What I wanted to do: “Sit here curled up on the couch in front of the Christmas tree with a blanket, coffee and a book, listening to my December rehearsal CD.”
What I did instead: “Walked/Jog one HITT mile before going to BodyInUnity yoga.”
Because healthy doesn’t just happen.
I want to be a good steward of this body God has blessed me with!
And I want to be stronger in the long run, more than I want to be comfortable in the moment.
Did I mention what I wanna do?
(Some of you know I’m writing a book. Most recently I’ve been focused on accountability. Don’t know how much will make it through final edits, but today, this is what came out of my memory and my fingertips. Note: (1) This was many YEARS ago. (2) I do NOT really talk to myself like this. That would be crazy.)
I have a collection of coffee mugs that completely fills the kitchen cabinet I’ve designated as the “coffee mug cabinet.” So far, when I get a new mug, I’ve been successful in getting rid of an old one so the coffee mug cabinet stays full, but doesn’t overflow into another one.
I also have a collection of CHRISTMAS coffee mugs that completely fills the same cabinet.
You see my problem.
When I first started collecting coffee mugs, I didn’t pay attention to how much space they took up. I saw a coffee mug I liked and I bought it. Eventually I got to the point where all the mugs didn’t fit into the space, so I started packing up the Christmas mugs and storing them in the attic, only taking them down during the month of December.
In December, my cabinet overflowed.
Then a few years ago, I had a long overdue epiphany. When I UNpacked the Christmas mugs, I PACKED the everyday mugs in the same box and instead of putting an empty mug box back into the attic for the month of December, I put a full mug box into the attic.
There’s a lesson here. Just in time for the chaos of the Christmas season.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it until I’m dead:
You CAN have it all, you just can’t have it all AT THE SAME TIME.
Choose.
Choose on PURPOSE.
Everyone knows someone who’s schedule is overloaded. Someone who has said “yes” to too many things. Someone who tries to do so many things, they do none of them well. Someone who is a job hog. You may even BE one of those people.
I used to be one of those people, until I had a long, honest, humbling talk with myself:
FedUpMe: “What is your problem? WHY do you keep doing this?
MartyrMe: “what?”
FedUpMe: “WHY do you keep saying yes to everything?”
MartyrMe: “Well, they asked me. They NEED me.”
FedUpMe: “They need you. They need you? Are you sure you don’t need them to need you?”
MartyrMe: “Of course not! I’m doing all this out of the goodness of my heart. Because I’m a good person and I want to help.”
FedUpMe: “and you get nothing out of it.”
MartyrMe: “NO! Most of the time people don’t even appreciate all I do for them.”
FedUpMe: “Of course they don’t. Nobody appreciates a half-%&# job.”
MartyrMe: “I do NOT do a half-%&# job!!! I work my butt off! Look at my schedule! I don’t have ANY time for myself! EVERYthing I do is for other people. I don’t even have time to work out! I run on coffee!”
FedUpMe: “This is me you’re talking to.”
MartyrMe: “But…”
FedUpMe: “Save it. You’re not selling that load here. Look at everything you do. You don’t get anything out of it personally? How many of these things you’ve committed to come with lots of people telling you how great you are? How many times do you tell people about all the stuff you do so they’ll tell you how great you are? (mocking voice) ‘Oh, I just don’t know how you do it all!'”
MartyrMe: “I can’t just quit. There’s nobody else to do it.”
FedUpMe: “Are you really that arrogant?”
MartyrMe: “If I didn’t do it, it wouldn’t get done.”
FedUpMe: “Are you sure about that? Are you SURE that you’re not hogging a job someone else wants? A job someone is just WAITING for you to give up so they can have a shot at it? A job you really aren’t suited for? Are you afraid someone else might do it better? Because I’ll tell you now, they probably could. Because you do a half-%&# job.”
MartyrMe: “shut up. I do NOT do a half-%&# job. I’m doing my best.”
FedUpMe: “You did not just say that. (pregnant pause) What is your favorite Churchill quote?”
MartyrMe: “shutup.”
FedUpMe: “It’s not enough that we do our best; sometimes we have to do what’s required.”
silence. brooding. arrogant brooding.
MartyrMe: “I never liked you.”
FedUpMe: “There are a lot of people who don’t like me. And yet I’m still breathing.”
MartyrMe: “You’ve got issues. and you’re bossy.”
FedUpMe: “duh. I’m YOU.”
MartyrMe: “I can’t just quit. I’m already committed.”
FedUpMe: “Yeh, well, you’re gonna be committed if you don’t find some balance in your life. Look. Start by figuring out two things:
First, what’s important to you? What are your goals in life?
Second, what are you good at? What talents has God blessed you with and which ones are you actively developing?
Be brutally honest with yourself, but more importantly, ask other people for feedback and give them permission to tell you the truth. Then you’ll know what to let go of, what to keep in your life and what you need to improve on. If you want to do something and you aren’t very good at it, then GET good at it. Learn. Practice. And don’t forget. There are seasons for things. Just because you want to do something, doesn’t mean you have to do it NOW. You don’t have to do everything at the same time. You CAN’T do everything at the same time. Not well. Rotate your commitments.
Like Christmas coffee mugs.
A family in my church lost their mom to cancer last night.
Warning: Death always makes me even more freakishly intentional about living out my faith and if you are someone in my life, I will be relentlessly encouraging you to do the same.
If you don’t want to hear it, avoid me until my human nature nicks away at my memory and motivation and I go back to a “normal” level of intentional living.
Cancer TICKS me off.
Thinking about this post today: even a princess tapestry needs dark threads.
Lord, I submit to you my heart, my soul, my mind, my time, my service and my voice, whether written, spoke or sung.
But I also submit to you the things I cling to: my pride and arrogance, my righteous indignation, my indifference and my unforgiving nature.
They don’t serve you well. And they don’t serve me well. Please take them from me today.
And please – help me to give them to you again tomorrow.
Proof that song selection is NOT the only defining characteristic of “contemporary Christian music.”
I couldn’t make it through the first time – and this is the SHORT version. Just the highlights. FavoriteSon watched the entire thing, cracking up and he sucked me in.
beyond horrible.
WHY would anyone do this? why? Why? WHY?
The weather is beautiful! I made FavoriteSon go out into the backyard tonight and do NOTHING.
No electronics.
No distractions.
I told him he could talk to God or just listen, I didn’t care, but for FIVE minutes, I wanted him to sit outside with the wind in his face and look out over the pond behind our backyard and do NOTHING.
He came back in 10 minutes later and said:
“That just made me realize I need to mow the backyard.”
I’d REALLY like to say I don’t know where he gets it.
In my post entitled “an unextraordinary life” I wrote:
“When I’ve experienced trials in my life, sure God might have sent them, but it’s just as likely He allowed them. Either way, He’s promised that He will work it all for good. Even when, from my own perspective, it didn’t seem like it was for my good.”
A reader commented:
“I agree with you that God allows trials to happen and then brings something good out of them, but I don’t believe that he sends them. Matthew 7:11 gives the picture of God as a Father who delights in giving good gifts to his children. I can’t picture a loving father purposely bringing trials into His children’s lives.”
I spent some time in 2009 reading and learning about the seeming paradox of evil and suffering vs. a loving and all powerful God. I don’t like to think of a loving Father “sending” his child trials, but I can’t ignore some evidence.
I should probably begin with my definition of the word “trials.”
I view a trial as anything in my life that causes me pain – physical or emotional. It’s something in my life that I don’t want in my life. Something I fear or dread or suffer through.
I should clarify what I mean by my use of the words “send” and “allow” as well.
When I say I believe God “sends” some trials, I’m referring to trials God intends for us – plans for us – to experience.
When I talk about God “allowing” trials, I’m referring to the things God does NOT intend for us, but doesn’t intervene to prevent or to protect us from. Maybe these trials are consequences of our own sin, maybe they are consequences of our sinful nature and freedom of choice or maybe they are just the result of random circumstances in this life.
Make no mistake, I believe Matthew 7:11:
“If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”
When I think about my own children, I can identify with Matthew 7:11. I want to give them “good gifts” all the time. But if I never disciplined them, I would play a starring role in turning them into Veruca Salt. Leading me to Hebrews 12:6-11:
“because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son. Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”
And again, thinking about my children, my mind automatically goes to the story of Abraham and Isaac. Here’s a question for you: When God told Abraham to take his son up a mountain and sacrifice and kill him, would Abraham have used the word “trial” to describe his experience? He had waited 100 years to have a son. The feelings that overwhelmed him as he left home . . . NOT telling Sarah what God had instructed him to do . . . as the minutes dragged during the agonizing climb up that mountain . . . would “trial” not be a descriptive word for that experience?
I’m thinkin it would.
And if we can agree that was a trial for Abraham, the real question is: Did God intend for Abraham to have that experience? God instructed Abraham to sacrifice his son, not as punishment for sin or to hurt him, but to test and strengthen Abraham’s faith. Abraham’s obedience – letting go of his own will for the sake of God’s will, even when it didn’t make any sense to him and wrenched his heart – was a test of faith I’m not sure I could pass.
And then there’s John 9:1-3:
“As he went along, he [Jesus] saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
I agree with what Matthew Henry has to say about the trial of this man:
That they [trials] are sometimes intended purely for the glory of God, and the manifesting of his works. God has a sovereignty over all his creatures and an exclusive right in them, and may make them serviceable to his glory in such a way as he thinks fit, in doing or suffering; and if God be glorified, either by us or in us, we were not made in vain. This man was born blind, and it was worth while for him to be so, and to continue thus long dark, that the works of God might be manifest in him.
(emphasis added)
I wrote this blog post in bits and pieces over the last 36 hours, after hearing a message emphasizing that God blesses us with strength through anointed weakness. All the while I couldn’t help thinking of Nick Vujicic
“Because I have no arms and no legs He’s using me all around the world and we’ve seen so far, approximately – and this is conservative – 200,000 souls come to Jesus Christ for the very first time in the last 6 or 7 years . . . I would rather have no arms and no legs temporarily here on earth and be be able to reach someone else for Jesus Christ – and then spend eternity with them there.”
So yes. I believe that sometimes God sends us trials.
And then, there’s Rachel Barkey. I stumbled upon Rachel’s story in 2009 when I was researching the paradox of evil and suffering vs. a loving and all powerful God. Rachel died of cancer at the age of 37, leaving behind a husband and 2 small children. But before she died, she had an opportunity to give her testimony in which she describes the trials of her last years. It’s a compelling 55 minute testimony that I’ve found myself thinking about often over the last two years. You can watch it HERE (start at the 2:10 minute mark to skip to the beginning), but here’s the quote I transcribed for inclusion in a blog post after I watched it back in June of 2009:
“I am dying.
But so are you.
Neither of us knows if we will even see tomorrow. And perhaps the reason that I am suffering now, the reason that God is waiting to bring judgment against all the evil in this world is because he is waiting for you. For you to acknowledge your sin and to turn to him for forgiveness.
Maybe you are the one we are waiting for.
Jesus suffered. God did not spare him. Why would he spare me? If my suffering would result in good for you? If my suffering is the means that God would use to bring even one person to himself, it is an honor for me to suffer.
Does that seem strange?
I suppose it does.
But really, it is the only way that all of this makes any sense at all.
A God who sees my suffering but is is unable, or worse, unwilling to spare me? A God who sees my suffering but allows it? With no greater purpose or hope? My God is able to save me and he will. But save me from what?
From a life without him.”
Compelling evidence.
So yes, I believe that sometimes, God sends trials.
(thank you Jessi, for inspiring this post)
“Here’s what you do,” said Elisha. “Go up and down the street and borrow jugs and bowls from all your neighbors. And not just a few—all you can get. Then come home and lock the door behind you, you and your sons. Pour oil into each container; when each is full, set it aside.” She did what he said. She locked the door behind her and her sons; as they brought the containers to her, she filled them. When all the jugs and bowls were full, she said to one of her sons, “Another jug, please.” He said, “That’s it. There are no more jugs.” Then the oil stopped.
2 Kings 4:3-6 (The Message)
When I was a little girl, I used to pray for an unextraordinary life.
I thought that blessings were limited and were balanced with tragedy – things I feared. There was this imaginary teeter-totter in my head. All the blessings were piled on one seat while challenges and troubles were precariously stacked on the other. One blessing too much would tip the balance and God would have to step in and even things up.
I figured, if nothing really great happened to me, then nothing really bad would happen to me. So I prayed for a balanced teeter-totter.
It was safe.
Fair.
Kid theology at it’s finest.
I rarely asked for blessings in my life, because in my mind, a blessing would always come with some sort of down side. And the down side wouldn’t always be in my life. If I experienced a blessing, I was always looking for where God would even it up. Who would get the trial? Would it be me? One of my parents? My siblings? Friends?
And there were degrees of blessings and trials. If I got to go to Disney World, some kid out there didn’t – because they came down with strep throat. If my family won the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweeptakes? Someone. might. die.
The blessings I already experienced weren’t often recognized. “Normal” life was taken for granted. I viewed blessings like prizes. Extraordinary.
Like I said. Kid theology at its finest.
It was a long time coming, but these days, I understand that God’s grace – and his blessings – are unlimited (and that teeter-totters are only good for broken tailbones or a chin full of stitches). When I’ve experienced trials in my life, sure God might have sent them, but it’s just as likely He allowed them. Either way, He’s promised that He will work it all for good. Even when, from my own perspective, it didn’t seem like it was for my good.
Looking back at my life, I can see blessings in what I once thought were just trials. Of course, I don’t see a blessing in every trial, but I still believe God worked it for good. Maybe someone else was blessed as a result of some trial God sent or allowed in my life. That doesn’t mean they got a blessing and God evened up the teeter-totter with me.
I’m acutely aware of the truth behind the idea that we are who we are because of everything we’ve been through. Today, I’m praying that God will use the challenges I’ve lived through – and learned through – to bless someone else. I’m praying that – the relentless and exasperating optimist I am – I can be a source of hope and encouragement to someone who might need it.
Today, I’m not afraid to ask God to bless me in an extraordinary way. I don’t need an abundance of jars so God’s blessing will continue to flow. I need one life, continuously open for Him to fill with blessings. Even if the blessings are sometimes disguised as trials.
“It is our faith that fails, not his promise. He gives above what we ask: were there more vessels, there is enough in God to fill them—enough for all, enough for each. Was not this pot of oil exhausted as long as there were any vessels to be filled from it?”
Matthew Henry
As I watched someone pour Welches grape juice into a goblet, it occurred to me – not for the first time – that I don’t get it.
What am I missing?
When the sacrament of Holy Communion begins during a church service, I begin praying. I intentionally focus my heart and mind completely on God and the examination of my life, the confession of my sins, repentance, genuine and profound thanks for the sacrifice and redeeming blood of Christ. Then an usher steps next to my pew and my focus on intimate prayer is broken. I’m supposed to get up, walk to the front of the church and eat a piece of bread and drink grape juice out of a tiny plastic cup or dip the bread into a goblet. Like an Oreo in milk.
That may sound disrespectful, but if I’m honest, that’s what I think of when I do it. God already knows that’s in my head whether I type it out loud or not.
So here’s the question: Why does the sacrament of Holy Communion feel like an interruption to that intimate prayer instead of the culmination of it?
I don’t know.
I’ve been thinking about it and this is where my mind went:
When I was in junior high (these days they call it middle school), I went through two years of confirmation classes in the Lutheran church before I was allowed to take communion for the first time. My memory tells me we went through the same curriculum twice but I’m sure I’m wrong. It just felt like it.
boring.
The best part were the snacks. Those little flower shaped butter cookies with the hole in the middle that you could stick your fingers through so you could eat your way around them in circles.
But I digress.
I remember dreading confirmation class. They used words I never understood and they didn’t explain, like “Gospel of Jesus” and sacrament and catechism and sanctification and absolution.
Okay, to be fair, it’s likely they explained some of it, but they did a poor job, because I was not the only one going through the motions waiting for snack time. Most classes, there was lecture and then they told us what words to write in the fill-in-the-blank questions in our confirmation workbooks.
Then came the day the senior pastor visited our class. He told us a detailed and moving story about twins who were born prematurely. When he got to the part about one of them dying, we were all mesmerized. He was a great storyteller. This was so much more interesting than the lectures and workbook exercises.
And then.
The pastor said that a nurse came to the parents and told them that she was able to baptize the baby before he died. The parents were so relieved. Their baby was in heaven.
what!?
I had always been cheeky, but the senior pastor had always intimidated me. So formal. Robes, suits, perfect, immovable hair, manicured fingernails. All that, combined with the fact that so many people sat in complete silence to listen to him talk every Sunday morning and waited in line to shake his hand afterward. To top it all off? His name was Pastor Abram. That was just two letters away from Abraham. He was the ultimate authority on God at that time in my young life.
Until that moment.
At that moment, he lost his credibility with me. I realized this authority figure in my life was wrong.
Out came cheeky.
I may not remember the details of 2 years of confirmation classes, but I will remember for the rest of my life what I asked him that afternoon:
“Are you saying that if the nurse hadn’t sprinkled water on the baby’s head before he died and said ‘I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost’ that the baby would have gone to Hell?”
He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Yes.”
And I said, “Well, that’s stupid.”
You could have heard a pin drop. Every eye was on him.
He handled it with grace and evasiveness. He reminded me that I was young and explained that I didn’t understand. What he didn’t explain was how it wasn’t stupid. He didn’t refer me to a single Bible verse. Bibles weren’t necessary in confirmation class, just workbooks.
What was I too young to understand?
That Jesus’ death and resurrection weren’t enough to save a premature baby . . . but a nurse with tap water and the time to speak the words “in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost” ensured the baby would spend eternity in heaven?”
I’m older now and I DO understand. If what Pastor Abram said was true, I didn’t need Jesus Christ. All I needed was a nurse with a glass of water who had the ability to speak out loud.
I didn’t learn much in confirmation class, but I learned that the ritual of baptism was meaningless compared to what Jesus did.
How does all this relate to Holy Communion?
Not sure yet. I’m still thinking about it.
A few months ago, 10 year old PinkGirl and a friend were talking about the earthquake and tsunami in Japan.
PinkGirl: “Mom, why does God make bad things happen?”
(Lord, I’m gonna need your help with this one.)
Me: “I don’t necessarily believe God makes bad things happen. I believe God allows bad things to happen. Sometimes we get to know why, sometimes we don’t. You remember the Bible verse about now I see in a mirror, dimly, then I shall see face to face?”
PinkGirl: “uh huh.”
Me: “It means that we don’t always see things clearly or understand why things happen while we are here in this life, but when we get to heaven, we will understand.
I looked up at a tapestry of Disney princesses hanging on her wall. (thank you Lord)
Me: “You see that tapestry? How beautiful it is? That’s because we can see all of it – from the front. This is like what God sees when he looks at the earth.
But look at this.”
I turned the corner of the tapestry and blocked out a small piece in my hand.
Me: “This is what we see. Just this little bit. We can’t see all of the tapestry because each part of our life is just a thread. We’re so small, and our vision is so limited, that all we can see are our own threads and the threads near us. Sometimes, it’s not very pretty. What does this look like to you?”
PinkGirl: “I dunno, it’s too small, it just looks like little blobs.”
Me: “It doesn’t look like little blobs to God. His vision is unlimited, so he can see the whole thing at the same time. And, since he’s the one who’s weaving the design, he knows exactly where each thread is supposed to go. Even if we could see the whole thing, it would still look like a mess.”
I pulled the tapestry back as far as it would go.
Me: “Can you tell what it is now?”
Both PinkGirl and her friend: “no.”
Me: “And see how there are all different colors here? Some are bright colors, some are dark. I think of the dark colors as being the trials in our life. We all want our life to be wonderful – to be light colored threads. But what would the front of this tapestry look like if all the threads were light colored? Would it be as beautiful?”
I turned the tapestry back over, showing the front side again.
PinkGirl: “It’s a flower!”
Me: “Yep. God knew it would be. His job is to weave the tapestry. Our job is to trust that he knows what he’s doing and that in the end, it will be beautiful.”
Thank you Lord, for helping Herb Lockyer write a book (Dark Threads the Weaver Needs
) in the middle of his grief and for leading me to read it a few years ago.
“My Life is but a weaving between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors, He worketh steadily.Ofttimes He weaveth sorrow and I in foolish pride,
forget that He seeth the upper, and I the underside.Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly,
shall God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.The dark threads are as needful in the Weaver’s skillful hand,
as the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.”
Author Unknown