Celebrate!

There are lots of issues worth getting upset about in our world.  Someone saying or sending a card that said "Happy Holidays" just isn't one.  How does that take Christ out of Christmas?  Jesus told us to love one another.  He said the servant is not greater than his Lord.  I don't really think someone saying "Happy Holidays" offends him, but rather what is in the heart.  I believe saying "Merry Christmas' without caring about others or about Jesus is probably much more offensive.

 I heard an argument for not celebrating Christmas this morning on a Christian radio program.  Really?  God made a pretty big deal of his son's birth.  Yes, it was lowly; it was small town.  But He created a special star just for the event and it wasn't just a one or two night conjunction.  It wasn't just seen for a few moments right over the manger. Read it again.  It wasn't  just a rare natural occurrence, but God making a big deal of his only begotten son's birth.  And the angel of the Lord didn't slip in and talk quietly to a couple of shepherds.  The whole sky was full.  I'd say if anyone was paying attention it was quite a show.  I don't think God is the least bit upset with us remembering the birth of his son whether we got the day wrong or not.  I think he is pleased that men still give honor to Jesus even if it's only as a baby.  The message is there for those who can receive it.

 What about commercialism?  Do you understand that the extent you involve yourself in that is a personal choice?  So stop getting mad about it.  You don’t have to have an excuse to make a good decision.  You can give creatively without spending a ton of money, if that is what you should do.  If it comes from the heart, it blesses the heart of God. 

 I spent a chunk of change on a kid I've never met.  I'm not blowing my horn and I want no 'You are a good person' for it.  I loved doing it and I loved doing it in the name of Jesus.  I will spend to bless family and friends as well and I pray that it will honor God and not myself.  But that is up to me.  You see in the name of Jesus people are blessed at Christmas more than any other time of year.  The angels announced it long ago and without us even thinking about it, it's still happening.  Now you may say that its all about big corporation marketing.  I don’t deny that.  But the revenue generated blesses the company which helps the worker in the long run. 

 Lots of things go haywire in our world.  Lots of things get done for the wrong motive.  I don’t think you cut off your arm because you have an infected finger.  You do what you can to heal it so you can live and use that arm.

 Gift giving is a symbol of the gift given to us.  Freely you received; freely give.  I know that wasn’t spoken of Christmas and that Christmas isn’t the only time we should give openly in Jesus’ name.  But it’s not offensive to our Father who is in heaven for us to give gifts around this great event. 

 So with all the things that are crazy, with all the attitudes that stink, with all the imbalance of blessing, this time of year is a reminder of what the angels said centuries ago.  “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.”  Luke 2:10 and 11

 I believe he is honored by our remembrance, by our love, and by our willingness to give.  We don’t have to be afraid.  We are celebrating Good News, Great Joy and universal blessing.  God sent a Savior, a King, a Messiah.  We can celebrate that without fear.  “In Him all the nations of the earth will be blessed.”

It’s my take on the conflict.  Be blessed.

Queen of the moment.

When I was little, I was certain the center of the universe was Deertrail, Colorado –precisely my grandfather’s ranch on a hill overlooking that small prairie town.  On a six section piece of earth he grew his own feed and a large herd of cattle.  He was a gentleman farmer who managed well and owned his own machinery and several box cars for storing the grain he reaped.  Most of the time, dressing up meant adding a suit coat and bolero tie to the plaid shirt and jeans he wore day to day.  There was a barn with milking stalls, a milk house at the base of a windmill and a large garage for his machinery and his well kept car.  The place was always as clean and ordered as the tall white house that sat on the crest of the hill. 

That was my grandma Bartlett’s domain.  Simply, but well furnished, always impeccably clean, it was her testament.  She was a lady in all aspects.  Though she was no stranger to the hard work of a successful ranch, she was always dressed as though she were headed someplace important.  Her short curly hair was always ‘fixed.’ I never saw her in a disheveled state. Her dresses were not fancy, but they were nice, clean and well maintained just like her house.  She wrote poetry, played piano and sang with deep feeling.

She was good at just about everything except cooking.  All of her daughters were good cooks.  Grandpa used to say they became good cooks in self-defense.  Yet even that comment was never said as an insult.  It was just a playful expression of endearment –and without apology she would laugh and confirm it as truth.  Yet, what she lacked in culinary ability, she outweighed in hospitality.  Benevolence, grace and sweetness followed her like a fan club.  For many years, most of our holidays were spent there in that peaceful, congenial spot with her organized blessing.  The aunts and uncles and cousins arrived in procession, bearing food dishes to compliment the efforts of the one or two that arrived early to begin the meal in her well supplied, impeccably kept kitchen.

After the meal, the men folk would congregate in the living room in sleepy, overstuffed disarray to discuss things that men discuss over a football game or whatever is on the TV at the time.  The women would clear away the mess and visit in the kitchen while the children chased cats, played games or discovered wonders in the yard.  At some point, strains of music would call us all to the living room to sing and play and dance.  Old range songs and Scottish folk tunes eventually gave way to hymns or Christmas carols.  Gradually, families, one by one, parted off and took their journey home after numerous good-byes, hugs and well wishes.  My grandma Bartlett was queen of the moment, ruler of the universe, for the time. 

I can’t pinpoint the time at which things changed, or the reason for the waning of her bright, colorful star. Perhaps the journey was just too long for some to make.  Perhaps the cousins grew up and got too involved in other activities.  Perhaps the aunts and uncles just replaced the large family gatherings with their own family time.  We always had those times with my grandparents, but the harmonies were less full, the table had a lot more room and a lot less children.

At some point, my mom claimed New Years as her holiday.  Our immediate family began growing with in-laws and children and my mother began setting out a spread of food that called in the masses.  My grandmother White, sometimes aunts and uncles, often friends, and eventually my grandma and grandpa Bartlett would sit down with us at a collection of tables that stretched the full length of our kitchen, dining room and living room, to tell stories, laugh and devour.  A good cook, what my mother lacked in organizational skills, she made up for with a passion for fun, a love of decorum, and delicious offerings of turkey or ham with all the traditional trimming and a few original surprises, accompanied by ample desserts, to take us all the way through to evening.  We would eat the main meal until comatose and then sprawl out in various places until we heard the siren of a ball game or the challenge of touch football or ‘horse’ or, in the case of snow, sleds on the hill.  Eventually someone would utter the word ‘pie’ and we would all run headlong to the controlling force of more food.  As darkness began to fall, there would be strains played on the old piano, a violin, perhaps a guitar and most times my father’s harmonica.  The family would gather about and sing folk tunes and range songs and wind up with hymns until we were all spent. Then the various visitors to our home would don their coats, pile into cars and make their way back to their own worlds.

My mom also became known for an excellent decorating party that left our home in Christmassy bliss.  In time, summer cookouts, Easter celebrations, church youth outings and parties were added to her entertaining repertoire.  She was good at it.  She became the center of her universe, the queen of the moment.

My own venture into being queen of the moment began in Hot Springs, Arkansas where I hosted a weekly meeting of wealthy ladies in my home during my 20s and started learning to be ‘all that’.  It was a very small universe, but for a few moments each week life revolved around my execution of a plan and I was the center of attention.  It was short lived and didn’t resurface until the mid 80s when I began hosting family reunions, beginning with my parents’ 50th anniversary. Eventually my skills enveloped Christmas Eve celebrations for my enlarging family of families.  There were also camping- or boating- efforts which allowed me to be queen of the moment.  I got into it and I enjoyed the role.

The celebrations within my tenure were always slightly lacking the luster of the former queens.  I always wanted to . . . . ., well, but we ran out of time.  There were no gorged snoozes spaced by manly conversations.  There were children playing to pass the time, but only because of delays as a result of too much planning and too little time. There were no family dance and sing sessions around an old piano with various instruments chiming in and voices rising in harmony.  I created my own inferiority long before the decline.  I don’t multi-task well and I don’t delegate –ever.

However, with the extra income of a teacher added to my husband’s good salary, I held no expense as a problem to creating a well supplied event.  I didn’t even consider what I was spending until I tried to make sense of it and looked at the spread sheet.  But I didn’t care.  What I lacked in the grace and organization of my grandmother, or the talent and passion of my mother, I made up for with dollars.  For several years, it was all good.  The universe revolved well. But gradually, the dollar did not rule and the universe began, as it had with my mother and my grandmother, to shift, wobble and implode.  My tenure as queen of the moment was ending.  I did not fade gracefully.  I don’t know whether my predecessors did or not, for I was way too concerned with my own execution of the queenly office.

I still have my moments, though I must admit that there is always something I wish to do that I just don’t make happen.  There are others who have assumed or transferred the starring role as my circle shrinks.  One day, I will be that person who is simply visited on the way to or from the great revolution around another star.  It has already begun.  My pull has weakened for whatever reason –it doesn’t really matter in the larger scope of things.  Time, distance, the creation of a new dynasty, all add to the diminishing value of time and effort.  But they will have to buy their own crown, for I shall retire mine in a soft cushion of my memory, where I shall forever be queen of the moment.

Who Says?

I saw yet another post accrediting another God rejecting person with the quote “How much would you have to hate a person to not tell them about salvation if you really believe it?”  It doesn’t even matter who it was this time.  I suppose they could have all said or thought that at some point, but probably not.  I really doubt that these even think in that vein. But the thought that came to me as I read it was “So what.” 

Have we really gotten to the place in our society when the ‘testimony’ of a person who rejects God, ignores his presence, his power and his opinions, is more credible, even to followers of Christ, than the testimony of a person who honors God and does his human best to live out that honor in word and deed.  If we heard Billy Graham or Louie Giglio say “How much do you have to hate a person to not tell them about the love and redemption God offers?”  People would blow it off, give it no thought.  But let an immoral, abusive rocker or a foul mouthed blasphemous comedian say it and it’s suddenly amazingly credible, though they still claim to reject God.  Why?  And what is the true message of that statement given their stance in unbelief?

For decades people have catapulted themselves to fame and wealth through foul language, bad habits and immoral living.  It is a reflection of our society, but that doesn’t make it good or wholesome and should not make it acceptable to those who still claim allegiance to God.  We’ve turned our hearts to accept when we turned our eyes and set our minds to listen.  Why we have done that is irrelevant.  Peer pressure, media saturation, failure of Christian leaders to maintain relevance, attraction, search for ‘reality’: none of these are going to excuse us for going where we have gone –especially those of us who claim Christ as savior.

I know there are many who don’t like my stand –even in my own family- though I’m not sure they quite understand my stand.  I have been informed that my ‘religion’ is an embarrassment by more than one.  But I do know that you can’t have it both ways.  If you want to live like those people who ignore God, stop claiming that God is your source and your love.  I am pitifully human, but I don’t bear it proudly and it is not what I strive for.  God has grace for us.  But grace demands a turning.  In the ‘religious’ vernacular, we call it ‘repentance’.  To quote the Bible “We have turned from sin to serve the living God.”  Yes sin is still present in our humanity, but we are not to relish or glory in it no matter who our audience is.  The Bible seems to say that if you are loving sin and sinful acts and ideas, you have not found the way of truth.  People will retort with “BUT who’s opinion of what sin is?”  Generally, that categorizes you right there.  I’m not as condemning and self-righteous as many make me out to be.  I think that is their way of soothing their conscience and rejecting anything else I might say.  But I do believe there is “sin” and that it is wrong regardless of who accepts it.  God gave us a pretty good idea of what He sees as evil.  That’s really enough.  Jesus narrowed it down.  Love God!  Don’t love the world system, values and behaviors.  John said if you love these, love for God is not in you.  They were a lot harder than I am.

To me, when these perverse celebrities speak words like those at the beginning of this writing, they are only cementing their own condemnation for rejecting God and leading others astray.  Not very admirable.

I Write -Again

Many –yes many years ago, I began a story about angels and their strengths and weaknesses and how it could be that such an awesome, divinely designed creature could ever become a rebel and be filled with everything false and depraved.  I worked on it for well over a year, and then life happened and in other pursuits, it sunk into the chronicles of my ‘unfinished’ life. 

It wasn’t a particularly spiritual write, but I tried to keep it from offending the scripture, when not necessarily aligning with it.  It was more of a concept of truth that I was reaching for, than a revelation of fact. I thought it was a good story, as far as it went, and I felt it was making some kind of overworked, verbose point that was valid among mankind.  I recall and consider it sometimes and have made lackluster attempts at locating it a couple of times to perhaps revive, edit and rewrite the valiant parts and bring it to a proper conclusion.

To say I love writing would be an understatement for those who know me well.  I’ve written stories, poems and prose as long as I can recall.  When I broke my arms at the age of 9, the first creative thing I was able to do was to laboriously type on an old manual typewriter.  I could not hold a pencil or play the piano, but I could put my thoughts on paper in story or poem form. And, I did, in spite of the pain, one finger at a time.

To say I am a writer would be a long stretch, because I’ve only been published by default and that sparsely in my decades of writing.  To my defense, I must admit that I’ve made little effort to be formally published and the events of that nature were generally the doing of others who saw some merit.  Yet I write, and in social media, I have found an audience.  For that I am grateful, because if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there, who cares?

The title of my active blog is “Wording out the complexities of life.”  Honestly, most of my writing is as much a question as it is an answer.  I don’t consider myself a prophet or a theologian, though I do enjoy studying and reaching a conclusion that is my own, even if it is not original.  In fact, a huge portion of my writing has no great spiritual message at all, but I have begun to understand that as I am a spiritual being –and we all are one way or another, my belief about God and personal integrity, my understanding of and personal views about good and evil and the general human condition will surface in my writing.  I will slip aggravatingly often between those aspects of my life, for in me, they are not separate.  Even my failures are divine testaments to the great mercy and strength of God’s plan and character.  It is how I face the complexities of life most of the time –by wording them out.

I do get things crossways at times.  I do reach wrong conclusions.  But I am generally searching for truth.  A year or so ago, I began a story about a changeling fairy and as I wrote, I found I had strayed into such a forest of non-conclusion that any truth I might have pursued was lost in a labyrinth of pointless events and ineffectual emotions.   As I reread it a couple of days past a particularly productive session, I felt complete embarrassment at the direction it had taken.  There was no soundness left.  I located the part where I had gotten off track and began my desert wandering, and I began hacking away at the story.  I realized I didn’t have time to rewrite it all then, but I needed to injure it badly enough that I could well see what needed change.

I have a painting student who sometimes gets far enough off track that the fix is greater than he can see and I must often move his painting critically away from its present direction for him to perceive the logic in what must be accomplished.  I don’t like to ‘fix’ a student’s work as a rule.  I’d rather lead them to fix.  But there are times when the only way to see what it needs is to mess it up in the right direction.  These days when I announce “I’m going to ruin your life,” he doesn’t even cringe.  He just moves back and smiles.  He already knows it’s not going where he wants it to.  When I’ve messed it up sufficiently, he is clear to rewrite the story with his brush.  He knows it will be a radical change at that point, but he’s already floundering in the paint.  After I make a few destructive strokes, he always has the “Aha” moment.

And so I see it that sometimes my great Father chops and hacks at my canvas, my story.  I know I’m floundering, and though I badly want to fix it, I cannot from where I stand.  I cannot even see the fix or precisely what is wrong.  I’ve learned to observe, to step back and consider as he messes up my efforts and rights my world again.

But then he hands the pen back and says “Now write.”  And a little embarrassed at where I had been taking it all, I begin again with a bit more caution and purpose.  It is who I am.  I write.

97 years of mercy

It's been a lot of living.  She's always said "When you live another 31 years you will know." 

We each know in our own way, in our own time, I suppose.  I guess I’ve thought and maybe even said the same, though not to my daughters, for I know they are strong-willed capable women who will discover truth in their own way and time.  I also imagine that hearing it from me would probably hamper more than it helped.

The truth is I’ve always loved my kids even if I didn’t think they had a right to their own decision process.  We parents can be bad that way.  And it doesn’t really accomplish much to tell them how hard my life is, though a couple of times I’ve made the effort just because I wanted them to know that I know.  But they don’t know that I know. Yet I’ve always, always wanted the best for them.

Over the years –especially the years since my father’s death- I’ve seen the sorrow, self-doubt and disappointment that colored my mother’s path to this day.  She has officially lived longer than any of her family that I know about.  I believe the previous record belonged to a 96 year old.  But that said, my knowledge of the trial of my mother’s heart has come from watching more than listening to the complaint.  Sometimes it has been listening more to what wasn’t really said or learning to interpret what was said that has brought the most comprehension. 

And so I see the personal lesson available to me.  No, my children will not understand my life nor will they appreciate me understanding theirs.  Yet there is much to pray about and much to stand in place for both in my life and theirs.  One day they may discover that I did understand, but that discovery will mean more than any words I can speak to them.  The words I speak to the Father in their behalf are more effective. 

I’m often distressed by the amount of time God takes to answer my prayers for redemption with mercy in the life of those I love.  The old “Whatever it takes!” prayers may be faster but do I want that?  I want the kind, slow working result.  I want the “Whatever  . . .” speed.  The difference is like the difference between the Dr saying my dad’s legs needed amputated to stop the blood poisoning from the diabetic sores and my daily effort to heal and restore the legs.  The legs did get better, but it took a long time and a lot of patience: nights of gentle cleansing and massage and preparations and wrapping the wounds; mornings of the same.  It wasn’t a swift one time fix.  It took my dedication and willingness to face discouraging set backs and slow progress.  It took my willingness to see minute change and to value little victories.  And to this day, 14 + years since his death, it is worth the effort.  Also, I see that having my children’s problems hacked off in a hurry is not the best way either, even if waiting and praying diligently means times of breathless tears.

This is a picture of prayer effort that came into my mind today.  I see small victories in the life of my mother.  God has worked with me and with others to help her let go of much of the pain that has imprisoned her for years.  But I also see that it is the way God has worked in my own life, cleaning and massaging and adding his balm to change the hurt and the misunderstanding, to allow forgiveness and release.  I suppose it is the way he will answer the prayers of restoration and healing that I have for others I love as well.

It is more of a gift given to me on this, my mother’s 97th birthday.  I do have some goodies to take her this weekend though.  I hope they mean even a shred as much.

An eternal consequence

There is an eternal consequence to our opinions and actions.  Right is not right because you or I or even God decided to make it so.  God doesn’t decide what is right, he is right.  That is a hard concept for us as humans.  We have dishonest and opinionated leaders and judges who declare a thing to be right whether it is or not.  Therefore, logic would say God could change his mind about what is right.  But that is fallen thinking. 

You have a mortal enemy that delights in the evolution of thought that creates a changeable, human God.  Jesus said to the leaders of his day “You do not tell the truth.  If I were to agree with you, I would become a liar.  If I said God agrees with you I would be making him out to be a liar.  If you knew God you would understand.”  But he was speaking to people who were used to making their own twist on the rules and they just got mad.

We listen to bad logic that feels good and we say “Yeah!” without ever considering the road we are embarking on at that point.  I have made irrevocable mistakes that made me want a logic that allowed it to be less than wrong if it could not be right.  Sometimes we are led, sometimes we are forced, sometimes we are deceived, but we all fall short of the ‘rightness’ that we were created for.

That is the reason God allowed his dearest son, his companion in creation, a very part of himself, who put his power aside for obedience sake, to suffer persecution, rejection and a cruel unjust death.  It was to redeem us, to forgive us, and to make us right with God when there was no other way that would satisfy truth, love and justice.  I cannot call on God to change the ‘rules’ for me.  But I can call on his grace to forgive and redeem.

Daily I find myself bombarded with good arguments that try to change the voice of right thinking and living.  One by one we reject the sinfulness of acts and attitudes.  But if sin is not sin and wrong is not wrong, then Jesus died an unnecessary death after living an exemplary life and God would be found faulty.  Sadly that is the conclusion of so many people who have espoused sin as an optional way of living.  Forgiveness is mute.  Redemption is unneeded and God becomes less than worthy of devotion and praise.

In the end God is right.  God is just.  God is love.  God is merciful.  His eternal attributes found a way to bring us to himself without breaking the strength of any or those.  The decision was to offer his son.  I will not water down amazing grace to espouse your or my sin.  Jesus offers forgiveness and redemption.  That is enough.

Pray, praise and continue

I saw a post by a well known speaker this morning that caused me to think quite a bit.  It had to do with our attitude toward trials.  I’m offering my thinking process to you.  I have been through more than some and less than others.  I’ve prayed, then sat quietly and believed at times.  Other times, I’ve cried, screamed, thrown a fit or despaired.  I’ve learned a powerfull lesson.  “This too shall pass.”

I believe in asking God for help with our struggles.  I don’t think God is offended by our cries to get us out of trouble, but I also believe that sometimes he does not deliver us at the time or in the way that we would expect.

I think that struggles and difficulties have two main purposes in our lives:  1- to teach us valuable lessons and bring patience, maturity and understanding, 2 - to purge sinful acts, bad habits and wrong attitudes from our lives thereby precluding a greater ill in the future.  Beyond that, I would say that these increase faith and stamina. 

The pages of life turn quickly or slowly, but they do turn.  If you are going through a trial, go through it.  Don’t take up residence.  The nation of Israel went through the desert.  It took them 40 years because of unbelief and disobedience -which boils down to unbelief, but their wanderings did come to an end.  They pitched tents, but they didn’t build houses in the wilderness.  Keep moving through it; don’t give up.

Don’t let the trial define you; let it refine you.  A diamond is only a rock until it has been cut.  A piece of gold has only potential value until it goes through fire.  You will come out the other side of this.  Faith looks to the future while living in the present.  Know who you are before God.  Meekness understands our strength and our weakness, our success and our failure, our abilities and our shortcomings and keeps these in perspective to the power, the will and the purpose of God.  Our value is seen through the truth of God, not in relation to the will or expectations of people.  We are weak but God is great and we are loved. 

Grumbling brings defeat; self-pity brings bitterness and separation.  Faith says “With God all things are possible,” prays, gives thanks and waits for the answer. 

When faced with one particularly difficult battle situation the leader of God’s people was told to put musicians and singers in front of the army and to go out with the praise of God.  Paul and Silas sang praises and the doors of their prison unlocked.  Then they were allowed to win the jailer and his family to Christ. Praise changes us first, then it changes our perception, and then it changes the dynamic of the problem.

We do not praise God because of the battle; we praise him because we know he brings victory and cares deeply for us in spite of the battle.  We are not thankful for the illness or hardship.  We are thankful for God’s unfailing love and care and for the times we have seen him work in our life and the lives of others, bringing assurance that he is the answer to the hardship.  God doesn’t want fake praise.  We all have reasons to praise if we search for them.  I’ve found praise to bring more change than all my other efforts.

One last note:  If you are seeing others in a trial, pray for them, encourage them and lend a hand if you can.  You may be the strength God will use to get him or her through it.

Blessings

Gratitude Challenge

It has often occurred to me and people I know well have heard me state that the solution to our problems are just a blink in God's eye.  I believe that.  But I, along with many others, have asked more than once "Then why doesn't he do something about this?  If he can fix it, why does he play games with me?"  Seriously?  I do know the answers or, at least, I'm starting to learn them after all these years.
My honest belief is that it has to do not only with faith, but also with praise: -with honest forward thinking respect for the awesomeness of God and how he handles the affairs of our life.  I know how many of you will think.  You will say that your life is messed up and that your plea to God has been ignored more than once.  I've been there in the gut wrenching pain of "How can it even come out without a major disaster?" agony.  Fear, embarrassment, loss, humiliation, anger, self-pity, indignation, I've felt them all.  I can tell you honestly that introducing praise into the mix changes the odds, but more importantly it changes me.
I've been part of the '3 things a day thankful and tag 2' effort.  It could be a good idea.  There is much right with it.  First and most important, it gets our mind thinking about our blessings instead of just about our problems and it encourages others to do the same.  I've tried to consider that in my tagging.  The danger is that we will once more spout the obvious with a heavy heart and go right back to our worry and dissatisfaction to brood.  And there is also the danger of insincere reference that dishonors a great God and disrespects the very gift that we enumerate.  I don't think God is impressed with our 'chin up' fake recitation to keep a good appearance going.
I'm becoming aware that a quick answer to my celestial begging without a major change of mind and heart is really not an answer at all.  Neither can I praise God with insincerity and, by doing so, tweak the odds in my favor.  Yet I find that when I ask with honest confession of both my need and my inability and then turn my heart to praise -which in the onset may be quite insincere- that things begin to happen.  
It is possible that the answer kerplunks itself down in the middle of my need like a huge sack dropped from a heavenly helicopter and shakes my earth with power.  I've actually seen that happen.  But more often the answers come softly.  My vision is changed relating to the need, myself and the divine.  Creative solutions begin to concoct in my day to day doing.  The lessons begin to be applied to the root of the problem and true change is affected.  Fear becomes servant instead of master.  Greed is leaked away out of my heart.  I see the silliness of some of my 'imperatives'.
So bring on the 'gratitude' challenge and let it  run its course.  For many it will be a soon discarded reminder that our lives have much good if we take time to seek it out.  For some it will be a cynical aggravation that seems to support the fact that we are all self-serving, fake and reaching for public approval.  For others -very few, but some-  it will be a connection to the life changing habit of seeking to praise in weakness but honesty.
That said, day 5 of 7 leads me to be thankful for bounty and need.  
Excerpts from Philippians 4:  The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
11 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.
17 Not that I desire your gifts; what I desire is that more be credited to your account. 18 I have received full payment and have more than enough. I am amply supplied, now that I have received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent. They are a fragrant offering, an acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God. 19 And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.

Ask Anyway: He can handle it

Sometimes great faith can lack great wisdom.

Ephesians 6: 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.

It occurred to me in thinking about this that Peter was a fisherman not a soldier.  In his intensity, he grabbed the soldier’s sword and had no clue how to really use that sword.  I think he probably wasn’t aiming for the ear but for the head.  Jesus had to do damage control.  It may be good that he didn’t know how to ‘use’ it.  Jesus may have had to raise a soldier from the dead on his way to crucifixion.  That’s quite an interesting rabbit trail which I won’t follow.

I’ve heard it expounded that the word of God is the ‘sword of the Spirit, not the sword of the believer.’  That is another bunny trail, but I will say here that if we are in Christ, we have his Spirit, living in, interpreting, protecting, and instructing us all the time.  We are somewhat clueless about this sword, but if we have become one with Christ, then the argument about it being the Spirit’s sword is mute except for our lack of understanding and training which is part of His job in our lives.

Peter had been listening to Jesus teaching them about the days that were quickly approaching, but he didn’t really understand at all.  None of them really understood.  Peter was the only one who grabbed the sword though, so he stands out.

Jesus said a lot of things to believers that require faith, understanding and an open ear to the Spirit inside of us.  They are valid.  They are valid.  They are valid.  We don’t understand.  First of all, we miss the spirit of what is said most of the time. 

Acts 1:8 But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  

John 14: 12 “Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. 13 And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. 14 You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.” 

We like power don’t we.  But power without control is destructive.  That isn’t the reason for the power.  We get all about ‘pulling down’ and ‘casting out’ and while that has its validity, we are senseless children who have much more faith in our own judgment and desires than in the wisdom, love and plan of God.  Most of the time we not only don’t know what God is doing about us, we don’t really care.  We want what we want.

Matthew 17:20 He replied, “Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

Matthew 21: 21 Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done.

What if someone wants to cast my mountain –the one I live on- into the sea?  What would the effect of that be for me and the others around me?  What if that person really is a servant of God and really wants my mountain gone?  My hope is that the Spirit will interpret that prayer to the Father for my good as well as the good of the one who prayed.  For, I have prayed intense prayers that wielded the sword of the Spirit mightily and had my faith strengthened.  I have also wielded that same sword intensely, spoken in strength and faith to no apparent result. 

We are pretty easy on ourselves here.  We build excuses for why God just didn’t answer or perform when the truth is our emotion and opinion were so loud we did not and could not hear anything the Spirit would say during that prayer.  The telling thing is that God is patient and good to us anyway even when we pout and yell and misrepresent Him so completely.  We are learning, we are failing and trying again and one day we start listening for the Spirit’s instruction no matter how much our gut wrenches.

So what is the conclusion?  Read.  Pray.  Learn.  Listen.  Read.  Pray.  Learn.  Listen.  Use what you have.  Study the sword and learn to use it wisely.  What if you embarrass yourself?  What if you are clumsy and don’t understand what God is doing?  God is big enough to take care of it; He is smart enough to understand it and not give you a stone when you need bread.  Trust his wisdom and love.  Like the best ‘daddy’ in the world, He cares what His kids need; He cares what His kids want.  But He is wise and loving and way beyond where we are.  Knowing that, ask always.  The wisdom will come and He can handle it until it does.

It's a trade off

My dad used to say that everything in life was a trade off.  He said that you traded your energy, your intelligence, your ability, your creativity and sometimes your health for money and that in turn was traded for possessions, transportation, pleasure, food, or satisfaction.  No matter what you did, it was a trade.  He cautioned me to trade wisely.

The older I get, the more I see what he was saying.  You give something up any time you get something and you make the choice what will be on both sides of the giving.

I was young and full of ideas and dreams.  Now I am old and not as full of dreams.  Yes I do still have things I’d like to accomplish and obtain, but many of the old dreams were much less important than they appeared and in the end, I was not ready for the trade off.

Jesus asked “What will a man give in exchange for his soul?”  If the soul is really the conscious person as distinguished from the physical state and the eternal being, then the question takes on a different twist.  What will I give in exchange for my mind? What will I trade for the right to make my own decisions and feel the way I want to feel?

There was a time when I was a somewhat successful, semi-professional musician.  I was sure that my destiny was to become a full blown professional musician.  But when life changed, my decisions changed that concentration of effort which, in turn, changed the ability and that destiny, if ever a true possibility, became a faded dream.  The muscles and the mind are not prepared for that task these days.  So what did I get in trade for that dream?  A whole other life.  In the long of it, I am a teacher and an artist. 

I was once a teacher and a musician.  And at one time I was a teacher of music, a musician, and a freelance artist.  I traded the freelance artist for the ability to develop my own music to a higher level.  Later I gained the artist back, not as freelance, but as a teacher of art. 

Sometimes in the workings of life I haven’t realized the trade I was making.  Later I looked back and saw that I truly did trade one ability for another as much as one outcome for another.  In college, I was offered a free ride and told “the sky’s the limit.”  When I told my advisor I was going to pursue journalism, he said “Why?  We’re offering you the moon and you are settling for a degree in journalism?”  In the end, I found I really had settled and I had wasted my time and education.  I wanted to be a scientific journalist.  But after one short stint, I found all the specialized jobs would separate me from my family and eventually I went back for a different degree.  This time no one offered me the ‘moon.’

In 2004, I traded a 40K plus salary for the chance to start a teaching studio at a much lower monetary income, but a much higher satisfaction rate accompanied by a lower stress level.  It wasn’t the trade I expected in reality, but it was the trade I made.  I wish I could say I’ve never regretted the trade off.  But I can say I’ve never regretted it for long.  Was it a wise choice?  I cannot truly judge that yet, for my life has not yet ended.  And I cannot say what choices await me, but I can say that any choice I make will involve trading one thing for another. 

In the recent past, I traded health and mobility for pie and noodles and had to retrace my steps and trade some pleasure for stout discipline to reclaim the lost progress.  It wasn’t easy to give up the extra servings of sugar and bread.  Each day my mind must decide what I will give up and what I will hold on to.  I’ve learned that a choice by default is still a choice.

And once more I find that the physical is a picture of the spiritual and therefore, must once more ask myself “What will I give in exchange for my soul?”  Do I want to retain the ability to think, choose and feel for myself?  Or will I relinquish that to the ease of acceptance.  When I read a statement, I have a choice:  I can accept it, repeat it, and act on it or I can think, study, and react based on knowledge and wisdom.  Everything I allow into my mind will, in time, change my decisions and my emotions.  Too often, I don’t bother to examine the gate of my mind and what passes through it.  If the emotions are the seat of the issues of life, why do I not more carefully filter what will control them.  If the will controls tomorrow’s result, why do I trade it for ease and entertainment.

I am old.  I feel young sometimes, but I am not.  And yet I understand that for now, I still have choices.  I pray for wisdom, but I must even choose that over foolishness.

My thoughts on God's Not Dead and the critics.

I just read a review of the movie “God’s not dead”, a movie I went to see this past weekend.  Actually I read several, but I will address one in particular, because it stood out among the set.  It was an okay review.  The writer assumed that the total audience for this movie was Christian and mostly Christians who have a grudge against our world and assumed mistreatment of Christians, which he denied as a possibility in our country and our age.  I guess he forgot to read the credits at the end of the movie. 

The review was mostly a sorting of perplexities and only had two or three bad comments about the movie.  One was an editing snafu that pitted daylight and dark in a supposed same time frame.  I usually catch things like that and yet the only one I remember seemed to fit in place.  One complaint was the frequency of the ‘propaganda’ of Christian conversion and the third was the use of a Muslim girl who converted to Christian faith being mistreated by her father, as if it were the only group that rejects Christianity.  I have to disagree with the last comment because the Chinese student’s father also reacted strongly.  I don’t think the film had time to deal with all those who would be angry about their family converting to faith in Christ.  My own thought on that was that the film was acknowledging that some people will face that.

The main concern of the writer seemed to be that the film, which opened this weekend, had grossed enough to be named the 5th leading film of the weekend though it was marketed to a limited number of screens.  His belief was that the fluke of its success was due to a Christian audience that has been drawn out by the recent success of ‘religious’ based films and he gave several examples –two of which have not even hit the screen yet.  So that was a poorly designed argument thread. 

Another possible reason for success that he argued was the modern setting and technology references that would draw the crowd into the movie.  Frankly I think most of the people who grabbed their phones to ‘text’ at one point, had no idea that was going to happen at all.  I don’t think that had anything to do with the success of the film this weekend.  I think it was a reaction to an attractively placed statement in the movie.

He also referred to the pre-sold tickets, marketed by Christian websites and churches, responsible for about a third of the first weekend’s revenue, which he claimed gave a false picture of how well the movie actually performed.  That means 2/3rds of the people who went to that poorly advertised, low budget movie, bought tickets at the box office as we did.  That also means if you discount the tickets sold by Christian organizations online or in churches, the movie was still very successful.

It seemed like a frantic attempt to give reason and bring logic to what the writer considered the unreasonable success of an unappealing subject in a low budget movie.  I wondered why he bothered, frankly.  The truth is, there are ‘Christians’ who would not be caught dead at that movie, pun intended, because it is a Christian movie and they really have a problem with that. 

He referred to the audience cheering and clapping as though it proved the argument that only Christians supporting their own propaganda would attend and show support for this movie.  Frankly I clapped because the boy made his point so well after facing a lot of opposition to make it.  Would I have clapped if it had been a position I didn’t agree with?  Probably not.  Would I have clapped if it had been a position I agreed with that was not faith based?  Probably so.  Would the critic have had an issue with that?  Probably not.

Yet some of the statements he made reinforced an inward thought process that was already growing in my mind.  This weekend I watched 2 other very strongly evangelistic movies on television that I didn’t expect to be so.  We have purchased several movies in the past year that have had strong evangelistic messages that we didn’t really know would.  We have seen other movies that have strong allegorical ties to redemption and Christian thought.  My question is “Why?”  I’m not offended as the film critic was, yet I am perplexed that suddenly within the Christian community and outside the Christian community alike there is a calling to redemption, an exposing of grace and an offer of salvation and love.

Could this be the critical curtain call?  Could it be the final harvest?  Could it be the last hard push before the world changes?  I don’t know the answer to that.  But I’m feeling a climatic rise in the world about me and though I’ve been through so many prophets that cried the “End is coming now!” my heart wonders.  I shall pull into the Father through Christ and wait while I continue living my daily life with perhaps a heightened expectation and caution.  And I shall continue to pray for redemption and understanding for those I love and for myself.

As for the movie, I’ll buy it.  I would encourage others to see it.  I’m sure some would be uncomfortable with it, but maybe it will make them think a bit if they happen to go.  I may go to see it again before it’s put onto DVD just so I can think about it more clearly.  Regardless, it is a good movie and I would encourage people to ‘think for themselves’ and not just react to the critics -pro or con.

I write

I write often: sometimes slowly, considering the words and their structure; sometimes quickly with passion and sometimes slowly with passion.  Just seeing it on the page in black and white often quells a raging within me.  Sometimes, not so much.

At times I will let the writing chill for a bit, marinating in the flow of life about me for days or weeks, taking on essence and reason.  But sometimes my passion spills onto the page like excess oil spills from a vial too quickly filled.  Then there are times the writing goes into a vault for a later date or perhaps for reading or sometimes just to sit so that one day I can remember what nonsense I came through whether of my own or another’s making. 

Sometimes I see truth that I feel is beneficial and should be seen whether or not it is accepted.  It may be a page full of open truth or one sentence that draws from the page a valid point of use but doesn’t really stand alone. 

Often my writing comes of my private time and the insights I feel I’ve gained.  It is not that I think my revelations are greater or wiser than others.  I write not to convince the reader of my great skill or reasoning; I just write because it is in me to do so.

I enjoy writing stories and, as I see it, there are two types of stories that generally come from my hand: the reminiscence of joy or pain, and allegory drawn from life.  Sometimes I hide the truth I seek or the truth I’ve found in simple stories from an event or word that caught my mind; sometimes it is a story that is so badly clad that no one would doubt the persons and times mentioned there and many would rightly take offense.  But sometimes even that is a story that holds a deep truth or feeling that I deem worth the risk, if there is indeed a risk, of misunderstanding or offense.

Recently I flew to the page and wrote in passion:

 “Of course, I am a stupid minded, dull witted excuse for a writer or critic and there are so many better, more astute voices to speak on the matter.  I don't write because I am good; I don't write because I will be published; I write because I just do.  To some that is utter folly.  To me it is part of living.” 

I can still feel my indignation at the redress that brought it on, though after the interval, it seems a petty reaction.  But there is much truth lying in that statement.  I would rather write something that no one reads for good reason, than to quell the fire inside me and kill the word before it has life.  I understand that by putting it out there, I choose an audience and must accept their right to judge.  Still, I do not have to accept their judgment as truth.

What of misunderstanding, then?  My belief is that more misunderstanding comes of people brooding malice by hiding their words inside than by them throwing it out for a reaction.  At least, when it is on the table, there may be an argument that enlightens both minds when one or the other gets his or her fill of brooding.  There may be a chance for a person to recognize the folly in statements made or actions committed and some resolution perhaps may come.  

Yet, not all things may be mended.  I have a refrigerator that has served me for over 20 years.  I want it replaced; it is not something I owe allegiance and right to.  Yet a friend that has known me for much less than that deserves a chance to fix what is breaking down or to have their offensive behavior dismissed into the realm of ‘that which is common to man.’  We must decide what to value in life and then accept the choice.

There is a line from the Count of MonteCristo that comes to mind.  I think it is one of Dumas’ finer moments: “Don’t commit the crime for which you now serve the sentence.”  Often we are wronged by life, by friends, by ourselves.  We are misunderstood; we are unjustly made prisoners of pain we did not earn.  We are isolated by the will of another to protect an image or position.  

We are not required to put up with offenses constantly repeated; we are just asked to forgive since we too require forgiveness.  There are punishments enough built into life and we need not bring more down upon us than will come naturally.  When a car slings mud on my clothes, it is not unkind to get out of the way next time.  And while it may be boring or useless to tell of it after the fact, it is no crime to share the frustration or lesson of it in writing.  It may even help in some small way.

I don't write because I am good; I don't write because I will be published; I write because I just do.

The solitary are set in families

Psalm 68 (Amplified)

⁵ A father of the fatherless and a judge and protector of the widows is God in His holy habitation.

⁶ God places the solitary in families and gives the desolate a home in which to dwell; He leads the prisoners out to prosperity; but the rebellious dwell in a parched land.

I’ve rattled these verses off several times with out really thinking them through.  Tonight when my son-in-law hugged me and told me he loved me, I thought about the fact that we loved him before he became our son-in-law, but we had no special relationship to him except through God and Christ.  Now we know him much more and a special love has grown.  Suddenly I found myself quoting from Psalm 68 and then saying “God set you in a family –our family.”  And he set Amanda in a family ours yes, but his as well.  Both families are enriched because of God’s act of setting these two in our families.  They were solitary adults, but now they are in families with a home and prosperity: no longer bound; no longer alone.

Then my mind went on a little further.  Not all solitary adults are set into marriages as couples.  Yet we learn to love and provide and look out for those in that solitary state.  In the smaller circle of our fellowship, we have several solitary people: some older and some younger.  Our ‘family’ would not be complete without even one of them.  They need us; we need them.

They could hold themselves in a prison of rejection and distance, but they would be poorer for it, yet when they cooperate with God’s design, they are freed from the pain of isolation and the loneliness it creates.  We bring ourselves to that union, they bring themselves to it and together we are all blessed and enriched.

What an excellent plan it is.

And in my thinking, I entered another room and saw that in order for us to be set free, we must admit we are prisoners. 

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Not only does our confession allow for freedom to be given, but it brings prosperity: the wealth of God’s kingdom.

A sense of injustice

Sometimes I am appalled by the sense of injustice about me.  Every one seems to scream about their rights and how unfair the world is.  I agree there is injustice in the world, but there always will be as long as people are dishonest and self-serving.    Sometimes the grievance is not even based in personal lack or suffering, but in a suffering of the past that they know was never atoned and is corrupted by a sense that a cause or person has a right for gain based on an injustice that can never be repaid.  And I see another view in which the people screaming for their rights are dishonest and self-serving, but they want more and feel entitled to have everything everyone else has and beyond.  In trying to convince others to get on board, they feel justified in their own evil.  This is totally deluded. 

Years ago, an influential lady in my small community brought a wealthy friend from a large city to visit me.  I was put on display and asked to do tricks.  So I played the piano, brought out some poetry, displayed my needle craft, pointed out personal paintings and revealed works in process for other people.  When we had visited for a time, my guest said “But what’s it all about?  What is your point in doing all this?”

I shared my philosophy which was based in a belief that God gives us all things to do and to serve others with and he blesses us for our effort and our obedience.  So my first call is to obey and the second call is to serve others and lastly to enjoy and express that joy in what is given.  I shared a very short account of how my life was changed by belief in Christ and excepting his salvation.  I was a preacher’s wife, after all, so that was no surprise to my guest.  She smiled an ambiguous smile and we visited a bit longer before she and my friend left.

As she turned to leave, she stopped and with a look of sincere pity she said, “It’s such a shame.  Who knows what you could have become had you not been tied to this ‘god’ and his religion.” 

I was astounded.  I mumbled something about enjoying her visit and watched them go with a hot face and a twisted stomach.  I quickly found a quiet place to cry and talk to my God about her words and how they made me feel.  Was I a needless victim of the stale requirements of a pointless belief?  Was I trapped by my service to an impotent God and his ungrateful people?  Was I doomed to be less that my capabilities because of the restrictions of a life I had chosen?  I cried almost violently for a time, and then I wrote a song, for that’s what I did in those days when I was happy or sad or confused or excited.  It’s how my life played out.

I was raised in a society in which women were considered inferior and subservient to men.  A man could cheat; a woman could not.  An adolescent boy could explore sex and abuse alcohol as long as he grew out of it; a girl could not.  A man served in the church service; a woman could sing a ‘special’ or serve dinner.  A man was a pillar; a woman was an adornment.  If a man hitchhiked across the country, he was brave and adventurous; if a woman hitchhiked at all, she was a tramp, a vagrant.  A man could be abusive, a woman must endure.  If a man had an affair it was the woman’s fault because . . . well, she obviously had failed her husband in some way.  I could go on, but you get the picture. 

Yet in my childhood home, I saw a different principle at work.  My mom and dad were both employed –not really a church endorsed situation.  My dad did housework and taught us to do housework – he actually made it fun when he could.  My dad was a big man and a man’s man, but he had a tender heart and he had no problem with doing laundry well.  He could speak in public, he was a foreman in a rough environment, he could stand his ground and was a decorated soldier from WW2, but he was a gentle soul that could rock a child and sing her to sleep.  He could not stand to see an animal suffer and would raise bunny broods even thought they were destructive and would have to be turned back over to the wild when they could forage.  He was always the one who conceded in a marital argument that got out of hand.  All of these were tied to the life he has once lived that he was not proud of.  He led our family in nightly devotion and prayer, but he cried over a daughter who struggled with things he didn’t understand.  He reasoned and questioned and showed a vulnerability that amazed me.  If my sister’s had made mistakes or misunderstood, that was understandable because his life had been so wrong.  But I was raised in love and righteousness, how could I not be secure and perfect?

I was trained to think theology.  I memorized huge chunks of scripture for the sake of reward and honor.  I was trained to reason between the belief of my church and the error of other churches.  I was trained to convert, defend and debate.  I was taught the structure of a good speech and the techniques of arguing my case.  Why would they do that to a girl and then say “You are a nobody; you are a woman; take your place in the back and be quiet?”  While training me to be an aggressive servant, they expected me to be a dumb blond.  I was one confused cookie!

There are scriptures that were drilled into me that I still respect, and struggle with at the same time.  God and I have had some discussions about that.  While my desire is to listen to him alone, there is the old voice saying “You cannot possibly hear from God, for you are a woman, created to listen to man.”  The theological implications of that statement are greater than any of my mentors would ever endure.  When I tried to use the technique I was taught to arrive at understanding, the reply seemed to be “You are a woman, you can’t possibly understand spiritual truth.”  This has always infuriated me –before salvation and after.

And so I embarked on a journey ‘to know God and his voice without question.’  I say this realizing that a human with their feet suck in the earth cannot ‘know God without question’.  Yet I still believe that pursuit is honoring to him.  I am learning to listen, to accept, to believe and what I experience is amazing, though not always practical to share.  I do not in any way consider myself to have arrived or to be perfected.  The more you learn and the longer you travel down that road, the more you understand the scope of the trip.  Mine is simply one road on the huge map of spiritual understanding.  If it were a super highway, the same would be true, but frankly it is more of a two lane road over hills and around blind curves.

So what has any of this to do with my view of the present sense of injustice?  You must live it out.  If you can shine a light and destroy some darkness, then do it.  But if you are trapped in a soggy, windowless room without comfort, bide your time, look for opportunities and learn.  Yes learn.  Learn to listen, learn to be patient, learn to survive.   Someday perhaps your savior (small ‘s’ in this case) will come and you will be prepared to follow into the world away from your present state.  It may turn out to be a dangerous road that ends in death, but only in this plain.  It may turn into the most challenging, and exhilarating journey you could never have imagined.  It may end quickly in a beautiful eternal place.  Does it really matter if you have faith and know you are following the true God?

I was not called out of freedom; I was called out of bondage.  I have lost nothing by becoming a servant of God and his Christ.

Almosts

The past few years, I have become a tremendous has been!  My life held so much promise that hasn’t ever materialized.  But that is not what this is about.  Recently, we had the great opportunity of being ‘almosts’.

It was a fairly small investment considering the promise it held.  At first we were going to net 13 million which of course the government would take 34% right off the top and that would leave us with 8+ million of which the state would take 24%.  But after all that we would still be left with 6.5 million.  It was a done deal – a slam dunk.  There were closed meetings, web conferences, special chats, and a host of delays.  We couldn’t really wrap our heads around it, but we did discuss how we would navigate the common pitfalls and what we would do to ensure it didn’t leave us and others we care about poorer than when we began.  We were contacted about other group actions and investments and we said “Let’s wait for the reality of this to set in.”

One night our investor called and asked us to join in a larger coalition that wanted to take our bit, combine it with others and trade it in another market because the original deal was becoming shaky and the US government was blocking its completion.  I had been reading a lot, watching pretty carefully and understood that already.  Several people had walked out of the country and tried to trade in foreign markets.  Yet everyone who had tried to personally take action had been arrested or thwarted.  Then we were informed that the government would require NDAs when we went to the ‘bank’ to ‘cash in’.  You've probably already assumed we aren't talking about Arvest or First National of Fort Smith.

This whole time, all the US based articles claimed it was a hoax and only when you ventured into articles in certain parts of the world would you get any information at all.  All the information I found indicated that it was tied to a clandestine deal made between governments over a decade ago.  It also indicated that perhaps it was not supposed to include the ‘common man.’   That made me feel that something was totally wrong with the ‘deal’ and I asked my Mr how he would react if we lost even the original investment.  He said “We still have ………...”

Finally when months passed and another offer to redeem our wad in another market came, my husband decided to join and turned over the goods.  This promised a far less enlightening return, but still in the 7 digit range.  I had a weird foreboding about that whole deal.  Frankly I felt that the market they were headed for was a bad choice.  Then I began reading about arrests –again foreign articles-  I read about under the table bargaining and some unprincipled actions proposed by the original source.  When caught, it seemed that these ‘investors’ were being jailed and their assets being impounded until all things were settled.  The accepting country was being threatened with charges of treaty violations but only under the radar.  When I wandered out into those information highways, I felt like I was trapped in an old movie looking through bars at smokestacks while being drugged and hypnotized to cleanse my memory.

Our trip to Verona had ended and we were left with our original investment and no real paper trail.  Did all that really happen?  But unlike ‘The Trip to Verona’, the investors were still online and many of them still expect the big return to happen any day now.  They have discussed how and why people were taken out by the government and a few have produced scanned documents that appear official and would caution against creating any grass roots hysteria.  The original investor said “You can have your money back or your ……….. back, which ever you choose.”  
For us, it’s not a great loss.  The amount we invested would buy a wanted item or two that would break down or wear out in time.  There were others in the group that are the same way.  Their concern is similar to the stupid gnat that keeps flying around my head and nose in my study.  But for some, the investment though equal in amount was far greater in consequence.  Those are the ones I pity.  They were ‘almost’ wildly wealthy.  They ‘almost’ had enough to buy a good home and a nice vehicle and live independent of worry.  One lost his job in the middle of this and has carried on with a string of minor employments.  Another lost his health and has medical bills sky high.  I would much rather have my ‘almost’ than theirs.

Proverbs 16: (NIV)

            8 Better a little with righteousness than much gain with injustice.

            9 In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.

Thought for the day: Never gamble what you cannot live without.

Poems and promises

Years ago I was struggling through a bad marriage.  I will not qualify that, because it is unneeded for the present writing.  I met a man in the course of my ministry as a pastor’s wife, musician and state youth worker trainer.  He was quiet and I was loud.  He sang and I played the piano.  We both went to the same teacher trainer workshops a couple times a year and we both attended the same camps and youth conferences regularly.  We became friends, we became good friends and then we found ourselves at a crossroads at which we had to decide what our relationship was going to become. 

I loved him.  He loved me.  I was miserable at home.  He was miserable at home.  We were both alone in the same hurricane and couldn’t really find our footing.  We had begun to hold on to each other.  At one youth camp it came to a head.  We had to decide what we were all about.  My 2 year old was with me that week and I think that was the catalyst for us to begin thinking about our children –he had 2 sons, I had 4 daughters, our parents who were equally devoted to God and their churches and would not approve, and our ministries which would be destroyed if we followed the course we wanted –a course that seemed more than logical.

In the end, we went our own ways by mutual agreement and almost without chains or regrets.  We remained friends from afar and 2 or 3 times a year we spent time basking in our friendship knowing where it belonged and how it would be conducted.  I think we were both proud enough of the decision we made, though it left us both alone in our separate storms.  I wrote a poem at that time and include it here.

I

alone

against the raging wind

and pounding rain

as piercing cold lay bare my heart

and drained my will by force again

in its onslaught found a hand

of one as beaten down as I.

We grasped each other hoping

that the little strength we both possessed

would be enough to see us through

what seemed a daunting, endless quest.

On and on

through angry gale

we stood together

gaining strength, gaining will

until our own determined stand

proved to the wind it’s futile strife.

And in that stand each gaining strength

and hope and with it force of life.

Till, in our own strength, we could stand

while wind and rain and cold disband.

Confident,

grateful for the chance to grow

from weak to strong,

we found we could let go

and each move out toward a private goal,

basking in the sun and warmth,

carrying the memory of the struggle in each soul.

Walking, I, with head held high and heart held light,

pursue a path unknown toward the night

a starless, moonless road with howling wind and rain and I,

I writhe in pain.

I am

alone

again.

I wrote one other poem about our relationship, though I will not post it here.  It was titled “You Were There” and spoke of the depth of our friendship and its positive effect on my life.

A few years later, I was divorced.  I lost nearly everything I had cared about and yet, I was free and glad of it.  In my selfish anger, I made a statement to a friend “I just feel so stupid, so cheated for hanging onto my integrity and being true to that excuse of a marriage.”  I thought about my former friend.  At our last meeting, I found out that his marriage was shaky as well, though I did not have the courage to tell him that mine was ending. 

The friend with whom I was speaking replied “Never feel bad about doing right.”  I wasn’t really sure that it was right then.  My reasoning was “We will both end up alone, without each other, without our ministries or our families.”

In time God rinsed my emotions and mind with healing and brought a wonderful man into my life with whom I will soon celebrate 30 years of marriage.  He’s a good man –oh yes he’s as human as I am, but a good match for sure.  A few years after our marriage, I wrote another poem, answering in a sense, my ongoing personal conflict.

I stood alone in the storm

I found a hand, it was warm

We held on tight

thru the blustery night

We laughed and cried for a season

And found the storm was our reason

Alone again, I was shaken

Unsure of a hand I had taken

Tightly we grasp

Thru the storm. When it passed

In it’s wake the heart remained warm

For we were the reason for the storm.

Life became busy and full.  My love for my husband and our life became my focus.  Only when I would see one of the poems did I think about him and feel a bit of sadness.  Not because of desire, but because of uncertainty and abandoned friendship. 

A few years ago I was going through a particularly rough time of life.  Nothing was working right and, again, I thought of my friend.  I wondered if he was alone, if he missed me, if there were still answers within our abandoned friendship.  I went online to try to find him and I did.  But he was far away and the information was sketchy at best.  He was still preaching –some, but he had another job.  I could find no mention of his wife and sons and it made me sad.  But I left all that where I found it and sanity eventually leaked back into my own world.  More years passed, but I’ve always thought of him and wondered about his life.  The sadness I felt at thinking about him was like a heavy chain on my heart though I love my husband dearly. 

Recently the pain of another person brought him back into my focus and so I went looking again.  I found him easily this time.  I believe that was meant to be.  He’s still married to his first wife and they look very happy –more so than I ever remember them being.  He’s surrounded by family and work.  He has a good and respected position within the ministry he has continued to serve all these years.

It is amazing the freedom and the happiness I feel at knowing his life is secure, his marriage endured and his ministry was blessed.  My heart, for the first time, knew we did the right thing all those years ago.  I am released.