Division is the word that keeps coming to mind when I look around me these days. It is every which way I turn. I've had several sad division encounters lately, but will choose one to share now.
A few days ago, a neighbor’s car pulled into my drive. I was excited because a) we seldom have visitors, b) this was a neighbor I had been trying to meet for months and c) phase one of our new porch had just been completed. So I eagerly ran out to the front yard in my bare feet, something I wouldn’t have done if I’d been thinking. Red ants abound here in east Texas.
I greeted him and his wife, who I hadn’t met before. I had only met him once briefly and hoped we’d get to visit again. He said he had only stopped by to ask me a couple of questions, which I answered. Then, I invited them to come up and sit on my new porch. "Could you come up to the porch and sit?" I asked. "I’m standing in an ant pile getting eaten alive!" I hoped they’d stay for a glass of tea and a chat. But, he declined quickly and said he didn’t want to bother me. He was gone rather abruptly.
Sometimes in a conversation you get a very strong feeling of how the person feels or what they may be thinking, even if they don’t say a word to that effect. I had a very strong impression that he was thinking, "I’m black. You’re white. There is a wall between us and so I’m not going to bother you."
I came back inside, started washing dishes, and found myself in tears before I knew it. I stopped what I was doing and just sat at the table and buried my head in my arms and cried. I was crying because I was disappointed, crying because I was excited that someone might sit on my porch and it hadn’t happened. I was crying in frustration at seeing that tiresome old dividing wall of racism between us. But other times in my life, none of this would have upset me so much or brought me to tears. I think the division he sees between people for a whole host of reasons, must be making Father cry extra hard right now for me to have that reaction.
This election has been like an earthquake. No one was indifferent or unaffected. One black lady I know said this election is the craziest thing she ever saw. Her black friends told her if she didn’t vote for Obama she isn’t black. Her white friends said if she did vote for Obama, she isn’t Christian. If I were her I might have wanted to leave the country for about a month, two weeks before and after the election, to maintain my sanity. I’ve certainly been rattled by all the doomsaying, the anger, the hysteria, the name-calling, the racism issues, the hand-wringing… the division. I have had to remind myself that God isn’t surprised nor unprepared for the days to come.
A hundred years ago, a black man couldn’t be invited to the White House without a scandal. Now we will have a black man and his family living in the White House. People say we’ve come a long way, and in some ways we have. But, I still wonder if the man and his wife down the road will ever come sit on my porch and feel comfortable.
Well, one day in heaven if not here on earth, I hope to have a beautiful porch with a variety of friends sitting on it. We will all hold hands…black and white and brown and all shades in between laced together, noticing no difference except how uniquely beautiful each one is.
"There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28
Friday, November 14, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
A Few Thoughts on the Election
There has been a lot of ruckus the last several days across the nation. Some of it good, some of it not so good. Many people are happy that Obama is our new president-elect. Others are not.
I’m not here to trumpet my political views in this blog (Can I hear a 'thank ya, Jesus!' LOL) I will say that no one seemed indifferent to this election. People were excited, nervous, happy, angry, uncertain, full of anticipation. I sifted through all kinds of emails, yahoo groups, and news articles about all of the involved candidates. Yes, I deleted at least a dozen of those "Obama is the anti-christ" urban legends. I saw all the Saturday Night Live skits (Amy Poehler was hilarious as Hillary Clinton and John McCain pretty doggone funny as himself). It wasn’t until the last few days before and since the election, though, that one very important issue came to the center of my focus.
Racism. It’s that icky word and that unpleasant subject that people don’t like to talk about. As mentioned above, I read all kinds of stuff about the election, but only in the last few days did I see a lot about how very much this election meant to the African American population. About how many were so full of anticipation that they wouldn’t let themselves get their hopes up too high. They spoke of how they had been disappointed in the past. Some of their leaders in the past century were killed. Other noteworthy African American icons were marginalized and mistreated for years. Would their canditate actually win, showing how much things have changed? John McCain remembered an incident over 100 years old during his concession speech. In 1901 , President Theodore Roosevelt invited educator Booker T. Washington to dine at the White House. When news of this dinner spread, outrage ensued. Reading a couple of quotes from old newpaper articles about this dinner, I am shocked at what passed for acceptable journalism back then. Even by today’s "National Enquirer" standards.
No matter what one’s preferred candidate or party, I think all of us who are on the journey to love have to be happy that such ugly racism has been trumped this time, by the election of the first black President of the United States. A few decades ago, saying a dirty word in reference to blacks was done as casually as lighting up a cigarette in the doctor’s office. Now both of these actions cause gasps and immediate chastisement. As the old Virginia Slims ad used to say, we’ve come a long way, baby!
But we’re not there yet. Racism no longer has the same stronghold on our culture that it once did, but it is sadly still alive and well.
I’m not here to trumpet my political views in this blog (Can I hear a 'thank ya, Jesus!' LOL) I will say that no one seemed indifferent to this election. People were excited, nervous, happy, angry, uncertain, full of anticipation. I sifted through all kinds of emails, yahoo groups, and news articles about all of the involved candidates. Yes, I deleted at least a dozen of those "Obama is the anti-christ" urban legends. I saw all the Saturday Night Live skits (Amy Poehler was hilarious as Hillary Clinton and John McCain pretty doggone funny as himself). It wasn’t until the last few days before and since the election, though, that one very important issue came to the center of my focus.
Racism. It’s that icky word and that unpleasant subject that people don’t like to talk about. As mentioned above, I read all kinds of stuff about the election, but only in the last few days did I see a lot about how very much this election meant to the African American population. About how many were so full of anticipation that they wouldn’t let themselves get their hopes up too high. They spoke of how they had been disappointed in the past. Some of their leaders in the past century were killed. Other noteworthy African American icons were marginalized and mistreated for years. Would their canditate actually win, showing how much things have changed? John McCain remembered an incident over 100 years old during his concession speech. In 1901 , President Theodore Roosevelt invited educator Booker T. Washington to dine at the White House. When news of this dinner spread, outrage ensued. Reading a couple of quotes from old newpaper articles about this dinner, I am shocked at what passed for acceptable journalism back then. Even by today’s "National Enquirer" standards.
No matter what one’s preferred candidate or party, I think all of us who are on the journey to love have to be happy that such ugly racism has been trumped this time, by the election of the first black President of the United States. A few decades ago, saying a dirty word in reference to blacks was done as casually as lighting up a cigarette in the doctor’s office. Now both of these actions cause gasps and immediate chastisement. As the old Virginia Slims ad used to say, we’ve come a long way, baby!
But we’re not there yet. Racism no longer has the same stronghold on our culture that it once did, but it is sadly still alive and well.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
If we never meet again this side of heaven
I remember my best friend in 7th grade, a girl named Shelley with curly black hair pulled in pigtails wearing overalls. Although I haven’t seen her in at least 5 years and very little for years before that, I still find myself thinking of her rather often. We were best friends all the way through high school, despite being separated in different schools for much of that time. We hit rough spots, traveled different paths and grew apart for a few years. Our friendship was renewed for a few blessed years after I became a mother. Then, she disappeared into the abyss of missing friends. I email her now and again, and sometimes get a response. She sounds stressed, distant, buried in her work.
I imagine the fellowship we had in school being restored. Maybe Father won’t mind if we pass notes containing hilarious cartoons such as got me kicked out of study hall for laughing so hard. Maybe we can have face to face conversations about Jesus, like we had online for awhile when I became a new Christian. I picture the closeness, the rapport and caring for one another - just like things used to be, only even better.
I think of former friends who turned against me, or dropped me because we had religious differences. And some who unexplainably just grew cool and distant. It still pains me to remember how and why some of these friendships ended. I remember what I once loved about them and picture that actually restored… only better.
I think of my internet friends, who literally live coast to coast with me smack dab in the middle in Texas. I picture seeing them 3-D, up close and personal. Hearing their voices without the static of a phone line and the feel of wrapping my arms around them in a hug. I wonder what their day to day lives are really like. There is only so much one can really share online.
I remember my sweet grandmother, who died 12 years ago. And the children I’ve never met, the ones that were never born because I was listening to the world instead of my heart. And the godly teachers who have ministered to me that I may never meet this side of heaven. And some of my favorite heroes of love, such as Mother Theresa… Florence Nightingale… Billy Graham… Steve Irwin. And of course, the best of all… Jesus… face to face.
I find this song a great comfort and inspiration. Although there are many versions of the song recorded, I’m going to include the one by the Man in Black who wrote the song:
I imagine the fellowship we had in school being restored. Maybe Father won’t mind if we pass notes containing hilarious cartoons such as got me kicked out of study hall for laughing so hard. Maybe we can have face to face conversations about Jesus, like we had online for awhile when I became a new Christian. I picture the closeness, the rapport and caring for one another - just like things used to be, only even better.
I think of former friends who turned against me, or dropped me because we had religious differences. And some who unexplainably just grew cool and distant. It still pains me to remember how and why some of these friendships ended. I remember what I once loved about them and picture that actually restored… only better.
I think of my internet friends, who literally live coast to coast with me smack dab in the middle in Texas. I picture seeing them 3-D, up close and personal. Hearing their voices without the static of a phone line and the feel of wrapping my arms around them in a hug. I wonder what their day to day lives are really like. There is only so much one can really share online.
I remember my sweet grandmother, who died 12 years ago. And the children I’ve never met, the ones that were never born because I was listening to the world instead of my heart. And the godly teachers who have ministered to me that I may never meet this side of heaven. And some of my favorite heroes of love, such as Mother Theresa… Florence Nightingale… Billy Graham… Steve Irwin. And of course, the best of all… Jesus… face to face.
I find this song a great comfort and inspiration. Although there are many versions of the song recorded, I’m going to include the one by the Man in Black who wrote the song:
Friday, October 17, 2008
Front Porches
One of the things I love most about old homes, is that most of them have front porches. The style of homes is a reflection of the times we live in. New homes with no front porch are being built left and right in suburban areas. They usually house people who work all day, then rush the kids to soccer and ballet lessons, then zip into their garage at night and aren’t seen again until they leave to take the kids to school the next morning on their way to work.
Front porches with swings, gliders and rocking chairs remind me of the time when they were built. A time when people had time to just sit and visit. I’ve only heard the stories from older folks. They would sit on the porch in the evenings after dinner. If they were lucky it might be screened in. Otherwise they would patiently shoo away flies, enjoying the warm breeze on a summer evening. After a little while, a neighbor or two, or four or six, was sure to come by. They would all settle in for a visit as the lady of the house brought out iced sweet tea or lemonade. If they stayed a while, maybe some homemade cookies or cobbler would follow.
I’ve read a couple of books written on how to form ‘networks’ and join clubs as a way of making friends and forming community. They teach you the strategy of finding the right friends and finding your place, as aggressive and well-planned as job-hunting. For us introverts, even the prospect can be exhausting.
A lady I once knew told me that her parents were among the least sociable and talkative people in the neighborhood, but they always had friends and they always had company. All they did really, was sit out on the front porch evenings and some neighbors were sure to come by and see how they were doing. A pitcher of fresh tea could go a long way in building bonds back then. Now you apparently have to have a well-honed strategy and a PLAN.
I feel like I was born about a hundred years too late. We have plans to build a porch onto our house. Long term plans include adding a larger flower garden to the front yard that can be viewed from the porch. Will others come and sit there? Will they be glad they came over, if they do? Sometimes, hoping for this is like planning to go into the buggy-whip business. As if I’ll offer the best buggy-whip anyone ever saw… that’s about a hundred years too late for anyone to have a use for.
But I’m planning on these things anyway, because they are on my heart. An important truth that organized Christianity usually doesn’t tell us is, follow and trust your heart. Because you have been given a new heart. Perhaps Father will bless others through my ‘outdated’ way of doing things in ways I haven’t imagined yet.
Front porches with swings, gliders and rocking chairs remind me of the time when they were built. A time when people had time to just sit and visit. I’ve only heard the stories from older folks. They would sit on the porch in the evenings after dinner. If they were lucky it might be screened in. Otherwise they would patiently shoo away flies, enjoying the warm breeze on a summer evening. After a little while, a neighbor or two, or four or six, was sure to come by. They would all settle in for a visit as the lady of the house brought out iced sweet tea or lemonade. If they stayed a while, maybe some homemade cookies or cobbler would follow.
I’ve read a couple of books written on how to form ‘networks’ and join clubs as a way of making friends and forming community. They teach you the strategy of finding the right friends and finding your place, as aggressive and well-planned as job-hunting. For us introverts, even the prospect can be exhausting.
A lady I once knew told me that her parents were among the least sociable and talkative people in the neighborhood, but they always had friends and they always had company. All they did really, was sit out on the front porch evenings and some neighbors were sure to come by and see how they were doing. A pitcher of fresh tea could go a long way in building bonds back then. Now you apparently have to have a well-honed strategy and a PLAN.
I feel like I was born about a hundred years too late. We have plans to build a porch onto our house. Long term plans include adding a larger flower garden to the front yard that can be viewed from the porch. Will others come and sit there? Will they be glad they came over, if they do? Sometimes, hoping for this is like planning to go into the buggy-whip business. As if I’ll offer the best buggy-whip anyone ever saw… that’s about a hundred years too late for anyone to have a use for.
But I’m planning on these things anyway, because they are on my heart. An important truth that organized Christianity usually doesn’t tell us is, follow and trust your heart. Because you have been given a new heart. Perhaps Father will bless others through my ‘outdated’ way of doing things in ways I haven’t imagined yet.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Hospitality
I’m glad that my ‘fellowship’ blog struck a note with some folks, including emails from a couple of people I hadn’t heard from in a while. Thank you for your feedback. It encourages me to know if what I’ve said is good food for thought; if it helps to connect even two people, I’m blessed. As our Lord has said, if there are two or more of you gathered in My name, there am I among you. In this crazy age where many of us have to rely on the computer for authentic conversation and fellowship, I believe He must be spending a lot of time holding our hands via cyberspace.
I want to say a few things now about another topic on my heart that I believe goes hand and hand with fellowship - hospitality. Like driving a team of horses, this has largely become a lost art as a result of changing times and culture. We’ve all heard the New Testament teachings about hospitality, such as Romans 12:13 telling us to share with others and practice hospitality. I’ve always gotten the impression that ‘practice’ is a very serious word in Biblical terms - it’s a lifestyle stemming from the heart. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see this as a way of life anywhere in my day-to-day.
Reading through the book of Acts, we see these people regularly gathered in each other’s homes, eating, drinking, praying, and enjoying one another’s company. They even shared their possessions and had everything in common, giving to each as had need! Having grown up in the modern western "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" culture, I can only imagine. I’ve actually had people get mad at me for offering to pay for their meal or for bringing them a gift on their birthday. In our society, many seem to have been brainwashed into thinking EVERYTHING is on a consumer basis - you only get what you pay for. No sharing allowed!
I’ve had some other frustrating experiences trying to ‘practice hospitality.’ Would you like to hear about the time we ate hot dogs and hamburgers for a week because of no-shows? Or the time our charcoal burned down to dust as we waited on our hour-late guests, who finally called to cancel? (We stuck a dozen raw burger patties in the fridge and went to Taco Bell). I’ve had my kids in tears because of careless last-minute play date cancellations and no-shows.
Some other times though, I’ve felt like I’ve really blessed someone in my home. I remember one friend from years ago who never wanted to leave. She’d kick back on my couch and say, "oh, it’s so relaxing here! I don’t want to leave!" And I didn’t want her to leave any more than she wanted to leave. Other guests have stayed to talk until the mosquitoes nearly ate us alive out in the back yard (the only place on our property that is large enough to accommodate playing children and conversing adults). The only times I really got into a lengthy and meaningful conversation with some of these people was when they came to my home to visit. If they don’t seem to want to leave, I feel like they’ve been blessed by their visit.
Good hospitality can produce such warm feelings of excitement, happiness and contentment. For instance, I still remember going to the home of my mother’s best friend each Christmas as a child. Her house was very modest, but beautifully and warmly decorated. Cinnamon-infused cider and sugar cookie smells wafted through the air as we were warmly greeted. As a shy child, her warm smile and hug meant the world to me. Then, I’d sip hot cider and eat the most delicious chili con queso and home-baked cheddar wafers as I poked around looking at her cheery living room Christmas decorations and answered her friendly inquiries as to what I’d been up to. She had the art of making me feel like the most special, cute, funny, clever person in the world. I’m sure she had a gift for making each guest who came into their home burst with good feelings about themselves.
Since becoming an adult, I’ve found such hospitality pretty hard to come by. My husband and I began a bi-annual tradition of going away together for a weekend to a bed and breakfast when our boys were old enough to stay with grandparents for a couple of days. There are two in particular that have blessed us. Good bed and breakfast owners feel like Grandmas and Grandpas. I revert from being a decades-old adult to a little kid going to Grandma’s for the weekend. Homemade cookies, warm hugs, a comfy room with a big quilt and bubble bath, a delicious breakfast, someone with a sweet smile fussing over me, and warm and caring conversation with our hosts fills the weekend. More than once as we’ve returned home, I’ve made this remark to my husband: "Wouldn’t it be nice if God someday brings us to a place in our lives when such edifying times with caring people aren’t something we usually have to pay for?"
Now, our hosts are lovely people and staying with them is worth every penny and then some. But, I daresay that there are others like us out there, who flock to the bed and breakfasts to grasp a little piece of a dream, of a time and place that is unhurried and rest for the soul. A setting where hospitality is a way of life.
The town we love to go to is a popular tourist spot. We walk the streets, admiring the beautiful antebellum homes, some large and some small. All have beautiful lawns, gorgeous flower gardens, gazebos, little ponds, tea gardens… and my favorite of all, front porches. I have the most intense feelings of nostalgia sometimes while walking there, feelings that I was just born about a hundred years too late.
I’m going to end here for now, but there will be more to come soon. Please stay tuned…
Blessings to all,
Amy
I want to say a few things now about another topic on my heart that I believe goes hand and hand with fellowship - hospitality. Like driving a team of horses, this has largely become a lost art as a result of changing times and culture. We’ve all heard the New Testament teachings about hospitality, such as Romans 12:13 telling us to share with others and practice hospitality. I’ve always gotten the impression that ‘practice’ is a very serious word in Biblical terms - it’s a lifestyle stemming from the heart. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see this as a way of life anywhere in my day-to-day.
Reading through the book of Acts, we see these people regularly gathered in each other’s homes, eating, drinking, praying, and enjoying one another’s company. They even shared their possessions and had everything in common, giving to each as had need! Having grown up in the modern western "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" culture, I can only imagine. I’ve actually had people get mad at me for offering to pay for their meal or for bringing them a gift on their birthday. In our society, many seem to have been brainwashed into thinking EVERYTHING is on a consumer basis - you only get what you pay for. No sharing allowed!
I’ve had some other frustrating experiences trying to ‘practice hospitality.’ Would you like to hear about the time we ate hot dogs and hamburgers for a week because of no-shows? Or the time our charcoal burned down to dust as we waited on our hour-late guests, who finally called to cancel? (We stuck a dozen raw burger patties in the fridge and went to Taco Bell). I’ve had my kids in tears because of careless last-minute play date cancellations and no-shows.
Some other times though, I’ve felt like I’ve really blessed someone in my home. I remember one friend from years ago who never wanted to leave. She’d kick back on my couch and say, "oh, it’s so relaxing here! I don’t want to leave!" And I didn’t want her to leave any more than she wanted to leave. Other guests have stayed to talk until the mosquitoes nearly ate us alive out in the back yard (the only place on our property that is large enough to accommodate playing children and conversing adults). The only times I really got into a lengthy and meaningful conversation with some of these people was when they came to my home to visit. If they don’t seem to want to leave, I feel like they’ve been blessed by their visit.
Good hospitality can produce such warm feelings of excitement, happiness and contentment. For instance, I still remember going to the home of my mother’s best friend each Christmas as a child. Her house was very modest, but beautifully and warmly decorated. Cinnamon-infused cider and sugar cookie smells wafted through the air as we were warmly greeted. As a shy child, her warm smile and hug meant the world to me. Then, I’d sip hot cider and eat the most delicious chili con queso and home-baked cheddar wafers as I poked around looking at her cheery living room Christmas decorations and answered her friendly inquiries as to what I’d been up to. She had the art of making me feel like the most special, cute, funny, clever person in the world. I’m sure she had a gift for making each guest who came into their home burst with good feelings about themselves.
Since becoming an adult, I’ve found such hospitality pretty hard to come by. My husband and I began a bi-annual tradition of going away together for a weekend to a bed and breakfast when our boys were old enough to stay with grandparents for a couple of days. There are two in particular that have blessed us. Good bed and breakfast owners feel like Grandmas and Grandpas. I revert from being a decades-old adult to a little kid going to Grandma’s for the weekend. Homemade cookies, warm hugs, a comfy room with a big quilt and bubble bath, a delicious breakfast, someone with a sweet smile fussing over me, and warm and caring conversation with our hosts fills the weekend. More than once as we’ve returned home, I’ve made this remark to my husband: "Wouldn’t it be nice if God someday brings us to a place in our lives when such edifying times with caring people aren’t something we usually have to pay for?"
Now, our hosts are lovely people and staying with them is worth every penny and then some. But, I daresay that there are others like us out there, who flock to the bed and breakfasts to grasp a little piece of a dream, of a time and place that is unhurried and rest for the soul. A setting where hospitality is a way of life.
The town we love to go to is a popular tourist spot. We walk the streets, admiring the beautiful antebellum homes, some large and some small. All have beautiful lawns, gorgeous flower gardens, gazebos, little ponds, tea gardens… and my favorite of all, front porches. I have the most intense feelings of nostalgia sometimes while walking there, feelings that I was just born about a hundred years too late.
I’m going to end here for now, but there will be more to come soon. Please stay tuned…
Blessings to all,
Amy
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Overcoming Fear
"There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." 1 John 4:18
It is interesting that this verse contrasts fear and love, instead of fear and comfort, or fear and safety, or even fear and rest. Thinking about it, I can see that most of my fears have been rooted in loss of love, or perceived loss of love.
Darin Hufford’s recent blog on treating fear as something we have a choice on caught my attention. I believe that we women really need to hear the perspective of a man, because they tend to think more logically. A common experience I’ve had as a female is getting so caught up in my emotions that I can’t think straight anymore.
Darin’s blog was timely because there is an important decision we’ve been looking at making that could greatly affect our future. I was raised in a household that was hugely fearful. It was as though we had to consult the God of Fear first for every decision we made. If fear said it had a 1 percent chance of turning out awful, we would probably decide not to do whatever it was.
I’ve been controlled by fear all too often. As a result I’ve actually ended up enduring a lot of awful things that I might have avoided if I hadn’t been afraid! I’ve also missed out on some really good things.
You’d think I’d have the pattern nailed down in my logical mind by now, and be able to catch myself and stop it by now. But I’m proud of myself that at least now I’m trying to look at things more closely before making a knee-jerk fear decision, especially on big things.
I decided to discuss my situation with Darin and tell him of my concerns. I wanted to know if it was fear (unreasonable) or just concern (wisdom). He acknowledged the importance of my concerns and advised me to plan for the possibility that they would happen. But - here’s the clincher - he said, "But letting these things stop you (from following your dream) is being controlled by them. You’re stronger than that."
His words helped me clear up my wimbling back and forth. I can make myself dizzy with "On one hand, I want this, but on the other hand, it might be impractical, scary, dangerous, uncertain, a failure, a disaster, whatever." Yeah, I’ve been a poster child for that double-minded man verse in James and I look forward to Father maturing me out of doing that.
But I can see that thinking of myself as stronger than one who lets fear be in control is a picture of myself that I have not carried. Now I know what our course is. I can see that this will be another leg of our faith journey. And I hope it does a great work to really remove fear from my heart.
I also want to add that an important reason why that I struggle with fear is the lack of having somebody believe in me during my youth. As parents, no matter what age our children, may we all get across to them that we BELIEVE in them!! That’s an important foundational ingredient to any person. It’s kind of hard to find as an adult too. (You know you’ve found a real friend when they truly believe in you, even during the hard times!)
I decided to change my screen name here to Lionwoman...because lions are known as animals of great courage and dignity. As our Heavenly Father sees us.
Blessings to all,
Amy
It is interesting that this verse contrasts fear and love, instead of fear and comfort, or fear and safety, or even fear and rest. Thinking about it, I can see that most of my fears have been rooted in loss of love, or perceived loss of love.
Darin Hufford’s recent blog on treating fear as something we have a choice on caught my attention. I believe that we women really need to hear the perspective of a man, because they tend to think more logically. A common experience I’ve had as a female is getting so caught up in my emotions that I can’t think straight anymore.
Darin’s blog was timely because there is an important decision we’ve been looking at making that could greatly affect our future. I was raised in a household that was hugely fearful. It was as though we had to consult the God of Fear first for every decision we made. If fear said it had a 1 percent chance of turning out awful, we would probably decide not to do whatever it was.
I’ve been controlled by fear all too often. As a result I’ve actually ended up enduring a lot of awful things that I might have avoided if I hadn’t been afraid! I’ve also missed out on some really good things.
You’d think I’d have the pattern nailed down in my logical mind by now, and be able to catch myself and stop it by now. But I’m proud of myself that at least now I’m trying to look at things more closely before making a knee-jerk fear decision, especially on big things.
I decided to discuss my situation with Darin and tell him of my concerns. I wanted to know if it was fear (unreasonable) or just concern (wisdom). He acknowledged the importance of my concerns and advised me to plan for the possibility that they would happen. But - here’s the clincher - he said, "But letting these things stop you (from following your dream) is being controlled by them. You’re stronger than that."
His words helped me clear up my wimbling back and forth. I can make myself dizzy with "On one hand, I want this, but on the other hand, it might be impractical, scary, dangerous, uncertain, a failure, a disaster, whatever." Yeah, I’ve been a poster child for that double-minded man verse in James and I look forward to Father maturing me out of doing that.
But I can see that thinking of myself as stronger than one who lets fear be in control is a picture of myself that I have not carried. Now I know what our course is. I can see that this will be another leg of our faith journey. And I hope it does a great work to really remove fear from my heart.
I also want to add that an important reason why that I struggle with fear is the lack of having somebody believe in me during my youth. As parents, no matter what age our children, may we all get across to them that we BELIEVE in them!! That’s an important foundational ingredient to any person. It’s kind of hard to find as an adult too. (You know you’ve found a real friend when they truly believe in you, even during the hard times!)
I decided to change my screen name here to Lionwoman...because lions are known as animals of great courage and dignity. As our Heavenly Father sees us.
Blessings to all,
Amy
Friday, August 8, 2008
Fellowship
I’ve often compared human fellowship to food. To me, time spent with a true friend or even an intriguing acquaintance is like a good, satisfying, nutritious meal. Think of a nice barbecued chicken breast, baked potato with all the fixings, a big salad and a big glass of cool water to wash it all down. Then, you get a nice warm chocolate dessert of some sort with ice cream. Now, that’s living. You get things that are good and nourishing for you in this meal, plus some things that just make you feel good. You’re totally satisfied, not hungering for anything more. This, to me, is what true fellowship is like.
Unfortunately, I’ve found this type of "good meal" fellowship to be relatively rare in our society of fierce independence, over-achievement, and focus on material gain. Our culture is an absurd reversal of many third world countries I’ve read about. Over there, many people live on a very simple diet. Many children are sustained on only rice because that’s all they have. Others may be lucky and also have millet or corn. Women feed their children on $2 a week. Yet when you see photos of these people in these places, there are always groups of people TOGETHER. They sit together, they lean against each other. Children are photographed sitting in a circle laughing or playing together. Women sit in a circle grinding grain or weaving while they talk. Men work the fields in groups. They live in overcrowded dilapidated houses and huts together. When illness strikes they care for each other until there are no healthy left to care for the sick. Sometimes, they lie down and die together.
Here in the U.S., most of us are overfed and many are overweight. We are more obsessed with healthy diets and weight monitoring than any other country, yet we are dying of eating-related disorders at an alarming rate. We have far more food to gorge ourselves on than is good for us and many of us have the love handles to prove it. Yet, as a culture we’re the poster children for emaciated, starving people in the spiritual and emotional realm.
I’ve spent a lot of time with my ear to the ground over the last few years and realized that though most people are hard-pressed to see or admit it, the average person is lucky if they have even one or two real friends. We know lots of people and call many of them friends, but in reality they’re just people we’re busy with.
I’ve always thought of these "busy-buddies" as cheese and crackers. Now, there’s nothing wrong with cheese and crackers, but if that’s all you ever eat, you aren’t truly being nourished. You can eat them until you don’t want anymore, and perhaps feel a little sick from all you’ve eaten. But you’re not satisfied. You want something more. You feel lethargic because you’re stuffed with something that hasn’t given you true nourishment. You didn’t really enjoy them all that much while you were eating them, but you were hungry and that’s all there was, so you ate and now you’re glutted but not fulfilled.
A snack is a snack. Light and shallow acquaintances are like snacks. Some are the yucky pre-packaged, God-only-knows-what’s-in-them orange crackers with quasi-peanut butter. These are not only not nourishing but downright bad for you. I’ve had some acquaintances and even ‘friends’ like this.
Other cheese and crackers may be good quality stuff. These are nice people you may know in the neighborhood, in the church, or in the book club. You chat pleasantly with them when you see them. Sometimes, you pursue a deeper relationship with them only to find out they don’t have time for real friends because of all the hustle-n-bustle in their lives. Nice people or no, activity and accomplishment will always take precedence over real relationship for them. You hoped it would turn out to be a real meal, but they remain cheese and crackers.
Sometimes I’ve come to a point in life where I wonder, "is it better to just go hungry than have another cheese and cracker snack?" At times I’ve glutted myself on "cheese and crackers" (including the stale vending-machine variety) until now when I’ve come to the point where I feel I’d rather starve than ever touch them again.
Perhaps Father has a design behind this dilemna? I’ve read the verses in the Bible. "Come and eat, and be satisfied." And thought, what IS he talking about? I go to church and I’m not satisfied. I participate in programs, activities and "home groups" and I’m not satisfied. We’ve been promised by institutional church that these things bring life, yet they don’t. Why does IC harp so much on fellowship? Could it be that they have accepted human fellowship as a substitute for true fellowship with God?
I’m going through a time where I’m struggling with whether I’ll starve if I really go hungry. I realize I’ve lived as though I’ll starve if I don’t eat these vending-machine cheese and crackers. I hope Father is getting me much closer to the point that I really am courageous enough to go hungry for however long I must. Maybe we have to be REALLY hungry, to have a cavernous hole in our stomach to be able to hold Him and all He wants to give us.
Unfortunately, I’ve found this type of "good meal" fellowship to be relatively rare in our society of fierce independence, over-achievement, and focus on material gain. Our culture is an absurd reversal of many third world countries I’ve read about. Over there, many people live on a very simple diet. Many children are sustained on only rice because that’s all they have. Others may be lucky and also have millet or corn. Women feed their children on $2 a week. Yet when you see photos of these people in these places, there are always groups of people TOGETHER. They sit together, they lean against each other. Children are photographed sitting in a circle laughing or playing together. Women sit in a circle grinding grain or weaving while they talk. Men work the fields in groups. They live in overcrowded dilapidated houses and huts together. When illness strikes they care for each other until there are no healthy left to care for the sick. Sometimes, they lie down and die together.
Here in the U.S., most of us are overfed and many are overweight. We are more obsessed with healthy diets and weight monitoring than any other country, yet we are dying of eating-related disorders at an alarming rate. We have far more food to gorge ourselves on than is good for us and many of us have the love handles to prove it. Yet, as a culture we’re the poster children for emaciated, starving people in the spiritual and emotional realm.
I’ve spent a lot of time with my ear to the ground over the last few years and realized that though most people are hard-pressed to see or admit it, the average person is lucky if they have even one or two real friends. We know lots of people and call many of them friends, but in reality they’re just people we’re busy with.
I’ve always thought of these "busy-buddies" as cheese and crackers. Now, there’s nothing wrong with cheese and crackers, but if that’s all you ever eat, you aren’t truly being nourished. You can eat them until you don’t want anymore, and perhaps feel a little sick from all you’ve eaten. But you’re not satisfied. You want something more. You feel lethargic because you’re stuffed with something that hasn’t given you true nourishment. You didn’t really enjoy them all that much while you were eating them, but you were hungry and that’s all there was, so you ate and now you’re glutted but not fulfilled.
A snack is a snack. Light and shallow acquaintances are like snacks. Some are the yucky pre-packaged, God-only-knows-what’s-in-them orange crackers with quasi-peanut butter. These are not only not nourishing but downright bad for you. I’ve had some acquaintances and even ‘friends’ like this.
Other cheese and crackers may be good quality stuff. These are nice people you may know in the neighborhood, in the church, or in the book club. You chat pleasantly with them when you see them. Sometimes, you pursue a deeper relationship with them only to find out they don’t have time for real friends because of all the hustle-n-bustle in their lives. Nice people or no, activity and accomplishment will always take precedence over real relationship for them. You hoped it would turn out to be a real meal, but they remain cheese and crackers.
Sometimes I’ve come to a point in life where I wonder, "is it better to just go hungry than have another cheese and cracker snack?" At times I’ve glutted myself on "cheese and crackers" (including the stale vending-machine variety) until now when I’ve come to the point where I feel I’d rather starve than ever touch them again.
Perhaps Father has a design behind this dilemna? I’ve read the verses in the Bible. "Come and eat, and be satisfied." And thought, what IS he talking about? I go to church and I’m not satisfied. I participate in programs, activities and "home groups" and I’m not satisfied. We’ve been promised by institutional church that these things bring life, yet they don’t. Why does IC harp so much on fellowship? Could it be that they have accepted human fellowship as a substitute for true fellowship with God?
I’m going through a time where I’m struggling with whether I’ll starve if I really go hungry. I realize I’ve lived as though I’ll starve if I don’t eat these vending-machine cheese and crackers. I hope Father is getting me much closer to the point that I really am courageous enough to go hungry for however long I must. Maybe we have to be REALLY hungry, to have a cavernous hole in our stomach to be able to hold Him and all He wants to give us.
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