Much Obliged, Buddy

I really admire people who find running fun and recreational. In all honesty, I envy those who can relax by their sneakers hitting the pavement. The habit has never been one I've easily acquired. Of course, a couple of trips on the treadmill and a run around a track now and then can hardly add up to much trying. Now that I'm older I have more excuses, I'm not sure they are good ones but an untimely death or permanent disability are fairly reasonable fears. As I contemplate a couch to 5k program, I know finding the reason to start and maintaining the new habit are big hurdles for me to face.

So I was intrigued by the quiz a friend posted on Facebook this morning. The quiz was based on Gretchen Rubin's Four Tendencies. She proposes that there are four different ways people will face the expectations of changing habits. The quiz can be found here. She calls the tendencies: the Upholder, the Questioner, the Obliger and the Rebel.

I wasn't surprised that I came up as an Obliger. An Obliger is described as those who "respond readily to outer expectations, but struggle to meet inner expectations. In other words, they work hard not to let other people down, but they often let themselves down." This is true for me. I've always said the easiest diet I ever succeeded at was when pregnant with my first child. Diagnosed with gestational diabetes and told if I didn't follow this nutritional plan my baby would be born "fat and stupid." Probably not the best way to describe the consequences but very effective for me. My eating directly affected my baby, I would do whatever I could to protect her. 

Gretchen Rubin's suggestion to help obligers create new habits is finding external accountability. Obviously, maintaining a pregnancy is an unrealistic option for external accountability. However, my dog, Buddy, helped provide some external accountability this morning. Buddy and I take a short walk each morning so he can relieve himself. As a responsible pet owner and considerate neighbor, I keep plastic bags in a dispenser attached to his leash. I try to make sure the dispenser is kept full because the thought of having to leave Buddy's deposit on someone's yard is completely embarrassing to me. I was enjoying the beautiful spring morning thinking maybe tomorrow I should try to jog a little. But knowing I wouldn't even though it would be good for me.

And then Buddy started his "poop circles," the dog can't poop without running in a circle first. I reached for the bag dispenser and realized with a lot of fear that it was empty. I had used the last one the night before but forgot to put in a new roll. And that was just the kind of external motivation I needed to take a morning jog. Buddy and I took off running for our yard before he could do his business. With great relief, we made it to our yard before his business came out.

While it was just short jog, maybe a block or so, I did learn several things.  First, I didn't die. Second, I probably could have gone fa
rther. I only have one question now, do you think Buddy could hold it for a 5K?

How are you with making new habits? Did you take Rubin's test, what was your tendency? 

Grandma's Prayer

"O God our Father, whom to know and serve is to find joy, abundant and eternal. Grant that we may grow into such complete devotion to thee that our joy may be fresh and full every day. Bless our Pastor and his family as they help us to understand and offer us a comforting hand as we study thy word. Bless each one of our congregation. Father be with each one of us that we may use our talents to spread Thy word. In Jesus name we ask it. Amen"  - Prayer found in Norma Alatha Atwood's Bible dated May 22. 

My maternal Grandmother would be 100 years old today. It's hard to believe that she has been gone for almost 15 years now. I found the prayer above in some old papers I had saved. It had been in her Bible and is in her handwriting. The only notation is the date, "May 22." I can only guess what it's significance was. Maybe my Aunt or Mom might know more about it.

I imagine Grandma writing this prayer out, thinking about what she wanted to say both to God and to those who would hear it. I think she would have said it at a bible study or ladies' meeting. Maybe she found these words someplace else and wrote them out on a paper to share with others. Maybe they were written down and placed in her Bible to be read often in her private prayer time. I'll never know but I'm drawn to the words, especially these, "Grant that we may grow into complete devotion to thee that our joy may be fresh and full every day." I can relate to that desire.

It's the end of a long work week. I'm tired and feel a little beaten down. What I need is a joy that is fresh and full to quench my parched soul, to remind me that God is near. Did Grandma understand this longing in her own life and in the lives o those around her? Did she want to help each one who heard that prayer to understand that God's grace is new every morning. Grandma's words written many years ago, speak to me today. I'm always thankful for her place in my life, today I'm thankful for some simple words on a scrap of paper. Happy Birthday, Grandma. Thank you for our love, your faith and your legacy.

Grandma and me 

First day of Spring with a Forecast of Snow

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness. "The Lord is my portion," says my soul, "Therefore I will hope in him."  Lamentations 3: 22-24 (ESV)

 I woke up this morning with the bad taste of yesterday's worries in my mouth. I'd went to bed grumpy and fearful after a long day of bad news. Sleep had been slow coming and restless rather than restful. My alarm came too early and my eyes didn't want to open. I could feel the cold just beyond the warmth of my blankets and I could hear the rain dripping on the window pane. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and be swallowed up in the sweet oblivion of sleep again. But the dog needed to go outside, Emily needed to go to school, Tony needed his lunch packed and I had a full day of work ahead of me. There would be no lingering in bed this morning.

My feet hit the ground and the negative thoughts began. Of course, nothing had been resolved overnight. These were the kind of worries that fester and brew. There was nothing to fix, no decision to be made, no amends to be offered. It was the realization that some things must be endured, bad things happen and life doesn't unfold as we planned. It was the first day of spring with a weather forecast of snow.

These are the mornings that I need to be reminded of the words in Lamentations: "[His mercies] are new every morning. Great is [his] faithfulness." God's mercies provide hope that in the midst of despair that new life is possible. I don't have to have all the answers, nor does it all have to make sense.  God's new and unending mercies wash away my old worries. Spring is here no matter the forecast. And God's faithfulness is enough for each and every day.

No Sad Farewells

“Dear Friends, there’ll be no sad farewells, There’ll be no tear-dimmed eyes. Where all is peace and joy and love and the soul of man never dies.”

  Where the Soul of Man Never Dies - Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash

                I learned this hymn in the pews of Loyall Church of Christ, in Loyall, KY. We often sang it during Fifth Sunday Sings when other Christian Church congregations joined together. The old gospel hymn is best in 4 parts and was always a favorite. No one can sing it better than the folks at a Fifth Sunday Sing in Harlan County, Kentucky. The words of the chorus have been running through my head a lot lately.

                It has been a season of loss, not only for myself but it seems for those around me. Two dear family friends passed away around Thanksgiving. Mrs. Osness was like a second mother to me. Her daughter, Cheryl was my first friend and we were raised together in many ways. I remember doing calisthenics with Mrs. Osness and Jack Lalane in their living room.  Bernice Lindsey passed just a few days before Mrs. Osness. Bernice was related to us as a distant cousin but she was also a dear friend and neighbor. As a kid, she was the one with gold fish tanks and a beautiful flower filled yard. She gave my brother his allergy shots for many years. Both of these women were a huge part of my growing up and I shed tears when I heard of their passing.

                And then my Dad declined quickly and soon I found myself waiting for his passing. It was during this waiting time that I started singing this song’s chorus in my head. “Dear friends, there’ll be no sad farewells. . .” It was hard anticipating the inevitable farewell and being so far away from my family. But I knew that Dad’s life of pain would soon be over and that he would be in soon be in a place “where all is peace and joy and love. . .” Those particular words sustained me as I waited for the phone call.  And when the call finally came, I did rejoice that Dad was no longer in pain.

                Once I returned home after Dad’s memorial service, I hoped the season of loss would be over. While I haven’t lost anyone else close to me, I have witnessed others around me experience the loss of ones they love. My college friend just lost his mother unexpectedly, a co-worker is grieving the loss of his mother-in-law, another the loss of her mother-in-law. And tonight I found out a dear friend from the Loyall Church passed this week. The losses continue. The tears come quickly now. Today I’ve been in a melancholy mood, partly because it’s Ash Wednesday, partly because I cried for Dad this morning on the way to work, and because I see so much loss around me.

                I guess it’s no surprise that the song has also been running through my head today. It is a song of hope, a song that reminds me that those we’ve lost are in a place filled with peace, and joy and love. And a reminder that someday “there’ll be no sad farewells, there’ll be no tear-dimmed eyes. . .” So I’ll long for that day while I also rejoice that the ones I love are already there.

A Flying Tradition

Every time I hear about another plane crash. I’m reminded of when I first began to fear flying. I was 17 and in France with a group from school. As we were preparing to go back to the United States, I found myself terrified to board the airplane. I knew I wouldn’t have a choice and the thought filled me with anxiety.

            It was the summer of 1985. The only terrorist threat to a commercial airplane at the time had been hijackings and those had been out of style for years.  All that changed when an Air India plane was brought down by a terrorist’s bomb on June 23, 1985. All 328 passengers and crew were killed.  I was in France at the time. Our tour group didn’t get a lot of news and most of what I saw was on the front page of French newspapers. I surmised it was serious when I saw the adults whispering out of range of our ears. We were flying one week after the crash. Every time I saw the charred wreckage on the front of a newspaper; I knew I didn’t want to step into that airplane.

As our departure date neared I became obsessed with talking to my Dad. After all, he was the one who explained the theory of flight to me and he always kept me safe. Dad was an aeronautical engineer and spent his career designing the very type of airplane I would board.  He had flown in test flights taking off on the top of mountains in Peru. For most of his career, he traveled all over the world selling these planes to international airlines. I knew that Dad wouldn’t allow me to board a plane in a situation he didn’t feel was completely safe for his little girl.

            International calls weren’t easy back then. We didn’t have cell phones or laptops.  I tried to call collect once but French operators and the time difference made it difficult.  Eventually, my folks called me at the hotel pay phone.  I honestly don’t remember what he said. I wish I could make it sound awe inspiring. I know he assured me that the plane was safe and well designed. And that security was being heightened with this new threat.  It didn’t really matter because after that I was no longer worried. If Dad said it was safe, then I knew I would be soon be safely home.

            After this, it became normal for me to call Dad every time was I was going to fly. It seemed to me that each time I was preparing to fly an air plane crashed or a new threat was discovered. Before boarding any plane, I knew I needed to talk to Dad. It became part of my trip preparation; pack my toiletries, passport and call Dad. Sometimes we’d talk about planes and their safety. Sometimes we just talked about my destination. The subject didn’t really matter just hearing his voice put me at ease. 

Singing with Dad

My earliest memories in the cab of my Dad’s truck singing old hymns. I loved climbing up in the cab and sitting beside him while he sang.

“There’s within my heart a melody. . .” his baritone voice bellowed.

He was not a trained singer but to my young ears his was the most beautiful voice in the world. Those old hymns remain among my favorites; In the Garden, Just a Closer Walk with Thee, I Love to Tell the Story, and The Old Rugged Cross. I first learned about Jesus and his love for me listening to Dad sing. The singing together stopped as I grew older. Looking back I know that chronic back pain took away many things. And over the past few years, Parkinson’s robbed him of much more. Conversations became difficult and tired Dad out. So when I was planning my visit with Dad last summer it became important to me that I would sing for Dad.

I purchased a ukulele and had it shipped to my folks so it was waiting for me when I arrived. It was a pleasure to spend a little bit of each day singing for Dad. Emily joined in and we sang songs at his request. One of the songs he requested was Just As I Am. What a joy to share with him the songs that meant so much to him.

Ten days ago, it became evident that Dad’s body had reached its limit. The end was coming and I knew what I wanted to do. I couldn’t travel out to be with him at his bedside but I could sing one last time for him. And so I did, I would have liked to sing more for him but I created a couple of videos for him. My family played it for him on their phones. Dad sang music into me and I wanted music to be part of my good bye to him.

Dad passed on Friday, January 16, 2015. He was surrounded by family and peacefully left the pain of this life behind. Sing on, Dad. I love you.

Calming the Savage Beast - Some Thoughts on Anxious Thoughts

      Do you ever feel guilty for complaining or worrying about something? Today I’m anxious about a couple of things. I’m trying to patiently wait to hear about 2 different job interviews.  In the grand scheme of things, employment can be a big ticket item. After all, it is necessary for most people to be employed in order to provide for themselves and their families.  So I feel at least a little justified for the worry. 

      But then I hear about other people’s troubles: young mothers facing serious health problems, families mourning the loss of dear ones, heads of households staring layoffs and unemployment in the face. Suddenly, my problems seem so much smaller. While I want to change jobs, and I even feel called by God to change jobs, I am currently employed.  I don’t lack for anything, my family is healthy for the most part. Now I feel anxious about feeling anxious and the fun really starts. 

     Lately, when I feel anxious and nothing else seems to calm my spirit, I grab my guitar and sing. Music has always calmed the savage beast that rages inside me in these anxious moments. But some places are harder to sing my heart out in than others. I’m not sure my cube-mates at work would appreciate it. Or maybe it would make for a less stressed workplace all around. At work, I put my headphones on, queue up a Youtube video of one of my favorite songs and try to keep myself from singing along. Not the same as singing myself, but as they say “it’ll do in a pinch.”

     Here's one of my favorites: Heather Berry singing "God on the Mountain" (click on the title to follow the link)

     How do you calm the savage beast of anxious thoughts?  Bible verses? Exercise? It never hurts to have a trunk full of options when facing anxious thoughts, without the proper preparation even the the strongest person can be overcome.

Progress is the Word

"Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus. Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:12-14

I hadn't really thought about choosing a "word" for 2014. Due to a lack of success, or perhaps to my continual failure to follow through with any and all resolutions or words in the past, I have chosen to abstain from such practices. But this year a "smart" comment on a friend's Facebook status got me thinking, always a dangerous thing.

Progress is the word (cue the Grease theme; 'Grease is the word, is the word, is the word'). As I thought about this word, I realized it not only would help me grow but also helps me gain strength by looking back.

• Forward Steps not Goals Met: Webster's defines progress as "the process of improving or developing something over a period of time." Progress by definition is not about the finished product, it's about the movement through the process. I'm in a serious battle to become healthier this year. I'm setting my goals not in pounds lost but in changes made. A day without soda is progress whether the scale changes or not. 
• See How far I've Come: My life has been through lots of changes over the past 7 years, in many ways I am still recovering from the trauma of my divorce and the subsequent years of feeling overwhelmed. This year I'm happily married (1 year on 12/22/13), my kids are healthy and maturing and life feels normal. This is progress. Looking back to the time right after the divorce, I never thought I'd feel normal again.  So this year I celebrate the progress in healing and growth.
• Not interested in Perfection: My desire to succeed and the requirement to be perfect has derailed many of my goals and resolutions in the past. It's not that I never had the best intentions but often I set the bar too high. Follow through has always been the tough part. Progress isn't about being perfect, it's about moving forward. Even the smallest step forward is progress.

The Grand Canyon is a testament to the progress made by a river over a long period of time. A focused effort even if it is small will lead to great things. Progress made should never be taken lightly. And now so I know the earworm is firmly established in your ear, Progress is the word, is the word, it's got groove it's got meaning. . . 

Attending Church with an Elephant in a Minefield

It's like playing soccer on a field where there MIGHT be a couple landmines. You're not sure if they're there, but they MIGHT be so you'll need to diligently scan the ground as you "play" the game. All the while the other players on the field joyfully play the game without worries or hesitation. http://www.bonarcrump.com/2012/02/christian-ptsd-and-bunch-of-other-stuff.html    

The title sounds a bit like a bad joke, but for me it describes how I have felt in church for many years. While my faith in God has grown abundantly during and after my divorce, I have continued to struggle with the church. It has been difficult to pinpoint the reasons for the feelings of panic and fear I feel while at church, or even just planning to attend church. Before my divorce, I couldn't imagine life without the church and its people being part of my life.

During those ministry years, I would counsel others to face their fears and attend as many things as possible. I would encourage regular attendance to worship and Bible studies, downplaying any fears or concerns. After all, the Bible encourages us to keep meeting together. And honestly the biggest blessing in the ministry was the many brothers and sisters in Christ who were part of my life and my family's life. I often felt humbled by the honor of sharing life with these people, who was I that I was allowed to share the good and bad times with so many amazing folks.

However, church now is a scary place. I keep thinking it will get better. Doesn't time heal all wounds? I have been counseled and counseled myself, it is the right place for me to be. My church is full of loving people who have looked after and loved my family. These people have stuck by the kids and me while we faced the challenges post-divorce. They have given us time, money and prayers. I am thankful the presence of the church in our lives, especially my younger two children. It provided stability when nothing else in their lives was very stable.

So, why is attending church like walking into a minefield with an elephant walking behind me? It isn't a rational experience. I can attend for a few weeks, begin to think about participating in choir or leading a Bible study and promptly dissolve into a sense of fear and panic. I feel like a failure. I feel like my friends are tired of hearing my struggles that seem outside of rational thought. I am tired of church being a place where I feel like an outsider who doesn't belong. I know being part of a church can be so much better.

An Irrational response to a normal situation is considered a basic symptom of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder (PTSD). I wouldn't equate my experience with war, but it was traumatic and life altering. I began looking into PTSD in regard to divorce and religion. The quote at the top is in a blog entry entitled, "Christian PTSD and other stuff." I don't agree with his entire blog but the description of worship is just about dead on. Here are some of my thoughts so far on this topic:

• The Elephant in the Room – When I first returned to church after my ex's departure, it always felt like the proverbial elephant had followed me into the sanctuary. It was there but no one wanted to talk about it or ask me about it. And it was true in the first few months I didn't want to talk about it. I was ashamed of this elephant, my husband had broken the trust of the entire congregation, how would they feel about me? Perhaps I should have spoken more, shared more of my struggles, I was afraid. And perhaps others were afraid to hurt me or were asked to not speak about it with me, so the elephant never went away and I still feel its presence with me.
  
• Minefields – The church is full of things that bring up strong memories. Songs used to be the worse triggers. The entire building is filled with good and bad memories of my marriage and time in church leadership. While sitting listening to a sermon, I remember being proud of his preaching. Or I can walk by an office and remember him reprimanding me for saying the wrong thing. Events, scriptures, people, flowers or any number of things can cause strong feelings to explode in me like stepping on a landmine. I want to go to church to worship, but there are some many other things that distract and scare me. And most of the feelings are irrational, they don't fit in the time and place any longer and I can't always predict when they will show up. I logically know I no longer have to fear the church but potential landmines keep me afraid.
  
• While we want to say that the church is a safe place and a place to find comfort, it is not always the case. If I could go and spend time with God in his house and not risk the other things, I would go without fear. I haven't wanted to leave the church I have been part of for 13 years, but is that the path to healing? Maybe it is too late to talk about the elephant and make it leave. And maybe the landmines will never go away as long as I am in the building where it all happened. But going to a different church is pretty scary, too.
  
• Sadly, the truth is God's church does cause damage to people. I know I am not alone. The damage I am responding to isn't just from the divorce and its ugliness, it is also from years of confrontations, distrust, church splits and lost relationships. Churches are not always the safe places we want them to be. We must remember, a person's lack of attendance might not just be about laziness, selfishness or even their own sinfulness.
  

I have no idea what to do now. It is Saturday night and I know the decision waits for me in the morning. Do I go or don't I go? If I think about it too much, the panic will start. It is better to wait until morning to decide, the elephant can be such a bear to wake up on Sunday mornings.

A “Chopped” Life

"Tonight's ingredients are: Chicken feet, poblano peppers, black radishes and Skittles."

If you think this sounds a bit crazy, you haven't watched the Food Network show, Chopped. On the show four chefs compete for ten thousand dollars by creating dishes using only the ingredients they are given in a basket. These ingredients are often unusual and meant to stretch the chefs' skills to make something that tastes delicious and looks good. The best moments on the show are when the ingredient baskets are opened and the chefs' expressions are shown. How do you make chicken feet with talons attached look or taste good. (On a cautionary note, always remove the talons before serving. Your food shouldn't injure your guests.)

Recently, I was thinking about my life. Right now, it feels like I am waiting for several things to come together. Everything feels unfinished. Tony is almost done with his schooling. We are almost married. I am waiting for the bank to complete my loan modification. I have plans to finally follow my own personal call. But I can't start quite yet. I have opportunities at work which don't seem to make sense right now. While I am not tied to the past, it is also part of my decisions. It is harder to follow a call with a mortgage, two kids in college and a third who needs braces. How does this all fit together? It feels like I have been handed a bunch of puzzle pieces but no picture on the puzzle box.

Similarly to the chefs on Chopped, we are all thrown a basket full of ingredients. The good, the bad and the ugly are given to us, then God asks us to do something with all of it. The passage from Romans comes to mind, "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose" Romans 8:28 ESV. Somehow the contestants make Chicken feet and Skittles into an appetizer that will impress the most discerning judges. And somehow these seemingly chaotic and at times painful pieces of my life can through faith in God's redemptive work become something new. For now, I can trust that each piece has a place and wait in expectation to "taste and see" what God has done with my life.

 

 

Wisteria Victorious Part I

This blog was written 6 years ago, at the beginning of a great darkness. I share this now because the story didn't end 6 years ago, the final installment occurred today. Stay tuned for the next installment!

The first time I saw our home, I fell in love with the 100 year old Victorian. My romantic heart soared thinking about the sweeping staircase, multiple fireplaces and large front porch. Adding to the ambience was a magnificent wisteria vine which elegantly served as a natural curtain against both the morning sun and nosy neighbors. Instantly, I began imagining myself sitting in its shade sipping ice tea on a summer afternoon. We quickly made a bid on the house and soon it was ours.

However, my shady refuge was never to be. Before the ink dried on the contract my husband chopped down the wisteria vine. His pragmatic self had convinced my romantic self that an overgrown vine was neither esthetically pleasing nor practical for our new home. He correctly argued that the vines were in reality an ant super highway and the quickest way to a rotten porch. So I resolved myself to one less romantic ideal and sadly agreed to its sacrifice.

    Mistakenly, we thought a fierce pruning would be enough. However, the vine kept coming back. Its tendrils continued to grow. Almost overnight new growth appeared and spread across the flower bed. Hoping to encourage the vine remnants to rot, we poured five pounds of rock salt on it. Some of the root did rot away, and at first, there seemed to be no more new growth. As we prepared for our first winter, we thought we had seen the last of the wisteria. When spring came, I was excited to see my flowers returning from the winter's rest. Crocuses, day lilies, and hosta poked their heads out of the earth. And the wisteria peered out as well, waving its green and red foliage in the spring breeze never imagining it hadn't been invited to the party.

    In the end we tried many things to stop the vine from growing: weed killer, more chopping, and lots of pruning. Yet, still the wisteria returned. I soon found myself becoming sympathetic to this stubborn vine. The wisteria became a stubborn foe, refusing to surrender. Like Wile E. Coyote trying to catch the roadrunner, my husband would research and plan his next attack. This spring I thought he had finally found the way to the wisteria's demise. A friend offered part of his "stash" of extreme weed killer. This stuff had been in Tom's basement for years and was the kind that no longer could be purchased legally. He was almost giddy as we drove home, he could smell victory. I fussed about the welfare of my other plants. He said their sacrifice would be for a worthy cause. With a vengeance, he doused the roots with the contraband spray.

    A month later, I took stock of the damage in my flower bed. Several of my precious plants had indeed sacrificed their lives for this final battle. With great sadness I pulled up two azaleas, a gift from a friend. Two day lilies from a dear friend's yard were brown and dried up. As I pulled out the last dead plant, I did a double take. In the midst of all the devastation, the wisteria lived!

    Enough was enough I decided I couldn't risk the innocent death of any more plants. If we couldn't kill it, then I'd control it. I decided a trellis would do the trick. The "wild" vine would be contained away from the porch and look very pretty in the spring. I purchased an arched trellis from a catalog. With great anticipation, I looked forward to the spring and purple cascades of wisteria blossoms gracefully careening down the trellis.

    One week later, the vine demonstrated without any further doubt its true indestructibility. A pick-up truck ran into our front porch causing the entire porch roof collapsed. We were all shaken but safe. In the chaos of all the emergency workers, I surveyed the damage. The entire roof had fallen down; aluminum siding was hanging from the front of the house where the roof had once been. The porch floor, pushed off its foundation by six feet now leaned against our neighbor's house. My gaze suddenly stopped on the arched trellis still standing in front of the fallen porch green leaves waving at me. The wisteria had prevailed once again.

    The wisteria is victorious!

Reality TV and Free Will

Insanity has been defined as doing the same action repeatedly and expecting a different result. I have felt insane many times in my life – every time I start a new diet, at the beginning of every Pirate's season, or when I buy a lottery ticket. But lately, I have felt the most foolish when I watch reality TV. I fall for it every time.
Without realizing it, I fall for the illusion that the toughest, strongest, prettiest or most talented will win. Alas, "Big Barry" proved it again. There is no free will in reality TV.

Last night, "Big Barry," the 4'10" singer on America's Got Talent" was sent through to the next round in New York City. Leisure suit wearing Barry croons (perhaps crows might be a better word) songs and pokes fun at his lack of height. I am sure he is a nice man but has more gimmick than talent. As I put my hands over my ears during his performance, I
happily thought this would be the last time. However, Howie and Howard thought differently and put him through to the next round. Presently, I am not sure of the reasoning, but I will bet my left foot it has something to do with someone's idea of "good tv."

As a rational adult, I know TV is run by commercial viability. Producers want to induce conflict and highlight the good stories. Drama keeps viewers and sells products. The stakes are too high to not step in and control the results. Sure some things are unscripted AGT will now be decided by popular vote. But the producers are still in control of who made it to this point, how they are highlighted on the show, when they perform and perhaps even how the judges respond. All of which can influence the choices of the audience. And so I say again, there is no free will in reality TV.

Once again, I admit my insanity. But this thinking led me to thinking about God and free will. God is not a TV producer. His intentions are not based on ratings or profits or hidden agendas. While He has the ability to control all things, He chooses to allow us the free will to make our own choices. In fact, He allows us to choose to be insane and repeat our mistakes over and over again. God however is constant and unchanging. His holiness requires him to always act according to his character. My freedom is matched by his steadfastness.

So while the lack of free will on "America's Got Talent," dashed my hope in reality TV. The presence of free will in the world revives my hope in God. God doesn't coerce or manipulate, He allows each of us to choose. And while there is danger and uncertainty in that, there is also the safety and certainty of a faithful and steadfast Creator who is not influenced by money or popularity or ratings. So I am glad I put my trust in Him and not in Howie and Howard.

And it will be only a matter of time before my free will and the free will of many others will be exercised on "Big Barry."

Roller Coaster Envy

The other day I realized I have roller coaster envy. I don't covet the roller coasters of anyone else. Rather I am envious of those who can ride with carefree abandon. Throwing their arms up in the air and keeping their eyes wide open while they are hurled at 100 mph over rattling tracks. Standing at the bottom where you can view the pictures taken during the ride, these people look like they actually enjoyed it.

I, on the other hand, will never purchase one of those pictures. Since in my picture I look all scrunched up and white-knuckled with a deer-about-to-get-hit-by-headlights look on my face. Oddly, I actually like to ride roller coasters. When we go to an amusement park I will make sure I face my fears and take a ride on the wild side or Thunderbolt or whatever the name may be. Maybe I am a glutton for punishment or maybe I just like being with those who can ride without fear.

Perhaps this is also why I love stories about other people's faith. Stories in the Bible about Elijah, Daniel, Esther, Noah and Isaac have always been my favorite. These men and women of faith lived boldly in their belief that God was in control. They didn't cower and run from difficult times but made choices which put them in physical danger or had them face public humiliation. I am envious of these people as I try to live a safe life. I profess a faith when I am secure and comfortable but pray hard to be saved from the trials I see around me.

The giants of faith ride through life on a roller coaster with their arms in the air knowing that God is in control. These are the stories that inspire me to live my own life with a faithful abandon. A life marked not by a need to keep myself safe but a life willing to face challenges with boldness. And my desire is when all is said and done, the pictures that remain will be of a life filled with joy and faith. Now, pictures like those I might even want to buy.

Ugly Little Birds

Look at the birds. They don't plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren't you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? Matthew 6: 26, 27

Some young girls found this nest of baby birds in a hedge outside of my office building. I had never seen such small birds up close before. They certainly will not win any beauty contests. In fact, these featherless, scrawny, no eyed things are probably beautiful to only one thing, their mother. It is hard to imagine that not too long from now, they will be adult birds with feathers flying and doing what they were created to do. But their mother doesn't care, she cares for them knowing they are more than what they look like right now. Right now, they are helpless. As we peeked in at them, they stretched out their necks and opened their mouths wide. Expectantly waiting for their mother to return with food, an act of faith since they couldn't see what had made the air move around them.

As I thought about these little birds, I was reminded about Jesus' words in Matthew 6. Jesus uses the birds to remind us of God's love and provision for us. And I thought about how I can be a scrawny, naked, no eyed creature, yet God promises to take care of me. Just like the Mother bird, God cares for and protects me even when I look nothing like the child he created me to be. It is a great mystery to understand God's provision of us, his creation which so often falls short. And also, just like the little birds who trust in their mother's provision. All I must do is wait expectantly for God to take care of my needs. He requires nothing of me. Yet, another mystery of God's amazing grace. These birdies may be so ugly only a mother could love them. But in the end, they point to a gift so wonderful I can't see them as anything but beautiful.


 

 

Seeing Out of the Box

Every Mom is given a special gift. It is bestowed upon women when their children are young and is seen as a great gift by her family. It is the gift of sight. I remember as a kid, Mom seemed to have eyes in the back of her head and eyes that could see through walls and doors. How else could she walk in right as I was holding the scissors to cut the hair of her antique doll? Or how could she know my brother and I were sneaking cookies out of the freezer? I was in awe of this special gift but the one I was most in awe of was her ability to find things that were lost. I would search and search for something. She would walk into my room. Glance quickly and say, "If it was a snake it would have bit you." Hand me what I was looking for and walk back out. I stood with my mouth open wondering just how she did it.

Of course, somehow I was bestowed the same gift when I had children. I find myself repeating my Mom's words and telling my kids to "open your eyes, its right in front of you!" But still they can't see it. Perhaps it is not a gift of Mom's but a slow maturing skill of youth. Whatever it is, sometimes when I hear Jesus speak to his disciples, I think he sounds like a Mom trying to make them open their eyes and understand. Jesus saw the world with the eyes of the Messiah, God's son. In the Gospels, we see him trying to teach the disciples there is more around them than meets the eye. He was trying to get the disciples to see outside of their box. And as believers, he is also trying to get us to look outside of our small understanding of the world and to see a much bigger reality.

In the first four chapters of John, we see Jesus expanding the vision of the disciples and other witnesses at the Cleansing of the Temple. "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." Or with Nicodemus. "I assure you, unless you are born again, you can never see the Kingdom of God." Then again with the Samaritan woman. "But the water I give takes away thirst altogether." These statements make no sense when viewed within earth's framework. But Jesus is pointing to God's Kingdom and calling those who believe to see something more than what is in front of their eyes. In all of the Gospels, Jesus chastises those around him for not understanding what he is pointing to, something outside the box. He challenges the disciples to open their eyes.

For me, I know when I was living away from God I lost the vision I once knew. When the Spirit within me is leading me, I see things differently. I see the needs of others, not just my own needs. I understand my own attitudes as sinful where before I justified them as necessary. Things I hadn't seen before are now clear as day. Just as Jesus called his disciples to look beyond the earth and themselves, the Spirit leads me to see beyond my own limited world. We need Kingdom eyes, not earthly eyes in order to see all the glorious gifts God has given us which "if they were a snake just might bite us."

For further reading: 1 Corinthians 13:12; Mark 4:10-13

When Job Prayed

Over the past few years, I have skimmed through Job. He is my model for facing the tragedies of life. Ever since I lost what I feared losing the most, Job's story has resonated with me. But my focus has been on how he dealt with what he lost and not on what happens in the final chapter. After all, I knew the end of the story and being cynical or superstitious didn't want to expect my own life to be blessed like Job's. However, as I read and not skimmed the final chapter, I was surprised by two verses.

"I had heard about you before, but now I have seen you with my own eyes. I take back everything I said, and I sit in dust and ashes to show my repentance." (Job 42:5)

Job's words throughout the entire book seemed to mirror my own as I struggled to understand why things have happened in my own life. Why didn't God step in and protect my children from the pain they have endured? Why didn't God protect those who served Him? Even though much of the pain endured was the result of sin, couldn't Almighty God have brought about change and redemption at any point? Couldn't He have restored relationships and changed lives?

In the end, Job has his moment before God and God puts him in his place. The questions of why are not the right questions. Rather, it is the question of "whom." It is not about why God allowed things to happen but about who God is. For me, I have come full circle with God, too. After a couple of years of railing at Him with questions and asking for explanations, I have come to a point where those things are no longer needed. For in the presence of the all powerful and all merciful God the only thing that matters is knowing He is in control. And like Job I can say, "I had heard about you before, but now I have seen you with my own eyes. I take back everything I said, and I sit in dust and ashes to show my repentance." (Job 42:6). In acknowledging God's control, I let go of the burden of understanding and rejoice in the assurance God will never abandon me.

In the past, I thought it was these words out of Job's mouth that sparked the beginning of God restoring his fortunes. But as I read closer I discovered something very different. God rebukes the friends who had argued with Job and required them to make a special sacrifice. And then God instructs Job to pray for his friends who have spoken incorrectly. It is at this point where God begins to bless Job.

"When Job prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes. In fact, the Lord gave him twice as much as before!" (Job 42:10)

Job's blessing is tied to prayer and not just prayers for himself but prayers for others. For 41 chapters, Job is most concerned about himself and why the tragedy happened. He laments that he didn't deserve such anguish and pain. He wonders why and how he will continue to live in such misery. In chapter 42, we see how Job is re-oriented and the focus moves from himself, to God and then to others. In my own life, I see how God's healing touch has shown me the same thing. When I don't worry about the reasons and accept my place in God's care, the focus moves from myself and onto others.

For Job, it is a two-fold action. First, he prays for those he feels anger toward. These so-called friends called him a liar and told him he deserved to receive the pain he endured. These friends didn't provide comfort for him but added to his pain. So like Jesus will later suggest, Job is asked to pray for those who might be seen as enemies. This is a difficult task for anyone. For myself, it is through God's power alone and in submission to his leading that I can pray for those who have caused pain to me or my family. It has only been recently I have been able to say even the simplest prayer for the ones who have hurt me. And it is only when I am trusting God is in control that I can even think about it.

Second, Job is asked to move outside of his own need and pray for the needs of others. He is called to mediate between God and his friends and bring them right in their relationship with God. Before my divorce, I loved praying for others. It was an honor and a joy to intercede for others, lifting up the needs of others to God. After, I could barely say the simplest of prayers and couldn't pray for anyone. It has been a great joy to me that this love of intercession is returning to my life. I find great joy in praying for others again. I lift up my kids, my friends, and others to God. I pray as I fall asleep and as I awake in the mornings. I honestly thought I would never pray for others again. Now, it feels like a miracle that the desire has returned. God is good.

I would never presume that I will now know the same abundant blessing that God showed Job. Rather, I see Job as a fellow sojourner on a road to healing and wholeness. Healing from bitterness and anger is an enormous blessing alone, how could I ask for more? I have seen God with my own eyes, what more could I ask for? God is good and God is faithful. He is in control.

 

 

Leaving the Water Jar Behind

"The woman left her water jar beside the well and went back to the village . . ." John 4:18

The woman at the well is one of my favorite Bible stories. And I heard an excellent sermon on it yesterday at church. She is like an old friend who I look forward to hearing from again every now and then. No matter how many times I read it, I am intrigued by this lost woman who is found by Jesus. Her life transformed by an ordinary encounter with the extraordinary Christ. Chuck pointed out a line I had never really noticed In his sermon. "The woman left her water jar beside the well and went back to the village." A wonderful visual image of a life forever changed, but it made the practical side of myself come out.

"So what will she do when she needs water tonight to wash the dishes?" I thought, "Sure living water is great for quenching the thirsting soul, but our bodies still need physical water too." And even though she was changed inside, she still lived with a man who wasn't her husband. Leaving him would mean leaving her only means of support and security. It wasn't like she could pack up her belongings and make a way in the world on her own now.

Sometimes I wish the Bible told the stories of the people after they encountered Jesus. Sort of like a Biblical "Where are they Now?" What happened when life turned back to the ordinary? What happened after the Messiah left and the circumstances stayed the same? The challenge for the people Jesus touched in the Bible was no different than the challenges we face in living our lives. How do you maintain the changes brought about by an encounter with Jesus in our imperfect lives? Every Sunday I leave church with high ideals of a life made different by what I have heard and before I know it Monday morning is here and it all flies out the window. How can I leave the water jar behind when I still need water from the well to survive?

For me, I have learned some tricks which help me when the old ways call me back or when I must face the challenge of changing an old, well worn pattern.

1. Recognize the old patterns for what they are – ineffective and destructive. In my own life, when I compare myself to others, I start slipping down the slippery slope into despair. By recognizing what I am doing before I slip too far, I am able to stop the descent and be open to more life giving thoughts.
   
2. Think on what is good and life giving. I have found I need to be concrete in the beginning when I am trying to change my negative thoughts. So I keep scratch paper close by and write repeatedly the positive things I want to remember. Often it is things like: "I am loved, I am valuable, I am God's child" Or it can be scripture or parts of scripture: "God will Provide"
   
3. Fight the good fight and don't give up. This battle can seem to go on and on and on. Sometimes I am tempted to believe I can't win and the old pattern is not really that bad. But then I am reminded not to settle for the old which wasn't enough. It is the water that cannot quench my thirst rather than the living water which will always satisfy me.
   

The woman at the well had to return to her life after Jesus left. While she was transformed by that encounter, she returned to the same house, the same man and the same village. It couldn't have been easy for her. Just like it isn't always easy for us when we know the new way is better but the old way is easier. I have listed a few things that have helped me. But I know there are many more. What are some ways to keep the new and transform the old?

The Lord’s Armies Defied

"Who is this pagan Philistine anyway, that he is allowed to defy the armies of the living God?"

1Samuel 17:26 (NLT)

 

David's words are so innocent. Even when I know the end of the story, I am struck by his naïve statement. His youth blinds him from the reality that bad things happen even to God's army. Isn't that true? An experienced warrior knows some battles are just not won. Good soldiers are lost at the hand of the enemy. And no matter how strong the faith or pure the quest, the armies of the living God will be defied. The battle- wearied among us don't hear a childlike faith but a silly child who in time will be beaten down like the rest of us.

Someone suggested I was melancholy recently. I replied I didn't think I was melancholy but rather just a realist. Bad stuff happens and choosing to admit the truth rather than pretend all is well seems like the wise way to live my life. Yes, at this time in my life, there have been a lot of bad things happening. To say divorce is an awful thing is an understatement. Every aspect of my life has been affected by the end of my marriage. This dark night has continued and the pain multiplied by the struggling of my children.

In the midst of this darkness, well-meaning and loving friends tell me of God's redeeming power. And tell me this pain is not for naught but that God will do a mighty work in and through and because of this pain. And out comes my melancholy realism. How is God going to bless me? Why couldn't he bless my marriage? What can be done when I feel so weak and the mountain so high? The words seem as empty and naïve as David's did to the soldiers who stood before the Giant Goliath. "Silly boy, if you only knew how life really was? You wouldn't speak such silly words."

And yet, I am beginning to think I need to be thinking more like David now and not my usually melancholy self. I am still for realism – yes, this dark night has been awful, terrible. It is something I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. And yet, how can I sit back and allow the ugliness of these depths defy the living God?

"What is this divorce anyway, that it is allowed to defy the armies of the living God?"

If I don't stand up against this giant in my life, I run the risk of the evil winning. Isn't that why David acted? He couldn't bear the thought of the living God being shown as anything but the victor He was. If I don't stand up to this enemy in my own life, how will God ever be glorified? And if I don't want my life to be defined by this dark night, I must stand up against it and fight for God's glory to be shown. So

"everyone will know that the Lord does not need weapons to rescue his people. It is his battle, not ours. The Lord will give you to us!"

1Samuel 17:47oHo

The Strength to be Content

Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little.  For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.   Philippians 4:10-13

Twenty five years ago, I learned an important truth while taking New Testament 101 under Dr. George Knox. Amongst the study of concepts and the memorization of important passages, I learned the importance of context in regard to understanding scripture. Basically, we learned that a passage cannot mean something different than what it originally meant in the context of the verses around it. Ever since, the misuse of context has annoyed me.

Ironically, one of the most quoted passages from the New Testament is often taken out of context.  It is a temptation to use this short and sweet passage which is high on inspiration to encourage us to succeed at whatever we attempt.

"I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." Philippians 4:13

 These words can be found on mugs, pens and posters. We hear it in the context of commencement speeches and in pep talks. And I can't disagree, God does promise to give us strength in our weakness. Yet, Paul shared these words with the Philippians in relation to something very specific, the strength to be content.

Is strength really needed for contentment? I had never really thought about it until I looked at the verse in its context. Paul is speaking about how he has learned to accept whatever circumstance he has been placed in. He says, "I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little." But how does this require strength?  Is it hard to be content when you have plenty? Is verse 13 only referring to the living in want part?

Recently, it dawned on me that I don't need strength to find contentment. As if it is something to be grasped or created. Instead, what I need to finally feel content is the strength to let go of what I think I need. I can be content when I live in plenty only if I give my need to keep what I already have. Because if I live in the fear of losing it, I am not living contentedly. And if when I am in want, I can't be content as long as I am striving for me.

This is a different way of looking at it, we don't need strength to either get more or live on less. We need Christ's strength to surrender control of our lives and accept what is given to us. So that we neither strive for more or worry and fret over what might be lost. And personally, the hardest thing to surrender in my own life is control.

As I learned long ago, sometimes a passage is much easier to like out of its context than when it is looked at in its context. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. But in the end, will I actually be willing to do all the things Christ calls me to do.

Ties that Bind

Everyone seems to have a bucket list these days. These life "to do" lists are often filled with things like sky diving or visiting the Great Wall of China. Personally, I haven't felt the need to have a bucket list. I am not sure why. Perhaps I am a big chicken and don't look for an excuse to practice risky behavior like sky diving or bungee jumping.  Or perhaps I don't want my life summed up by a list of destinations or activities. Or more likely, perhaps I don't want to come to the end of the list and find out there is nothing keeping me here. As if what binds me to earth is a cosmic "to do" list and after I check off the last item I will instantaneously find myself in God's presence in heaven.

While I might not have a bucket list binding me to earth, I do hold tightly to things that bind me from experiencing God's presence on earth.  A life "to do" list filled with things like bitterness, revenge, anger, and pride. I hold onto these attitudes and dream of the day the come to fruition. The day the one who betrayed me feels the sting of abandonment. Or the moment when the one who always wins sees the look of victory in my eyes and knows the agony of defeat. The thought of these moments bring a rush of adrenalin to me as if I had just jumped out of a plane. Yet, truth be told, they really just rob me of the joy and peace God has promised me here on earth.

The second list is a stumbling block to my faith. Jesus cleared the temple of the merchants and money changers who made it difficult for the people to worship God. Both are distractions which rob us of the relationship we were created to have with our Heavenly Father. Obstacles created to protect our own interests rather than seeking the interests of God. A list grown out of my own selfish needs and for our own gain rather than the interest of others.  I need to ask Jesus to cleanse this temple as he did the one in Jerusalem. Or maybe I just need to clean my own house.

A bucket list can be a good thing. It can encourage us to live life to the fullest and create goals for ourselves. The other kind of "to do" list serves no purpose but to squelch life and rob us of the life God intended for us. So maybe I need to make a bucket list:

1. Forgive the ones who have hurt me the most
2. Let go of bitterness of past hurts
3. Cheer for the one I envy
4. Pray for the ones who plot against me
5. Bungee Jump

Ok, I will never do the final one, a little insurance for a long life.