(A letter from the perspective of the One who sees all. When I started this post I began a list of the verses that referenced these names; but I decided that was not the point.)
Baby,
There are lions in your town. There are ashes all around; but, you can believe that the Phoenix exists.
Why do you fear and fret?
When you feel you are spinning, rejoice. It is then that you are being shaped as My vessel. Your cracks allow my light to shine through you.
You have forgotten that My holes made you whole.
I AM El-Roi, the God who sees. I know you angry sideways clumsy sad disjointed joyful alone quiet.
Some days your heart is full like summer and fog; and, others it is cold like nights and gas station wallpaper. You see?
I see.
I AM...
Advocate
Abba
Almighty
Alpha
Ancient of Days
Author of life
Author of your faith
Adonai
Beginning
Branch
Bread of life
Comforter
Consolation of Israel
Consuming fire
Cornerstone
Counselor
Creator
Cloud by day
Close to the brokenhearted
Conqueror
Deliverer
Desired of all nations
Defender
Eternal God
Everlasting Father
Elohim
Faithful
Foundation
Friend
Fire by night
Good Shepherd
Gentle
Heir of all things
Hope
Horn of salvation
Healer
I AM
Immanuel
Jesus
Jehovah-Rapha, your healer
Jehovah- Nissi, your banner
Jehovah-Jireh, your provider
Jehovah-Rohi, the Lord who is present
Joy
Just
King of kings
King of the ages
King eternal
Lamb of God
Lion of Judah
Life
Light of the world
Lily of your valley
Living water
Lord of all
Lord of glory
Lord of hosts--I Am
Love
Master
Meaning of Life
Merciful God
Mighty God
Messiah
New life
Omega
Omnipotent
Omnipresent
Omniscient
Potter
Prince of peace
Redeemer
Refiner's fire
Resurrection
Rock
Root of David
Rose of Sharon
Savior
Servant
Son of God
Son of David
Source
Shield
Teacher
Truth
Trinity
Unchanging
Understanding
Unity
Victorious
Vine of life
(the)Way
(the)Word
Yahweh
I AM a zealous God.
And you, baby?
You Are Mine.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
A Letter for My Children: 9 August 2013
10.06pm
I cannot find a word to begin.
I actually hunted through my 1828 Noah Webster's Dictionary in an attempt to help me start somewhere.
Anywhere.
I suppose this is a letter of sorts; perhaps, a prayer; a praise...
Beloved,
I love you.
I love you tirelessly. I have only begun to know the true endurance and the true grit and stamina required of sacrifice. I have only begun to understand the joy found in the deep love as a mother, the relief in throat thumping prayers at 2am...the true peace found in surrender. I have only begun to experience the true love and faithfulness of God. I have come to believe that only God can understand the true sacrifice that comes with a deep and true love for your child. So, you see, my love for you--you cannot know, and God's love for us is even more unfathomable.
When you arrive in the deserts of life, and you will arrive, be still and know that God is with you. I pray, for you, that you always recognize His presence and that you come to desire it. There is no darkness or loneliness that can come upon you that he will not speak into. He will call your name. You will have His pillar of fire by night to lead and warm you, and as a cloud to cover you by day. You will again be lead to the oasis in the place of scorching heat that seems to consume all of life. Believe that Life and Living Water are not dependent on our location. Life giving water for the deserts of our souls comes from God alone. His giving is not dependent on our location; His giving is dependent on his grace. Ask, and you will receive.
When people judge you, and they will, be still and know that God is with you. Listen to what they have to say, for wisdom is birthed from correction. You must know to sift their words lovingly with the help of your Creator, who made you and knows the number of hairs on your head. Take heart and be courageous, beloved...if the words spoken are true, persevere in the refiner's fire. He will not abandon you in the flame. He will restore your frame and your bones will be made strong. If their judgment is harsh, untrue and God confirms this, dismiss them in love. Pray for them until you no longer feel the sting of their false accusations. God knows the truth. He is the truth. Do not fear man; fear God.
When you go through the valley, and you will, be still and know that God is with you. Lift your eyes to the hills, where your help comes from. You will not find the way through the valley, where you remain in the shadow, without the light of his Word to lead you. His Word is a lamp for your feet, and a light for your path. The valley offers a time of level paths for your feet. You will climb the mountain, one step at a time...tomorrow. But, today, while in the valley, find rest for your soul. There can be no shadow cast where there is no light nearby. God will walk with you in the valleys. You are not alone.
When you forget the way to go, and you will, be still and know that God is with you. He will never leave nor forsake you. You may not know what step you need to take next, and you may spend your sorrows on wishing for tomorrow (or yesterday), but your direction given will be sufficient for today. God has not misplaced the way. He is the Way. Just drop anchor, seek his face with all of your strength, and believe he will ensure your safe arrival as he has intended for you.
When darkness covers you with fear, and it will, be still and know that God is with you. No weapon formed against you will prosper. Your Father in heaven will protect and defend you. At His name alone, your foes must surrender.
When wars rage in secret and no one else knows of them, and they will rage, be still and know that God is with you. There will be a time for peace, and at times to keep the peace you will need a sword. Make your sword the Word of the Living God, not the words of an angry tongue, the actions of a vindictive heart, or the thoughts of an arrogant mind.
If you question who is going to sustain you in your weariness, be still and know "I AM."
I love you endlessly,
Mommy
(The inspiration for this post came from the fierce love I have for my children, seeing life in the valley firsthand, and a very simple song that carries me.)
I cannot find a word to begin.
I actually hunted through my 1828 Noah Webster's Dictionary in an attempt to help me start somewhere.
Anywhere.
I suppose this is a letter of sorts; perhaps, a prayer; a praise...
Beloved,
I love you.
I love you tirelessly. I have only begun to know the true endurance and the true grit and stamina required of sacrifice. I have only begun to understand the joy found in the deep love as a mother, the relief in throat thumping prayers at 2am...the true peace found in surrender. I have only begun to experience the true love and faithfulness of God. I have come to believe that only God can understand the true sacrifice that comes with a deep and true love for your child. So, you see, my love for you--you cannot know, and God's love for us is even more unfathomable.
When you arrive in the deserts of life, and you will arrive, be still and know that God is with you. I pray, for you, that you always recognize His presence and that you come to desire it. There is no darkness or loneliness that can come upon you that he will not speak into. He will call your name. You will have His pillar of fire by night to lead and warm you, and as a cloud to cover you by day. You will again be lead to the oasis in the place of scorching heat that seems to consume all of life. Believe that Life and Living Water are not dependent on our location. Life giving water for the deserts of our souls comes from God alone. His giving is not dependent on our location; His giving is dependent on his grace. Ask, and you will receive.
When people judge you, and they will, be still and know that God is with you. Listen to what they have to say, for wisdom is birthed from correction. You must know to sift their words lovingly with the help of your Creator, who made you and knows the number of hairs on your head. Take heart and be courageous, beloved...if the words spoken are true, persevere in the refiner's fire. He will not abandon you in the flame. He will restore your frame and your bones will be made strong. If their judgment is harsh, untrue and God confirms this, dismiss them in love. Pray for them until you no longer feel the sting of their false accusations. God knows the truth. He is the truth. Do not fear man; fear God.
When you go through the valley, and you will, be still and know that God is with you. Lift your eyes to the hills, where your help comes from. You will not find the way through the valley, where you remain in the shadow, without the light of his Word to lead you. His Word is a lamp for your feet, and a light for your path. The valley offers a time of level paths for your feet. You will climb the mountain, one step at a time...tomorrow. But, today, while in the valley, find rest for your soul. There can be no shadow cast where there is no light nearby. God will walk with you in the valleys. You are not alone.
When you forget the way to go, and you will, be still and know that God is with you. He will never leave nor forsake you. You may not know what step you need to take next, and you may spend your sorrows on wishing for tomorrow (or yesterday), but your direction given will be sufficient for today. God has not misplaced the way. He is the Way. Just drop anchor, seek his face with all of your strength, and believe he will ensure your safe arrival as he has intended for you.
When darkness covers you with fear, and it will, be still and know that God is with you. No weapon formed against you will prosper. Your Father in heaven will protect and defend you. At His name alone, your foes must surrender.
When wars rage in secret and no one else knows of them, and they will rage, be still and know that God is with you. There will be a time for peace, and at times to keep the peace you will need a sword. Make your sword the Word of the Living God, not the words of an angry tongue, the actions of a vindictive heart, or the thoughts of an arrogant mind.
If you question who is going to sustain you in your weariness, be still and know "I AM."
I love you endlessly,
Mommy
(The inspiration for this post came from the fierce love I have for my children, seeing life in the valley firsthand, and a very simple song that carries me.)
Saturday, March 2, 2013
The Milk Jug Heart Jesus
Some things hurt so deeply that you feel as though someone broke into your chest and gulped your heart and wedged it into a milk jug. You have people in your life that will never understand that pain, the reasons why it runs so deep, and they may even cast judgment on you because you deal with it in ways that they deem unfit. And when you are standing on your figurative porch, holding your milk jug heart in the cold, cold sun...you can either hold it in a jug and know they are wrong; or, you can realize maybe God allowed it to be removed because he wants your heart in your hands for awhile. Better yet, perhaps he wants your heart in his hands...
God has taught me the most gripping love in my times of pain and adversity. Hear me- he does not want pain for our lives; but he will use it. I have had the honor, very recently, to have been fairly wounded by one very close to me. (You cannot be wounded by those you do not love or those that do not love you. This is the blessing of betrayal.) These wounds meant levels of emotional betrayal in dark hours taking on a new meaning. I gained a new awareness of losing trust, and a sense of injustice in the entire situation left me reeling.
Our hearts are literally protected beneath our rib cage. I have heard many a wounded person talk about "protecting their heart." I have faced the temptation of protecting and guarding my heart in the wrong way by actually deciding I would keep it to myself, never to be free again. Protection and Prison are both a cage in their own right, but they are not the same thing.
We do become the same shape as the prison that holds us. If pain is our prison, we are allowing ourselves to a life with no joy. If anger is our prison, we are allowing ourselves to a life with no mercy. This list could be long; but, the bottom line is that we easily blame others or God (or our idea of him) for our prisons when we chose them for ourselves. If our prison is our rib cage- then no one gets in; but, we won't get out, either. If my heart remains in my chest, I have wasted the ability and God given gift to feel. I have wasted the honor to live and be hurt, and be healed, and be loved, and be a survivor of loving.
If I keep my heart in my hands, I can too easily drop it, or make it in to a paper Valentine and send it off on a paper raft into a paper ocean.
But if I am willing to let my heart be pulpy in my life circumstance and ripped out, and then take it in my milk jug, and intentionally give it to a friend that can help carry the weight, He will make the burden light. If I take my suffering heart to someone who knows suffering, too, He will fill it with a passion for caring for orphans and widows, knowing that the best thing you can do to feel better is to help others. In the hands of a skilled surgeon, He will stitch the hole in my heart that my betrayers gashed (and he will lovingly leave the scar to remind me that He stitched the wound). He will pick my heart up off of the sandy ground and make one grain in to a pearl. He will take the empty page and make it in to a new song. He will meet my heart, at the heat of the day, at the well...and will ask for the empty milk jug so he can fill it, instead, with Living Water.
This is what Jesus does with milk jug hearts...but only if we chose to hand our hearts over...
So? What's your prison and what or Who will set you free?
God has taught me the most gripping love in my times of pain and adversity. Hear me- he does not want pain for our lives; but he will use it. I have had the honor, very recently, to have been fairly wounded by one very close to me. (You cannot be wounded by those you do not love or those that do not love you. This is the blessing of betrayal.) These wounds meant levels of emotional betrayal in dark hours taking on a new meaning. I gained a new awareness of losing trust, and a sense of injustice in the entire situation left me reeling.
Our hearts are literally protected beneath our rib cage. I have heard many a wounded person talk about "protecting their heart." I have faced the temptation of protecting and guarding my heart in the wrong way by actually deciding I would keep it to myself, never to be free again. Protection and Prison are both a cage in their own right, but they are not the same thing.
We do become the same shape as the prison that holds us. If pain is our prison, we are allowing ourselves to a life with no joy. If anger is our prison, we are allowing ourselves to a life with no mercy. This list could be long; but, the bottom line is that we easily blame others or God (or our idea of him) for our prisons when we chose them for ourselves. If our prison is our rib cage- then no one gets in; but, we won't get out, either. If my heart remains in my chest, I have wasted the ability and God given gift to feel. I have wasted the honor to live and be hurt, and be healed, and be loved, and be a survivor of loving.
If I keep my heart in my hands, I can too easily drop it, or make it in to a paper Valentine and send it off on a paper raft into a paper ocean.
But if I am willing to let my heart be pulpy in my life circumstance and ripped out, and then take it in my milk jug, and intentionally give it to a friend that can help carry the weight, He will make the burden light. If I take my suffering heart to someone who knows suffering, too, He will fill it with a passion for caring for orphans and widows, knowing that the best thing you can do to feel better is to help others. In the hands of a skilled surgeon, He will stitch the hole in my heart that my betrayers gashed (and he will lovingly leave the scar to remind me that He stitched the wound). He will pick my heart up off of the sandy ground and make one grain in to a pearl. He will take the empty page and make it in to a new song. He will meet my heart, at the heat of the day, at the well...and will ask for the empty milk jug so he can fill it, instead, with Living Water.
This is what Jesus does with milk jug hearts...but only if we chose to hand our hearts over...
So? What's your prison and what or Who will set you free?
Thursday, February 21, 2013
I mostly get this all wrong...too.
(This post is not to say that fathers do not experience the things mentioned, from a mother's perspective, in this post. It is also not to look down upon any woman who works outside of the home. I respect any person who takes on the task of raising and/or providing for a child. One of my dearest friends is pursuing her dream for and because of her children.)
Bedtime stories are as much a part of the day ending as is the guilt of a mother. I don't say that as a victim, as though the choice to care for my children every day was something that happened to me. No. It was a choice.
The way I saw it was that I could invest in to the next 60 years of my life and make that quite comfortable, to be honest...or I could invest in to eternity by choosing to be the one to have the largest influence on my babes in their formative years. I felt like a hero when I was pregnant with my first and realized I had made that choice to stay home. Man, was I vain. I still thought that raising a child was about me in some way.
Women have 10 months to realize they are...mothers. (9 months is a strange lie, and I'm not sure why more people haven't caught on. 40 weeks is 10 months, yo'.) It's a strange transition. Motherhood is a jangly waltz, if you will. And if you feel like you are getting it all wrong...good for you! You are officially a mommy!
So, if you understand the guilt I am talking about as stay-at-home parent--or are questioning if you want to be one--here is my $8.26 on the matter. (One last disclosure: this post is mostly written to help me figure out what I am thinking and, possibly, to pacify my ego. You've been warned.) My poor attempt at narrowing this down is in the following 3 areas:
1. Life Lessons...
What do my kids see when I am angry? Sad? Stressed? Rushed? This is how they learn. I will not shield them from human emotion. I want to teach them how to navigate through it.
I cry in front of my kids. "It's ok to be sad. We still do our chores."
I apologize when I am wrong. "I'm sorry I was loud when you were upset."
I pray in front of them. "Dear God, help mommy to be patient."
I talk to myself. A lot.
I personally think there are three ways we teach our children:
1) By example
2) By example
3) By example
It's ok to screw up. Their lives will be full of mistakes. We can't avoid making mistakes. (Accidents are given their name for a reason.) Our children's mistakes are not all our fault. Enjoy that for a minute. Our job is to teach them how to live with excellence, a moral compass, and self-control. Teach them how to intentionally live life with generous dignity, and you change a generation.
2. When my best is not good enough.
Perfectionist, anyone? Me, too. People tell me, until they are blue in the face, "Just do your best." What do I do when I know my best was only half what I think my best is?
Look.
How arrogant do we really have to be to assume that the sky falling will or will not be our fault? In other words, is the world so fragile that I am in more control of it than my God? No. Get a grip. Take a breath. Repeat. Then...you do your best.
Wake up when it's time to wake up. Read a book when it's time to read a book. Brush your teeth together. Look at the amazing stick when it's presented. And be amazed. Count everything you can. Don't try to make yesterday--today. I have days where I can get up at 5, exercise, read my Bible, shower and have breakfast made (OK, this happened once, I think) by 8--and others where if my 2 year old sleeps until 8 I crawl in to bed with him and sleep. Until 8. Life is reading the moments and living them. Make a routine- and keep a schedule; just don't freak out if it beginss at a different time each morning. (This, of course, depends on the age of your kids, if they are in school, etc...) Wake up, eat, play. Start at 7, 7:20, or 7:56. You are not perfect. You are excellent.
3. Should I go back to work?
(Reminder of previous disclosure, for some women, yes. This is you. There is not one correct mold. I am not judging.)
Most days I think I focus on catching the "firsts." But, I miss the lasts. If I am doing the dishes I will say, "No I cannot hold you." (And, kids need to hear that sometimes the answer is no.)
But what if tomorrow you don't ask me to hold you? What if all of a sudden tomorrow is the day you are a kid, and not a baby, and you don't want me to hold you? What day was it that you no longer needed me to help you walk? What day was it that you could hold a cup on your own? How do we parents balance all of this? I mean, a dirty kitchen makes me very crazy inside...so...
We use our judgement. We have them help with the dishes (bonus--use it while we can). Basically, what I mean is, we let our toddlers think they are helping with the dishes and we clean the mess afterwards.
For me, personally, I wonder every single day if I am squelching my kids. Do you really think we can live our entire lives this way? Wondering what we did right or wrong? Now, I get it. Do your best.
For me, when it came to daycare, I had to ask myself how I would feel if I picked my baby up in a different outfit and I didn't know the story. Was it play-doh? The spaghetti at lunch? Did you get hurt? And it broke my heart to know that I wouldn't know the story behind a new outfit.
I get this wrong every day, and I go to sleep knowing that I get to try again tomorrow. Somewhere inside I think...if I do nothing else right today or tomorrow, they're gonna' know that I love them to the bones.
Bedtime stories are as much a part of the day ending as is the guilt of a mother. I don't say that as a victim, as though the choice to care for my children every day was something that happened to me. No. It was a choice.
The way I saw it was that I could invest in to the next 60 years of my life and make that quite comfortable, to be honest...or I could invest in to eternity by choosing to be the one to have the largest influence on my babes in their formative years. I felt like a hero when I was pregnant with my first and realized I had made that choice to stay home. Man, was I vain. I still thought that raising a child was about me in some way.
Women have 10 months to realize they are...mothers. (9 months is a strange lie, and I'm not sure why more people haven't caught on. 40 weeks is 10 months, yo'.) It's a strange transition. Motherhood is a jangly waltz, if you will. And if you feel like you are getting it all wrong...good for you! You are officially a mommy!
So, if you understand the guilt I am talking about as stay-at-home parent--or are questioning if you want to be one--here is my $8.26 on the matter. (One last disclosure: this post is mostly written to help me figure out what I am thinking and, possibly, to pacify my ego. You've been warned.) My poor attempt at narrowing this down is in the following 3 areas:
1. Life Lessons...
What do my kids see when I am angry? Sad? Stressed? Rushed? This is how they learn. I will not shield them from human emotion. I want to teach them how to navigate through it.
I cry in front of my kids. "It's ok to be sad. We still do our chores."
I apologize when I am wrong. "I'm sorry I was loud when you were upset."
I pray in front of them. "Dear God, help mommy to be patient."
I talk to myself. A lot.
I personally think there are three ways we teach our children:
1) By example
2) By example
3) By example
It's ok to screw up. Their lives will be full of mistakes. We can't avoid making mistakes. (Accidents are given their name for a reason.) Our children's mistakes are not all our fault. Enjoy that for a minute. Our job is to teach them how to live with excellence, a moral compass, and self-control. Teach them how to intentionally live life with generous dignity, and you change a generation.
2. When my best is not good enough.
Perfectionist, anyone? Me, too. People tell me, until they are blue in the face, "Just do your best." What do I do when I know my best was only half what I think my best is?
Look.
How arrogant do we really have to be to assume that the sky falling will or will not be our fault? In other words, is the world so fragile that I am in more control of it than my God? No. Get a grip. Take a breath. Repeat. Then...you do your best.
Wake up when it's time to wake up. Read a book when it's time to read a book. Brush your teeth together. Look at the amazing stick when it's presented. And be amazed. Count everything you can. Don't try to make yesterday--today. I have days where I can get up at 5, exercise, read my Bible, shower and have breakfast made (OK, this happened once, I think) by 8--and others where if my 2 year old sleeps until 8 I crawl in to bed with him and sleep. Until 8. Life is reading the moments and living them. Make a routine- and keep a schedule; just don't freak out if it beginss at a different time each morning. (This, of course, depends on the age of your kids, if they are in school, etc...) Wake up, eat, play. Start at 7, 7:20, or 7:56. You are not perfect. You are excellent.
3. Should I go back to work?
(Reminder of previous disclosure, for some women, yes. This is you. There is not one correct mold. I am not judging.)
Most days I think I focus on catching the "firsts." But, I miss the lasts. If I am doing the dishes I will say, "No I cannot hold you." (And, kids need to hear that sometimes the answer is no.)
But what if tomorrow you don't ask me to hold you? What if all of a sudden tomorrow is the day you are a kid, and not a baby, and you don't want me to hold you? What day was it that you no longer needed me to help you walk? What day was it that you could hold a cup on your own? How do we parents balance all of this? I mean, a dirty kitchen makes me very crazy inside...so...
We use our judgement. We have them help with the dishes (bonus--use it while we can). Basically, what I mean is, we let our toddlers think they are helping with the dishes and we clean the mess afterwards.
For me, personally, I wonder every single day if I am squelching my kids. Do you really think we can live our entire lives this way? Wondering what we did right or wrong? Now, I get it. Do your best.
For me, when it came to daycare, I had to ask myself how I would feel if I picked my baby up in a different outfit and I didn't know the story. Was it play-doh? The spaghetti at lunch? Did you get hurt? And it broke my heart to know that I wouldn't know the story behind a new outfit.
I get this wrong every day, and I go to sleep knowing that I get to try again tomorrow. Somewhere inside I think...if I do nothing else right today or tomorrow, they're gonna' know that I love them to the bones.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Facebook Fast
I realize not everyone may be living in the dark ages, by choice, as I do much of the time. I have long preferred a long hand letter (complete with a wax seal), record player, typewriter and paper journals to their counterparts. With that said, I love the Internet and still do not have a land line, currently. I aim for a balance and an act of moderation in our home (including my own time spent online). To be honest, I don't fall on the purest side of the equation but I also don't have any idea how to sync my iPhone. The side of me that tends to fall more on the conservative side of technology has some thoughts on the matter...
I wonder if my young child could (god forbid) call 911 on my cell should the need arise.
I have thought about his little brain--little hands next to the big satellite while he talks or plays on my phone (which totals, maybe 30 minutes per week).
Will my children call me when they are in their later 20's-early 30's? Tweens and teens?
Will my children know how to express emotions other than via emoticons? ;)
Will my children understand privacy? That strangers are dangerous, even behind a screen?
Will my children be isolated via the web? Will they be too busy creating their online selves that they no longer take honest moral inventories on who they really are?
Will my children know that life is not composed of abbrv's or life in a phrase?
You get the idea.
The world is changing. I am trying to keep up.
Technology is great. It teaches our children, and, in moderation and within safe and proper contexts, I think that is a fabulous thing. It even saves lives.
I have long wondered, however, if the Internet, and other tools of technology, have the potential of killing life.
I took a Facebook sabbatical. I deactivated my account for less than a month. I am not even sure if my absence counts as such. Try it. Deactivate your Facebook. I dare you.
Just-point-click-close. Why not? I don't know. But you do...
It is my conviction that the Internet has the potential to create a very dangerous, very false sense of community. Whatever your vice may be, whatever your choice of interaction, reaction, action or relationship...the Internet is two dimensional at best. What we are doing"with" each other--we are actually doing without each other.
Communication is made up of 7% verbal (in this case written) and 93% nonverbal body language.
Now, words are my life. I understand that not all people share the passion of the true sentence, the true word... simply put, I read the 1828 edition of the Noah Webster's Dictionary when I can't sleep.
Words matter. I get it, I really do. But words, I finally resolve, are-not-everything. Words, alone, are not life. Words are not the living. Words are 7%, and I want my children to grow with the knowledge that talking is not just words. I want them to know that true communication is listening, watching, and being present.
According to CNN, better than 90% of kids under the age of two have an online history. By age 5, more than 50% regularly use a device to access the Internet.
Research that studies how the Internet changes life is still in it's early stages, but it shows that regular Internet usage changes the way our brains work. I repeat, frequent use of the Internet shows (both for adults and children) a change in the way our brains function. In some children, this change in brain function, has been linked to: limited attention spans, lower comprehension, poor focus, greater risk for depression, and a diminished long-term memory.
If I am honest with myself, I have probably experienced the same list mentioned above.
Yes, I have a life. And I really do. But I felt left out once I deactivated my Facebook account. I even felt alone at times when I would have--otherwise--been scrolling through the news feed or checking information on group pages. (Don't judge me until you take me up on my dare.) I had to, had to ask myself-who-are-my-friends? BTW (pun intended) you know who you are. I could count on two hands who my friends are in this last 3 weeks but I have hundreds on Facebook.
Have we forgotten what defines friendship on some level? Do we send Valentine's to our mothers? Even email is antiquated these days. I just real life lol. Email is antiquated.
You know what makes me really real life lol? "Facebook security."
Have you googled yourself? Your name that "safely" hovers over your child's pictures, even in a tagged post? LOL. LOL. LOL. Google yourself. It opened my eyes as I read the town in which I live, my parent's names, husband's name, his sister's name and where she lives (and has lived). The real kicker was when I googled her name and got information about her husband's family, sister, brother-in-law...
LOL.
It took 5 clicks to get to my husband's brother's wife's mother's information. And she lives in another state--along with her son and his wife...
For a small monthly fee you could have someone's credit history. Facebook security?
L-O-friggin' ELLLLL.
Who a person is, who a person has always been, is who they are behind closed doors. Who a person is, who a person has always been, is not who they are in Facebook phrases. We see each other in glimpses like passing on the street. I am honest with the things I say in updates (even though cryptic, at times), but what do you know (or care) if I am lying?
I do trust the people in my friends list. Ones that I may not be in regular contact with are still good people. I am not afraid that everyone who did not call me in the last few weeks are the boogey man. But honestly, it may be more accurately stated to say (with many of my 'friends') that I trusted them when I knew them in waking life. But who are they now? The truth is that I have not even so much as run in to many of them in the last 10 years, but I have given them an open window in to my life.
Then. I. Am. Awake.
It is no secret that the media dictates and sets the pace for fashions, trends, even mascara. I may not be one to care about jeans, bags or Ulta...but I am, by choice, a victim of commercialism in many other ways. This post is not to judge anyone who has an intimate affair with life via satellite or a love for Coach. But, is it possible that the bar has now been raised and our ways of communication directed by the waves of the man-in-the-moon himself? Will we all fade in to a background via updates?
Don't get me wrong...I like Facebook. I will continue to use it. I even tweet (lol--ok, I'm done now).
But I have to ask myself if this use of the Internet has dictated what I once would never have dreamed of sharing behind my cloak. Has the Internet encouraged me to share what I wear behind my glasses with--the world? And all because it's "safe?"
For example, sharing pictures of my kids (which I recently stopped posting), thoughts of mine on many things...this blog...
The Internet made me brave, I suppose you could say. Isn't that sad and wonderful? The Internet is it's own cloak. Who are you reading this? I don't know, but you know me. Getting the picture?
According to several news sites (but I have only noted one in the bibliography of this post, since it was so prevalent) the world spends per day per day per day PER DAY on Facebook... 10.5 billion minutes. This average did not include time spent on phones. This is also according to the company of Facebook's IPO filing (10.5 billion minutes) per day.
Now, that seems silly to me. I live in a small town, in a relatively small house, with two small children. So let's make this small. (Like I said, wonder with words, eh?)
Let's just say someone were to spend 5 minutes at a time on Facebook to scroll the news feed, reply to a message, re-read a comment (you know you have) or check for 'likes' (don't even lie).
Let's say that they did this simple thing, for 5 minutes, 10 times in a 24 hour time period. Let's say, they did this 7 days a week, for 4 weeks. That's 1,400 minutes a month.
That-is-twenty-three point three (23.3) hours of life, on average a month, that that person will spend on Facebook.
Some of us "conservative" Internet users may, on average, per month, spend near one day of life on Facebook. Fakebook?
Now point-click-close-and go call your mother.
********************************************************************************
Laird, Sam. "Is Social Media Destroying Real-World Relationships? [INFOGRAPHIC]." Mashable June 14, 2012. 16 December 2012 <http://mashable.com>.
Clinton, Chelsea, Steyer, James P. "Is the Internet hurting Children?" CNN Opinion 21 May 2012. 16 December 2012 <http://www.cnn.com>.
I wonder if my young child could (god forbid) call 911 on my cell should the need arise.
I have thought about his little brain--little hands next to the big satellite while he talks or plays on my phone (which totals, maybe 30 minutes per week).
Will my children call me when they are in their later 20's-early 30's? Tweens and teens?
Will my children know how to express emotions other than via emoticons? ;)
Will my children understand privacy? That strangers are dangerous, even behind a screen?
Will my children be isolated via the web? Will they be too busy creating their online selves that they no longer take honest moral inventories on who they really are?
Will my children know that life is not composed of abbrv's or life in a phrase?
You get the idea.
The world is changing. I am trying to keep up.
Technology is great. It teaches our children, and, in moderation and within safe and proper contexts, I think that is a fabulous thing. It even saves lives.
I have long wondered, however, if the Internet, and other tools of technology, have the potential of killing life.
I took a Facebook sabbatical. I deactivated my account for less than a month. I am not even sure if my absence counts as such. Try it. Deactivate your Facebook. I dare you.
Just-point-click-close. Why not? I don't know. But you do...
It is my conviction that the Internet has the potential to create a very dangerous, very false sense of community. Whatever your vice may be, whatever your choice of interaction, reaction, action or relationship...the Internet is two dimensional at best. What we are doing"with" each other--we are actually doing without each other.
Communication is made up of 7% verbal (in this case written) and 93% nonverbal body language.
Now, words are my life. I understand that not all people share the passion of the true sentence, the true word... simply put, I read the 1828 edition of the Noah Webster's Dictionary when I can't sleep.
Words matter. I get it, I really do. But words, I finally resolve, are-not-everything. Words, alone, are not life. Words are not the living. Words are 7%, and I want my children to grow with the knowledge that talking is not just words. I want them to know that true communication is listening, watching, and being present.
According to CNN, better than 90% of kids under the age of two have an online history. By age 5, more than 50% regularly use a device to access the Internet.
Research that studies how the Internet changes life is still in it's early stages, but it shows that regular Internet usage changes the way our brains work. I repeat, frequent use of the Internet shows (both for adults and children) a change in the way our brains function. In some children, this change in brain function, has been linked to: limited attention spans, lower comprehension, poor focus, greater risk for depression, and a diminished long-term memory.
If I am honest with myself, I have probably experienced the same list mentioned above.
Yes, I have a life. And I really do. But I felt left out once I deactivated my Facebook account. I even felt alone at times when I would have--otherwise--been scrolling through the news feed or checking information on group pages. (Don't judge me until you take me up on my dare.) I had to, had to ask myself-who-are-my-friends? BTW (pun intended) you know who you are. I could count on two hands who my friends are in this last 3 weeks but I have hundreds on Facebook.
Have we forgotten what defines friendship on some level? Do we send Valentine's to our mothers? Even email is antiquated these days. I just real life lol. Email is antiquated.
You know what makes me really real life lol? "Facebook security."
Have you googled yourself? Your name that "safely" hovers over your child's pictures, even in a tagged post? LOL. LOL. LOL. Google yourself. It opened my eyes as I read the town in which I live, my parent's names, husband's name, his sister's name and where she lives (and has lived). The real kicker was when I googled her name and got information about her husband's family, sister, brother-in-law...
LOL.
It took 5 clicks to get to my husband's brother's wife's mother's information. And she lives in another state--along with her son and his wife...
For a small monthly fee you could have someone's credit history. Facebook security?
L-O-friggin' ELLLLL.
Who a person is, who a person has always been, is who they are behind closed doors. Who a person is, who a person has always been, is not who they are in Facebook phrases. We see each other in glimpses like passing on the street. I am honest with the things I say in updates (even though cryptic, at times), but what do you know (or care) if I am lying?
I do trust the people in my friends list. Ones that I may not be in regular contact with are still good people. I am not afraid that everyone who did not call me in the last few weeks are the boogey man. But honestly, it may be more accurately stated to say (with many of my 'friends') that I trusted them when I knew them in waking life. But who are they now? The truth is that I have not even so much as run in to many of them in the last 10 years, but I have given them an open window in to my life.
Then. I. Am. Awake.
It is no secret that the media dictates and sets the pace for fashions, trends, even mascara. I may not be one to care about jeans, bags or Ulta...but I am, by choice, a victim of commercialism in many other ways. This post is not to judge anyone who has an intimate affair with life via satellite or a love for Coach. But, is it possible that the bar has now been raised and our ways of communication directed by the waves of the man-in-the-moon himself? Will we all fade in to a background via updates?
Don't get me wrong...I like Facebook. I will continue to use it. I even tweet (lol--ok, I'm done now).
But I have to ask myself if this use of the Internet has dictated what I once would never have dreamed of sharing behind my cloak. Has the Internet encouraged me to share what I wear behind my glasses with--the world? And all because it's "safe?"
For example, sharing pictures of my kids (which I recently stopped posting), thoughts of mine on many things...this blog...
The Internet made me brave, I suppose you could say. Isn't that sad and wonderful? The Internet is it's own cloak. Who are you reading this? I don't know, but you know me. Getting the picture?
According to several news sites (but I have only noted one in the bibliography of this post, since it was so prevalent) the world spends per day per day per day PER DAY on Facebook... 10.5 billion minutes. This average did not include time spent on phones. This is also according to the company of Facebook's IPO filing (10.5 billion minutes) per day.
Now, that seems silly to me. I live in a small town, in a relatively small house, with two small children. So let's make this small. (Like I said, wonder with words, eh?)
Let's just say someone were to spend 5 minutes at a time on Facebook to scroll the news feed, reply to a message, re-read a comment (you know you have) or check for 'likes' (don't even lie).
Let's say that they did this simple thing, for 5 minutes, 10 times in a 24 hour time period. Let's say, they did this 7 days a week, for 4 weeks. That's 1,400 minutes a month.
That-is-twenty-three point three (23.3) hours of life, on average a month, that that person will spend on Facebook.
Some of us "conservative" Internet users may, on average, per month, spend near one day of life on Facebook. Fakebook?
Now point-click-close-and go call your mother.
********************************************************************************
Laird, Sam. "Is Social Media Destroying Real-World Relationships? [INFOGRAPHIC]." Mashable June 14, 2012. 16 December 2012 <http://mashable.com>.
Clinton, Chelsea, Steyer, James P. "Is the Internet hurting Children?" CNN Opinion 21 May 2012. 16 December 2012 <http://www.cnn.com>.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
30 Something Prose
30 Something was a show on television I remember my mother watching when I was young...and she was 30 something. She is now 50 something, and I find myself nearing the 30's.
I keep hearing nothing but wonderful things about 30 something.
Please, don't judge the lack of grammar or correct punctuation, the lack of order in thought or the emotional canvass. I am not trying to impress, which is, in part, a part of the 30's, I hear.
Ironically the only time I have never been self-conscious in a bathing suit was this past summer. I had an almost two-year-old boy and was 8 months pregnant. And for the first time, I really didn't give a hoot about the cover-up. That day was about playing in the pool and being stained by the sun...finally.
For many reasons, the last few months have had my head swimming with the most haunting question, perhaps, that all humans face in their lifetime: "What if?"
I have thought about my childhood friendships and all that they taught me. Becky, on Lafayette, well bless her heart. I taught her how to climb a tree only to leave her there once the street lights came on; and, she was still my friend the next day. I thought about my dog. It made me cry, actually, when I realized he had probably died years and years ago. Our brains rationalize, don't they? Why wouldn't I, at the mature age of almost 30, have realized my dog probably died?
I believe that God let that dog live through being hit by a truck, eating a bag of poison so his blood became so thick it wouldn't even move through his body, and getting stung by an entire wasps nest. I repeat, he lived. And back to my believing...well, I believe that God let that dog live because he was the only thing constant about my childhood. My dog. My dog was, in the end, the only thing that stayed the same...until my parents got rid of him when I was in middle school, which, made sense. Anyway, he died. It made me sad to almost 30 something realize that death is a part of everyone's life.
Maybe that's it. Maybe it's the realization that I am not immortal. Well, I am, but not in the physical sense. I think the realization, the deep-down knowing that I, too, will die, like so many close to me have...well, it makes you wonder what the heck you are doing today.
I know it's just a birthday. I know it's a wonderful birthday. I don't know why, I guess, this one seems like the first, and possibly, the only birthday that should really count for something.
I want my children to know what God taught me in my generation and those that went before them. I want to know why the world is going paperless; and, I want to know why I have a growing passion to remain the woman with a wax seal on my longhand letters, record player and tobacco pipe. I want my children to know that there is one-true-God and that believing that will offend many people. I want them to know that it was not their mother that said so, but rather, Jesus Christ himself.
I want my children to know what their great-grandparents were like, the America they fought for, and the importance of living diligently and sober minded. I want my children to know the importance of working hard and sleeping hard...sometimes with sand on your feet if you get the chance. In fact, sleep with sand on your feet every chance you get.
I don't know...but 30 something feels like a new life both in a daunting and a glorious way.
Perhaps you can relate...
It feels like a crowded street in a rain storm, the way my mind has been reeling the last few weeks. It's as though you recognize every face and recall every story attached to them...but in the end, you can see the aerial view of black umbrellas and you want to be the red one...
Amidst 30 black umbrellas, you want to be the red.
I hope that I am the red umbrella.
I keep hearing nothing but wonderful things about 30 something.
Please, don't judge the lack of grammar or correct punctuation, the lack of order in thought or the emotional canvass. I am not trying to impress, which is, in part, a part of the 30's, I hear.
Ironically the only time I have never been self-conscious in a bathing suit was this past summer. I had an almost two-year-old boy and was 8 months pregnant. And for the first time, I really didn't give a hoot about the cover-up. That day was about playing in the pool and being stained by the sun...finally.
For many reasons, the last few months have had my head swimming with the most haunting question, perhaps, that all humans face in their lifetime: "What if?"
I have thought about my childhood friendships and all that they taught me. Becky, on Lafayette, well bless her heart. I taught her how to climb a tree only to leave her there once the street lights came on; and, she was still my friend the next day. I thought about my dog. It made me cry, actually, when I realized he had probably died years and years ago. Our brains rationalize, don't they? Why wouldn't I, at the mature age of almost 30, have realized my dog probably died?
I believe that God let that dog live through being hit by a truck, eating a bag of poison so his blood became so thick it wouldn't even move through his body, and getting stung by an entire wasps nest. I repeat, he lived. And back to my believing...well, I believe that God let that dog live because he was the only thing constant about my childhood. My dog. My dog was, in the end, the only thing that stayed the same...until my parents got rid of him when I was in middle school, which, made sense. Anyway, he died. It made me sad to almost 30 something realize that death is a part of everyone's life.
Maybe that's it. Maybe it's the realization that I am not immortal. Well, I am, but not in the physical sense. I think the realization, the deep-down knowing that I, too, will die, like so many close to me have...well, it makes you wonder what the heck you are doing today.
I know it's just a birthday. I know it's a wonderful birthday. I don't know why, I guess, this one seems like the first, and possibly, the only birthday that should really count for something.
I want my children to know what God taught me in my generation and those that went before them. I want to know why the world is going paperless; and, I want to know why I have a growing passion to remain the woman with a wax seal on my longhand letters, record player and tobacco pipe. I want my children to know that there is one-true-God and that believing that will offend many people. I want them to know that it was not their mother that said so, but rather, Jesus Christ himself.
I want my children to know what their great-grandparents were like, the America they fought for, and the importance of living diligently and sober minded. I want my children to know the importance of working hard and sleeping hard...sometimes with sand on your feet if you get the chance. In fact, sleep with sand on your feet every chance you get.
I don't know...but 30 something feels like a new life both in a daunting and a glorious way.
Perhaps you can relate...
It feels like a crowded street in a rain storm, the way my mind has been reeling the last few weeks. It's as though you recognize every face and recall every story attached to them...but in the end, you can see the aerial view of black umbrellas and you want to be the red one...
Amidst 30 black umbrellas, you want to be the red.
I hope that I am the red umbrella.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
I Believe
I find it sad and profound that the Christian army is the only army that shoots it's own wounded. If I could recall the genius behind the genius in that concept I would attribute their genius.
I find it ironic that in the age of tolerance, I have seen and witnessed much adversity as a believer in Jesus Christ. I am not simply talking about my own personal life, but also amongst peers. My belief has become one that is-not-tolerated in many social circles. I have spent years trying to escape confrontation, in the hope of never offending someone. Yes, there have been times when I have had a knot in my throat that I could not swallow--and I would speak God's truths. Those times have been somewhat spontaneous...like vomit, actually.
Today, I was reminded that I was promised adversity as a Christian. I do not speak as a martyr, victim or senseless wander lust woman who finally found something that makes me feel safe. I do not speak as one with a gun ready to shoot any who come in to my camp...Christian or otherwise. I really just want to tell you something.
I understand how the notion of a man, who proclaimed to be God's son, and a people who gather and eat crackers and drink grape juice each week in remembrance of a horrific murder...it's friggin' weird. It really is. It's confusing.
Dare I begin to get in to the historical (not the Biblical) man of Jesus?
No.
Not tonight.
I do have a case to prove, but I hope, and hope for all who believe in the saving grace of God through Jesus, that our proof will be in our lives. I hope our proof is in the imperfections of our lives. Grace does not exist without struggle.
I smoke occasionally at nap time. I like TOOL, NIN, and Perfect Circle.
I have had sex out of wedlock. A lot of sex (which I am not glorifying...it broke my heart and made me wish I knew who I was).
And you know what? I have had some really horrible people do some really, really horrible things in my life that changed me.
I have spit in the face of a man that was not even a mirror of an actual man after I beat him. I gave him a sign, my sign, my sins for him to carry on his cross to his death. I gave him my sign to carry and post as a crime he never committed...
"Liar. Cheat. Adulteress. Drunk."
And then I watched him suffocate to death. And then I walked away and stayed silent holding a sign that read, "Truthful witness. Honorable friend. Virgin. Renewed. Redeemed."
And as I glanced back, I saw his sign had changed and read the wrongs of every horrible person and every horrible thing they had ever done...to me.
The horrible men that abused a little girl. The horrible men that abused an adolescent. The horrible man that stole my virginity...
and many other crimes that I can't stomach telling anyone, especially via blog.
Or maybe, not ever.
Now, I realize "another Christian telling how much they love Jesus" may not be the new approach, or the one to create curiosity in a heart; so, I will attempt another...
Let's start at the beginning. God made the world. God made the world in a specific order. Now, I know this is the beginning of controversy, and I, having no left brain, may not be the best person to answer your carbon dating questions. What I do know, is that everything, ever-y-thing has a design. If anyone brought to you a watch would you assume it fashioned itself? We recognize design. Why is that?
I am unable to, perhaps, ask or answer the left brain questions...but let me ask you something...
do you understand the complexity of bacteria flagellum?
God gave the world order. Accidents don't organize themselves. Everything had, has, will have an order because the very world you are living in was stamped with the thumbprint of a Creator--a just Creator. He adores his creation. He adores me. He adores you.
Why did Jesus come in to the world? To testify to the truth (John 18:33-38). What was on trial?
Truth.
To my knowledge, no other man has ever said to me, "You don't have to do anything but believe that I am going to die for you, so you don't have to die. And then, you're saved." Seem too good to be true? If you answer yes to that question, then, perhaps you should wonder if you have been deceived. Perhaps you can ponder if you were the reason Jesus came to testify-to-the-truth.
So, if truth was on trial, it was naturally offering a fight against lies.
The fact that Jesus stood trial fought against lies held in our world-views, our home-views, our social-views...our views on justice.
Carl Sagan (Humanist of the year, 1981) said, "Our future depends on how we understand the cosmos, we will follow the truth no matter where it leads."
I have yet to find a scientific theory that began with a hypothesis, followed by a theory, and finally ended in a law that ended with, "the only conclusion that 'it' all came from somewhere,but we don't know where," where that theory was, in fact, attributed to God. In other words..."follow the truth wherever it leads"...unless it leads to God.
If our universe was really a random chaos, what would be the need to study it? We study it's amazing design.
In my limited understanding of left brain workings, if the data does not match the "law," you then change your hypothesis--and start over.
Mt. Rushmore was not random.
Yet DNA was somehow random? How long did it take for us to evolve so that our brains would get the message we had been cut, so that our blood would clot, so that we would not bleed to death? How did humanity survive, at all, during this time?
Again, I truly have no left brain and boast NOT of any knowledge in this area...I am taking something for it's skin and bones (truly).
In The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, Darwin wrote letters that he could not be anything but sick when he encountered small details; ie: the peacock feather.
Just the structure of an Amoeba has enough detail to fill over 1,000 Encyclopedia Britannicas.
Now, truly, I back away because I am no source for Molecular Biology, or the fossil record. What my right brain tells me, however, is that any theory lacking evidence simply becomes it's own theory, supported, then, by it's lack of evidence.
I should shut up, because this is really not my strength.
Let me, now, move to more of my right brain (where I will have spelling errors, and ironically, is much shorter).
Let's say you wanted to convince someone, more than anything else you have ever wanted, that you loved them. What would you do to show that love, to prove that love? Anything, correct?
Now, I am not talking about God's love- I am talking about the notion of an enemy that DOES do everything to block us from the TRUTH of a God, Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
What would he stop short of in an attempt to deceive you?
Hypocritical Christians is too easy (and widely used).
Ugly hearted Christians (of which I AM one)?
Economic collapse?
Rape?
Incest?
Murder?
Losing your job? Family?
How about all of those starving kids (thank you, Francis Chan for reminding me that while I am asking God 'why are so many people starving,' God is asking me that question).
Storms? War?
You see a just God does not violate his own laws in which he created the world to run. He does not become a puppet master forcing us to follow and obey.
While he does voluntarily limit himself so we are able to experience his presence in this broken world, he does not stop his order...because he is just.
(Parts of this blog have been inspired by 'The Truth Project' and the very wonderful Del Tackett. I wish he was my grandpa.)
I find it ironic that in the age of tolerance, I have seen and witnessed much adversity as a believer in Jesus Christ. I am not simply talking about my own personal life, but also amongst peers. My belief has become one that is-not-tolerated in many social circles. I have spent years trying to escape confrontation, in the hope of never offending someone. Yes, there have been times when I have had a knot in my throat that I could not swallow--and I would speak God's truths. Those times have been somewhat spontaneous...like vomit, actually.
Today, I was reminded that I was promised adversity as a Christian. I do not speak as a martyr, victim or senseless wander lust woman who finally found something that makes me feel safe. I do not speak as one with a gun ready to shoot any who come in to my camp...Christian or otherwise. I really just want to tell you something.
I understand how the notion of a man, who proclaimed to be God's son, and a people who gather and eat crackers and drink grape juice each week in remembrance of a horrific murder...it's friggin' weird. It really is. It's confusing.
Dare I begin to get in to the historical (not the Biblical) man of Jesus?
No.
Not tonight.
I do have a case to prove, but I hope, and hope for all who believe in the saving grace of God through Jesus, that our proof will be in our lives. I hope our proof is in the imperfections of our lives. Grace does not exist without struggle.
I smoke occasionally at nap time. I like TOOL, NIN, and Perfect Circle.
I have had sex out of wedlock. A lot of sex (which I am not glorifying...it broke my heart and made me wish I knew who I was).
And you know what? I have had some really horrible people do some really, really horrible things in my life that changed me.
I have spit in the face of a man that was not even a mirror of an actual man after I beat him. I gave him a sign, my sign, my sins for him to carry on his cross to his death. I gave him my sign to carry and post as a crime he never committed...
"Liar. Cheat. Adulteress. Drunk."
And then I watched him suffocate to death. And then I walked away and stayed silent holding a sign that read, "Truthful witness. Honorable friend. Virgin. Renewed. Redeemed."
And as I glanced back, I saw his sign had changed and read the wrongs of every horrible person and every horrible thing they had ever done...to me.
The horrible men that abused a little girl. The horrible men that abused an adolescent. The horrible man that stole my virginity...
and many other crimes that I can't stomach telling anyone, especially via blog.
Or maybe, not ever.
Now, I realize "another Christian telling how much they love Jesus" may not be the new approach, or the one to create curiosity in a heart; so, I will attempt another...
Let's start at the beginning. God made the world. God made the world in a specific order. Now, I know this is the beginning of controversy, and I, having no left brain, may not be the best person to answer your carbon dating questions. What I do know, is that everything, ever-y-thing has a design. If anyone brought to you a watch would you assume it fashioned itself? We recognize design. Why is that?
I am unable to, perhaps, ask or answer the left brain questions...but let me ask you something...
do you understand the complexity of bacteria flagellum?
God gave the world order. Accidents don't organize themselves. Everything had, has, will have an order because the very world you are living in was stamped with the thumbprint of a Creator--a just Creator. He adores his creation. He adores me. He adores you.
Why did Jesus come in to the world? To testify to the truth (John 18:33-38). What was on trial?
Truth.
To my knowledge, no other man has ever said to me, "You don't have to do anything but believe that I am going to die for you, so you don't have to die. And then, you're saved." Seem too good to be true? If you answer yes to that question, then, perhaps you should wonder if you have been deceived. Perhaps you can ponder if you were the reason Jesus came to testify-to-the-truth.
So, if truth was on trial, it was naturally offering a fight against lies.
The fact that Jesus stood trial fought against lies held in our world-views, our home-views, our social-views...our views on justice.
Carl Sagan (Humanist of the year, 1981) said, "Our future depends on how we understand the cosmos, we will follow the truth no matter where it leads."
I have yet to find a scientific theory that began with a hypothesis, followed by a theory, and finally ended in a law that ended with, "the only conclusion that 'it' all came from somewhere,but we don't know where," where that theory was, in fact, attributed to God. In other words..."follow the truth wherever it leads"...unless it leads to God.
If our universe was really a random chaos, what would be the need to study it? We study it's amazing design.
In my limited understanding of left brain workings, if the data does not match the "law," you then change your hypothesis--and start over.
Mt. Rushmore was not random.
Yet DNA was somehow random? How long did it take for us to evolve so that our brains would get the message we had been cut, so that our blood would clot, so that we would not bleed to death? How did humanity survive, at all, during this time?
Again, I truly have no left brain and boast NOT of any knowledge in this area...I am taking something for it's skin and bones (truly).
In The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, Darwin wrote letters that he could not be anything but sick when he encountered small details; ie: the peacock feather.
Just the structure of an Amoeba has enough detail to fill over 1,000 Encyclopedia Britannicas.
Now, truly, I back away because I am no source for Molecular Biology, or the fossil record. What my right brain tells me, however, is that any theory lacking evidence simply becomes it's own theory, supported, then, by it's lack of evidence.
I should shut up, because this is really not my strength.
Let me, now, move to more of my right brain (where I will have spelling errors, and ironically, is much shorter).
Let's say you wanted to convince someone, more than anything else you have ever wanted, that you loved them. What would you do to show that love, to prove that love? Anything, correct?
Now, I am not talking about God's love- I am talking about the notion of an enemy that DOES do everything to block us from the TRUTH of a God, Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
What would he stop short of in an attempt to deceive you?
Hypocritical Christians is too easy (and widely used).
Ugly hearted Christians (of which I AM one)?
Economic collapse?
Rape?
Incest?
Murder?
Losing your job? Family?
How about all of those starving kids (thank you, Francis Chan for reminding me that while I am asking God 'why are so many people starving,' God is asking me that question).
Storms? War?
You see a just God does not violate his own laws in which he created the world to run. He does not become a puppet master forcing us to follow and obey.
While he does voluntarily limit himself so we are able to experience his presence in this broken world, he does not stop his order...because he is just.
(Parts of this blog have been inspired by 'The Truth Project' and the very wonderful Del Tackett. I wish he was my grandpa.)
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