sackcloth and ashes
dreams hidden in a jar
sacrifice for my kids
gives me strength to care
yet a part of me must die
i am not like the others
i am a deformity
my heart lies trapped in a cage
access denied
till death does us part.
Monday, July 21, 2014
surfing lessons
hey dude! surf's up! let's catch a wave!
or, just talk about it. there are so many great illustrations in nature of things in the spiritual life. Like in the mighty waves of the ocean. but before i begin to wax poetical...let's just wax our boards (ha ha) and at least imagine we're sitting out in the waves of Puerto Rico:
Here's a short clip of my surfing lesson in Puerto Rico on Thursday, Feb. 20th. Our actual surfing was done so far out in the bigger waves that the video camera on land could only catch these first few moments as we entered the water. At least you get the idea.. here goes:
Sorry I don't have footage of my actual surfing. So I'll explain it instead.
Like all our days on our Feb. 2014 vacation to Puerto Rico, we woke up to a beautiful, gorgeous morning, to the sound of the roosters next door. Spent the early morning lying in the hammock on the balcony, overlooking green hills topped with brown cows grazing in the grass, with a picturesque background of the blue ocean in the distance, drinking good native-grown strong coffee and fresh papaya and pineapple. Finally got our cooler packed, swim suits on, and headed out to the surf school where we'd signed up the other day for me to take lessons.
It had been a struggle just trying to find the place. Nothing was easy to find in Puerto Rico. Street signs, if existent at all, were poorly marked, and roads through the mountains along the coast were extremely curvy and constantly changing in altitude. After much driving around in circles, we finally figured out which little cement building on a narrow road traversed by mostly stray dogs and pedestrians, was the surf school. We walk in the open door, (most buildings were open-door in this warm climate) and are immediately overtaken by this wonderful surf vibe. A few obvious surfers are standing around, and we make our way back to the desk where the owner dude was sitting. Shirtless and tanned, bleach-blonde hair stuffed into a scraggly ponytail, lean, muscular and agile, skin a bit beat-up and scratched by the expected wipe-outs and bifs in the life of surfing. His charismatic, magnetic and free-spirited personality shines through his blue eyes as he sizes us up, and then lowers himself to my little boy's level, gives him a high five and greets him with a "hey, dude! is this our little shredder?" (referring to the term of "shredding" through the waves, for the non-surf-literate) I clear my throat. "uhh, it's actually his mama who's getting the surf lessons.." Trying to hide his surprise, he stands back up and gawks at this middle-age woman holding out her credit card. So we work out the details of the upcoming lesson, his eyes glazing over as he talks about the experience, and you can feel his passion for the sport, how he gave up a successful business in the states in order to live here and share that love with others in search of that euphoric feeling of "catching a wave." I pay the bucks, sign on the dotted line that he is not responsible if I get eaten up by a shark, and we exit.
Two days later: We find the place again, and i get a quick private on-land lesson on surfing basics, just me and this dude in a bamboo gazebo behind the shop. He explains a bunch of safety precautions, and then gives me a few guided tries on how to do the infamous "pop-up" move, quickly going from the prone position on the board, to the bent-knee squat, arms out for balance, on just the right spot of the board at exactly the right time in order for that wave to lift you into paradise. Then we join the other 2 girls in my class, who had already started taking lessons the day before, down on the beach. (that's where the first video clip took place)
The other 2 girls were much younger than me, of course, and unlike me they were 2 wild, single, just-out-of-college young women just having a great week in the tropics. I got to know them a bit as we spent some time just sitting around on our boards way offshore, waiting our turn to be coached individually by our instructor. The instructor, (i forgot his name) would take us one at a time, guide us to a good place to catch a wave, and review all the basics of what to do while we waited, (and waited...and waited...) for the perfect wave. When it finally came, he'd hold the board for a few seconds to keep it straight, then yell "GO!!!" when it was our turn to paddle like mad as the wave approached behind us, then he'll yell "pop up!!!" at just the right second for us to rise up and dominate that wave.. or wipe-out right away and get pummeled to death, which was usually the case. Either way, it was fun.
or, just talk about it. there are so many great illustrations in nature of things in the spiritual life. Like in the mighty waves of the ocean. but before i begin to wax poetical...let's just wax our boards (ha ha) and at least imagine we're sitting out in the waves of Puerto Rico:
Here's a short clip of my surfing lesson in Puerto Rico on Thursday, Feb. 20th. Our actual surfing was done so far out in the bigger waves that the video camera on land could only catch these first few moments as we entered the water. At least you get the idea.. here goes:
Sorry I don't have footage of my actual surfing. So I'll explain it instead.
Like all our days on our Feb. 2014 vacation to Puerto Rico, we woke up to a beautiful, gorgeous morning, to the sound of the roosters next door. Spent the early morning lying in the hammock on the balcony, overlooking green hills topped with brown cows grazing in the grass, with a picturesque background of the blue ocean in the distance, drinking good native-grown strong coffee and fresh papaya and pineapple. Finally got our cooler packed, swim suits on, and headed out to the surf school where we'd signed up the other day for me to take lessons.
It had been a struggle just trying to find the place. Nothing was easy to find in Puerto Rico. Street signs, if existent at all, were poorly marked, and roads through the mountains along the coast were extremely curvy and constantly changing in altitude. After much driving around in circles, we finally figured out which little cement building on a narrow road traversed by mostly stray dogs and pedestrians, was the surf school. We walk in the open door, (most buildings were open-door in this warm climate) and are immediately overtaken by this wonderful surf vibe. A few obvious surfers are standing around, and we make our way back to the desk where the owner dude was sitting. Shirtless and tanned, bleach-blonde hair stuffed into a scraggly ponytail, lean, muscular and agile, skin a bit beat-up and scratched by the expected wipe-outs and bifs in the life of surfing. His charismatic, magnetic and free-spirited personality shines through his blue eyes as he sizes us up, and then lowers himself to my little boy's level, gives him a high five and greets him with a "hey, dude! is this our little shredder?" (referring to the term of "shredding" through the waves, for the non-surf-literate) I clear my throat. "uhh, it's actually his mama who's getting the surf lessons.." Trying to hide his surprise, he stands back up and gawks at this middle-age woman holding out her credit card. So we work out the details of the upcoming lesson, his eyes glazing over as he talks about the experience, and you can feel his passion for the sport, how he gave up a successful business in the states in order to live here and share that love with others in search of that euphoric feeling of "catching a wave." I pay the bucks, sign on the dotted line that he is not responsible if I get eaten up by a shark, and we exit.
The other 2 girls were much younger than me, of course, and unlike me they were 2 wild, single, just-out-of-college young women just having a great week in the tropics. I got to know them a bit as we spent some time just sitting around on our boards way offshore, waiting our turn to be coached individually by our instructor. The instructor, (i forgot his name) would take us one at a time, guide us to a good place to catch a wave, and review all the basics of what to do while we waited, (and waited...and waited...) for the perfect wave. When it finally came, he'd hold the board for a few seconds to keep it straight, then yell "GO!!!" when it was our turn to paddle like mad as the wave approached behind us, then he'll yell "pop up!!!" at just the right second for us to rise up and dominate that wave.. or wipe-out right away and get pummeled to death, which was usually the case. Either way, it was fun.
It also could be a bit scary. These waves weren't like the little bumps in the surf we've seen in North Carolina, those mild, quickly crashing, fun-to-boogie board-to-shore kind… No, these were scary. Lying out there, what seemed like half a mile from shore, looking in… those waves had a mind of their own. It was more like this massive turquoise blanket being raised up from the very bowels of the deepest ocean depths, till this quickly cresting wave comes hurtling up, faster and faster towards shore, and from our perspective, lying on our boards, we’d feel the mighty wave raise us up while still just a swell, then watch in horror as our friend who was at the crest of it with the instructor, would suddenly disappear behind this big wall of water, and maybe we’d see her rise up, maybe not. Usually we just waited till we saw the white longboard go springing up into the air after she met her fate of a nasty spill, the usual conclusion of any of our attempts. There was one set of waves in particular that REALLY put the fear of the Creator in me… We’d been hanging out beyond the breakers for quite some time, waiting for the other girl and the instructor to get the perfect wave so she could take her turn. It was flat for a long time. Then it came, out of the blue, no pun intended, and seeing the speed and voracity of that wave.. I seriously was wishing I could just be air-lifted out of that place that very second! How on earth would I be able to make it to shore ALIVE with a monster like that at my heels? My horror was intensified when I watched how the wind ripped along the top of the wave, blowing a thunderous swoop of mist across this curling masterpiece. My reaction came out in just two words: “holy cow!” ok. I apologize. Cow was the not the actual word that came to my mind or lips at that second. This was too real, beyond sense or moral justification of expletives. I was scared. But I lived through the moment, listened to my instructor and did as I was told, and I feel stronger today for facing that fear.
Thinking back on it, it's easy to see the connection between rising up to ride one of those monster waves of the Carribean, and how we respond to the big "waves" in our lives. Those scary or uncomfortable situations that we aren't prepared for. Do we want God to just air-lift us out of them so we can totally avoid them? Not usually possible. How about just giving in and letting yourself getting sucked under and pummeled to death. Not a good option, either. You could just try to "boogie-board" the wave to shore, staying low on your belly, where the ride is nice and safe. Or, you could take a chance, stand up and try to surf it. You'll have the best view ever..and it just might give you the ride of your life.
I hope to give surfing another try sometime. And when i do, I hope to come back with more life lessons to share. hang ten, dude!
Thinking back on it, it's easy to see the connection between rising up to ride one of those monster waves of the Carribean, and how we respond to the big "waves" in our lives. Those scary or uncomfortable situations that we aren't prepared for. Do we want God to just air-lift us out of them so we can totally avoid them? Not usually possible. How about just giving in and letting yourself getting sucked under and pummeled to death. Not a good option, either. You could just try to "boogie-board" the wave to shore, staying low on your belly, where the ride is nice and safe. Or, you could take a chance, stand up and try to surf it. You'll have the best view ever..and it just might give you the ride of your life.
I hope to give surfing another try sometime. And when i do, I hope to come back with more life lessons to share. hang ten, dude!
Monday, July 14, 2014
Preparation of the Heart
"Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him. Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth. And all mankind will see God's salvation." Luke 3:4-6
Just as John the Baptist prepared the world for the coming of Christ, so we too are called to prepare our own hearts for the Lord.
Sometimes God seems to be using dynamite to flatten some mountainous obstacles in our faith walk. When a construction crew is preparing to set off an explosion of dynamite to create a hole in a mine, or to blast through the mountains to pave a road, they do not huddle around the prepared dynamite or try to "help" by using their hands to help dig the hole. No. that's stupid. They get back, way back, sound a very loud siren several times, yell something like "Fire in the hole!!" and then BOOM!! The explosion occurs. Sometimes God works like that, allowing huge explosions to "make low" those hills.
Lord, prepare my heart for your service. Blast away those monstrous obstacles in my path. Purify and cleanse my thoughts, attitudes, and motives. Direct me, whether it be the direct route or the long, scenic route, whichever it takes to prepare me for that unique calling you have on my life.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
consume me
there are no superstars
in the family of God
no matter how hard we work behind the scenes
or how flashy we look for all to see
yes our works should reflect our faith but...
it is the heart laid bare
open wide, festering wounds visible to all
hearts turned inside out
without fear of criticism, scorn or judgement
hearts consumed by His presence
to the point that what we are on the outside
is no matter anymore
the honest heart that He desires
God tear me down to my deepest parts
that Your Spirit may wage war in the depths of my darkness
and set me free to love You more.
in the family of God
no matter how hard we work behind the scenes
or how flashy we look for all to see
yes our works should reflect our faith but...
it is the heart laid bare
open wide, festering wounds visible to all
hearts turned inside out
without fear of criticism, scorn or judgement
hearts consumed by His presence
to the point that what we are on the outside
is no matter anymore
the honest heart that He desires
God tear me down to my deepest parts
that Your Spirit may wage war in the depths of my darkness
and set me free to love You more.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
unplugged
sorry guys, this is it. i'm unplugging this blog, going private, sinking the sub.
have a feeling that there are people i know who are reading this blog and making my life even more miserable, so i'm shutting it down. already created a new blog where i can rant privately, which is more appropriate, anyway. so if you know me in real life, you will no longer be hearing my real thoughts anymore. what you see is what you get. for those who care, thanks for listening.
ping!
have a feeling that there are people i know who are reading this blog and making my life even more miserable, so i'm shutting it down. already created a new blog where i can rant privately, which is more appropriate, anyway. so if you know me in real life, you will no longer be hearing my real thoughts anymore. what you see is what you get. for those who care, thanks for listening.
ping!
Saturday, July 5, 2014
a novel idea
I've been thinking lately, of how the way we come to a saving, personal relationship with Jesus Christ is sort of like how we are uniquely created to give and receive love, as is described in the popular "Love Language" book series by Dr. Gary Chapman. These 5 love languages are: gifts, quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service and physical touch. Ok, so getting someone saved by hugging them may seem weird, but stay with me here, I know it's a vague analogy...but wait, there's more!
What I'm trying to say is, one person may be led to saying a prayer to accept Jesus in their heart through hearing a sermon and responding to an altar call, (and many do) while others may be led to Christ through a one-on-one interaction with someone, someone who builds a relationship with the person through one of the love languages, such as spending time with them, listening to their own personal story, encouraging them and lovingly explaining how we need Jesus. And then there's still others who receive Christ on a far more private level, those that receive God's word through simply reading the Bible, and also through the writings of Christian authors who pour out their hearts, sharing the Gospel creatively through a literary form that truly speaks to the reader's heart, while they are in a quiet mode of reflection and introspection. It could be fiction or nonfiction.
This is what happened to me when I was thirteen years old. I was led to pray for Jesus to enter my heart through the reading of this fictional, very old-fashioned book, even then, entitled Joy Sparton of Parsonage Hill by Ruth I. Johnson.
Here's the jist of it.. Joy Sparton and her twin brother are PK's. (preacher's kids, the first time I heard that acronym) They go to a formal, rather stuffy church (weren't they all like that in those days?) and even though they'd sat through oodles of sermons by their dad, the pastor, they had never themselves said the "sinner's prayer" to become "born again" before. (quotes used because I know that while a lot of us church-goers are quite familiar with them, some casual blog-readers might not be, and that's fine, so just know it's just us church folk's lingo.)
Anyway, so these 2 kids have a hoot of a time making fun of other people in church instead of being serious and listening to the message. For example, this one old dude has a perfectly round, shiny bald head and he always takes a nap during the sermon. Well, one morning a fly lands on his head, which awakens the old man and SLAP!! he slaps at that ol' fly on his head, leaving a red "hand" impression on his bald head and sending these 2 siblings into an uncontrollable gale of giggles! (I'd be rolling on the floor under the pew, too!) There are plenty of other hilarious characters in this church, too, and even though it's funny, it also shows how the message of the Gospel is not being heard by these two youngens.
Then the kids go to summer camp. Bible camp, that is. At first they continue to find ways to goof off and be the bad PK's, just to maintain their naughty image, but then an event occurs that changes them. Joy first. She and a girlfriend sneak out of their after-lunch "nap" time and go to the pool, which is locked and unsupervised. Despite the danger of no lifeguard around, they decide to test their not-so-strong swimming skills, a mishap occurs, and get themselves in serious trouble. Joy ends up almost drowning, blacking out and waking up with a kind camp counselor, to whom she confides that she was so afraid of dying and not going to heaven. So the counselor then explains the Gospel message to her, breaking it down into the ABC's of A: admit you're a sinner, B: believe that Jesus died for your sins and C: confess your sins and ask Jesus into your heart. She also uses the analogy, "just because you live in a garage doesn't make you a car" to show how it doesn't matter that Joy and her brother are preacher's kids and go to church every Sunday, they still need to personally pray to receive Jesus in their hearts.
This book really touched me, and led me to stop, put the book down, and say my own private prayer to ask Jesus into my heart. On my own, in my own little bedroom. No organ music, no people praying over me, no lightning bolts. In fact, as far as I could see, my life continued as normal after that point. But it was the seed that was planted, and God kept watering that seed by allowing new situations in my life, which eventually led to a more conscious decision to re-commit my life to Christ and to take my life down a much different path than the rest of my family and friends.
There were several reasons why this particular book reached me the way it did, where other methods of evangelism might not have. This book uncovered the habit of many of us churched kids, of being naughty in church and not taking the message seriously. It also really brought it home to me when it made the conversion experience happen while she was at summer camp. ah, yes, summer Bible camp. That's where it got me, as I had already had my own first experience of a week at the Bible camp sponsored by my church. There's just something different about it, the way these spiritual truths came alive so much more than in the stuffy, stiff environment of our structured church service. I'll never forget those times, it was a magical thing, almost, how we bonded so quickly with the other kids, made such close friends that it was a big blubbering sob-fest the last day when it was time to go home and leave these wonderful people. And then there were the campfire devotions every night, sitting on log benches, in the woods, under the stars, singing praise & worship songs around the blazing campfire while slapping at mosquitos and watching the shifting logs and burning embers in the firepit. It was that part of it, the singing along with the guitar-led worship, that motivated me to save up for my own guitar, teach myself how to play, and soon after became one of those "cool" counselors who sat on the front bench next to the fire, playing all our favorite songs. (of course the part that was NOT so cool was how dang HOT the guitar would get while sitting up so close to the inferno, and then there was that fear of putting my guitar back into its case when finished, in the dark, and grabbing a spider that had quickly crawled into the dark recesses of the case. eeeek!! yes, that has happened!!!)
Most importantly, this story reached me because, even though it was fiction, it was like a living testimony played out before me, someone else's story of how they encountered Jesus in a real, personal way. Not a book written directly at the reader, in the first person voice, pointing fingers and shouting "YOU need Jesus! Repent! Now!" But instead it's a gentle nudge from the author, a subtle "here's how it happened with the character in this book, and you can have it too!" I love reading real-life stories about other people, and reading is the key word, where i can sit quietly and absorb it on my own time and make my decision when i'm ready. I can imagine the author saying quiet prayers for her reader, as well.
So what is my novel idea? why, to write a novel, of course. Or a kids' book. but not just any book, but to concoct a story of a life intersected by the love of Jesus and how it changed a person's heart and their entire life, no matter how messed up they were before. A very real, down-to-earth kind of story, maybe about a young kid coming to know the Lord through interesting circumstances, or even, ha ha, even a story about an adult, modeled after my own crazy experiences!! orrrrr maybe not. might be a bit too shocking for the average church library or the inspirational fiction section at the library. (Of course the names would be changed to protect the innocent.) i do enjoy reading some Christian fiction, but some of it, sorrynotsorry, is just not "real" enough for me. The kind that i could relate to would have characters that aren't quite as clean-cut and smooth as the typical Christian romance (gag me!!) would have them described. My characters might be a little more awkward, they might swear or even have bad thoughts now and then. But they'd be real, and the gospel message would be clear. Pages might sting with the reality of an average sinner's life, yet be lightly sweetened with the heart of an evangelist.
That's my goal, for one day. someday. Easier said than done. writing, i mean good writing, is hard work. the planning, the revising, the completion of a story when i run out of ideas, the proofreading. and it's lonely work. But it would be my way to give back...to those who planted seeds in my own life...and to the Lord. Reminds me of the camp song we used to sing and i learned to play on my guitar, called Freely:
Freely, freely you have received
Freely, freely give.
Go in my name and because you believe
Others will know that I live.
God forgave my sins in Jesus' name
I've been born again in Jesus' name
And in Jesus' name i come to you
to share His love as He told me to.
He...said...
Freely, freely....
so...we'll see.
What I'm trying to say is, one person may be led to saying a prayer to accept Jesus in their heart through hearing a sermon and responding to an altar call, (and many do) while others may be led to Christ through a one-on-one interaction with someone, someone who builds a relationship with the person through one of the love languages, such as spending time with them, listening to their own personal story, encouraging them and lovingly explaining how we need Jesus. And then there's still others who receive Christ on a far more private level, those that receive God's word through simply reading the Bible, and also through the writings of Christian authors who pour out their hearts, sharing the Gospel creatively through a literary form that truly speaks to the reader's heart, while they are in a quiet mode of reflection and introspection. It could be fiction or nonfiction.
This is what happened to me when I was thirteen years old. I was led to pray for Jesus to enter my heart through the reading of this fictional, very old-fashioned book, even then, entitled Joy Sparton of Parsonage Hill by Ruth I. Johnson.
Here's the jist of it.. Joy Sparton and her twin brother are PK's. (preacher's kids, the first time I heard that acronym) They go to a formal, rather stuffy church (weren't they all like that in those days?) and even though they'd sat through oodles of sermons by their dad, the pastor, they had never themselves said the "sinner's prayer" to become "born again" before. (quotes used because I know that while a lot of us church-goers are quite familiar with them, some casual blog-readers might not be, and that's fine, so just know it's just us church folk's lingo.)
Anyway, so these 2 kids have a hoot of a time making fun of other people in church instead of being serious and listening to the message. For example, this one old dude has a perfectly round, shiny bald head and he always takes a nap during the sermon. Well, one morning a fly lands on his head, which awakens the old man and SLAP!! he slaps at that ol' fly on his head, leaving a red "hand" impression on his bald head and sending these 2 siblings into an uncontrollable gale of giggles! (I'd be rolling on the floor under the pew, too!) There are plenty of other hilarious characters in this church, too, and even though it's funny, it also shows how the message of the Gospel is not being heard by these two youngens.
Then the kids go to summer camp. Bible camp, that is. At first they continue to find ways to goof off and be the bad PK's, just to maintain their naughty image, but then an event occurs that changes them. Joy first. She and a girlfriend sneak out of their after-lunch "nap" time and go to the pool, which is locked and unsupervised. Despite the danger of no lifeguard around, they decide to test their not-so-strong swimming skills, a mishap occurs, and get themselves in serious trouble. Joy ends up almost drowning, blacking out and waking up with a kind camp counselor, to whom she confides that she was so afraid of dying and not going to heaven. So the counselor then explains the Gospel message to her, breaking it down into the ABC's of A: admit you're a sinner, B: believe that Jesus died for your sins and C: confess your sins and ask Jesus into your heart. She also uses the analogy, "just because you live in a garage doesn't make you a car" to show how it doesn't matter that Joy and her brother are preacher's kids and go to church every Sunday, they still need to personally pray to receive Jesus in their hearts.
This book really touched me, and led me to stop, put the book down, and say my own private prayer to ask Jesus into my heart. On my own, in my own little bedroom. No organ music, no people praying over me, no lightning bolts. In fact, as far as I could see, my life continued as normal after that point. But it was the seed that was planted, and God kept watering that seed by allowing new situations in my life, which eventually led to a more conscious decision to re-commit my life to Christ and to take my life down a much different path than the rest of my family and friends.
There were several reasons why this particular book reached me the way it did, where other methods of evangelism might not have. This book uncovered the habit of many of us churched kids, of being naughty in church and not taking the message seriously. It also really brought it home to me when it made the conversion experience happen while she was at summer camp. ah, yes, summer Bible camp. That's where it got me, as I had already had my own first experience of a week at the Bible camp sponsored by my church. There's just something different about it, the way these spiritual truths came alive so much more than in the stuffy, stiff environment of our structured church service. I'll never forget those times, it was a magical thing, almost, how we bonded so quickly with the other kids, made such close friends that it was a big blubbering sob-fest the last day when it was time to go home and leave these wonderful people. And then there were the campfire devotions every night, sitting on log benches, in the woods, under the stars, singing praise & worship songs around the blazing campfire while slapping at mosquitos and watching the shifting logs and burning embers in the firepit. It was that part of it, the singing along with the guitar-led worship, that motivated me to save up for my own guitar, teach myself how to play, and soon after became one of those "cool" counselors who sat on the front bench next to the fire, playing all our favorite songs. (of course the part that was NOT so cool was how dang HOT the guitar would get while sitting up so close to the inferno, and then there was that fear of putting my guitar back into its case when finished, in the dark, and grabbing a spider that had quickly crawled into the dark recesses of the case. eeeek!! yes, that has happened!!!)
Most importantly, this story reached me because, even though it was fiction, it was like a living testimony played out before me, someone else's story of how they encountered Jesus in a real, personal way. Not a book written directly at the reader, in the first person voice, pointing fingers and shouting "YOU need Jesus! Repent! Now!" But instead it's a gentle nudge from the author, a subtle "here's how it happened with the character in this book, and you can have it too!" I love reading real-life stories about other people, and reading is the key word, where i can sit quietly and absorb it on my own time and make my decision when i'm ready. I can imagine the author saying quiet prayers for her reader, as well.
So what is my novel idea? why, to write a novel, of course. Or a kids' book. but not just any book, but to concoct a story of a life intersected by the love of Jesus and how it changed a person's heart and their entire life, no matter how messed up they were before. A very real, down-to-earth kind of story, maybe about a young kid coming to know the Lord through interesting circumstances, or even, ha ha, even a story about an adult, modeled after my own crazy experiences!! orrrrr maybe not. might be a bit too shocking for the average church library or the inspirational fiction section at the library. (Of course the names would be changed to protect the innocent.) i do enjoy reading some Christian fiction, but some of it, sorrynotsorry, is just not "real" enough for me. The kind that i could relate to would have characters that aren't quite as clean-cut and smooth as the typical Christian romance (gag me!!) would have them described. My characters might be a little more awkward, they might swear or even have bad thoughts now and then. But they'd be real, and the gospel message would be clear. Pages might sting with the reality of an average sinner's life, yet be lightly sweetened with the heart of an evangelist.
That's my goal, for one day. someday. Easier said than done. writing, i mean good writing, is hard work. the planning, the revising, the completion of a story when i run out of ideas, the proofreading. and it's lonely work. But it would be my way to give back...to those who planted seeds in my own life...and to the Lord. Reminds me of the camp song we used to sing and i learned to play on my guitar, called Freely:
Freely, freely you have received
Freely, freely give.
Go in my name and because you believe
Others will know that I live.
God forgave my sins in Jesus' name
I've been born again in Jesus' name
And in Jesus' name i come to you
to share His love as He told me to.
He...said...
Freely, freely....
so...we'll see.
casting my net
So while on my run this morning, i had these thoughts...
i know it sounds terribly boringly unspontaneously grown-up and dull and non-dramatic
but...
i am thinking far ahead...thinking about casting my nets out beyond the shallow waters..
...and thinking about where i want to be
in ten years from now.
ok maybe eleven.
i can almost feel it now..the sights...the sounds...the smells...
i know things could change a little before then,
a few tweaks here & there,
God's intervention, slight changes of plans...
but i have to keep my eyes out there..
on the horizon of my dreams
i'm at a point now
where i realize
that even though i may have gotten off-track in some ways
and even those choices have been amazingly partially redeemed...
some things haven't changed.
some dreams in my heart,
dreams that just won't happen by sitting passively.
nope. been there done that.
so i'm thinking long-term
rolling up my sleeves
taking care of stuff
boring financial details,
legalities, crunching numbers...
preparing to do what i gotta do
choosing to live my life today
so that my future in-ten-years-from-now self
will thank me later.
small, serious choices and steps
that will be caring for others,
those precious brothers and sisters in my life,
choices that will benefit everyone involved
in the long run..
by encouraging and influencing them to trust God for themselves
to choose to put their own dreams before Him
so He can direct their steps.
For if we as parents don't live out our own passions,
our children will not have role models
to show them how to live impassioned lives,
and they will think all there is to life
is video games and waiting for life to pass them by.
And again for myself,
steps that will allow me
to use the talents and gifts I've been given
that will lead to more exciting and heartfelt choices and benefits later on.
Life is cyclical, not linear, i've learned...
it loops around
and i'm coming back to my former dreams & desires,
some unfinished business
So casting my net out upon the deeper waters
and trusting God for my catch.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
flames
Going to church, like, for a long time, without ever giving your heart to Jesus, would be like being married without ever having fallen in love. It would be just going through the motions...showing up, volunteering in the nursery, smiling for the church directory photos, enjoying the fellowship, the music, the donuts, the activities, the positive messages....but without any real connection. No real joy without personally knowing Jesus, having Him in your heart of hearts. Even if the initial high of falling in love with Jesus has passed, the person who once made that decision, prayed that prayer, still has the Holy Spirit living inside, so that nobody what happens, how much grief they bear, how far they stray, they always know that Jesus is near. That connection is still there. You don't marry someone just to go through the motions, gain the social status, financial position, or pleasant companionship. If there isn't a true emotional connection, a bonding that started with a mutual spark, a blazing fire that drew them together without thought of any of those other convenient fringe benefits, a fire "just because"...without that, it's like going to church makes you a Christian as much as living in a barn makes you a cow. Of course, I reiterate, that blazing fire may smolder down into a barely burning ember in time...but like the Holy Spirit, it should still be there, just waiting to be fanned into flame again. But if one goes to church without ever accepting Christ into their heart, there is no spark to return to. no first love. One must make the step, a simple one, no drama, hailstorms, fireworks or snakes involved, just a simple prayer. And God takes care of the rest. Let your heart make the right choice. Choose Jesus. And live honestly from the flame of your heart.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
good grief
feeling a good kind of grief tonight. not the charlie brown kind of "good grief"...
but the kind of sadness that floats around you, almost comforting you, as you know that God is close to the brokenhearted, to those crushed in spirit. knowing His presence is near is comfort enough. i can walk down the path of sadness, kicking at the dead leaves of old regrets and mistakes...but i keep on walking. He is with me. no idea of where the path is leading and that's ok. just enjoying the quiet, the aloneness. the fellowship with God alone. not to isolate myself in an unhealthy way, but to honor this alone time with the Lord. carefully, very selectively allowing a few trusted souls to see the eyes of my heart, or maybe just a glimpse. this tender seedling of hope can be easily crushed, so i keep it hidden. safe. perhaps someday i will share my story. if not, it's ok. God knows and understands. if i can just hold onto this good kind of grief, i'll be ok. it's ok.
but the kind of sadness that floats around you, almost comforting you, as you know that God is close to the brokenhearted, to those crushed in spirit. knowing His presence is near is comfort enough. i can walk down the path of sadness, kicking at the dead leaves of old regrets and mistakes...but i keep on walking. He is with me. no idea of where the path is leading and that's ok. just enjoying the quiet, the aloneness. the fellowship with God alone. not to isolate myself in an unhealthy way, but to honor this alone time with the Lord. carefully, very selectively allowing a few trusted souls to see the eyes of my heart, or maybe just a glimpse. this tender seedling of hope can be easily crushed, so i keep it hidden. safe. perhaps someday i will share my story. if not, it's ok. God knows and understands. if i can just hold onto this good kind of grief, i'll be ok. it's ok.
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