I have a hard time believing anything I hear. I don't believe statistics, stories, old wives tales or fun facts. I'm a cynic and a critic and usually leaning into someone's ear to mumble a snide remark when being sold something.But as I'm reminded in the good ol' book of 1 Corinthians,
"...love believes all things." 1 Corinthians 13:7
Thankfully, when I am able to focus on Jesus' character and the power of the Holy Spirit gets involved, I am better at living out this command.
To believe all things. To believe the begging man that says he needs change for food. To believe that Matt is late for dinner unintentionally. To believe someone's excuse (and not roll my eyes blatantly).
A good friend who did our marriage counseling pointed out this specific part of what can be an exhausted text. (I mean, I've never really gotten that far in the chapter. I'm still working on the "love is patient" part.) It stuck with me for a while and then like most great lessons, faded away. It has reappeared in my mind lately. Probably because I'm not doing it very well.
I'm hoping to apply this to my thought-life this week. (It's Friday, right?)
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
If you see me on a plane, buy me a drink.
You would think that how often I travel as of late would make me a better flyer.
A braver flyer.
I know the quickest routes to the parking lot in LAX and the bathroom with the shortest line in the Portland airport (right past the gift shops, by the way). I mouth along with the flight attendant as she explains how to get to the emergency exit rows. I have my packing down to a science, enabling myelf to bypass baggage fees. I'm a pro. I don't travel far, but frequently. But no. I am a coward. My heart races while others comfortably recline their seats and flip through magazines as the plane taxis. I scan the passengers, wondering if there's a flight marshal on board. If there is even the slightest bump of turbulence, agonizing terror washes over me as I wait for the pilot to tell us we're going down.
And I say the same prayer, before, during, during, during and during the flight. "God, please have mercy on our plane and keep us in the air" (God is very aware of my irrational state of constant fear and is able to decipher my prayers and sift through the drama, luckily).
Once we land, my anxiety is usually so high that I have convinced myself I just merely escaped death. (I often pause and wonder if my husband or the passenger next to me feel this same way. They are usually sleeping.) I take a moment and thank Jesus for keeping me alive and allowing us to land safely. And usually an additional quick prayer that Matt will not be questioning whether or not he is still in love with the lunatic next to him.
But sometimes I don't remember to pray. Sometimes I start collecting the empty cups, slip my boots back on and smooth down the back of my hair. I turn on my phone and scramble to get my bag ready before it's my turn to exit the plane.
I forget to go back and thank God for answering my prayer in my favor. Honestly, this doesn't happen often when flying is involved, but it does happen quite often when my feet are back on the ground. When God provides a great job I've been praying for, when he heals a sickness that's weakening a loved one or simply when he gets me through a rough day.
I'm reminded of this in Luke 17:11-19. Jesus enters a village and ten men who are suffering from leprosy call out to him and say
"Jesus, Master, have mercy on us."
He heals them and they run off excitedly. Only one of the men turn back to him, fall down and worship him with thanksgiving and praise. The others forget to thank God for healing them.
God deserves praise all of the time, even when he doesn't answer my prayers the way I want, but I find it unsettling that even when I get what I ask for, I don't always take the time to turn around and thank him. Unsettling, yet not surprising.
Just a thought.
A braver flyer.
I know the quickest routes to the parking lot in LAX and the bathroom with the shortest line in the Portland airport (right past the gift shops, by the way). I mouth along with the flight attendant as she explains how to get to the emergency exit rows. I have my packing down to a science, enabling myelf to bypass baggage fees. I'm a pro. I don't travel far, but frequently. But no. I am a coward. My heart races while others comfortably recline their seats and flip through magazines as the plane taxis. I scan the passengers, wondering if there's a flight marshal on board. If there is even the slightest bump of turbulence, agonizing terror washes over me as I wait for the pilot to tell us we're going down.
And I say the same prayer, before, during, during, during and during the flight. "God, please have mercy on our plane and keep us in the air" (God is very aware of my irrational state of constant fear and is able to decipher my prayers and sift through the drama, luckily).
Once we land, my anxiety is usually so high that I have convinced myself I just merely escaped death. (I often pause and wonder if my husband or the passenger next to me feel this same way. They are usually sleeping.) I take a moment and thank Jesus for keeping me alive and allowing us to land safely. And usually an additional quick prayer that Matt will not be questioning whether or not he is still in love with the lunatic next to him.
But sometimes I don't remember to pray. Sometimes I start collecting the empty cups, slip my boots back on and smooth down the back of my hair. I turn on my phone and scramble to get my bag ready before it's my turn to exit the plane.
I forget to go back and thank God for answering my prayer in my favor. Honestly, this doesn't happen often when flying is involved, but it does happen quite often when my feet are back on the ground. When God provides a great job I've been praying for, when he heals a sickness that's weakening a loved one or simply when he gets me through a rough day.
I'm reminded of this in Luke 17:11-19. Jesus enters a village and ten men who are suffering from leprosy call out to him and say
"Jesus, Master, have mercy on us."
He heals them and they run off excitedly. Only one of the men turn back to him, fall down and worship him with thanksgiving and praise. The others forget to thank God for healing them.
God deserves praise all of the time, even when he doesn't answer my prayers the way I want, but I find it unsettling that even when I get what I ask for, I don't always take the time to turn around and thank him. Unsettling, yet not surprising.
Just a thought.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Hats off to moms.
I've been working as a nanny for around 6 months. It is surely an adventure and may or may not end in me writing an additional blog about the irrational behavior of two year olds.
The more I am around these children, the more I learn about God, sin nature and the mental stability of preschool teachers & single mothers. A specific incident comes to mind.
I was eying the two year old from across the room as I changed the baby's diaper. I waited for her to change her mind about taking the thermometer off the coffee table. She slyly looked over her shoulder as her fingers grasped around it.
"Put that back please."
She runs upstairs. Only a few minutes pass before I am in a familiar, parental pose. Kneeling, eyebrows high, hand flat, sticking out in front of me. "Please hand that to me. Hand that to me. Will you please give me that? One...two...."
And of course, I want nothing to do with that slobbery thing. It has been on the floor multiple times this morning, not to mention the mouth of a barfing baby, it's got something on the corner that I can't identity and is currently in the hands of a child whose hands are always sticky with God knows what. And of course, I could just grab it from her. She rarely outruns me and I'm (usually) stronger than her. When she does get something in her hands that I consider dangerous or threatening, I just grab it from her and skip the obedience lesson. I don't want the thermometer, I want her to want to give it back to me. I want her to listen to me.
We often withhold things from God. Things that are already his, that he created or designed or gave us. He doesn't actually want what we have gripped in our hand, he could just take it from us in an instant. He wants us to listen to him, to trust him and to want to hand it over. And sometimes if it's dangerous or keeping us from him, he just takes it. Or maybe not, I have no idea.
Just a thought.
The more I am around these children, the more I learn about God, sin nature and the mental stability of preschool teachers & single mothers. A specific incident comes to mind.
I was eying the two year old from across the room as I changed the baby's diaper. I waited for her to change her mind about taking the thermometer off the coffee table. She slyly looked over her shoulder as her fingers grasped around it.
"Put that back please."
She runs upstairs. Only a few minutes pass before I am in a familiar, parental pose. Kneeling, eyebrows high, hand flat, sticking out in front of me. "Please hand that to me. Hand that to me. Will you please give me that? One...two...."
And of course, I want nothing to do with that slobbery thing. It has been on the floor multiple times this morning, not to mention the mouth of a barfing baby, it's got something on the corner that I can't identity and is currently in the hands of a child whose hands are always sticky with God knows what. And of course, I could just grab it from her. She rarely outruns me and I'm (usually) stronger than her. When she does get something in her hands that I consider dangerous or threatening, I just grab it from her and skip the obedience lesson. I don't want the thermometer, I want her to want to give it back to me. I want her to listen to me.
We often withhold things from God. Things that are already his, that he created or designed or gave us. He doesn't actually want what we have gripped in our hand, he could just take it from us in an instant. He wants us to listen to him, to trust him and to want to hand it over. And sometimes if it's dangerous or keeping us from him, he just takes it. Or maybe not, I have no idea.
Just a thought.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Thankful for commute.
I've been listening to this series on Ecclesiastes on my way to work every morning. It is making me wish I could do extreme things, but all I've been able to follow through with is simplifying my closet & my social networking.
You can find the series
here
if you're interested.
You can find the series
here
if you're interested.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Nameless men.
I was reading through Luke this morning and skimmed over a familiar story.
Jesus is teaching to a crowd, maybe in someone's house, it seems. A few men who knew that he could heal people and perform miracles had brought their friend there to meet Jesus. The crowd was too large and they couldn't get to him, so they climbed on the roof and lowered their friend into the room with Jesus.
"...as Jesus was teaching, Pharisees and teachers of the law were sitting there, who had come from every village of Galilee and Judea and from Jerusalem. And the power of the Lord was with him to heal. And behold, some men were bringing on a bed a man who was paralyzed, and they were seeking to bring him in and lay him before Jesus, but finding no way to bring him in, because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and let him down with his bed through the tiles into the midst before Jesus. And when he saw their faith, he said, "Man, your sins are forgiven you." Luke 6:17-20
I believe everything in the Bible is true and really happened. So, that's my starting point here. Unfortunately, I am often underwhelmed by these miracles and lack an appropriate reaction since I am so removed from it. I find it astonishing that Jesus can and would do these things, and I am confident that he still performs miracles like this today.
However, my astonishment in this text is aimed at someone else this time.
who are these men?
They loaded up their paralyzed friend on a bed and carried him through town (well, maybe...their starting point is never mentioned). I am not very strong, and physical labor is hard for me, so this part alone greatly impresses me. I imagine it is very hot and sticky, their feet are in archless sandals, covered in dirt and sticky with sweat at this point. They see an overcrowded house and no access to Jesus. Being gentlemen, they don't want to barge through the crowd with their friend. (Or perhaps they weren't being gentlemen and the doorway was simply too small, I don't know.)
So, they lug him up on the roof, in front of what I can only assume is an unsupportive crowd that would also like front row seats to hear Jesus teach, pry off tiles from the roof, scrounge up some long rope and lower the man down to Jesus.
I want to be a friend like that.
I want to think of others,
follow through on my ideas and intentions,
do things that are uncomfortable and hard (in the heat nonetheless!),
& selflessly put my friend's needs in front of my own.
Most importantly,
I want to be the type of friend that will do anything to help someone meet Jesus.
Just a thought.
Jesus is teaching to a crowd, maybe in someone's house, it seems. A few men who knew that he could heal people and perform miracles had brought their friend there to meet Jesus. The crowd was too large and they couldn't get to him, so they climbed on the roof and lowered their friend into the room with Jesus.
"...as Jesus was teaching, Pharisees and teachers of the law were sitting there, who had come from every village of Galilee and Judea and from Jerusalem. And the power of the Lord was with him to heal. And behold, some men were bringing on a bed a man who was paralyzed, and they were seeking to bring him in and lay him before Jesus, but finding no way to bring him in, because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and let him down with his bed through the tiles into the midst before Jesus. And when he saw their faith, he said, "Man, your sins are forgiven you." Luke 6:17-20
I believe everything in the Bible is true and really happened. So, that's my starting point here. Unfortunately, I am often underwhelmed by these miracles and lack an appropriate reaction since I am so removed from it. I find it astonishing that Jesus can and would do these things, and I am confident that he still performs miracles like this today.
However, my astonishment in this text is aimed at someone else this time.
who are these men?
They loaded up their paralyzed friend on a bed and carried him through town (well, maybe...their starting point is never mentioned). I am not very strong, and physical labor is hard for me, so this part alone greatly impresses me. I imagine it is very hot and sticky, their feet are in archless sandals, covered in dirt and sticky with sweat at this point. They see an overcrowded house and no access to Jesus. Being gentlemen, they don't want to barge through the crowd with their friend. (Or perhaps they weren't being gentlemen and the doorway was simply too small, I don't know.)
So, they lug him up on the roof, in front of what I can only assume is an unsupportive crowd that would also like front row seats to hear Jesus teach, pry off tiles from the roof, scrounge up some long rope and lower the man down to Jesus.
I want to be a friend like that.
I want to think of others,
follow through on my ideas and intentions,
do things that are uncomfortable and hard (in the heat nonetheless!),
& selflessly put my friend's needs in front of my own.
Most importantly,
I want to be the type of friend that will do anything to help someone meet Jesus.
Just a thought.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Testing God
I was reading Malachi (one of my favorites the past few months), and I came across some interesting text:
3:6-10
"For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed. From the days of your fathers you have turned aside from my statutes and have not kept them. Return to me, and I will return to you, says the Lord of hosts. But you say, 'How shall we return?' Will man rob God? Yet you are robbing me. But you say, 'How have we robbed you?' In your tithes and contributions. You are cursed with a curse, for you are robbing me, the whole nation of you. Bring the full tithe into the storehouse that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need."
A few thoughts I had while reading this:
-God does not need our money to do his work (but)
-God completely deserves our money (and)
-He considers it robbery when we don't trust him and give back to him (meanwhile)
-He will greatly bless & reward those who step out in faith and obey him in this.
Jesus was always drifting around telling people to
sell what they have,
give to the poor,
simplify,
and live generously.
And God tells us to test him in that. Give away more money than you are comfortable with, donate things you think you need, give away one of your cars, donate your books to schools instead of selling them.
And tithe. If you are not part of a church right now, tithe other places. Think of something that is a ministry in your life and help support it.
A local missionary you know.
An international one you don't.
The Christian radio station you listen to on your way to work.
Your friends that are struggling to pay bills.
The Christian bookstore that's going out of business down your street.
Stick money in an envelope every paycheck and save up to contribute largely to something, or someone. There is always something to tithe to, always places to give. Test the Lord. We all are under the assumption that money is tight. If you really think that, you will be so blown away by what the Lord will do if you obey him in giving away money you don't have.
I want to live like the widow in 1 Kings 17. She was preparing what she thought was her last meal for her and her son. A prophet arrived at her house, asking to be fed. She used the very last of their flour and oil and baked him a cake. Because she stepped out in faith and gave away what the Lord had provided for her in the first place, he rewarded her.
Why is it so hard to live like this?
Just a thought.
3:6-10
"For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed. From the days of your fathers you have turned aside from my statutes and have not kept them. Return to me, and I will return to you, says the Lord of hosts. But you say, 'How shall we return?' Will man rob God? Yet you are robbing me. But you say, 'How have we robbed you?' In your tithes and contributions. You are cursed with a curse, for you are robbing me, the whole nation of you. Bring the full tithe into the storehouse that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need."
A few thoughts I had while reading this:
-God does not need our money to do his work (but)
-God completely deserves our money (and)
-He considers it robbery when we don't trust him and give back to him (meanwhile)
-He will greatly bless & reward those who step out in faith and obey him in this.
Jesus was always drifting around telling people to
sell what they have,
give to the poor,
simplify,
and live generously.
And God tells us to test him in that. Give away more money than you are comfortable with, donate things you think you need, give away one of your cars, donate your books to schools instead of selling them.
And tithe. If you are not part of a church right now, tithe other places. Think of something that is a ministry in your life and help support it.
A local missionary you know.
An international one you don't.
The Christian radio station you listen to on your way to work.
Your friends that are struggling to pay bills.
The Christian bookstore that's going out of business down your street.
Stick money in an envelope every paycheck and save up to contribute largely to something, or someone. There is always something to tithe to, always places to give. Test the Lord. We all are under the assumption that money is tight. If you really think that, you will be so blown away by what the Lord will do if you obey him in giving away money you don't have.
I want to live like the widow in 1 Kings 17. She was preparing what she thought was her last meal for her and her son. A prophet arrived at her house, asking to be fed. She used the very last of their flour and oil and baked him a cake. Because she stepped out in faith and gave away what the Lord had provided for her in the first place, he rewarded her.
Why is it so hard to live like this?
Just a thought.
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