Math Lesson

Some will not read this because of the title. I myself would be tempted to skip it for that very reason! If you know me, you know I do not like math. The mere mention of math assaults my brain. Practicing math = torture! I avoid anything that smells of mathematics.

In math, as in all subjects, the best teachers are ones who introduce you to a concept and then present the opportunity to work it out. Remember those worksheets? (Ugh.) I never would have learned my multiplication tables if I had not been given immediate exercises to complete. (And more for homework? Agony! Affliction! )

God is an excellent teacher. In Sunday School last week, we explored the story of the good Samaritan, which Jesus told to illustrate the point that all peoples are our neighbors. True to form, God gave me an opportunity this week to work it out through personal experience. (Okay, Holy Spirit, as long as there is no math involved!)

The Samaritan came across a man in need. Others passed by the man, but the Samaritan stopped to assist.

Friday, I came across a man in need. Others passed by, and I nearly did, too. I had good reasons: 1) I was on the phone with my daughter who was asking for advice. 2) I had a trunk full of groceries, some perishable. 3) I know little about cars. 4) I was a woman, alone, and as such, stopping to help a man is not usually considered advisable.

The young Asian man stood to the side of the disabled vehicle. Something about the way he stood, helpless and distraught, sliced the excuses right out of my heart. The mother in me (whose own son had been a lone student in Japan for a year, beyond my reach or help) applied the brakes and turned into an adjacent parking lot.

He was from China, an exchange student at the nearby college (ironically the same university my son had attended), and had been in the States only two weeks. The car belonged to another Chinese student, who was walking to a nearby store to purchase jumper cables. He was beyond grateful that someone had stopped to check on him. I stood alongside, unable to offer anything but companionship, wondering why on earth God would have prompted little ol’ automotively-incompetent me to stop. And then something happened. God used me to multiply His favor.

Another stopped. A chivalrous man had seen me next to the car and assumed I was the owner. He stopped to help a woman, not a young man. Turns out it was his day off. His regular job? A mechanic for AAA.

The mechanic pulled out a few tools and brushed the battery terminals. The car started. With their permission, I followed them home just in case the car died again. Both students were touched, and I did not receive the traditional Chinese bow but warm American hugs instead.

How beautifully God works! How perfectly and precisely! And always with a little humor for my benefit: the student was a math major. I love God.

Sincerely Wrong

I watched a documentary last night about a man who claims to be the Second Coming of Christ. I was shocked by his doctrine, shocked by his tattoo (666!), shocked at his followers.

Then I went to sleep and had nightmares!

There are thousands who follow this false prophet. They are devoted, excited, passionate, sincere. Unfortunately, they are sincerely wrong.

I am reminded of a young man who took a summer job on a farm. The new hire was shown the difference between the weeds and the good plants and sent off to hoe a row. He threw himself into the task, worked hard, and was proud of the results of his labor. Several hours later, the foreman discovered the earnest young man had misunderstood the instructions. Hundreds of tomato plants lay decimated, surrounded by upright weeds. Sincere? Yes. Wrong? Yes.

What happens when instructions are misunderstood?

What if this new farmer had never been corrected? He could had gone home and begun to teach others what he believed! How many could have been misled? Sincere, yet wrong.

The man in the documentary is proud of his self-taught theology. He had a vision in which angels told him he was Jesus. He proceeded to interpret the New Testament as if he were the Second Coming, believing he had defeated Satan, that sin was no more.

His followers follow him, not the Bible.

The blind leads the blind. The weeds grow.

Sincere, yet wrong.

You will recognize his followers easily. They proudly have 666 tattooed on their arms. They even have a photo blog: newly-inked followers stand in front of his image and emulate his eerie, two-fingers-to-the-forehead salute.

The documentary had footage of children copying the gesture. The children are taught that this man is God. One child said his parents “party” (and we're not talking cake and balloons here) because “God does.” After all, there is no sin, right? Sincere. Wrong.

I don’t know what to do other than to pray and ask you to do the same. And please read and study your Bible. Don’t rely on a person to tell you what is truth. Learn from the Creator what is a weed and what is not. Check claims against scripture. Do not be deceived, do not be swayed. These people are out there, and with them others who are blindly led by man. Sincere. Wrong.

I know. As the old song goes, I once was blind but now I see.

Just Shoot Me

Have you ever just thrown your hands up in despair and resignation, exhausted from attacking every angle of a problem so that you finally just give up? Just shoot me. I'm done.

I've been there more times than I care to admit.

When we are in that headlong rush, we have a determined, blind/deaf focus. It's only when we stop that we can see and hear beyond our blinders. Then, something amazing can happen.

We remember that there is One who can not only see beyond our limitations, but is also totally knowledgable, completely powerful and absolutely merciful.

God answers, God solves, God grants.

Well, amen!

It isn't always immediate. It isn't always what we thought we wanted. But if God is omniscient like we believe He is, then it is always what is best for us. He's our parent. You know what that's like. Do you give your child three pounds of fudge just because she wants it? What if it's almost dinnertime? What if she's diabetic? What if she's allergic to chocolate? She might not know any of those conditions, but you do. Same goes for God. He knows things that we do not.

Just as you are more interested in your child's health and future than her momentary "happiness", He isn't as interested in your happiness as much as He is in your holiness. Not that He doesn't want you to be happy. It's just way more important that you be on the right path, the one He has laid out for you. Because, remember, He knows things that you do not.

So how do you get there?

That's the primary question I have tried to answer in "Just Shoot Me", the new book that will be hitting the bookshelves in May. Here's an excerpt from Chapter 6:

What good does it do to ask God for direction if you are not going to wait long enough to hear His answer? That’s like placing your order at St. Arbucks and then walking out the door before the barista can even chai your latte. Nonsensical, it is. (Repeat previous sentence in your best Yoda imitation.)

Psalm 5:3 (NIV) says, “In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.”

Oh, how I hate to wait! Patience, thou art not one of my natural virtues.

I once asked God for patience. He gave me children instead. That’s because God teaches patience, He does not simply give it. Humility comes the same way. Word to the wise.

I, the OCD-gifted multi-tasker, struggle with this simple order to wait. Can’t we walk and talk?

God does not shout. He does not struggle for attention. He is the teacher who stands and waits. What is that old saying? When the student is ready, the teacher appears. He does not raise His voice over the din, but gives His lessons in near-whispers. The student must lean close.

My class has only one student (moi!), but she has more noise and commotion in her head than 15 six-year-olds at Chuck E. Cheese.

I wander around my mind-field, searching for the day’s target. God, is this the place you want me today? Is it here? Do I write today? Do I work on illustrations? Do I pray? Do I? Do I? Are we there yet?

Listen. Await instruction.

I asked God about why He makes me wait for His voice.

He answered in a dream...

Okay, does that grab your attention? (smile)

Send for your copy: details in the right hand column. Yep. Right there.

What are you waiting for? Onward, friend!

Singing with all my heart

I'm home this Sunday morning, watching our church service online. Right now, the vocal team is singing beautiful songs of grace and surrender and the overwhelming love of God for us.

As much as I want to join in with song, tonsillitis does not allow singing, at least not on-pitch or without copious coughing. So I sit here, singing in my heart... "I'm lost without You!"

Thank you God, for the technology that allows me to view the worship and for the ability of my heart to sing without my voice!

Absent but working

I just looked at my posts for 2010 and found there were only five. Five! Hmmm. I didn't do so well at blogging this year.

New Year's Resolution, anyone? (smile)

It isn't that I haven't been writing. I just compiled a book of forty scripts for church service! And I've been working on a new book. It will be called, "Just Shoot Me". Yeah, I know you want to know more about that one.

I'll tell you after I hear back from the contest committee to whom I submitted it. Pray for it/me! Thanks!

Heave-ho!

Change. If it had a facebook page, I would neither “friend” it nor “like” it.

If it were up to me, I would be typing this in the version of Word that came with Windows 3.0. I still have the same cell phone I got the summer before my daughter went to college. She graduates in May. I resist change like a two-year-old at naptime.

Get me my blankie and a cookie and maybe we’ll talk.

Change is inevitable, at least for the living. So why the drama? Why the pout and tears and heel-digging?

Moving forward requires effort. Complacency does not. I like my warm, comfy blankie.

The church I attend and adore is going through change. At times, the discomfort, the uncertainty, the upheaval have been alarming. For a year, I questioned whether it was a ship that was going down or whether it was a ship that was simply turning.

The ship is turning.

It is time to get all of our oars in the water and row together.

In a multi-person boat, the rowing must be executed in precise synchronization with all other rowers. An article on rowing states, “Coordinated timing is imperative to avoid "checking" the boat, or slowing its forward progress.” Is this the unity spoken of all throughout Scripture?

Heel-dragging and pouting, gossip or cutting remarks, passive hand-wringing or aggressive attack: all prevent or slow the forward progress. We can’t afford these behaviors, whether we’re talking about a church or a relationship or a community or whatever obstacle.

Brothers and sisters, it is all hands on deck. It is not time to “bail out” but to “bail water”. Patch the holes. Raise the anchor. Train the rowers. Gird your loins. You can always tie your blankie around your waist.

And don’t forget the cookies.

Hyssop and Heartsong

Last year, I was inspired by the flower-saturated border and scalloped picket fence of a quaint, mountain-town restaurant. What pleasure!- to be able to sit at the table and look out on all that loveliness! So I built and planted along the front walkway of my house, in full, glorious view from my kitchen table.

May I tell you what a joy it has been to me?

Climbing roses, lavender, lime basil, and sangria-purple dahlias; black-eyed Susans, sunny marigolds and soft, wooly lamb ears: all embrace the fence with color and texture. But my favorite of all has been the tall, airy bush in the center.

Wandering the garden center aisles last fall, I was first attracted to the hyssop by its soft purple color, but ultimately chose the feathery perennial for its biblical symbolism: Jewish priests used hyssop in cleansing ceremonies. Psalm 51:7 exults, “Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” It was used to sprinkle sacrifices and sanctify homes. Hyssop speared a sponge that was lifted to Jesus on the cross.

I placed the plant in the herb and flower bed, across from the Jesus statue which holds court amid the sage and thyme. And it flourished there.

Beautiful as a cut flower, the hyssop joined hydrangeas in an arrangement for a couple who lost their unborn child. It graced plastic-bottle-vases of zinnia and lantana for friends who needed encouragement, for an acquaintance who had regained her health, for a random stranger at a gas station. It announced the chosen color at my daughter’s wedding shower. The more it was cut, the more it grew. Last year’s 18” spikes have become this year’s five-foot spires!

And, oh, the hummingbirds! And butterflies! And the hemaris diffinis! (Oh, my! The hemaris diffins! This clearwing hummingbird moth’s name comes from two Latin roots. One is “blood”. The other is “end”. Ponder that with your knowledge of hyssop as it relates to Christ and sacrifice. Another little “coincidental” treasure from God! How many do we miss?!)

Watching the feasting as I also partake of lunch, I am struck by the connectedness of living things and sit stunned in awe of their Creator. A heart-song expands in my soul, the hymn I loved as a child, the one that always swells over me in these moments: This Is My Father’s World. I become aware that my voice has joined my heart, and for a moment, I am transported, washed with hyssop, on wings of worship.

Bread

I had never seen a flock of robins: I have seen only one or two at a time, usually in the spring, bouncing across the lawn, cocking their heads as if listening for subterranean clues. But there they were, twenty or more, kicking up the dry leaves in the side yard.

My reaction, on that unusually frostbitten Carolina morning, was to feed them.

I sprinted out the side door, still in my nightgown and robe, and tossed a bowlful of crumbled, stale bread onto the asphalt drive. From the warmth of the dining room, I watched. No takers. They all resumed the tossing of leaf litter, each in his or her own square yard, ignoring the food that lay two feet away.

Hmm. I logged on and googled “robin”. There I found that the birds flock together in winter and eat worms, insects and berries. No seeds. No bread crumbs either, evidently. They did not recognize my offering as food.

It got me to wondering: would a robin starve to death surrounded by food, just because it did not recognize it as such? And then God whispered. People starve to death spiritually all the time, with a Bible just a few feet away. With a Christian just a few feet away.

Outside, a squirrel had discovered the bread. Rapid-fire, she buzzed through several larger pieces before springing up, alert, to survey for competition. Finding none, she grabbed another piece, held it in her mouth, and scampered to the base of a tree where she buried it beneath the leaves. After several trips, she caught the attention of a robin.

The robin investigated. It tested a crumb. And tasted again.

And God convicted. You have the bread of life. Are you publically partaking? Do your actions show that it is good? Are you taking the treasure out into the field? Or will you let the hungry die from lack of knowledge?

I looked for the robins this morning, but they were gone.

Forgiving One’s Self

God has my attention.

In the past two days, the same subject has arisen four separate times. The first was in a Sunday School lesson. The next, within hours, was in my facebook inbox. The third time was in a book I was reading. And the fourth time? During a detox massage. Pretty unrelated occurrences, wouldn’t you think? That’s why He has my attention.

The subject? Forgiving one’s self.

Oh, great. Time to open wounds. Yay.

Not so fast, my friend! You may be as surprised as I was to find out where this goes.

One path I take when exploring a subject for writing is to find out what the Bible says about it. Guess what? The Bible doesn’t say anything (that I can find) about forgiving yourself. Don’t you find that odd? How could that be? Certainly there are pages and chapters and entire books devoted to the subject in the local bookstore!

The Bible does speak repeatedly about forgiveness. It is something that God offers to us. We get the first taste of it when we acknowledge our sin, repent, and accept Christ as Lord and Savior. Our sins are forgiven. Read the beautiful imagery of Psalm 103:12 (NASB): “As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us.”

Therein, I believe, lies the answer.

God’s forgiveness is completely, wholly sufficient. It is permanent. Therefore, if I say that I cannot forgive myself, I am implying that God’s forgiveness is not enough. I must realize that it is not necessary, or even scriptural, for me to forgive myself. Did I take it to God? Did I ask Him to forgive me? Then, God has taken care of it. Period.

Our real issue, I think, is in letting go.

Would you believe that one day before the “forgiving self” topic came up, God gave me a script to write? It was about letting go. Fancy that. Why does it still surprise me when God sets me up? (smile)

In that script, one person stands holding the string of a balloon which represents something they claim to be giving to God. The problem is, they will not release the string.

Are you still holding on? Why?

It all boils down to a faith issue. Do you believe God has forgiven you?

Let it go. Don’t hold onto the string. Release the grip. God places blessings in an OPEN hand.

THIS IS WAR!

Perhaps it was the discovery that there are NFL players who weigh about the same as I do (and I am not talking punters or kickers). Perhaps it was the picture someone posted of me, taken when I was unguarded. Maybe it was the realization that someone I thought looked like could be three or four of me was actually only twice my weight. Regardless, I am now aware.

The scale in the bathroom was not kind in its estimation of my weight. Ugly, round numbers glowered at me, laughed at my state of shock. Disbelief gave way to anger.

How? How did I let this happen?

It is not the heaviest I have been, but I never thought I would see 180 again.

And so, my friends, I declare war.

War on weight. War on fat. War on complacency.

I am choosing my strategies and weapons. I am studying the enemy. And I am rallying my troops.

This is my recruitment effort. Would you like to join me?

Here I will be posting my progress. I will share my journey. You can share yours with me and we can keep each other accountable. We can share what is working and what is not. We can encourage and cheer one another on!

Weight War 2010. Healthy again in 2010. Begin again in 2010. Help me choose a battle cry! Post your comments!

Day Three: Nativity

HISTORY
St. Francis of Assisi is credited with giving us the first nativity scene in the year 1223 AD.

One account tells that he and his fellow monks performed a play that year for the people of a poor Italian village. The play was held in a cave and was intended to be a reminder to the villagers that Jesus was born for them, into a poor family like theirs. Another account paints the picture of St. Francis performing a nativity play himself, using small wooden pieces to represent the characters.

A lasting tradition is that St. Francis asked a man named Giovanni Vellita of the village of Greccio to create a manger scene. St. Francis performed mass in front of this early Nativity scene, which inspired awe and devotion in all who saw it.

The play became hugely popular and the creation of the figures or pastori became an entire genre of folk art.

Nativity scene figures always include Mary and Joseph. Jesus is often added on Christmas Day (or late on Christmas Eve), usually placed in a manger. Some scenes have shepherds, sheep and angels. Wise Men and their camels traditionally wait to arrive until the twelfth day after Christmas, known as Epiphany.

There are two traditions of portraying Mary:

The Western tradition says Mary was virginal and also was not subject to the curse of Eve (a Catholic teaching that her soul was pure when her body received it in her own mother’s womb). Therefore she did not suffer during labor. This is why she is depicted either seated, holding Jesus on her lap, or on her knees in adoration.

The Eastern tradition, on the other hand, emphasizes the reality of the incarnation of Jesus and his human birth: Mary, having just given birth, is pictured lying down.

INSIGHT
Mary lived far from Bethlehem, yet prophecy held that the Messiah would be born there. How did God solve the disparity? He used a Caesar to order a census. He always has a plan, though we might not always see or know it.

SUGGESTION
Display a nativity scene in your home. You could put the Wise Men in a separate room and move them closer, day by day, until Epiphany (January 6). Keep shepherds on a hillside close by, until Jesus is born. Add a little straw to the manger as the time draws near. Read Luke 2:1-19 and Matthew 2:1-11 as you move the characters.

Day Two of Twenty-five Days of Christmas

ADVENT

HISTORY
The word “advent” comes from the Latin word adventus meaning "coming". It is celebrated for the four weeks that precede Christmas, one week for every millennium between the Fall of Adam and the Birth of Christ.

Advent was not always associated with the birth of Christ. In the early Church, it was His second coming that was anticipated, not His birth. (Latin adventus is the translation of the Greek word parousia, used in reference to the Second Coming.) Eventually, the Church extended the celebration of Advent to include the coming of Christ through his birth in Bethlehem.

Observing the season of Advent with an advent wreath is one way to keep Christ literally at the center of our attention: the wreath has a white candle in the center, representing Christ. Four other candles, three purple and one pink, are arranged in the greenery of the wreath itself and are lit on each Sunday in Advent. The light grows each week, reflecting the growing anticipation of the birth of Jesus, the Light of the world.

Purple symbolizes repentance and fasting. Purple is also the color of royalty, in anticipation of the coming King.

Pink or rose represents joy and reveals a shift in the season away from repentance and toward celebration. This candle is lit on the fourth Sunday in Advent.

The white candle in the center represents Christ and is lit on Christmas Day.

INSIGHT
Advent is a time of preparation for Christ. But is it really Christmas, the Christian Christmas, for which you are preparing? Are you calm, or stressed? Joyful or jangled? Does your list of things to get done take precedence over sitting with God every morning? What would one of the first century Christians think Christmas was about, judging only from your behavior/schedule/attitude?

SUGGESTION
Consider an advent wreath for your home. It can be as simple as candles in a circle on your dining room table, but be sure to place it where you can see it often. Light one candle on each Sunday beginning the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Why not set it up after Thanksgiving dinner and start a new tradition of beginning the season when your hearts are still full of gratitude to God?