uh, dating -- I’m not sure the rewind button in my brain can even travel back that far!
You’re speaking to me in a foreign language. I’m sorry, but no comprendo. That means, “I don’t understand.” If you want me to grasp what you’re trying to communicate, please speak a language that I understand. Otherwise, I may tune you out. ¿Entiendes lo que estoy diciendo? Yeah, I didn’t think so. :) Perhaps you should try translating your message into cat-lady. “What? You mean the way I feel about my cats is a teensy little fraction of how humongously much God loves me? Because He made me, redeemed me, and wants me?? Wow! I get it!!” See? Transmission received and understood. :) Or you could try speaking in general-truth terms. “God loves you and wants the very best for you.” See? I understand that language, too! :)
Let’s go back to the diversity training for a bit. I’m not quite sure how to go about this, but I’m just gonna get it all out there. If you’re married and/or have children, just because I’m single and live alone doesn’t mean that my time isn’t as valuable as yours. Being single doesn’t mean that my life is meaningless or useless. Do you know what it’s like to live alone? Do you know what it’s like to have to pay all your living expenses, clean your entire apartment, carry all your groceries and luggage up several flights of stairs on a regular basis, work full-time, have a social life, and juggle all of the above, constantly having to manage your time and tweak your schedule -- alone? Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean that I’m bored, unhappy, empty, or pathetic. To clarify, I belong to Jesus, and He’ll never leave me or forsake me, so even though I’m alone, I’m technically not by myself. :)
My being single might not necessarily be my fault. Singlehood is a season of life. It is not a problem that needs to be solved. However, I think a relationship would be an extremely delicate equation that God will need to balance. I’m only one variable in the equation. My future man is another important variable. Even my therapist confirmed this for me about 10 years ago. After he helped me through some depression issues, during our last session, I thought he could help me figure out the mystery of how to get a guy. He looked at me like I had asked him a dumb question. I don’t remember his exact response, but he replied blankly, “If you like him and he likes you, then go out with him.” Easier said than done, doc! I’m not the One who’s in control here.
Some things in life were just meant to be a mystery. Some mysteries need to be respected. I can’t speak for everybody, but for myself I can say that I’m beginning to believe that singlehood isn’t some crazy punishment that God has given me. For me, I believe that God has kept me single because He’s been protecting me from some bad things and preserving me for some good things. And I’m OK with that now. And even if He never gives me a husband or a boyfriend or a date or children or a family, I need to be OK with that, too. I need to be OK with belonging to a good God who loves me. Reader, I hope you can be OK with that, too.
Mil gracias por estar aquí conmigo en Here’s What It’s Like To Be Single Theater. [Flamenco music plays in background. Cat lady dances, twirling around wildly while clutching her surprised-looking feline.]
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