Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Otherside


Sincere and serious trigger warning here.  If you struggle with addiction and/or depression/anxiety, this may not be a good read for you.  If you do, however, choose to read this, please finish it.  





I have lost a friend.  The world has lost a light.  And while this is one of the last times and one of the times I want least to make it all about me, like most everyone who knew her, I need to tell you my Sarah story. 

...

I used to see her around, knew who she was, knew whose kid she was, but I didn’t know anything about her until the day she walked into my 12-Step recovery group.  In fact, she was escorted into the room, crying and clearly broken, a caring guide on either side of her.   It was after all the, “Hi, my name’s Amanda, and I struggle with addiction,” introductions so she didn’t get to/have to say any of that.  But I knew.  We were the only two of our kind in the group.1

Sarah did not come back to my group, and I used to wonder if she was too embarrassed or discouraged2, thinking she was the only one of her kind ~ which I could easily wonder, having often thought the same thing.  Sometimes the addicts are obvious, but not always.

Later, I would have the good fortune to become friends with Sarah, and later still, she did reveal her struggles to me.  I can’t actually remember that conversation the way that I remember her coming into the room that day ... because it was like ink and water between us.  I knew and she knew that I knew.  And that’s how it remained between us.

We never chilled together - or whatever it is the young folk call it these days.  We really were just at odd angles to one another, I think - her being right between my daughters’ ages and my own.  But I kept an eye on her, would see her around, and would always have a sense of where she was on the scale, and I know that she knew that, and there was never a distance, or a judgment, or discouragement or embarrassment between us that I could sense.  I loved her and I’m convinced that she knew that too.

On Sarah’s memorial page, another of her friends posted a story about the first time they met.  She tells how Sarah insisted that she listen to a song with some possibly sketchy lyrics ~ who does that when you’ve just met?!  I don’t know if you’ve seen Garden State, but there’s a similar scene in that movie that maintains a special corner in my mind.  There’s Natalie Portman, grinning with joy and something akin to pride, as she shares her song with someone she’s just met, someone she knows in her soul is kindred.  I’ve inserted Sarah’s face into that ethereal scene. 


I've also read those lyrics.  
Sarah’s paths were darker than mine have been, but still, we knew each other.

...

That Sarah struggled with addiction may or may not have been obvious, but something else about her was clear and bright.  She did know Jesus.  She did know that her hope was in him.  And she did cling to him, knowing that he would never leave her, no matter the path.

For people without this kind of faith, I imagine it’s hard to imagine that someone can struggle with something like addiction, and at the same time be assured of God’s love and salvation.  I can pretty much promise you: it’s even harder for the believer to believe it.  But as I’m certain that Sarah must have, there are certain promises to which we may cling.

For instance, I am certain that God, who began a good work within me, will continue his work until it is finally finished. (Philippians 1:6)

Sarah fought harder to overcome her addictions than anyone I’ve ever known.3 She may not have beaten it in this life, but I am certain that he has completed his work in her.  And while I may not see Sarah again in this life, I will see her on the other side.

...

I’ve never been the devotion-writing type of writer.  Don’t think I’ve written much or often or anything, maybe, that inspires someone to ... anything, maybe.  I’m usually making it all about me, but if ever I could write one especially for you, for those of you who’ve been to the otherside, this would be it.

And here’s what I want you to know and what I’m convinced that Sarah would want you to know:

Even when we are broken, when we struggle, when we continue to struggle, when we are addicts, when we hurt people, when we can’t get our shit4 together, when we can’t overcome, when we fail, when we feel lost, when we feel unloved or unlovable...

We are loved.  
“God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8) 

We need not be lost. 
Indeed, Jesus has come to seek and to save those who are lost. (Luke 19:10)

And we are never alone.
“For He Himself has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”“ Hebrews 13:5

...

Not all of you will understand this, but some of you will.  Some of you will know me, will know Sarah, will know the struggles of which I speak.  Sometimes the lyrics are obvious, but not always.

So just on the chance that you need a new song5, I’d like to pass you over my headphones...







1.  Celebrate Recovery mixed group


2. I’d written most of this before Sarah’s memorial.  I learned during the service that this may very well have been the first of any kind of group she’d entered, but it was certainly not the last.  In fact, in the years that followed, she immersed herself into a community of supportive, caring people.  This is a key step to recovery.

3. As another of her friends has noted, this kind of loss can be a discouragement and even a trigger for certain ones of us.  Part of Sarah’s legacy is to fight hard against that which would defeat us.  Please remember her for all that was good and beautiful about her.  And please fight hard for your sobriety.

4. I’ve maintained a pretty strict code regarding the words I put in writing, but this time - I’m sorry - my imperfection had to show.

5. I Am Not Alone, Kari Jobe

6. If you know me, my family, my situation, any of it, then you know that Sarah could have been my daughter.  To have made this about that, however, would have seemed indecent in my pit, in my spirit.  Another time.  Maybe.

Monday, July 27, 2015

Truth Or Fiction


The Lord is my Shepherd;
I shall not want...

is probably the second prayer my grandma taught me, and I've mostly remembered it for most of my life, and like most people, I've quoted it at the (mostly) appropriate times ~ you know, like when somebody dies or ticks me off.

Yea, though I walk through the valley...
I will fear no evil... 

It's always had a certain Tarantino-esque quality to it, you know?

Like some dude's saying to me, "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. ..."

And I'm saying, "Yeah, well, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, mo#fo#."

Now, I been sayin' that for years, but it occurs to me lately that, as much as I might like for him to, Jesus probably wouldn't come out all guns a'blazin' at the dude.  I mean, he might call somebody a Pharisee, but probably not, well, you know.


I mean, well, when he does come back, 
he's coming like a total bad hmmhmm, 
but that's a side note.


I'm a little like a first century Jew, I guess.  I see the tyranny, and the evil, and the selfishness all around me, and I think I'm ready for Jesus to come on back and level the field, but that ain't the truth.

The truth is

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

I get so wrapped up in the middle part that I sometimes forget the beginning and the end, the Alpha and Omega, if you will.  I become so distracted by the world around me that I lose sight of the one who created it.  I get so wrapped up in my own perspective that I lose my peace.

I lose sight of the path sometimes.
I sometimes am the tyranny and the evil
and the selfishness.

But I'm tryin'.
I'm tryin' real hard to be (like) the Shepherd.



Maybe I should just stop trying so hard.  Maybe I should just lie down for a bit, have a rest and a drink of water.  Because the truth is

The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
 He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
 He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever.

Psalm 23 (NKJV)


Monday, April 20, 2015

What I Got

It was a weirder and harder day than some.

That g'boy'o'mine had a mind for misbehavin'.

House was a mine field of unknown substances.

Thank God for friendly reminders:

Love's what I got
Don't start a riot

Facebook said I said that sometime back.

(Clean up poo.)




















comes rolling through.

(Rolls and rolls of toilet paper...)

Give it away give it away give it away now...

through the radio.

(Laid out, fit-pitching for The Juice, The Juice Now!)

Greater love has no man than to lay down his life for his friends,

Jesus said.

(Pee on the floor.  Again.)

And so, as I was encouraged by my Wednesday group-mates recently, I knew I had to just get through it.

One mess, one fit, one reminder at at time.
Till it was bedtime.
And he asked for juice.  Again.

But after finally meeting all of his bedtime needs, feeling exhausted and relieved for the coming respite, as I left his room that last time, he said with soooo much fervor and enthusiasm,






"I WUV YOU, MEEMEE!!!"





Yeah, love's what I got.
I said remember that.


Friday, April 17, 2015

Ambition

I [capital air quotes] lead [close capital air quotes] a Bible study group on Wednesday nights.

Yeah, I do that too:  wed .. nez .. day.

It's been a pretty good run for me, personally.
I pretty much just compile a list of questions:


  • Hey, what's that mean?
  • Howdy, how's that applicable?
  • Etc.


Lately, the topic's been repeatedly, inescapably abiding.

Recently, a question was:

  • Do you have any personal ambitions that make it difficult to abide with Jesus?

and it's had me thinking ever since.

I probably should say, "thinking on purpose, thinking up front, thinking out loud," because the subject of personal ambition has been running in my background memory for some time now.

Now, I've never been one of those goal-oriented kinds of people or even the kind of person who wakes up with a plan for the day.  Just, whatever, okay?

Maybe I should have taken one of those skills or talents tests when I was still young enough to be taught new tricks.  Maybe knowing early on what I might be any good at would have goaded me to go.  I don't know.  Whatever.  Okay?

But there is a thing that I have known, 
a thing I've known is not my thing, 
not for me, 
not my forte.

If I've had any nameable ambition, it's been to not hang out with kids.

(Collective gasp, kid-lovers.  Get it out of your system.)

It's really not that I don't love them.  The Lord knows that I do love them ~ particularly my own.  I just don't understand them.  Don't know how to play with them, for sure.

Think I'm kidding?  I tried to play a game with a g'baby once, a game I'd seen the kids playing with her, some "pretend to bite the kid's hand" dog-jaw game.  I actually bit her.  We both cried.  It seemed obvious, then, that we'd both be safer if I just skipped the whole play thing.

What, then, but to aspire to empty-nesting?  It's a natural-seeming goal for a middle-aged woman, correct?  It's not wrong that I should aim to eat my food without sharing half of every single bite, watch what I very well want that isn't a cartoon, come and go and dress as I please without every decision hinging on the needs of a toddler, mop my floor just once per week ... right?

Never mind any true desires, if I'd had any.

And now that I've gotten all of that out my system, thank the Lord that I'm able-bodied and that our circumstances (humbly, prayerfully) allow for us to raise our two-year-old grandson. Thank you, Jesus, for every one of my kids and grandkids and for every child with whom You'll grant me the blessing to hang out.

No, I mean it.

Personal ambitions that make it difficult to abide with Jesus?  Well, I might have hoped to be a fairly average grandparent, one who just gets visited with some regularity, one who may or may not have special skills, one who gets to write complete sentences in one sitting.

But I don't usually get to write sentences without consequences:



I guess kids are just the task that's been assigned to me.
I guess I'll just aspire to play along.
Lord, just help me not to bite anybody!

When you obey me, you are abiding in my love, just as I obey my Father and abide in his love. I have told you this so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your cup of joy will overflow! John 15:10-11

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Reflection

So, speaking of trash, I don't generally pay attention to the rubbish piles as I'm walking the 'hood; however, there was recently a particular mess that caught my eye.  As I passed, a hundred little slivers of a broken mirror were reflecting the rising sun and inviting me to do the same.

The first natural-seeming thing to do was to take this picture because, you know, I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.

















As I walked and thought more about who I am, who I've been, and who I am becoming, I remembered that when I was young, I wanted very much to do something with photography; however, over the course of time, I've accepted that it's not going to be my number one something.  
But it can still be something.


Romans 1:20















Because I see created art from nearly every angle, and understand that it is mine to behold.  And mine to photograph, regardless of the outcome.

Maybe it's a simple-seeming conclusion, but for me this is fairly liberating.  It's as if a light's come on in the darkness.


Matthew 4:16

And that reminds me of the thing that counts the very most.  Like so many things I've tried, I probably won't be great to start.  Possibly, I'll never be great.  Possibly, I'll blunder, look the fool, maybe fail. However ~ and it's a mighty big however ~ I am in the process of transformation.



Because "where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.  
For we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord."
2 Corinthians 3:17-18

From overcoming to overcoming, from triumph to triumph, from glory to glory, I am being transformed, thank the Lord.


Friday, March 27, 2015

Trash or Treasure

Dude, I have been a moody individual of late - have vacillated between March madness and menopause as possible explanations.  Seriously.

It's Lent and that's been a whole thing.  Possibly, that explains it.

I've found myself stirring up trouble, speaking out of turn, or against my inner compass at times - each time feeling very nearly out of control.

Then I saw Why am I not further along in my Christian walk? and decided to just take a walk.

I took some pictures.







These are not the high-quality, super appeal-to-the-masses kind of photos that generally accompany photo blogs.  These are, however, places that I see beauty and blessings.  I do, in fact, see it all around me and nearly all of the time when I'm making good choices about where I turn my gaze.

A friend just posted a picture where she sees the same.  It's a picture of her daughter, wearing a pink princess dress, hair all a'yonder, and holding a garden slug as if it were the tiniest, sweetest baby bird.  My friend says that when her girl realized she would get to hold the thing, she exclaimed ~ with much fervor ~ that she had waited her "WHOLE LIFE" for a garden slug.

I pray that young'un never loses her heart or her enthusiasm or her desire or her ability to see the beauty and blessing that God does deliver all around us.

I pray that you may see the same.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Tap Out

I am finding fewer and fewer sound-seeming reasons for showing up, but it’s not for lack of looking, I promise.

It’s been a whole thing, this searching out, this attempting to reach the end of certain sentences.  Would that I could even start one of those here and now, but time ~ or lack of it ~ that’s a whole other thing.

So I’ll just tell you about the day that one of my favorite bloggers sinned in public.

See, she posted this video that was one of those horrible “you really shoulda known better” kind of things, set to music.  And she shared it with a note about how she'd watched it over and over again, and how she'd laughed so hard, and also how much she obviously needed Jesus because of it.  Folks, I made some time for that.  I watched it over and over again.  I laughed really hard.  I downloaded it.  Re-mastered it with better music.

Then I went back and started reading the comments on her post.

Folks, let me just say...













There were others like me (as I’m finding more and more to be true).  People who saw the humor.  People who needed a laugh.  A break, for durn sake.

But there were other people who tore this girl a new one.

“You are a Christian.”
“You are a leader.”
“You are a dignitary for Jesus.”1

In other words, your a** had durn sure better never make a mistake, or laugh, or let loose for a second, or fail to live precisely the life that Jesus led or you will have failed in front of all of us to do what we durn sure knew you couldn’t do anyway.  Which is to be perfect.

Now please, for all of our sakes, don’t think that I think that lets the leaders off the hook - this knowing that none of us will ever be perfect.  The leaders have a high call and a greater responsibility to do like they oughta.  I know that painfully well as one who serves in various leadership roles with my church.  I regularly review my own actions, and, often enough, I have regret.  Often enough, I know that were I to have the kind of attention that some of my favorite bloggers do, maybe regret would be an understatement.

So ever since that day, since the day that girl put herself out there to such chagrin (if mine), I've been asking myself if the public arena is someplace I even want to be.  Yeah, no, I'm not even in the ring yet...

So as I said, it's been a whole thing, and the thing that comes to mind now is this:

"To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable:  “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.  The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’
 “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”" Luke 18:9-14 (NIV)

Oh, God help me to be humble ~ at all times, in all situations, including those times that someone is calling me to a higher standard.  God, forgive me when I screw up and remind me to be merciful to others when they do the same, or worse, or even just meh.  God, thank you for getting me this far, for helping me to see as much as I do, and for all that I know you'll help me to eventually grasp.  Thank you, especially, that whatever I've done or will do tomorrow or the next day or the next, I don't have to hang my head in shame because I have Jesus.  I pray I never stand apart from that confidence.



1 Obviously, these are hardly new-one-tearing kinds of statements.  I'm totally summarizing the discussion that called her entire character into question.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Simple Sally Said

I’ve recently started realizing that I’m a little leftward-leaning toward the simple side of thinking.

Like, what I mean is that I don’t exactly have the deep thoughts I’ve been thinking myself to have all these years.  Or maybe I’m, like, halfway between here and there, but I don’t have the skill set and vernacular that enables other folks to 1)complete that journey; and/or,  2)take others along for the ride, journalistically speaking.

And sometimes, even, it’s not just that I can’t have, complete, or convey a thought.  Sometimes I really just don’t know what the heck is going on.

Here’s an example:

I read something the other day that referenced the “evangelical Christian” versus the “mainline Christian,”1 and I was like, what does that even mean?  I mean, I know what "evangelical" means because I just looked it up.  Seriously, just last week. Because simple, like I said.  And I was, like, oh, wow, I believe all of that so I guess it turns out I’m one of those!

But in order to say anything about any of this to any of you, I had to explore the "mainline" definition as well.  Well, let me tell you!  I definitely don’t know what the heck is going on.

And I could have spent some more time. I could have read some more stuff, referenced some more stuff.  And then I could have given you here an extrapolation based entirely on my own sagacity.  However, some of the first material that I read, well, it was sufficient for my intendment.

Let’s just say that guy #22 puts me in the mainline.

So I am essentially at odds with myself.

But I already knew that.

Daily now I’m struggling with things both inward and outward.  There are days when, honest-to-God, I wonder and wish that I should just go.  There are other days when I have no question about my place and means of service.  I’d be alright if somebody would just tell me plainly what to do.  I like the narration feature!

(I know, I know.  I oughta be off the narration by now.  Anyhow.)

This struggle ~ it’s breaking off bits of my heart, making me jaggedy, mean and difficult to be around sometimes.  I don’t like change, but I like even less the idea of staying the same.

This morning, Andy Stanley asked me, “What if we didn't...”  I don’t remember the rest of the question, but it wasn't lost on me.3

I wonder what kind of Christian he is.

This Christian versus that Christian thing...
What if we don’t get it together, come together, overcome?

What if we do?  What if we drop the versus and just be God’s people?
God, help us that it could be that simple!4

***

Here’s another example.  A friend recently told me that I can grow garlic from the cloves I buy at the grocery store.  I spent nearly one whole minute trying to figure out how on earth they’d grow after soaking in that jar of whatever that stuff is.

***

On the matter of Lent and the subject of quitting ... this article just kept coming up, and so I finally gave in, and as far as I could comprehend, I should just quit writing.  But I just quit reading the article instead.


Benediction By Katherine Willis Pershey; I quite like this piece.
2 Can't reference this material because, while it was helpful, it was quite biased, and some of it in ways that I'm not sure would offend more one way or the other.
3 Especially since I heard this at my own church two days ago.  To note, my church has recently changed its name.
4 To be as honest as I can muster, there's a voice in my head right now saying that some Christians need to be shaken or pinched.  I'm not sure if that makes me evangelical, mainline, or human. God, help us indeed.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

The Cure For Classic Narcissism

What I, personally, would have scripted to begin with the ushering in of the season, actually began with an episode of Backstrom (I’ll skip all the details, disclaimers, blah, blah, etc.) and ended with a letter from the pope.1,2

It was supposed to start with Ash Wednesday, my quitting.  

I just honestly didn’t know what it was I would quit. 

See, I think the last time I fasted for Lent, it was from coffee, but I wound up feeling so much better physically that there was no sense of sacrifice.  I’d only benefited from the process in such a way that it left me feeling more remorseful than clarified, and so I was pretty sure the practice just wasn’t for me, and the years have passed, and my observance of the season has become a lesser and lesser thing.

I can’t remember if last year I even remembered the start of Lent. 



There have probably been other little things iggling at my conscience, but it was after watching that one episode, at the very second that I thought, “who wrote this?” when I heard myself asking it with an air of elite-est ownership, as if I were the only person on the planet who knew anything at all about this kind of suffering or that or whatever ... that I knew.   I’ve turned way too deeply inward.




I’ve wallowed in this for three days now, trying to write every sentence perfectly.

I want to make sense.

I want to make a difference.

I want to do no harm.

I want to be different.

Pope Francis wrote a letter.

He told me to quit the indifference.

The rest is personal.3

For at least a season.



1 You know, if those two weren’t friends with each other ~ and I don’t know that they wouldn’t be ~  I do know, at the very least, the pope would wash the bad detective’s feet.  

2  It ain't "ended" till He says it's ended.

3. Epitome of sentence with which I've striven.  It hardly makes sense in context.  But I relinquish it now.









Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Musical Interlude

Got a thing I gotta write, but until I get the nerve to do it, it's like I've got this music in my mind sayin' it's gonna be alright.

So I've just recently discovered T-Swift, and when I say "recently" "discovered", I mean, did y'all know that girl used to sing country music?!  Yeah, see I didn't show up till shake it off.

Woah, hold up.

[elevator music]  (okay, all shook off)


So anyhow, in the interlude (and procrastination) I'm on this ponderation about the contrast/comparison of my musical interests to my Gospel devotions.  

photo swiped from the nets
Swifty's kinda sweet and maybe not much cause for pause; however, she's on the rather innocuous end of my spectrum, I reckon.  So, for the sake of a blog post, I'll do here what I will later - inevitably - refer to as art. And maybe, just maybe, by the end of it all, you'll have heard it the way I hear it.  

Ya' heard?




Everything's changing around me
And I wanna change too
It's one thing I know
It ain't cool being no fool
I feel different today
I don't know what else to say
But I'm-a get my $#!* together
It's now or never

This is all the more urgent, for you know how late it is; time is running out.

I'm sick, sick of waiting in vain
Tired of playing the game
Thinking of making a change
Finally breaking the chains
Every phase, every happening craze
When it's said and done
My head is right back in a haze
I'm ready for the next chapter and page

In my anguish I cried to the LORD, and he answered by setting me free.

People say the light shines once in a lifetime
Is this mid-life kind of crisis a little bit like mine?
I'm thinking not now, but right now
I need some kinda sign that the future is bright now
I [mess] around, do the right thing like Spike now
The quick and the dead--which is my look-a-like now
I'm moving ahead

But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Yo, opportunities lost because I blew 'em
On the sunniest days of my life I cried through 'em
Mom's out the picture and Pops, I barely knew him
And I would pray to God, but I'm tired of lying to him
Tired of trying to run from the things inside of us
Got a lot of fam' and a lot of admirers
Who tell me that I should aspire to be changed
But when I think of changing, it's like why even try this $#!*?

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.

My mind hazy and my thoughts they get distorted
I know my good and bad deeds both get recorded
You do right so your soul can last
But my role was cast before I even auditioned for it
So I don't really see an end to my vice
It's just false reformation, no end of my strife
Feel the evil overpowering
You can go ahead throw the towel in
'Cause, [homey], that's the end of the fight
When you can only see the tunnel at the end of the lights
Lights out, party's over, it's the end of your life

I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.

When I look into the mirror and see my own image
It feels like there's something else far off in the distance

But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.

Something I wanna see, but something that's resistant
And every day the haunting is growing more persistent

What your corrupt nature wants is contrary to what your spiritual nature wants, and what your spiritual nature wants is contrary to what your corrupt nature wants.

I never noticed it before, but now I can't miss it
And the constant pounding's driving me ballistic
I ran from it for years, but it's still next to me
And it's growing stronger taking even less of me
I can't fight it now; I know it's just destiny
And I just wonder what's gonna happen when it catches me
Will it leave me face down in the Chesapeake
Or will it just start bringing out the best of me?
But is the best of me really just the worst of me?
And if so yesterday could be my anniversary
In sinners' court, it's important to have church with me
I'm trying to get rid of these ghosts that's cursing me

I feel that change is an absolute certainty

'Cause what's going on is a state of emergency

Everything's changing around me
And I wanna change too
It's one thing I know
It ain't cool being no fool

For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God.

I feel different today
I don't know what else to say
But I'm-a get my $#!* together
It's now or never

It's now or never

Indeed, the "right time" is now. Today is the day of salvation.

For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard.  

And the payment for sin is death, but the gift that God freely gives is everlasting life found in Christ Jesus our Lord.  

If you confess that Jesus is Lord and believe that God raised him from death, you will be saved.  For it is by our faith that we are put right with God; it is by our confession that we are saved. 

"Look! I have been standing at the door, and I am constantly knocking. If anyone hears me calling him and opens the door, I will come in and fellowship with him and he with me." Jesus


Ya' heard?


Just in case it's not clear, I've cleverly combined Now or Never by The Roots and various Bible Truths.

Saturday, February 7, 2015

These Are The Days

My recent pneumonia wasn’t crap compared to what some folks have been through, but it was a pretty significant deal for me.  I don’t know if I was really just that sick, if I was sick for longer than I realized, or if it was something else entirely. You know, something that would make for a really good conspiracy theory or sci-fi network flick. In any case, I’ve come back from it different.

Or, more specifically, it’s as if I’ve been given Ben Franklin’s super special glasses and I’ve flipped a lens.  I see things differently.  More specifically, I see things more acutely.

And something else ... there’s this one hand on which I feel as if I’m coming back strong.  A little stronger every day.  More aware.  More prepared.  More ready to jam.

And then there’s that other hand.  The one on which I just feel so tired.  The more I see...

So
tiredyou may recall, was the most notable expression of my ailment.  This last month or so, as I’ve reflected, I'm sure that tired was a large part of my becoming ill. Tired is what nearly completely overtook me.  And now tired is what continues to plague me.

Tired has been a battle, for real, and I’ve really nearly waved the flag, and more than once.  But then, true to form, I heard a word.


“You know, Elijah was a prophet, and after he’d had great success in defeating the prophets of Baal, he went from this high to a real low, and he was just down and out, and he just said, “God, I’m the only one in the nation of Israel still serving You.”  And God challenged that.  He said, “No, you’re not.  There’s thousands that still haven’t bowed to Baal.”  Elijah, the prophet of God, was wrong about why he was feeling so bad, thinking he was the only one.  He was just tired.”1


Okay.  So?...

Get up.    


Get up and what?  
I’m only good at shoes, Man.  

Get. Up.



And so the neo-battle begins.

And this next part needs a heading.


Surprise Twist That Nobody Saw Coming


(And would really be even better if it were narrated ... listen: 
The Surprise Twist That Nobody Saw Coming, doon doon doon)

Not even me.

I'm beating around the mulberry bush.  I dread this part a li'l bit.

Skipping much of my early childhood and getting right to the weird part, (okay, one of the weird parts), I spent some of my formative years in a tee-tiny Southern Baptist church seated in the foothills of Georgia, and during an era that some of the grandest Biblical/political conspiracy theories of all time were being ... can't settle on a word here.

Anyhow, my youth group got training.  It’s like....they told us all this stuff:  the days are coming when the government’s gonna do stuff.  Crazy stuff.  And you’re either gonna go along with it or you’re gonna get persecuted.  And you’re either gonna carry on for Christ or your heart’s gonna go cold.  


These. are. the. days.


That “heart could go cold” bit .... that eventually got to me, pissed me off, drove me away for a time, but now I’m feeling like time’s too precious to even tell about it. All I know is that I held one of my grandbabies the other day and I wondered:  is there any possibility that tired could be equal to cold.



Get. Up. 



I have to shut this thing down with a movie scene* because I just do.  There's probably something that makes more sense, but I couldn't come up with it.




youtube link, Matrix, Get Up Neo


Do I think I’m anything akin to Neo?  Aw, heck no.  (And come on, now!)  But I do see some of the code.  And I am going to get up.  And I’d really like to kick some hmm-hmm now.  Oh, wait.  That makes me quite a bit like Neo...

But in all seriousness, privately, I’m kind of freaked out.

Red pill, blue pill?  Red pill? Blue pill?!!  
Oh, wait.  I already took the red pill.  

God help me.  God help us all.


Days of Elijah
By DONNIE MCCLURKIN

These are the days of Elijah
Declaring the word of the Lord, yeah
And these are the days of Your servant, Moses
Righteousness being restored

These are the days of great trials
Of famine and darkness and sword
Still we are the voice in the desert crying
Prepare ye the way of the Lord!

Say, behold He comes, riding on the clouds
Shining like the sun, at the trumpet's call
Lift your voice, (it's) the year of Jubilee
Out of Zion's hill, salvation comes

And these are the days of Ezekiel
The dry bones becoming as flesh
And these are the days of Your servant, David
Rebuilding the temple of praise

And these are the days of the harvest
The fields are all white in the world
And we are the laborers that are in Your vineyard
Declaring the Word of the Lord

Say, behold He comes, riding on the clouds
Shining like the sun at the trumpet's call
Lift your voice, (it's) the year of Jubilee
Out of Zion's hill, salvation comes

Behold He comes, riding on the clouds
Shining like the sun at the trumpet's call
Lift your voice, (it's) the year of Jubilee
Out of Zion's hill, salvation comes


There's no God like Jehovah!



Transformed message series, Emotional Health, Reverend Rurel Ausley

Friday, January 23, 2015

Hammer Down

I learned this early and I learned it well.

Never show your weapon until you're fully prepared to use it; then don't stop using it til you're done.


Thank God we had a relatively quiet, simple, and fairly joyful Christmas morning with the family.  With each passing year, but particularly with hindsight on '14, I am increasingly grateful for the times we spend together.

This season, without exception, has been rife with revelation.

Again, it's as I look back that I can see how this was coming on.  What seemed like an ordinary cough, what seemed like my usual tired finally revealed itself to be an actual case of pneumonia.  Within hours of the family traveling on after breakfast, I developed such an acute pain in my chest that I couldn't hold a glass of water.

Hindsight.  Thank You, God, for getting me through Christmas.

But I'm not really here to tell you about my ailment, except that this has been one of the weirdest spans of time I've known.

And I wasn't the only one ailing during this span.  My youngest g'babe had respiratory syncytial virus, not always awful, but often enough.  My oldest g'babe had the actual flu.  My daughter continued to languish in the deep thick of addiction and mental misery, so much that I can say no more than that for the triggering affects  ... hers, mine, possibly yours ...

And I really was so sick ~ not like cold or flu or even what I thought would be pneumonia sick.  I was just more out of it, exhausted, done kind of sick.

(This is fixin' to be some really depressing ___ for a minute, but I've found no other way to share all of this.  Commit or get off here, I reckon.)

There was some point in the midst of all of this at which I was overcome by a certain sense and an urge to scribble some things down, but like everything else including my worries, I was just too tired to lift any of it up.  There was some quality of the light in the room on this particular evening that invoked passage and I began my review.  Was I done?

(Sorry, folks.  I told you.)

I'm really not meaning to be dramatic, as I know that certain of my offspring would claim.

(Okay, maybe it's a tad dramatic, but I promise I've dumbed this down as much as possible.  It is what it is and still the truth.)

And the plain truth is:
I was wondering:
were any one of us to go within those moments:
had I said all that I'd needed to say?

We never know, any of us, when our time will come to leave this place.  I think that most of us, while we know not to take our time for granted, are not as practiced at the practice of not actually taking it for granted.

So time's come now to hammer down.  The thing I'm trying to say is that I've spent some time wondering... if I were to go or if any of you were to go, would I be leaving anything unsaid?

And I've concluded that whenever my time should come ~ or yours ~ I do hope we both know that I have, in fact, used my weapon til the very end.  I will have, in fact, completed my work.



See, it was my daddy who taught me about the use of weapons, and he, being so expert, so adept with guns and such, was loath to commit actual violence ... but words.  Oh, to use our words.




I don't always say the right things, but God help me, I've tried, and I'll try right up til the end.  Just like Daddy taught me.


Dear God, may the words that come out of my mouth serve the purpose you have assigned to me.  (And God help us all when I get it wrong.)

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Trigger Happy

My blogger dashboard includes at least a dozen drafts ~ some published works, later unpublished for various reasons; some begun works, never finished.  This piece is something I've been trying to produce since Christmas Day.  I've written, re-written, edited, re-edited, stacked paragraph upon paragraph of explanation, never attaining a lick of clarity.  Hopefully, what follows will not include any of the garbled mess I've constructed thus far and will just make the point.  It's time to just pull the trigger on this one.

...


We've had a dialed-down version of Christmas pretty much since our kids have been grown enough to splinter off and form even more places that must be visited for the holidays. They and the grandbabies come for breakfast on Christmas morning between the santa stuff in their own homes and the forty gazillion other places they'll have to visit on Christmas Day.

That's it.
Just breakfast.
A couple of humble gifts for the g'babes.
Not a lotta hullabaloo.

Quiet.  

Simple.  



This year I caught myself in a peculiar pattern that I now realize I've been practicing for some time.  While my Christmas morning breakfast menu is simple and everything I need is here for days in advance, I almost invariably go bonkers on Christmas Eve and decide to make a whole slew of extra vittles1, having neither the time nor ingredients that I need.

No longer quiet.

No longer simple.


Now, this is the point at which all previous attempts to convey my thought have gone awry.  I think that here is where simple is really going to count so I'll skip all the textbook analyses and postulations.  Rather, I'll just tell you what I know to be true.

And you know this too:  I talk about myself a lot ... but I feel kind of at the center of it all, you know?  Like, I'm the source and axis of everybody's drama, sadness, neurosis, etc. ~ the supreme matriarch of a supremely dysfunctional family.


But I would like so much for things to be different.  I would like so much to bless my family, to BE a blessing to my family.  Maybe it's an extremely absurd effort, but I see the utterly absurd truth of it right there in the cranberry bliss bars.

There's something more to this pattern, though, and its genesis can be found in one of Melody Beattie's daily meditations, Holiday Triggers.



It was clearest to me this Christmas Eve when I gave the batter bowl to the g'boy.

Having grown up in a single Momma home, I had my share of (resultant) childhood troubles.2   To some, it may seem an ordinary thing, but for me, a batter bowl and beaters is an extravagant and lavish gift. When my momma handed those things over to my sister and me, it was, well, joy unspeakable! Delight, security, peace, love.  Otherwise, indescribable.  All of this and more, in those moments, dwelled there among the three of us.

I'm reminded of it every time I bake.


And therein lies my real goal, my honest-to-God-I-just-know-it motivation for wigging out right before my family gathers.
























For all that's been wrong in the past ~ the childhood troubles, the bad days, the crappy years ~ I'd like so much to replace the [textbook analyses] with something that might trigger happy memories.  We've had a few of those too, after all.

I pray that all of you have happy triggers, and that if you don't, you find the will to make some.



1   I grew up country.  Do not correct me!
2   This is a necessary relational statement.
2a Her single Momma troubles deserve another post entirely.


Can't fail to share this post by Jen Hatmaker, a really good resource for anybody whose family struggles with big event days.