As promised, I'm giving you the run-down on the books I've been loving as of late. Now, I'm definitely not a skilled reviewer, but I thought I'd just share some books that I love and (maybe) let you know that you should check them out too.
So here they are!
Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
I've written on this book before, but it definitely deserves inclusion in any list of my favorite books. Donald Miller does an amazing job of discussing his own spiritual journey and of introducing us to fellow spiritual travelers. It is a great way of seeing how God works in the least expected places--very personal, insightful, and funny. I like funny. Also check out To Own a Dragon: Reflections on Growing up without a Father and Searching for God Knows What. To Own a Dragon is a very honect reflection on Miller's own troubles with understanding faith in a Heavenly Father given the absence of his earthly father. In Searching for God Knows What Miller discusses the relational nature of Christianity in a way that is challenging and helpful.
Finding God at Harvard: Spiritual Journeys of Thinking Christians
There is so much good to say about this book. It is a series of essays by various people (many of whom you'll know) who either became or remained Christians while at Harvard. The authors come from a variety of fields--science, law, philosophy--yet they all share a common belief in Christ. It's just an amazing collection, and I've found essays from this book to answer any number of questions I've had about faith and the relation of faith to the world.
Girl Meets God
Yet another one that I've written on previously. But it is awesome. I read this at a time when I didn't really know that Christians could be so smart and witty and spiritual. All at the same time. Lauren Winner does a great job with this look at her own spiritual journey, giving us access to her struggles and triumphs. If you want another good read by Winner, check out Real Sex: The Naked Truth about Chastity. If you at this second are thinking, "A book about chastity? You do realize it's 2008, right?" Well, Winner is bright, honest and just plain real enough to make the topic readable and compelling. Check it out!
Basic Christianity
Beautifully written, carefully detailed explanation of the faith. I love this little book, and I was amazed at how it always seemed to have something to say to me. Even if you've been a Christian or a church-goer forever, I think there's something in this work of John Stott that will make you think or help you with your belief. Excellent.
The Case for Faith
Lee Strobel, journalist and former atheist, interviews a variety of experts to gain a greater understanding of the major objections to Christianity and the Christian answers to those objections. I'm not yet through with this book, but what I've read so far has been thoughtful and well argued. He has another book, The Case for Christ, that I definitely plan on reading.
Well, that's my little list. I recommend them all. Give them a try. Oh, I also really like the Bible. That's a good one too. :)
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Some Recommendations
Today I was talking to a friend about Christian music. When I was very young, I mainly listened to Christian music, but as I got older, I listened to anything but Christian music. It just wasn't cool. Christian music always seemed to be several steps behind whatever was going on in music, and, as the rest of the world (including me) was sporting flannel shirts and chunky shoes, contemporary Christian music seemed perpetually clothed in a Jazzercise costume from the 80's.
I'm not judging. I'm just saying that you can't have that much synthesizer on a track unless you're expecting your listeners to start sweatin' to the oldies.
Now, my opinion of contemporary Christian music might have been swayed by the fact that I listened to very little of it, but whenever I bring up Christian music, I see that I'm not the only one to hold a negative opinion of it. The idea that Christian music equals bad music is pretty prevalent.
However, over the last year or so, I started listening to Christian music. Really, it started because I wanted something to lift my spirits, and my friend Brooke (my only friend who actually likes Christian music) had once told me that it's impossible to be in a bad mood while listening to Christian music. Apparently, it cured her road rage. So I gave it a try.
And, you know what? It turned out that there is really some good stuff out there. I even found out that I like some of the stuff that I would have considered too cheesy. Even that stuff made me feel really happy. So, here are some recommendations of good Christian music.
Phil Wickham: He's very young, but his lyrics are really insightful and filled with praise and poetry. "Divine Romance" is one of my absolute favorite songs. It's one of the songs that gave me hope for Christian music.
Leeland: I don't know much about them, but they're great. "Brighter Days" and "Beautiful Lord" are two of my favorites.
Jon Foreman: Just please, please check him out. His work is just beautiful. I love it.
Future of Forestry: I just learned about them. Very good!
I'd also recommend Sara Groves, Jars of Clay, Downhere, Red Mountain Church, Matt Redman, Chris Rice, FFH, and Third Day.
Seriously, I never, ever thought I'd like any Christian music, but this stuff is just good music. So, give it try!
Coming soon: Recommendations of awesome books that you should get and immediately read. And then discuss with friends over a giant plate of cookies. Or salad. But, if you're reading the Bible, remember that you have to eat chocolate. As we learned in Blue Like Jazz, the Bible is a chocolate thing. And if you didn't know that, then you have to start with Blue Like Jazz because that's way up there on the list of books I will recommend!
I'm not judging. I'm just saying that you can't have that much synthesizer on a track unless you're expecting your listeners to start sweatin' to the oldies.
Now, my opinion of contemporary Christian music might have been swayed by the fact that I listened to very little of it, but whenever I bring up Christian music, I see that I'm not the only one to hold a negative opinion of it. The idea that Christian music equals bad music is pretty prevalent.
However, over the last year or so, I started listening to Christian music. Really, it started because I wanted something to lift my spirits, and my friend Brooke (my only friend who actually likes Christian music) had once told me that it's impossible to be in a bad mood while listening to Christian music. Apparently, it cured her road rage. So I gave it a try.
And, you know what? It turned out that there is really some good stuff out there. I even found out that I like some of the stuff that I would have considered too cheesy. Even that stuff made me feel really happy. So, here are some recommendations of good Christian music.
Phil Wickham: He's very young, but his lyrics are really insightful and filled with praise and poetry. "Divine Romance" is one of my absolute favorite songs. It's one of the songs that gave me hope for Christian music.
Leeland: I don't know much about them, but they're great. "Brighter Days" and "Beautiful Lord" are two of my favorites.
Jon Foreman: Just please, please check him out. His work is just beautiful. I love it.
Future of Forestry: I just learned about them. Very good!
I'd also recommend Sara Groves, Jars of Clay, Downhere, Red Mountain Church, Matt Redman, Chris Rice, FFH, and Third Day.
Seriously, I never, ever thought I'd like any Christian music, but this stuff is just good music. So, give it try!
Coming soon: Recommendations of awesome books that you should get and immediately read. And then discuss with friends over a giant plate of cookies. Or salad. But, if you're reading the Bible, remember that you have to eat chocolate. As we learned in Blue Like Jazz, the Bible is a chocolate thing. And if you didn't know that, then you have to start with Blue Like Jazz because that's way up there on the list of books I will recommend!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Thoughts on an Old ID Picture
Last night, propelled by some odd sense of urgency and an unusual spurt of energy, I began to rummage through old boxes, cleaning out things I don't need, use, or want anymore. Of course, there were some old papers I'd written for classes, student evaluations, and half-used notebooks. I also found a cache of souvenirs--postcards, pictures, small remembrances of trips taken not so long ago.
I also found an old driver license. In it, I'm wearing a plum-colored turtleneck sweater; my hair is styled not unlike it is today; and I have on a pretty shade of lipstick. It's a nice picture. A pretty picture. I remember thinking just that when I had to get that license renewed, and I remember being glad that I'd taken a nice picture because usually those pictures turn out looking so bad.
But, when I looked at that picture last night, all I noticed was how very sad I looked. It is a pretty picture, but I just look so sad and scared, and all the sadness is right there in my eyes. Even I, opposed to excessive displays of affection as I am, had this urge to climb inside of that picture and hug the girl in it, to let her know that she doesn't deserve the sadness she's dealing with or the hurt she's feeling. I can't remember exactly when the picture was taken, but I know that I was very sad back then, and I know that that girl wouldn't have believed anything I'd tell her.
I'd rather not talk about what brought on the sadness. It's a long story, and it would take an entire book to discuss. Quite frankly, I've thought of writing that book. Don't be surprised if I do someday, though I can't imagine where Barnes and Noble would shelve it. Romance, Horror, Psychology, Fantasy, Self Help? Any of those would work. I sometimes feel like I lived all of those, and maybe that's why those eyes looked so sad.
What is amazing to me is that now, even on my saddest days (of which there aren't too many), there isn't that depth of sadness in my eyes. However, I have been that person. I was that person for quite a long while, and, though I no longer carry that weight of sadness, there is a part of me that still remembers what it is like to feel burdened by sadness, to carry it around for so long that the weight of it begins to feel normal, as if everyone must strugle constantly under the heavy burden of such sadness.
I suppose that I could feel angry about that time in my life. Anger would certainly be justified. And yet, I don't know that it would get me anywhere. I'd be trading the weight of sadness for the weight of anger. And, though my anger would be pointed toward someone else, it would still be my weight to carry, my burden to bear. I would feel no more free, no happier than with a yoke of sadness around my neck.
Could it be possible for me, instead, to find joy in that time of suffering? Not just joy in the fact that it's over, but true joy in the fact that I went through it? Could it, somehow, be possible to find the good in that time of life, to locate some small bit of goodness in all of that suffering?
The other day I was reading a book which I've been really lazy about reading. Lazy as in I hadn't gotten around to it even though I've had it for months. It's called The Case for Faith, and, in it the author, Lee Strobel, has a conversation with a scholar, Peter Kreeft, about faith and suffering and God. Kreeft says,
"Pain and suffering are frequently the the means by which we become motivated to finally surrender to God and to seek the cure of Christ. That's what we need most desperately. That's what will bring us the supreme joy of knowing Jesus."
Kreeft then goes on to have an exchange with Strobel, and in their exchange, Kreeft explains his previous statement more fully. Kreeft says,
"The practical conclusion is that, if we want to be with God, we have to be with suffering, we have to not avoid the cross, either in thought or in fact. We must go where he is and the cross is one of the places he is. And when he sends us sunrises, we thank him for the sunrises; when he sends us sunsets and deaths and sufferings and crosses, we thank him for that...
In heaven, we will do exactly that. We will say to God, 'Thank you so much for this little pain I didn't understand at the time, and that little pain I didn't understand at the time; these I now see were the most precious things in my life.'"
I don't always feel like I can say that just now, that I can always rejoice in those times I suffered, even the sufferings of years ago. And yet, I feel as if I've been able to see the small ways those pains and sufferings have moved me closer to Christ, closer to a faith that longs for the cross, closer to being the person who can, because of my own experiences, understand the pains of others, weep for the suffering of others, pray for the healing of others.
And though the girl in that picture shows such signs of pain and sadness, I know that even she found redemption, even she found the love of Christ and the hope for a new life in Him. And, to be truthful, she even has found some happiness in the least expected places.
I also found an old driver license. In it, I'm wearing a plum-colored turtleneck sweater; my hair is styled not unlike it is today; and I have on a pretty shade of lipstick. It's a nice picture. A pretty picture. I remember thinking just that when I had to get that license renewed, and I remember being glad that I'd taken a nice picture because usually those pictures turn out looking so bad.
But, when I looked at that picture last night, all I noticed was how very sad I looked. It is a pretty picture, but I just look so sad and scared, and all the sadness is right there in my eyes. Even I, opposed to excessive displays of affection as I am, had this urge to climb inside of that picture and hug the girl in it, to let her know that she doesn't deserve the sadness she's dealing with or the hurt she's feeling. I can't remember exactly when the picture was taken, but I know that I was very sad back then, and I know that that girl wouldn't have believed anything I'd tell her.
I'd rather not talk about what brought on the sadness. It's a long story, and it would take an entire book to discuss. Quite frankly, I've thought of writing that book. Don't be surprised if I do someday, though I can't imagine where Barnes and Noble would shelve it. Romance, Horror, Psychology, Fantasy, Self Help? Any of those would work. I sometimes feel like I lived all of those, and maybe that's why those eyes looked so sad.
What is amazing to me is that now, even on my saddest days (of which there aren't too many), there isn't that depth of sadness in my eyes. However, I have been that person. I was that person for quite a long while, and, though I no longer carry that weight of sadness, there is a part of me that still remembers what it is like to feel burdened by sadness, to carry it around for so long that the weight of it begins to feel normal, as if everyone must strugle constantly under the heavy burden of such sadness.
I suppose that I could feel angry about that time in my life. Anger would certainly be justified. And yet, I don't know that it would get me anywhere. I'd be trading the weight of sadness for the weight of anger. And, though my anger would be pointed toward someone else, it would still be my weight to carry, my burden to bear. I would feel no more free, no happier than with a yoke of sadness around my neck.
Could it be possible for me, instead, to find joy in that time of suffering? Not just joy in the fact that it's over, but true joy in the fact that I went through it? Could it, somehow, be possible to find the good in that time of life, to locate some small bit of goodness in all of that suffering?
The other day I was reading a book which I've been really lazy about reading. Lazy as in I hadn't gotten around to it even though I've had it for months. It's called The Case for Faith, and, in it the author, Lee Strobel, has a conversation with a scholar, Peter Kreeft, about faith and suffering and God. Kreeft says,
"Pain and suffering are frequently the the means by which we become motivated to finally surrender to God and to seek the cure of Christ. That's what we need most desperately. That's what will bring us the supreme joy of knowing Jesus."
Kreeft then goes on to have an exchange with Strobel, and in their exchange, Kreeft explains his previous statement more fully. Kreeft says,
"The practical conclusion is that, if we want to be with God, we have to be with suffering, we have to not avoid the cross, either in thought or in fact. We must go where he is and the cross is one of the places he is. And when he sends us sunrises, we thank him for the sunrises; when he sends us sunsets and deaths and sufferings and crosses, we thank him for that...
In heaven, we will do exactly that. We will say to God, 'Thank you so much for this little pain I didn't understand at the time, and that little pain I didn't understand at the time; these I now see were the most precious things in my life.'"
I don't always feel like I can say that just now, that I can always rejoice in those times I suffered, even the sufferings of years ago. And yet, I feel as if I've been able to see the small ways those pains and sufferings have moved me closer to Christ, closer to a faith that longs for the cross, closer to being the person who can, because of my own experiences, understand the pains of others, weep for the suffering of others, pray for the healing of others.
And though the girl in that picture shows such signs of pain and sadness, I know that even she found redemption, even she found the love of Christ and the hope for a new life in Him. And, to be truthful, she even has found some happiness in the least expected places.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The Simple Life
Since I got my new computer, I've had to wrestle with my addictive nature. I've already confessed my photo-taking compulsion, but I have not yet addressed my iTunes addiction. Seriously, people. It's bad.
Or at least it was for a little while. As of late, I'm not shopping up a storm on iTunes, but it is pretty tough knowing that I'm just a few clicks away from owning virtually any song I can think of. Imagine that. A music store right here on my desk. It's a temptation.
While I was in the midst of my music-buying fervor, I purchased some old stuff. Old church stuff, to be exact. Even I cringe a little bit thinking about those purchases. I'm not sure what made me do it, but I suddenly found myself buying a few songs by The Imperials. Now, for those who aren't in the know, The Imperials were a contemporary Christian group back in the day. The music is a little (okay, a lot) dated by now, but their harmonies are still amazing to hear. They really had a lot of talent.
The song I remembered most was "Eagle Song." And, as I listened to it--remembering hearing it when I was just a little girl at my Nana's house on 29th Street--I kept thinking over one line. "Simplicity of God somehow escapes man." It's in a section of the song where the lyrics are reflecting on our need to constantly question, to not be content with explanations that necessitate faith.
I know that's something that is very hard for me. I constantly question. I'm never content with an easy answer, and I usually feel like the solution to so many things must be complex or must come about by exhausting many possibilities.
But, there is this part of me that lately has come to see a simplicity to life, a simplicity of faith, of belief. I want questions of faith, questions of God even, to be so difficult to answer, and yet, the more I think about those things, the simpler they become. As if learning more about faith, more about God, makes them more a part of me, more a part of who I am. And, as I am grafted into a deeper understanding of my faith, of my God, understanding becomes quite simple because having faith and knowing God are simply part of who I am.
So, that's what I've thought about lately. It's just simple stuff, really.
Love,
Sara
Or at least it was for a little while. As of late, I'm not shopping up a storm on iTunes, but it is pretty tough knowing that I'm just a few clicks away from owning virtually any song I can think of. Imagine that. A music store right here on my desk. It's a temptation.
While I was in the midst of my music-buying fervor, I purchased some old stuff. Old church stuff, to be exact. Even I cringe a little bit thinking about those purchases. I'm not sure what made me do it, but I suddenly found myself buying a few songs by The Imperials. Now, for those who aren't in the know, The Imperials were a contemporary Christian group back in the day. The music is a little (okay, a lot) dated by now, but their harmonies are still amazing to hear. They really had a lot of talent.
The song I remembered most was "Eagle Song." And, as I listened to it--remembering hearing it when I was just a little girl at my Nana's house on 29th Street--I kept thinking over one line. "Simplicity of God somehow escapes man." It's in a section of the song where the lyrics are reflecting on our need to constantly question, to not be content with explanations that necessitate faith.
I know that's something that is very hard for me. I constantly question. I'm never content with an easy answer, and I usually feel like the solution to so many things must be complex or must come about by exhausting many possibilities.
But, there is this part of me that lately has come to see a simplicity to life, a simplicity of faith, of belief. I want questions of faith, questions of God even, to be so difficult to answer, and yet, the more I think about those things, the simpler they become. As if learning more about faith, more about God, makes them more a part of me, more a part of who I am. And, as I am grafted into a deeper understanding of my faith, of my God, understanding becomes quite simple because having faith and knowing God are simply part of who I am.
So, that's what I've thought about lately. It's just simple stuff, really.
Love,
Sara
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The Greta
This is Greta. Normally, she's very camera shy, but for some reason, as I was trying to capture a picture of my oh so spacious kitchen, Greta decided to get in on the action. It was pretty funny to watch. So perfectly timed.
I've actually thought about posting something on Greta for a while. A few months ago, Greta had a seizure. It was really scary for me because over the past six years Greta has become such a part of my life. And, truthfully, I think I've become a better person for having Greta in my life.
That probably sounds a little weird, but I think it's true. Sometimes I think God put Greta in my life to teach me kindness, empathy, a whole lot of other things. Maybe even to teach me a little about love. Whatever the case, I'm glad He put her in my life. She's a great dog. And now you can all see how very cute she is too. :)
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
The Picture-Taking Addiction Continues...
You might be wondering why this girl looks so happy. There are plenty of reasons. And I don't really think the reason matters so long as I'm happy, right? ;)
I will let you all in on a secret. I invented a new cookie the other day. It's delicious. Like ridiculously delicious. It's smiling-as-big-as-I-am-in-that-picture delicious! Maybe I'll have to take some pictures of those cookies and post them here!
I hope you all had a great day!
Love,
Sara
On Kindness
Friday at the end of our Bible Study, we got to hear a beautifully sung version of Psalm 121. I know that the Psalms are, obviously, songs, but, because I've always read them, not sung them, I usually think of them as pure poetry, without any music.
And yet, our lesson that day touched on the ways that music speaks to our souls. In fact, the question was asked if it was possible that music is the language that speaks most clearly to our spirits, if our spirits somehow understand music at a greater depth than any other form of communication. I'm inclined to think that this might be true, as I think of all those songs that speak to me more deeply than spoken words can.
I know that when I've heard the words of Psalms woven into music, I feel those words more than when I just read them. One woman in our group really loved the version of Psalm 121 that we heard in Bible Study, and she wanted to know where to find similar music. I overheard her asking someone about it, so I told her that I have some similar music and would be happy to bring her a CD next week.
It's not a big deal. It's really easy for me to do, and I even had fun doing it that night, in part because it gave me something fun to do while I was sick.
But, when I told her I could make her a CD, she was overjoyed. I couldn't believe how happy such a simple gesture made her. You know, it's wonderful to see people happy when they're shown kindnesses, but it also makes me wonder why we are so surprised when people extend kindness to us. I do the same thing though. I'm equally surprised and happy to have someone be kind to me.
Perhaps that's because kindness seems rare sometimes. And perhaps that's because, though I know that being kind should come naturally to me, it sometimes doesn't. Sometimes it can be very hard. With some people, it can be very difficult to be kind. Sometimes, it even feels a little better to be unkind to certain people.
But, if I allow myself to see how difficult it is to be kind in a certain situation, I might avoid it altogether. And the more I avoid the difficult situations, the less attuned I am to seeing acts of kindness as a natural part of my life.
I guess we realize the simplicity of genuine kindness by practicing it in even the difficult times. Perhaps in practicing kindness, the language of our spirits becomes evident to others. As music speaks to the depths of our own souls, perhaps our kindnesses will speak to the souls of those around us.
One of my favorite songs talks about this. And, yes, that song made it onto the CD. It's called "Kingdom Comes," and it's by Sara Groves. Forgive me for giving you all the lyrics, but they're all so good that I just couldn't cut anything out.
"Kingdom Comes"
When anger fills your heart
When in your pain and hurt
You find the strength to stop
You bless instead of curse
When doubting floods your soul
Though all things feel unjust
You open up your heart
You find a way to trust
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
When fear engulfs your mind
Says you protect your own
You still extend your hand
You open up your home
When sorrow fills your life
When in your grief and pain
You choose again to rise
You choose to bless the name
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
In the mundane tasks of living
In the pouring out and giving
In the waking up and trying
In the laying down and dying
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
If you made it this far in the post, I send all my love to you. If you didn't, I'll still send it to you.
Love, Sara
And yet, our lesson that day touched on the ways that music speaks to our souls. In fact, the question was asked if it was possible that music is the language that speaks most clearly to our spirits, if our spirits somehow understand music at a greater depth than any other form of communication. I'm inclined to think that this might be true, as I think of all those songs that speak to me more deeply than spoken words can.
I know that when I've heard the words of Psalms woven into music, I feel those words more than when I just read them. One woman in our group really loved the version of Psalm 121 that we heard in Bible Study, and she wanted to know where to find similar music. I overheard her asking someone about it, so I told her that I have some similar music and would be happy to bring her a CD next week.
It's not a big deal. It's really easy for me to do, and I even had fun doing it that night, in part because it gave me something fun to do while I was sick.
But, when I told her I could make her a CD, she was overjoyed. I couldn't believe how happy such a simple gesture made her. You know, it's wonderful to see people happy when they're shown kindnesses, but it also makes me wonder why we are so surprised when people extend kindness to us. I do the same thing though. I'm equally surprised and happy to have someone be kind to me.
Perhaps that's because kindness seems rare sometimes. And perhaps that's because, though I know that being kind should come naturally to me, it sometimes doesn't. Sometimes it can be very hard. With some people, it can be very difficult to be kind. Sometimes, it even feels a little better to be unkind to certain people.
But, if I allow myself to see how difficult it is to be kind in a certain situation, I might avoid it altogether. And the more I avoid the difficult situations, the less attuned I am to seeing acts of kindness as a natural part of my life.
I guess we realize the simplicity of genuine kindness by practicing it in even the difficult times. Perhaps in practicing kindness, the language of our spirits becomes evident to others. As music speaks to the depths of our own souls, perhaps our kindnesses will speak to the souls of those around us.
One of my favorite songs talks about this. And, yes, that song made it onto the CD. It's called "Kingdom Comes," and it's by Sara Groves. Forgive me for giving you all the lyrics, but they're all so good that I just couldn't cut anything out.
"Kingdom Comes"
When anger fills your heart
When in your pain and hurt
You find the strength to stop
You bless instead of curse
When doubting floods your soul
Though all things feel unjust
You open up your heart
You find a way to trust
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
When fear engulfs your mind
Says you protect your own
You still extend your hand
You open up your home
When sorrow fills your life
When in your grief and pain
You choose again to rise
You choose to bless the name
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
In the mundane tasks of living
In the pouring out and giving
In the waking up and trying
In the laying down and dying
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
If you made it this far in the post, I send all my love to you. If you didn't, I'll still send it to you.
Love, Sara
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Thoughts for Sunday
Sometimes I am amazed by the simple ways God lets us know that He really cares about us, that He really is there for us at all times, in the everyday things we usually take for granted.
Today was one of those days for me. There are many changes going on in my life. To be honest, I'm really excited about these changes. They're very positive changes, and I'm really happy about them. But they are, after all, changes. And, even with positive changes, there always comes the realization that things will be profoundly different. Changed.
And, there is a part of me (and I'm sure most all of us), that gets a little nervous about change.
So today I sat in church with some of these worries on my mind. There are usually a dozen things going on in my mind, so that's nothing new. But, I was just feeling a little out of sorts as I sat there. As we took communion, the organist started playing a song so slowly that I almost didn't recognize it. I'd only heard it once before in church. It was "Spirit of God, Descend Upon my Heart."
The first time I heard it, it spoke to me at a time when I was full of nervousness and sadness. I was feeling as if I should commit myself more deeply to my faith, and I was battling that feeling. The words of that hymn spoke to me about what a deep faith in God really means, what it truly means to follow Christ. I loved it immediately, though I knew I was being called to something that would change me deeply and permanently.
When I heard it today, I remembered that first and only other time I'd heard it in church. I remembered where I sat in church, how I felt, what I thought. And, then I thought how wonderful it was that I was hearing that same song today. Just a little bit ago, I was again thinking about the first time I heard that hymn. I remembered that the other hymn we sang that Sunday was "His Eye is on the Sparrow." I remembered that, though the first hymn had challenged me, this second hymn reminded me that God never calls us to something without also giving us the assurance that He will be there for us. And, anxious as I still felt, I knew that I could put my trust in Him.
So that's what I thought about today. I thought about how amazing it is that I heard this song again today, a reminder that God is concerned about me, does care about me, and is there in even the smallest parts of my life.
I used to always think of those things as coincidences. I would have thought that what I just wrote was really silly. I would have said, "There are plenty of important things for God to be concerned about. He's not really that concerned about the simple goings on of your life." But, back then I never looked for God. I never even thought to anticipate that God might really care about me, might really want me to have a sense of peace. I guess what has changed isn't God. What's changed is the way I see the world. I guess I'm beginning to finally appreciate that God cares very deeply for us, that there aren't as many coincidences as I originally thought. Quite honestly, I like that.
Today was one of those days for me. There are many changes going on in my life. To be honest, I'm really excited about these changes. They're very positive changes, and I'm really happy about them. But they are, after all, changes. And, even with positive changes, there always comes the realization that things will be profoundly different. Changed.
And, there is a part of me (and I'm sure most all of us), that gets a little nervous about change.
So today I sat in church with some of these worries on my mind. There are usually a dozen things going on in my mind, so that's nothing new. But, I was just feeling a little out of sorts as I sat there. As we took communion, the organist started playing a song so slowly that I almost didn't recognize it. I'd only heard it once before in church. It was "Spirit of God, Descend Upon my Heart."
The first time I heard it, it spoke to me at a time when I was full of nervousness and sadness. I was feeling as if I should commit myself more deeply to my faith, and I was battling that feeling. The words of that hymn spoke to me about what a deep faith in God really means, what it truly means to follow Christ. I loved it immediately, though I knew I was being called to something that would change me deeply and permanently.
When I heard it today, I remembered that first and only other time I'd heard it in church. I remembered where I sat in church, how I felt, what I thought. And, then I thought how wonderful it was that I was hearing that same song today. Just a little bit ago, I was again thinking about the first time I heard that hymn. I remembered that the other hymn we sang that Sunday was "His Eye is on the Sparrow." I remembered that, though the first hymn had challenged me, this second hymn reminded me that God never calls us to something without also giving us the assurance that He will be there for us. And, anxious as I still felt, I knew that I could put my trust in Him.
So that's what I thought about today. I thought about how amazing it is that I heard this song again today, a reminder that God is concerned about me, does care about me, and is there in even the smallest parts of my life.
I used to always think of those things as coincidences. I would have thought that what I just wrote was really silly. I would have said, "There are plenty of important things for God to be concerned about. He's not really that concerned about the simple goings on of your life." But, back then I never looked for God. I never even thought to anticipate that God might really care about me, might really want me to have a sense of peace. I guess what has changed isn't God. What's changed is the way I see the world. I guess I'm beginning to finally appreciate that God cares very deeply for us, that there aren't as many coincidences as I originally thought. Quite honestly, I like that.
Friday, April 04, 2008
O Love that will not let me go
I've started going to a Bible Study that meets on Friday afternoons. We're studying the Psalms of Ascent (Psalms 120 to 134), and it seems like it's going to be a wonderful time of experiencing the real joy (maybe even happiness) that comes from turning to God in times of trouble. I really love these Bible Studies because it's good to see how other people are affected by reading the same things, how the words speak to their hearts and not just my own.
One really daunting but exciting part of this study is that we're writing our own Psalms. That's right. I just said writing our own Psalms. Scary, right? Well, I have to admit that I was not one of the brave souls today who shared her writing. Perhaps in time, but not today. But, I have to say that, though I didn't share today, I was deeply blessed by hearing the women who shared their writing.
I am always so impressed by these women who, though they have followed God for so long, are still so eager to learn more of Him, to know Him more. And, when I heard their writing today, it made me think of how God speaks to us in different ways at different seasons in our lives. It's beautiful, really, but as we read Psalms 120 and 121 this week, each of us in some way identified with the psalmist and his fears. Each of us had different reasons to fear, and God had different words for each of us, spoke to us all in ways that directly addressed our fears.
And the women who read their Psalms today reminded me that, through all my changes, God will still be the same. He will still be the God who speaks to me in my distress, my fear, my worry. "My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth," today and for the rest of my life. Though I will change many times during my stay here on earth, God will not change.
I've been thinking of this everlasting love lately, and this hymn has been a great joy to me. I hope you love it too.
"O Love that will not let me go"
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
Just a note about this hymn. I've been listening to a really simple and beautiful version of the hymn sung by Chris Rice. The hymn was written by George Matheson. Of the hymn, Matheson wrote,
"My hymn was composed in the manse of Innelan [Argyleshire, Scotland] on the evening of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. Something happened to me, which was known only to myself, and which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering. It was the quickest bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the impression of having it dictated to me by some inward voice rather than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure that it never received at my hands any retouching or correction. I have no natural gift of rhythm. All the other verses I have ever written are manufactured articles; this came like a dayspring from on high" (from Cyberhymnal).
Can you imagine a more exquisite way to find God in the midst of suffering? Like a dayspring from on high. I love it.
One really daunting but exciting part of this study is that we're writing our own Psalms. That's right. I just said writing our own Psalms. Scary, right? Well, I have to admit that I was not one of the brave souls today who shared her writing. Perhaps in time, but not today. But, I have to say that, though I didn't share today, I was deeply blessed by hearing the women who shared their writing.
I am always so impressed by these women who, though they have followed God for so long, are still so eager to learn more of Him, to know Him more. And, when I heard their writing today, it made me think of how God speaks to us in different ways at different seasons in our lives. It's beautiful, really, but as we read Psalms 120 and 121 this week, each of us in some way identified with the psalmist and his fears. Each of us had different reasons to fear, and God had different words for each of us, spoke to us all in ways that directly addressed our fears.
And the women who read their Psalms today reminded me that, through all my changes, God will still be the same. He will still be the God who speaks to me in my distress, my fear, my worry. "My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth," today and for the rest of my life. Though I will change many times during my stay here on earth, God will not change.
I've been thinking of this everlasting love lately, and this hymn has been a great joy to me. I hope you love it too.
"O Love that will not let me go"
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
Just a note about this hymn. I've been listening to a really simple and beautiful version of the hymn sung by Chris Rice. The hymn was written by George Matheson. Of the hymn, Matheson wrote,
"My hymn was composed in the manse of Innelan [Argyleshire, Scotland] on the evening of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. Something happened to me, which was known only to myself, and which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering. It was the quickest bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the impression of having it dictated to me by some inward voice rather than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure that it never received at my hands any retouching or correction. I have no natural gift of rhythm. All the other verses I have ever written are manufactured articles; this came like a dayspring from on high" (from Cyberhymnal).
Can you imagine a more exquisite way to find God in the midst of suffering? Like a dayspring from on high. I love it.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Pictorial Proof of Needed Prayer
The new Mac might be creating a monster. And that monster might be me. You see, the new computer has a camera built right into it. It's like having a toy on my desk.
And that has been a little dangerous. Now, I've never been much of a picture taker, but this little camera is pretty fun. I'll show you some of the evidence.
This is me this evening:
I also decided to look like I was deep in thought about something:
Perhaps I was deep in thought about how much I need a manicure. Look at those nails! :) But, then I thought I'd try for "sitting at my desk, so happy I could burst":
This afternoon, I even tried to get Greta in on the act:
But she wasn't having it, so I tried for happy, upbeat photo of me again:
Do you see what I mean? I'm turning into a photo monster. This is surely what happens when an only child's dream comes true--constant access to a camera that was designed to take pictures of just one person. Pray for me, people. This can't be good!
;)
Sara
And that has been a little dangerous. Now, I've never been much of a picture taker, but this little camera is pretty fun. I'll show you some of the evidence.
This is me this evening:
I also decided to look like I was deep in thought about something:
Perhaps I was deep in thought about how much I need a manicure. Look at those nails! :) But, then I thought I'd try for "sitting at my desk, so happy I could burst":
This afternoon, I even tried to get Greta in on the act:
But she wasn't having it, so I tried for happy, upbeat photo of me again:
Do you see what I mean? I'm turning into a photo monster. This is surely what happens when an only child's dream comes true--constant access to a camera that was designed to take pictures of just one person. Pray for me, people. This can't be good!
;)
Sara
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Running through the Rain
I went for a run yesterday. The first time it's been warm enough for me to get out and run, though the weather was still not so good. It was gray out and sprinkling as I set out on the run. The sprinkling turned to harder rain, but I kept running.
I had my new iPod filled with songs, and good ones kept coming on. While I was out, the play list included songs about God's redemption, grace, and love. Somehow, out there in the rain, running down the street, I just felt so close to God. Out of shape as I was, I felt this desire to keep running, felt this ability to keep running. And it felt good.
You know, it's so easy to see God on a beautiful day, to imagine how He made the sky so beautiful and blue. But isn't it good to know that on those gray and rainy days, we can find Him too?
I had my new iPod filled with songs, and good ones kept coming on. While I was out, the play list included songs about God's redemption, grace, and love. Somehow, out there in the rain, running down the street, I just felt so close to God. Out of shape as I was, I felt this desire to keep running, felt this ability to keep running. And it felt good.
You know, it's so easy to see God on a beautiful day, to imagine how He made the sky so beautiful and blue. But isn't it good to know that on those gray and rainy days, we can find Him too?
Monday, March 31, 2008
On Crosses and Love
In my bedroom, there is a cross that hangs above the door, and I can see it from my bed. There are times when I see that cross and feel some sort of tugging on my heart, some sort of feeling that draws my heart closer to that cross and closer to what that cross represents. I know that perhaps that sounds a bit overly sentimental, and I admit I'm pretty guilty of being overly sentimental a times.
And yet, that's not what's going on when this happens. It is as if I, once again, am drawn to that which was written on my heart and soul, this knowledge of the saving grace of Christ's death on the cross. It's as if I, once again, feel in my own heart some small portion of the love of Christ.
And it is His love, so perfect and unending, which lets me know that, no matter how difficult my own cross is to bear, I will never bear it alone; I will always have some help in bearing the burden, shouldering the weight. It is His love which gives me the faith to love Him, to allow myself to believe that God loves me, to allow myself to accept His love.
The other day I was reading a book, Basic Christianity, which I've been slowly working through for some months now. I came across a passage that really spoke to my heart, really reminded me of why I became a Christian. Here it is:
"Only a sight of the cross will make us willing to deny ourselves and follow Christ. Our little crosses are eclipsed by his. If we once catch a glimpse of the greatness of his love to suffer such shame and pain for us who deserved nothing but judgment, only one course of action will seem to be left. How can we deny or reject such a lover?
If, then, you suffer from moral anaemia, take my advice and steer clear of Christianity. If you want to live a life of easy-going self-indulgence, whatever you do, do not become a Christian. But if you want a life of self-discovery, deeply satisfying to the nature God has given you; if you want a life of adventure in which you have the privilege of serving him and your fellow men; if you want a life in which to express something of the overwhelming gratitude you are beginning to feel for him who died for you, then I would urge you to yield your life, without reserve and without delay, to you Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ" (119).
I read it and, again, I just felt that tugging on my heart, that feeling of my heart welling up inside my chest. Perhaps I am overly sentimental. And yet, I don't believe that's all there is to it. I believe that feeling in my heart is the knowledge that some great truth is being revealed, and that truth is the saving grace of Christ.
And yet, that's not what's going on when this happens. It is as if I, once again, am drawn to that which was written on my heart and soul, this knowledge of the saving grace of Christ's death on the cross. It's as if I, once again, feel in my own heart some small portion of the love of Christ.
And it is His love, so perfect and unending, which lets me know that, no matter how difficult my own cross is to bear, I will never bear it alone; I will always have some help in bearing the burden, shouldering the weight. It is His love which gives me the faith to love Him, to allow myself to believe that God loves me, to allow myself to accept His love.
The other day I was reading a book, Basic Christianity, which I've been slowly working through for some months now. I came across a passage that really spoke to my heart, really reminded me of why I became a Christian. Here it is:
"Only a sight of the cross will make us willing to deny ourselves and follow Christ. Our little crosses are eclipsed by his. If we once catch a glimpse of the greatness of his love to suffer such shame and pain for us who deserved nothing but judgment, only one course of action will seem to be left. How can we deny or reject such a lover?
If, then, you suffer from moral anaemia, take my advice and steer clear of Christianity. If you want to live a life of easy-going self-indulgence, whatever you do, do not become a Christian. But if you want a life of self-discovery, deeply satisfying to the nature God has given you; if you want a life of adventure in which you have the privilege of serving him and your fellow men; if you want a life in which to express something of the overwhelming gratitude you are beginning to feel for him who died for you, then I would urge you to yield your life, without reserve and without delay, to you Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ" (119).
I read it and, again, I just felt that tugging on my heart, that feeling of my heart welling up inside my chest. Perhaps I am overly sentimental. And yet, I don't believe that's all there is to it. I believe that feeling in my heart is the knowledge that some great truth is being revealed, and that truth is the saving grace of Christ.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
What is God?
While I was home over break, I got to spend some time with my friend Katy, her husband Joe, and their baby John. I think John is one of the cutest babies I've ever known, though I might be a bit biased because he really likes me, and isn't it really easy to have a good deal of fondness for someone who has a good deal of fondness for you?
Well, whatever the case, he is a cute little guy, and he's gotten to a stage where he's learning to use language. He's speaking words, putting together sentences, asking questions. It's such an exciting thing to see this small child learning to express himself, and it's fun to try to understand what he's saying in his own language and to see him learning the language of adults.
He's a really sweet child too, and, when his mom gives him his dinner he says, "Thank you mommy cooking." I think of how wonderful it must be to see your child expressing gratitude, beginning to understand how to verbalize his appreciation and love for the things you do. I know it made me feel good to know that, when I left, John began saying, "Need Sara." It's nice to know you are loved and missed.
Over the last few months, I've been giving a lot of thought to what it is to have a relationship with God, how one goes about doing that. For so long, I have thought of religion as a list of do's and dont's, with a big emphasis on the don't. But I never really thought about God in that list, save for the part where he sends you to hell for doing all the things on the "don't" part of the list.
In a way, my thoughts about religion had very little to do with God and very much to do with rules. And, the thing is, it was very difficult to think about having a relationship with God when I thought about God as a list of rules, when I thought of God solely as someone who was waiting to catch me slipping up so that He could punish me.
It's true that I believe in the rules and I believe in punishment. But, I kept thinking that there must be something more, there must be something to inspire a deep and transformative love in those who believe in Christ, that there must be a depth of love which would cause me to not even want to sin. I often pray that I can better understand love. In fact, I sometimes even pray that I will learn to love people and see people as God sees them.
I've said before that you have to be very careful about what you pray for because you often get it; unfortunately I haven't been practicing what I preach. And the result of those prayers has been catching up with me. This is a side effect of praying to a God who hears and answers our prayers. Lately, I have been growing in an understanding of love, of the kind of love that God must have for us, and I must admit that I don't think that as humans we will ever understand the depth of love that God has for us.
We often live our lives concentrating on the negative things we've done, said, thought. Those sins we've confessed a hundred times, those very sins that are now as far as the East is from the West, still haunt us and keep us from understanding the truth that Christ died for us while we were still sinners. Greater love hath no man, than that a man lay down his life for a friend. And that is the kind of love He has for us. I'm just not sure it's the kind of love we can fully comprehend.
And yet, when I look around, I see the things God uses to show us small glimpses of His love here on earth. He uses us in ways more beautiful than we can imagine. In the simplest exchanges of every day--in the baby's words to his mom, in the kindness of a nurse at the doctor's office, in the unexpected words of kindness that touch us so deeply that we feel them in our hearts and souls--God gives us opportunities to experience His love.
And, though we so often feel that God must be looking down on us in scorn, I think we must remember that God is love, that He loves us no matter our failings, that He loves me no more than the person sitting next to me on the bus. And I have to thing that the God who delights over us and rejoices over us with singing must surely be filled with love when He witnesses those small kindnesses we show one another.
Like one seeing His child grow in love for others, God must take great satisfaction and delight as we grow in love for Him and for our neighbor. And maybe by learning to look at ourselves and those around us as God does, we can begin to understand a love for which there is no end.
Well, whatever the case, he is a cute little guy, and he's gotten to a stage where he's learning to use language. He's speaking words, putting together sentences, asking questions. It's such an exciting thing to see this small child learning to express himself, and it's fun to try to understand what he's saying in his own language and to see him learning the language of adults.
He's a really sweet child too, and, when his mom gives him his dinner he says, "Thank you mommy cooking." I think of how wonderful it must be to see your child expressing gratitude, beginning to understand how to verbalize his appreciation and love for the things you do. I know it made me feel good to know that, when I left, John began saying, "Need Sara." It's nice to know you are loved and missed.
Over the last few months, I've been giving a lot of thought to what it is to have a relationship with God, how one goes about doing that. For so long, I have thought of religion as a list of do's and dont's, with a big emphasis on the don't. But I never really thought about God in that list, save for the part where he sends you to hell for doing all the things on the "don't" part of the list.
In a way, my thoughts about religion had very little to do with God and very much to do with rules. And, the thing is, it was very difficult to think about having a relationship with God when I thought about God as a list of rules, when I thought of God solely as someone who was waiting to catch me slipping up so that He could punish me.
It's true that I believe in the rules and I believe in punishment. But, I kept thinking that there must be something more, there must be something to inspire a deep and transformative love in those who believe in Christ, that there must be a depth of love which would cause me to not even want to sin. I often pray that I can better understand love. In fact, I sometimes even pray that I will learn to love people and see people as God sees them.
I've said before that you have to be very careful about what you pray for because you often get it; unfortunately I haven't been practicing what I preach. And the result of those prayers has been catching up with me. This is a side effect of praying to a God who hears and answers our prayers. Lately, I have been growing in an understanding of love, of the kind of love that God must have for us, and I must admit that I don't think that as humans we will ever understand the depth of love that God has for us.
We often live our lives concentrating on the negative things we've done, said, thought. Those sins we've confessed a hundred times, those very sins that are now as far as the East is from the West, still haunt us and keep us from understanding the truth that Christ died for us while we were still sinners. Greater love hath no man, than that a man lay down his life for a friend. And that is the kind of love He has for us. I'm just not sure it's the kind of love we can fully comprehend.
And yet, when I look around, I see the things God uses to show us small glimpses of His love here on earth. He uses us in ways more beautiful than we can imagine. In the simplest exchanges of every day--in the baby's words to his mom, in the kindness of a nurse at the doctor's office, in the unexpected words of kindness that touch us so deeply that we feel them in our hearts and souls--God gives us opportunities to experience His love.
And, though we so often feel that God must be looking down on us in scorn, I think we must remember that God is love, that He loves us no matter our failings, that He loves me no more than the person sitting next to me on the bus. And I have to thing that the God who delights over us and rejoices over us with singing must surely be filled with love when He witnesses those small kindnesses we show one another.
Like one seeing His child grow in love for others, God must take great satisfaction and delight as we grow in love for Him and for our neighbor. And maybe by learning to look at ourselves and those around us as God does, we can begin to understand a love for which there is no end.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Keeping It Real
I really don't like talking about the deep, personal stuff in my life. You know, I normally figure that people should keep that sort of stuff to themselves. If anyone really wanted to know those sorts of things about someone, they'd ask. And, well, who on earth thinks to ask the kind of questions that open up that sort of can of worms?
So, I'm brought back to the idea that people should keep those deep, personal thoughts to themselves. Except that sometimes it's good to let it out. Sometimes when someone tells you something about him or herself, you kind of identify with them a little bit more. Maybe you see that they're more like you than you had originally thought, or maybe you find out that those things that make them different from you are some of the best things about them. Or maybe you see that there's someone else who has the same struggles you have, and just knowing that makes you feel a little less alone.
Well, in the spirit of sharing, I think I'll give it a go and tell you all some personal stuff about me, one thing in particular.
I have a totally dysfunctional relationship in my life. That's right. A completely dysfunctional relationship. And it's been a part of my life for a very long time. You might be wondering who this relationship is with. Well, it's very close to me, this dysfunctional relationship. It lives right here in my house, and it's not Greta.
This relationship is with my bathroom scale. I'm being serious here. Very serious, in fact. A bad morning with this scale can cause my whole day to be rotten. I think about it often, concentrating on ways to make the scale love me just a little more.
And yet, our relationship is still bad. Still dysfunctional.
I was talking about weight with a friend tonight, specifically talking about how upset it makes me that I have gained weight recently. It's especially upsetting because I had worked very hard to get in shape, and now I feel as if I'm back where I started. Much worse, I feel like I look like I'm just back where I started. Annoying.
But, when I told my friend how troubling this was to me, he said, "But you're happier now."
I have to admit that I hadn't really thought of it like that. I mean, I've gained weight, and that doesn't exactly make me happy. Not at all, really. It makes me the opposite of happy.
But, I'm happier. He was right. It got me thinking about how we judge happiness, how we sometimes focus on one area of unhappiness and use that as a scale of our general state of being. It's easy to do that when that one area of unhappiness plays a big role in our lives. And, as I'm guessing you can see, the relationship with my scale plays no small part in my life. And yet, it is not my whole life. It is just one part.
However, I was feeling as if it was what defined my happiness and failing to see all the good in my life. Failing to acknowledge that, despite the annoying weight gain, I've been learning so much about faith and God and life that I can't help but be happier. Perhaps this failure to see the good is what happens when we put things before God, when we look to circumstances to define ourselves, rather than acknowledging the truth that we are defined through our relationship with the One who gave us life, the One who gave us the opportunity to experience happiness and the One who gives us the strength to meet the difficulties that we all must endure.
Perhaps my prayer should be that I remember where my happiness comes from. And, I guess it wouldn't hurt to say those prayers while I go out for a run. After all, the God of my life also gave me the ability to run, and it might be good to take advantage of that gift while I can.
So, I'm brought back to the idea that people should keep those deep, personal thoughts to themselves. Except that sometimes it's good to let it out. Sometimes when someone tells you something about him or herself, you kind of identify with them a little bit more. Maybe you see that they're more like you than you had originally thought, or maybe you find out that those things that make them different from you are some of the best things about them. Or maybe you see that there's someone else who has the same struggles you have, and just knowing that makes you feel a little less alone.
Well, in the spirit of sharing, I think I'll give it a go and tell you all some personal stuff about me, one thing in particular.
I have a totally dysfunctional relationship in my life. That's right. A completely dysfunctional relationship. And it's been a part of my life for a very long time. You might be wondering who this relationship is with. Well, it's very close to me, this dysfunctional relationship. It lives right here in my house, and it's not Greta.
This relationship is with my bathroom scale. I'm being serious here. Very serious, in fact. A bad morning with this scale can cause my whole day to be rotten. I think about it often, concentrating on ways to make the scale love me just a little more.
And yet, our relationship is still bad. Still dysfunctional.
I was talking about weight with a friend tonight, specifically talking about how upset it makes me that I have gained weight recently. It's especially upsetting because I had worked very hard to get in shape, and now I feel as if I'm back where I started. Much worse, I feel like I look like I'm just back where I started. Annoying.
But, when I told my friend how troubling this was to me, he said, "But you're happier now."
I have to admit that I hadn't really thought of it like that. I mean, I've gained weight, and that doesn't exactly make me happy. Not at all, really. It makes me the opposite of happy.
But, I'm happier. He was right. It got me thinking about how we judge happiness, how we sometimes focus on one area of unhappiness and use that as a scale of our general state of being. It's easy to do that when that one area of unhappiness plays a big role in our lives. And, as I'm guessing you can see, the relationship with my scale plays no small part in my life. And yet, it is not my whole life. It is just one part.
However, I was feeling as if it was what defined my happiness and failing to see all the good in my life. Failing to acknowledge that, despite the annoying weight gain, I've been learning so much about faith and God and life that I can't help but be happier. Perhaps this failure to see the good is what happens when we put things before God, when we look to circumstances to define ourselves, rather than acknowledging the truth that we are defined through our relationship with the One who gave us life, the One who gave us the opportunity to experience happiness and the One who gives us the strength to meet the difficulties that we all must endure.
Perhaps my prayer should be that I remember where my happiness comes from. And, I guess it wouldn't hurt to say those prayers while I go out for a run. After all, the God of my life also gave me the ability to run, and it might be good to take advantage of that gift while I can.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I Have Something to Confess
No, really. I must confess. I must confess that I have been covetous. It's been an ongoing thing. Every time I've seen someone with an Apple laptop, I have coveted that laptop.
I have been envious of the laptop owner and lustful of the laptop. I have sinned. Oh, how I have sinned.
However, I decided that rather than simply confess my sin and try to get over it, I'd just rush right into laptop ownership. That's right, folks. I am now the proud (oh, another sin) owner of a MacBook.
It's black. It's sleek. It's the cutest thing in my whole apartment, besides the hot pink iPod shuffle that came with it. And that shuffle is already charged and loaded up with tons of songs. Truly, I'm a total convert to the Apple. I love it.
And with this laptop, I plan on writing lots of blogs. I have plenty of ideas, and now I have something wonderful to write with!
Believe me, there's plenty of stuff I can tell you about my spring break. And I intend to. Here are just a few things I learned over the break:
1. You should be very careful when burning large amounts of paper.
2. Martin van Buren had funny hair.
3. Moo Tracks is delicious and is, quite possibly, a new favorite ice cream flavor for me.
Also, Easter was wonderful, and I'll write more about it. Okay, that's about all for now. I will be posting more. Promise!
Love,
Sara
I have been envious of the laptop owner and lustful of the laptop. I have sinned. Oh, how I have sinned.
However, I decided that rather than simply confess my sin and try to get over it, I'd just rush right into laptop ownership. That's right, folks. I am now the proud (oh, another sin) owner of a MacBook.
It's black. It's sleek. It's the cutest thing in my whole apartment, besides the hot pink iPod shuffle that came with it. And that shuffle is already charged and loaded up with tons of songs. Truly, I'm a total convert to the Apple. I love it.
And with this laptop, I plan on writing lots of blogs. I have plenty of ideas, and now I have something wonderful to write with!
Believe me, there's plenty of stuff I can tell you about my spring break. And I intend to. Here are just a few things I learned over the break:
1. You should be very careful when burning large amounts of paper.
2. Martin van Buren had funny hair.
3. Moo Tracks is delicious and is, quite possibly, a new favorite ice cream flavor for me.
Also, Easter was wonderful, and I'll write more about it. Okay, that's about all for now. I will be posting more. Promise!
Love,
Sara
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Goodbye, Computer
Oh my goodness!
My computer broke. Really, my computer has been lethargic and moody for some time now, and yesterday it decided to call it quits and just die. I should have seen it coming. There were all sorts of cries for help, but I didn't pay attention. I tried to make my computer heal itself, but it just couldn't.
So now my computer is on a truck to somewhere to be taken care of by the top computer specialists in the country. Someday, in two to four weeks, the computer will come back to me good as new-ish. And then we'll have good times again. Then my computer will be happy, just like when we first met, back when it was my shiny new computer.
I write this to say that my blogging might not be anywhere near regular, and for that I'm super sorry. I had tons of good ideas for new blogs. I even made up a little list of blog topics and was ready to write them and check them off as they were written. See? I was nearly, gasp, organized!!!
Oh well, someday the little lappy will come back to me, and then there will be plenty of blogs and plenty of work done.
Other than that, it's been a great Sunday. I'm even thinking about making some outrageous brownies for my students. I keep meaning to do something nice like that because they're all nice students, but I haven't done it yet. So, either I'll make some today or I'll wait until after the break, as some may be Lenting right now and unable to enjoy sugar or chocolate!
Okay, I hope you all have a great Sunday. Remember to rest!!!
Love!
Sara
My computer broke. Really, my computer has been lethargic and moody for some time now, and yesterday it decided to call it quits and just die. I should have seen it coming. There were all sorts of cries for help, but I didn't pay attention. I tried to make my computer heal itself, but it just couldn't.
So now my computer is on a truck to somewhere to be taken care of by the top computer specialists in the country. Someday, in two to four weeks, the computer will come back to me good as new-ish. And then we'll have good times again. Then my computer will be happy, just like when we first met, back when it was my shiny new computer.
I write this to say that my blogging might not be anywhere near regular, and for that I'm super sorry. I had tons of good ideas for new blogs. I even made up a little list of blog topics and was ready to write them and check them off as they were written. See? I was nearly, gasp, organized!!!
Oh well, someday the little lappy will come back to me, and then there will be plenty of blogs and plenty of work done.
Other than that, it's been a great Sunday. I'm even thinking about making some outrageous brownies for my students. I keep meaning to do something nice like that because they're all nice students, but I haven't done it yet. So, either I'll make some today or I'll wait until after the break, as some may be Lenting right now and unable to enjoy sugar or chocolate!
Okay, I hope you all have a great Sunday. Remember to rest!!!
Love!
Sara
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Confessing Again
Perhaps "confessing" is too strong a term for what I'm about to do here. Maybe I'm just making an observation about a habit of mine. And, maybe that habit of mine is a bad one. But, this habit of mine is not as bad as some other habits. It's much better than the habits some other people have, and it's even better than some other habits I have. In short, this habit isn't such a bad thing.
Well, now that I'm done justifying myself, I'll go ahead and talk about it. My habit is that I always look ahead and fail to see what's going on in the moment. Not so bad, right?
But, the thing is, I think it's a real problem. You see, I got to thinking about how many times I begin sentences with a phrase like, "As soon as I." Such as, "As soon as I feel more comfortable with my faith, I'll be more open about discussing it." Or, "As soon as I feel like a stronger Christian, I'll do more work at church or with some volunteer group."
Honestly, before I started volunteering at the pregnancy center, I had a lot of thoughts running around my head about how I needed to be more spiritual/religious/Jesusy/on fire. I thought I needed to know so many more things about, well, everything, and yet the women at the pregnancy center seemed to think that I would be a great fit there.
Seriously? Me? I kept thinking that until I knew all sorts of stuff or until I could be seen as a better example I just wasn't good enough to be the kind of person who could really reach people in the way that you need to reach people who come to a pregnancy center for help.
I wonder how many of us struggle with that same feeling. We feel that we must be whole and complete ourselves before we can help people in need. Or we feel that we must have it all together before we can reach out to others. After all, how can someone who doesn't have it all together really help anyone? I certainly don't understand how that person can be of any help.
The other day I was doing some reading for a Bible Study that I go to on Thursday nights. Part of the reading really spoke to me, and I wanted to share it with everyone. Here it is,
"The true reason you are on this earth may be different from what you once thought your purpose would be. The role you always thought you might fulfill may not be at all what God has actually asked you to do.
This doesn't mean that God doesn't still have certain roles, relationships, and opportunities ahead for you. It does mean that right where you are, God has a very specific purpose for you to fulfill."
How great is that? What I love about it is that it speaks to that need to always say, "As soon as I, " and it just lets you know that, no, right now God has a very specific purpose for you. It's true that God wants to see us grow, for us to seek Him, for us to try to discern His purpose for our lives. However, I don't think that He means for us to lose sight of how He can use us just as we are. I don't think He means for us to lose sight of all that is around us, of all the people who need to be helped and loved and listened to just because we are still waiting for our lives to completely change.
In fact, sometimes it is in reaching out, in seeking ways to help others, that our lives really do start to change, that God really begins to minister to those parts of us that are still hurting, still crushed, still in need of a loving God to bind them up. Sometimes it is in those times when we stop listening to our own protests and start listening to God that we finally see what we are meant to be doing, who we are meant to be. So now I'm trying to follow the example from Isaiah 6:8 and always remember to respond when I am called, despite my own worries and feelings of inadequacy. As it says,
"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'"
And perhaps, when I make that my focus, I'll stop saying, "As soon as I" and start saying, "As soon as He."
Well, now that I'm done justifying myself, I'll go ahead and talk about it. My habit is that I always look ahead and fail to see what's going on in the moment. Not so bad, right?
But, the thing is, I think it's a real problem. You see, I got to thinking about how many times I begin sentences with a phrase like, "As soon as I." Such as, "As soon as I feel more comfortable with my faith, I'll be more open about discussing it." Or, "As soon as I feel like a stronger Christian, I'll do more work at church or with some volunteer group."
Honestly, before I started volunteering at the pregnancy center, I had a lot of thoughts running around my head about how I needed to be more spiritual/religious/Jesusy/on fire. I thought I needed to know so many more things about, well, everything, and yet the women at the pregnancy center seemed to think that I would be a great fit there.
Seriously? Me? I kept thinking that until I knew all sorts of stuff or until I could be seen as a better example I just wasn't good enough to be the kind of person who could really reach people in the way that you need to reach people who come to a pregnancy center for help.
I wonder how many of us struggle with that same feeling. We feel that we must be whole and complete ourselves before we can help people in need. Or we feel that we must have it all together before we can reach out to others. After all, how can someone who doesn't have it all together really help anyone? I certainly don't understand how that person can be of any help.
The other day I was doing some reading for a Bible Study that I go to on Thursday nights. Part of the reading really spoke to me, and I wanted to share it with everyone. Here it is,
"The true reason you are on this earth may be different from what you once thought your purpose would be. The role you always thought you might fulfill may not be at all what God has actually asked you to do.
This doesn't mean that God doesn't still have certain roles, relationships, and opportunities ahead for you. It does mean that right where you are, God has a very specific purpose for you to fulfill."
How great is that? What I love about it is that it speaks to that need to always say, "As soon as I, " and it just lets you know that, no, right now God has a very specific purpose for you. It's true that God wants to see us grow, for us to seek Him, for us to try to discern His purpose for our lives. However, I don't think that He means for us to lose sight of how He can use us just as we are. I don't think He means for us to lose sight of all that is around us, of all the people who need to be helped and loved and listened to just because we are still waiting for our lives to completely change.
In fact, sometimes it is in reaching out, in seeking ways to help others, that our lives really do start to change, that God really begins to minister to those parts of us that are still hurting, still crushed, still in need of a loving God to bind them up. Sometimes it is in those times when we stop listening to our own protests and start listening to God that we finally see what we are meant to be doing, who we are meant to be. So now I'm trying to follow the example from Isaiah 6:8 and always remember to respond when I am called, despite my own worries and feelings of inadequacy. As it says,
"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'"
And perhaps, when I make that my focus, I'll stop saying, "As soon as I" and start saying, "As soon as He."
Monday, March 03, 2008
Oh the weather outside...
Oh my, was today quite a day! It started off as kind of a bleary, yucky day. The bleariness and yuckiness just continued. And, by that, I'm just talking about the weather. We had beautiful weather yesterday, but today we're back to cold, gray, snowy, rainy, and something they call a "wintry mix." Having lived here nearly three years, I can tell you that "wintry mix" is weatherman code for "stay inside and start making your Spring Break plans...think southern."
Seriously, folks, "wintry mix" is terrible!
But, anyways, I'm tough, and I can handle the "wintry mix." And, if "wintry mix" was all my day had in store, that would be okay by me. Unfortunately, there was more.
I got in a wreck.
That's right, people. I got in a wreck. Nobody is hurt or anything, so it's nothing major, nothing bad. But, I got in a wreck as I was driving with my boss in the passenger seat. Yes, you heard right. Can you imagine anything more embarrassing? You're driving along with your boss and then there's a wreck. I was a little mortified, to say the least.
Anyways, I would love to write something wonderful today, but I think I'll just be lazy instead. I also think I'll take this time to share something with you all, something I think you might enjoy, something that is very dear to my heart. It's a little video called...
"Baby Got Book" (C'mon, you know you're curious. Check it out!)
Seriously, folks, "wintry mix" is terrible!
But, anyways, I'm tough, and I can handle the "wintry mix." And, if "wintry mix" was all my day had in store, that would be okay by me. Unfortunately, there was more.
I got in a wreck.
That's right, people. I got in a wreck. Nobody is hurt or anything, so it's nothing major, nothing bad. But, I got in a wreck as I was driving with my boss in the passenger seat. Yes, you heard right. Can you imagine anything more embarrassing? You're driving along with your boss and then there's a wreck. I was a little mortified, to say the least.
Anyways, I would love to write something wonderful today, but I think I'll just be lazy instead. I also think I'll take this time to share something with you all, something I think you might enjoy, something that is very dear to my heart. It's a little video called...
"Baby Got Book" (C'mon, you know you're curious. Check it out!)
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Rest
This morning, I heard birds chirping outside of my window. I know that might sound like an idyllic way to wake up in the morning, light streaming through the window and little birds singing outside, but it's not. It was awful. There must have been nearly 500 of those little birds chirping right outside my window, all while I wanted to sleep just a little while longer, just as I wanted a little more rest. And it seemed as if they were birds of all different types, just chirping at each other, each one trying to outdo the other. And all of this as I tried to sneak in just a little more sleep.
For whatever reason, I find lack of sleep to be one of the roughest things to deal with. I mean, apart from real tragedies or serious illnesses. It's just hard to face the day when you haven't had the real, deep rest that you needed. You feel more irritable, less alive, more like you're just going through the motions.
I thought about that today in church, as I tried to keep myself awake. To be fair, I tried to keep myself awake the rest of the day too, so it wasn't church that made me sleepy. I was just sleepy.
And, in my sleepy state, I thought a lot about rest. I thought about how good I had felt last night, as I pulled my soft and squishy comforter up around my neck and positioned my head just so on my pillow. I thought about how even the colors of my bedding make me feel peaceful, the soft aqua sheets with pretty flowers and the light green blanket. And, of course, my personal favorite is that cushy white comforter. Just thinking about my bed makes me feel at peace, makes me anticipate a good rest.
But, as I sat there in the pew at church, I thought about how it's sometimes hard to feel restful when confronted with questions of faith, of religion, of God. Those questions are sometimes so unsettling that we cannot find rest, as we constantly question what is right, what is true, what is best. Sometimes it feels as if there are so many voices, all trying to get us to listen to them, all trying to make us see why their way is the right way. And in the midst of all of those voices, it's hard to find anything resembling rest because we are pulled in so many different directions.
I have to think that things shouldn't be that difficult, that somewhere there is that rest and peace which God promises us. And, as I sat in that pew today, I thought of the hymn we had sung the week before, as I stood in that same sanctuary. We sang the song, "My Faith Has Found a Resting Place." As I sung it last week and as I recalled its words today, I felt a peace that comes from hearing a great truth, the kind of rest that comes from knowing how simple things truly can be.
The whole hymn is wonderful, but I'll share the first verse and chorus with you:
"My faith has found a resting place,
Not in device or creed;
I trust the ever living One,
His wounds for me shall plead.
I need no other argument,
I need no other plea,
It is enough that Jesus died,
And that He died for me."
It's so very simple, and yet it says everything. It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me. Beautiful, really. Beautiful because of its truth, beautiful because it calls me to a greater faith in Jesus, beautiful because I can have a resting place.
And beautiful because I know that, even when those voices and arguments cause me to question my belief in many things, my belief in Jesus is what gives me rest. I know that I can hold onto the truth of Hebrews 4:14-16 which says,
"14Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. 16Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."
And that confidence in what is true, in what good and right, all of that gives me rest. It gives me the kind of rest that's even better than the kind of rest I'm about to get as I pull my comforter up around my chin tonight. And that is the kind of rest that I think all of us could use, the kind of rest we get when we accept God's grace, when we know that it's simple enough to find our resting place.
For whatever reason, I find lack of sleep to be one of the roughest things to deal with. I mean, apart from real tragedies or serious illnesses. It's just hard to face the day when you haven't had the real, deep rest that you needed. You feel more irritable, less alive, more like you're just going through the motions.
I thought about that today in church, as I tried to keep myself awake. To be fair, I tried to keep myself awake the rest of the day too, so it wasn't church that made me sleepy. I was just sleepy.
And, in my sleepy state, I thought a lot about rest. I thought about how good I had felt last night, as I pulled my soft and squishy comforter up around my neck and positioned my head just so on my pillow. I thought about how even the colors of my bedding make me feel peaceful, the soft aqua sheets with pretty flowers and the light green blanket. And, of course, my personal favorite is that cushy white comforter. Just thinking about my bed makes me feel at peace, makes me anticipate a good rest.
But, as I sat there in the pew at church, I thought about how it's sometimes hard to feel restful when confronted with questions of faith, of religion, of God. Those questions are sometimes so unsettling that we cannot find rest, as we constantly question what is right, what is true, what is best. Sometimes it feels as if there are so many voices, all trying to get us to listen to them, all trying to make us see why their way is the right way. And in the midst of all of those voices, it's hard to find anything resembling rest because we are pulled in so many different directions.
I have to think that things shouldn't be that difficult, that somewhere there is that rest and peace which God promises us. And, as I sat in that pew today, I thought of the hymn we had sung the week before, as I stood in that same sanctuary. We sang the song, "My Faith Has Found a Resting Place." As I sung it last week and as I recalled its words today, I felt a peace that comes from hearing a great truth, the kind of rest that comes from knowing how simple things truly can be.
The whole hymn is wonderful, but I'll share the first verse and chorus with you:
"My faith has found a resting place,
Not in device or creed;
I trust the ever living One,
His wounds for me shall plead.
I need no other argument,
I need no other plea,
It is enough that Jesus died,
And that He died for me."
It's so very simple, and yet it says everything. It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me. Beautiful, really. Beautiful because of its truth, beautiful because it calls me to a greater faith in Jesus, beautiful because I can have a resting place.
And beautiful because I know that, even when those voices and arguments cause me to question my belief in many things, my belief in Jesus is what gives me rest. I know that I can hold onto the truth of Hebrews 4:14-16 which says,
"14Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. 16Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."
And that confidence in what is true, in what good and right, all of that gives me rest. It gives me the kind of rest that's even better than the kind of rest I'm about to get as I pull my comforter up around my chin tonight. And that is the kind of rest that I think all of us could use, the kind of rest we get when we accept God's grace, when we know that it's simple enough to find our resting place.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
How Big is My God?
Recently I went to a planning meeting for a fundraiser. The fundraiser is for the pregnancy center that I volunteer at. I, obviously, think it's a wonderful cause. They do so much work there, not only to provide clothes and nutrition and guidance to mothers who are facing struggles during pregnancy, but also to really show God's love and grace.
I hadn't considered how important that whole "God's love and grace" part is, but, it's one of the most important parts of their work. I started thinking about this just a while ago, as I remembered something one of the women said at the meeting.
She was talking about the need for funding. The cost for running such an operation is pretty high, and they hope to add ultrasound to their services, adding even more to the expenses. Well, the woman said that we all need to work diligently to raise funds but that we also have to rely on God. And then she said something about how big God is, and I just wondered if we ever really understand how big that really is?
I mean, how can we wrap our heads around that? How can we begin to comprehend something so outside of our understanding?
I guess what got me thinking about this, really, is that it seems that we have so many times when God seems so small. You know, we all have those times when we hurt so much, feel so terrible, struggle with physical and emotional and mental pains. And in those times, in those very dark times, it can feel like God is not big enough to shine a light into our darkness.
But, it made me wonder if those are the same times when we, feeling defeated by our surroundings or by the sad ruminations of our own brains, fail to see how big God really is. Do we assume that our God is not a big God? Do we, in our inability to see the possibility of God's light shining into our darkness, make God smaller than He really is? Do we forget that our God is the God who separated the light from the darkness, that God is light and in Him is no darkness at all?
I think we do forget that. At least, I do. I was really feeling that way not too long ago, and it was pretty difficult, as it seemed like that feeling would not go away, as I felt like my God was not a God who could make me feel any better than I did right at that moment. And, quite frankly, how I felt at that moment was pretty awful.
Now, I don't write that to be maudlin or to engage in some pity party. Though, with a pint of Ben & Jerry's I could be persuaded to join anyone in a good old-fashioned pity party. Just name the time and place, and I'll be there. We can indulge each other in feeling sorry for ourselves. But that's not what I'm talking about right now.
What I'm talking about is not knowing how big God is. What I'm talking about is falling into a time of feeling like the circumstances of my life, like the awful way I felt, was bigger than my God.
The good news is, I didn't stay there. That's right. There was a giant flash of light, rainbows appeared overhead, glitter fell from the sky, and in that beautiful moment, I understood that God could make me feel better.
Okay, none of that happened. Somehow God never seems to work that way. For some reason, it seems like He wants us to work a little bit, like He wants us to try to have an actual relationship with Him in order to know Him better. And, when we know Him better, we start to understand just how big our God is. That's what happened for me.
I was reading a book, and it quoted Isaiah 43:10-12,
10 "You are my witnesses," declares the LORD,
"and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
nor will there be one after me.
11 I, even I, am the LORD,
and apart from me there is no savior.
12 I have revealed and saved and proclaimed—
I, and not some foreign god among you.
You are my witnesses," declares the LORD, "that I am God."
I read that, and it spoke directly to me. All I could think was, "That is my God." And suddenly I thought of how big God is, how able He is to help me with any problems I have.
I think about that when I remember the people who have prayed for me and with me, when I think of all the people I've met who have spoken truth to me at just the right times, when I think of how perfectly timed everything is, when I think of how much God has provided for me.
It's not difficult to understand when I let myself be open to it, when I let myself accept the truth that my God is a God who will provide for all of my needs. That my God is a God who can provide for all of my needs.
My God is just that big.
I hadn't considered how important that whole "God's love and grace" part is, but, it's one of the most important parts of their work. I started thinking about this just a while ago, as I remembered something one of the women said at the meeting.
She was talking about the need for funding. The cost for running such an operation is pretty high, and they hope to add ultrasound to their services, adding even more to the expenses. Well, the woman said that we all need to work diligently to raise funds but that we also have to rely on God. And then she said something about how big God is, and I just wondered if we ever really understand how big that really is?
I mean, how can we wrap our heads around that? How can we begin to comprehend something so outside of our understanding?
I guess what got me thinking about this, really, is that it seems that we have so many times when God seems so small. You know, we all have those times when we hurt so much, feel so terrible, struggle with physical and emotional and mental pains. And in those times, in those very dark times, it can feel like God is not big enough to shine a light into our darkness.
But, it made me wonder if those are the same times when we, feeling defeated by our surroundings or by the sad ruminations of our own brains, fail to see how big God really is. Do we assume that our God is not a big God? Do we, in our inability to see the possibility of God's light shining into our darkness, make God smaller than He really is? Do we forget that our God is the God who separated the light from the darkness, that God is light and in Him is no darkness at all?
I think we do forget that. At least, I do. I was really feeling that way not too long ago, and it was pretty difficult, as it seemed like that feeling would not go away, as I felt like my God was not a God who could make me feel any better than I did right at that moment. And, quite frankly, how I felt at that moment was pretty awful.
Now, I don't write that to be maudlin or to engage in some pity party. Though, with a pint of Ben & Jerry's I could be persuaded to join anyone in a good old-fashioned pity party. Just name the time and place, and I'll be there. We can indulge each other in feeling sorry for ourselves. But that's not what I'm talking about right now.
What I'm talking about is not knowing how big God is. What I'm talking about is falling into a time of feeling like the circumstances of my life, like the awful way I felt, was bigger than my God.
The good news is, I didn't stay there. That's right. There was a giant flash of light, rainbows appeared overhead, glitter fell from the sky, and in that beautiful moment, I understood that God could make me feel better.
Okay, none of that happened. Somehow God never seems to work that way. For some reason, it seems like He wants us to work a little bit, like He wants us to try to have an actual relationship with Him in order to know Him better. And, when we know Him better, we start to understand just how big our God is. That's what happened for me.
I was reading a book, and it quoted Isaiah 43:10-12,
10 "You are my witnesses," declares the LORD,
"and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
nor will there be one after me.
11 I, even I, am the LORD,
and apart from me there is no savior.
12 I have revealed and saved and proclaimed—
I, and not some foreign god among you.
You are my witnesses," declares the LORD, "that I am God."
I read that, and it spoke directly to me. All I could think was, "That is my God." And suddenly I thought of how big God is, how able He is to help me with any problems I have.
I think about that when I remember the people who have prayed for me and with me, when I think of all the people I've met who have spoken truth to me at just the right times, when I think of how perfectly timed everything is, when I think of how much God has provided for me.
It's not difficult to understand when I let myself be open to it, when I let myself accept the truth that my God is a God who will provide for all of my needs. That my God is a God who can provide for all of my needs.
My God is just that big.
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