He Has Done Great Things for Me

This morning I read Mary's words of worship in Luke chapter 1. I realized that the God of Mary is the same God who lavishes good things on me.

For he who is mighty has done great things for me...and his mercy is with those who fear him...He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts...and he has filled the hungry with good things... Luke 1:46-55 ESV

Mary's words express my heart as well as I look back over the past year. I can see God's mercy over each day I crossed off the calendar. In learning the differences between parenting and step-parenting, I am the proud whose thoughts he scattered.  It was a good thing.

I am also hungry he filled with good things. Literally. For the past couple of weeks I set aside the habits of healthy eating I worked to develop this past year, and indulged in all the rich Christmas foods and fudge my refrigerator had to offer! I must say I thoroughly enjoyed every bite.

On a more serious note, he has also mercifully filled my soul hunger. The book of Psalms says that he "sets the lonely in families"(Psalms 68:6, NIV). I am so grateful for the companionship and love of my husband and the liveliness of my two year old step-family. He even filled my hunger for a slower pace by giving me the opportunity to change careers and spend my days writing.

God's greatest blessing is the most difficult to express. Even if he had not yet met the desires of my heart for those tangible things, I would have much to be thankful for. The gift of God's nearness to me through the past year and the confidence that he will be with me as the new year dawns are the greatest gifts by far.

Along with Mary I say "My spirit rejoices in God my savior."

Immanuel. God With Us.

"Behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel" (which means God with us)." Matthew 1:23

I love the word Immanuel. In one word it sums up life.

Immanuel. God with us.

Life is not about living for God. It is about living with God.

I am not sure why humans like to make simple things complicated, but we seem to. We endlessly define and quantify right behavior, but trying to live a good life above all else is not Christian. Every other religion defines right behavior and encourages followers to live good lives. Christianity is different.

God himself came to us. That is Christmas. Jesus paid the highest price possible in order to make it possible for us to be with him with no barrier in between. Because of Jesus' birth, death, and resurrection we get to live life with him. All we have to do is accept the Christmas present God gave us.

Immanuel. God with us.

When we have accepted life with him, we will want to live like lovers committed to a life together. Lovers want to be near their beloved. Lovers want to please their beloved.

God is with us and we want to be as close to him as we can.

Immanuel! God with us!

Merry, Merry Christmas!

His Name Shall Be...Prince of Peace

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end. 

Isaiah 9:6

During the Christmas season I sing about silence and peace, but rush around in noise and turmoil. It strikes me that I need to remember that the baby in the manger was also the Prince of Peace.

In contrast to the words of Silent Night, Jesus entered a world that was anything but serene. Politically, Israel was an occupied country with corrupt men in charge. Many of the men in power in religious circles had primarily their own interests at heart. Additionally, there were the daily pressures of relationships and physical survival.   

Have you ever noticed that Jesus' daily life was not easy? Sometimes there was nothing to eat, or hoards of people were vying for his attention, death was imminent because their fishing boat was getting swamped by huge waves, or evil men were looking for ways to entrap and execute him. Jesus never seemed hurried or stressed, even when his disciples were panicking for entirely valid reasons. Jesus lived as an oasis of serenity in the midst of tumult. Jesus seemed to see beyond and beneath what the disciples saw. He knew whose hands held the world, and his daily existence. He relied on his Father in heaven in everything big and small, and calmly walked through his days as a man, and at the same time as the Prince of Peace.

I succumb to turmoil like the disciples did.  I would like to be like Jesus instead, unfazed by hurry, and worry, acutely aware that both the details of my daily existence and sweeping events of my world are in the hands of the Prince of Peace.

A Perfect Gift List

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen. 
--Reinhold Niebuhr

Serenity, the state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled. 

The Serenity Prayer first appeared in print in the 1930s, a time decidedly not characterized by serenity. 

Reinhold Niebuhr prays for perfect gifts, most useful for living in a tumultuous world.

Christmas Food Court Flash Mob, Hallelujah Chorus - Must See!

Christmas Food Court Flash Mob, Hallelujah Chorus - Must See!

www.youtube.com

http://www.AlphabetPhotography.com/ -

This surprising intrusion of the transcendent Hallelujah Chorus into a mall food court brought tears to my eyes the first time I watched it. A choir of voices, like the voices of angels, showed up as shoppers and janitors, in order to bring the higher into the lower. The divine invaded the loud, smelly, chaos of ordinary life. That is what Christmas is after all. Christ, the divine became one of us and invaded the smelly reality of the human world. Hallelujah!

Celebrations

I heard somewhere that one of the best ways to cut back on eating sweets is to enjoy them more.  If I stop everything when I eat chocolate, nibbling very slowly,  and turning my full attention to the silky flavor as it slips over my tongue, I find myself more satisfied when it is gone.

The general idea is to make eating a piece of chocolate into a celebration of its delightful taste.  I think that the same principle applies to many things in life.

Almost everyone celebrates holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations and weddings, but those are not my favorite celebrations. The best celebrations are the ones that rejoice over the small stuff.

One of my favorite celebrations is my traditional celebration of the first snowfall. I invite whatever family members happen to be nearby and willing, to join me reading Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowing Evening". We read slowly, savoring the words, while we sit too close to the front of the fireplace and sip hot chocolate.

We also celebrate spotting the first flower that pokes its head out of the ground in the spring. In a couple of weeks my warm-sunny-days loving husband and I will be celebrating the winter solstice, because starting then, the days will begin steadily getting longer.

We celebrate God's magnificent artistry by stopping to watch sunrises, sunsets, and the full moon.

Celebrating the small stuff helps me remember to be fully alive to life, savoring it like chocolate instead of chewing and swallowing it automatically without giving it my full attention.

I celebrate bittersweet things too. I held a private celebration for one after receiving my first kindly worded, if generic sounding, email from a publisher explaining that they could not use my submission. I celebrated because the email confirmed that I had faced down the paralyzing fear of rejection that for years prevented me from sharing anything I wrote.

Quirky celebrations like that one may actually be the most important celebrations of all.  They are the pivotal little moments when I pause in my automatic rush through life, to celebrate God-with-me on this journey. I celebrate the fact that He uses everything, even disappointment, pain, and heartbreak to lead me to a place where I am "more than a conquerer".  

Making Mudpies

I think one of the secrets to living life well is practicing the art of making mudpies.

There is nothing like the childish delight of sinking small arms into the middle of a muddy mess, making a "delicious" pie, and then serving it to an obliging parent. Growing too big, too sophisticated, or too careful to make mudpies is tragic. 

Most people's lives are muddy messes. Some are messier than others, but no one gets through life without encountering mud.

The choice then, is not between mud or no mud. It is between being the unhappy child futilely trying with dirty fingers to wipe the mud away, or being the bold child who wades in, plops down with a broad smile, and makes something beautiful from it.

God is the master mudpie maker. He made humans from mud. He cured blindness with mud. He did it, in part, because his beauty is all the more visible dramatically framed in simple, clay, cracked, human pots.

I want to reflect his image in this. I want to remember how to wade into the mess with a smile on my face, and help Him create something beautiful from the mud.

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us." 2 Corinthians 4:7 (ESV)

My Gratitude List

Every Thanksgiving I try to make a Gratitude List. Here are 10 from today's list.

• Warm toes in socks hand knit by my sister, a double blessing of love and warmth

• Crisp, cold, clean air in my lungs

• Snow crystals sparkling in the sun

• A day book-ended with a brilliant sunrise and a spectacular sunset

• Everyday music of the teapot whistling, a bird chirping, a child laughing

• Feasts of color: crimson pomegranates, diamond snow, cerulean sky

• The feeling of firm strength that comes from physical exercise over time

• The similar feeling of strength in my spirit that follows climbing a mountain of emotional, relational, or spiritual difficulty

• Loving touch from the hand of a person I love

• Waking anew to the knowledge that my life is a story that has an author. He writes purpose into the story and someday, a satisfying happy ending.

Sunrise

I am thankful that the dark night is followed by the sunrise!

My Happiness Habit: Hungry for Excellence

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

I remember reading an anecdote years ago about women in London during the hard years of World War II. (I think it was in a book by Karen Mains, but I can't find it. I'm sorry.) In the midst of food rationing, sending their sons to fight and not knowing if they would ever see them again, nightly bombings, volunteering, and doing everything they could do to help the war effort, these women also reserved time to arrange flowers. They would gather once a week and make flower arrangements. It became a very high priority in their lives. Even bombings and news of tragic deaths were not allowed to interfere with the time set aside for flowers. They were starving, not for food, but for beauty. In the midst of so much pain, fear, ugliness and loss, gathering weekly to create something beautiful with flowers fed their souls' needs for the good.

I have always sensed that there is something inherently necessary about great music, visual art, poetry, dance, drama, stories... Such things are not usually deemed practical or useful, but great art supplies a fundamental human need. Our thirsty souls need to drink in things that are lovely, commendable, excellent, worthy of praise.  My theory is that during our most difficult seasons of life, seasons when we are bombarded with disease, or tragedy, or painful relationships, seeking out the excellent and beautiful becomes imperative.

I am not in a particularly dark season, but I think I'll go now, turn on some George Winston, and read something by Emily Dickinson anyway. 

I would love to know what writer or musician or artist living or dead you turn to when you need a dose of something excellent. Perhaps your favorite will become my favorite too!

By the way, I tried to loosen the controls on posting comments on this blog. So, if you tried in the past to post a comment and weren't able to, please think about trying again. Thanks!

The Pose of Tranquility

For a while now I have been doing yoga stretches every morning. I turn on PBS, and there is this lady who slowly and calmly twists her body into all sorts of impossible poses and positions. I was intrigued at first, because judging from the skin on her neck, and the fact that she talks about her granddaughter, she is around 60 years old.  Judging instead from her strength and flexibility and how straight and slender she is, I would guess her to be in her late 20s. She looks positively elegant as she twists herself into poses with names like the pretzel and the plow. I am pretty sure that I do not look elegant as I try to follow her lead. I think it would be really nice to look the way she looks when I am 60ish so I do yoga stretches with Priscilla every morning.

This morning, she led me and whatever other students she has in PBS land, into "the pose of tranquility". It goes like this. You lay stretched out straight and slowly raise your legs until your they are over your head, parallel to the floor, with your knees just over your forehead, your bottom in the air. Then, you gradually raise one arm at a time over your head, and rest your hand lightly on your shin, still without moving anything else. You balance there for a while, absolutely still, weight resting on your shoulder blades, legs over your head, stomach tight, your hands resting lightly on your shins, breathing softly. Tranquility is kind of challenging.

This morning I wrote a quick list of all the things on my mind. I was surprised at how many concerns were buzzing around my head. None of them were big, earth shattering, urgent crisises. These concerns were like the fruit flies that somehow found their way into my house this fall. Tiny, but annoying.

Until I started listing them in my journal, I didn't realize there was a whole swarm of fruit fly problems buzzing around my head. I didn't realize that I was really quite tense because of them. As I prayed over my list, I was reminded of the scriptures that tell us to "be still", "cast your cares on the Lord", and "be anxious for nothing".

These admonitions are the scriptural version of the yoga lady's pose of tranquility. Just like the yoga pose, the spiritual pose of tranquility sounds easy, but it isn't always.

Over the months of twisting myself into pretzels and plows with Priscilla the yoga lady, I have noticed that I really have gradually become stronger and more flexible. I suspect that maintaining spiritual stillness is like that too. As we slowly and patiently move ourselves into positions of trusting God, and being still, we grow stronger, calmer, and more flexible.

I am going to keep coaxing my reluctant self into both poses of tranquility.

My Happiness Habit: Whatever is Lovely

Whatever is lovely...think about these things. Philippians 4:8

I think these qualify.

My Happiness Habit: Hunting for Food for Thought

In my elementary school cafeteria there was a poster that proclaimed "You are what you eat!" I stared at my standard issue lunch and pictured myself becoming what I ate. There was "pig in a blanket, Beth", me, stretched out helpless, swaddled in soggy bread dough. Then I pictured "soggy canned green bean Beth", green dread locks sticking out of my head at every possible angle. I shuddered. It was a very spooky poster.

"You are what you think about" could be closer to the truth.  Greasy junk food for the brain is easy to find.  The moment I flip on the news, a smorgasbord of deceitful, dishonorable, unjust and impure things to think about is laid out for me to chew on. Finding nutritious, healthy and delicious food for my thoughts is more of a hunt.

Hunting for something pure to think about drew me to memories of my childhood. My mom suffered from environmental allergies. She was allergic to plastic countertops and floors, car exhaust and smog, sugar, and chemicals in food, among other things. A dose of diesel tainted air would level her for days. Things that were not pure made her severely, physically, ill.

When I was about 3 years old my parents moved out of the city and built a home in the mountains where Mama could live far most of the toxins that made her sick. I grew up in an environment that was full of purity. The air was clean, the crystal water came directly from deep underground to our tap.

I remember blindingly beautiful clear winter mornings after a snow. The whole world sparkled like diamonds. Majestic 14,000 foot Mount Evans presided over the landscape like a king.  I would go outside on my way to catch the school bus, gasp as the icy air hit my lungs, spread my arms wide and spin around in a little dance of joy, as though I could capture the beauty and save it in my heart.

I think heaven will be like that. All the evil and the toxins in this dark world will be removed and we will breathe clean air for the first time. It will be pure delight.  

Philippians 4:8 says "whatever is pure...think about these things."

My Happiness Habit: Whatever is Just

Occasionally I run across a really good story; a story full of redemption, a surprise hero and things worth thinking about. Like most good stories this one starts with something bad.

A young woman named Jennifer Thompson was raped. She identified a man named Robert Cotton as her attacker. He was sentenced to life in prison.

A couple of years into the sentence, a man named Bobby Poole was housed in the same cell block as Robert Cotton. Poole began bragging that Cotton was doing time for him since he was Jennifer Thompson's true rapist. Cotton fashioned a knife intending to kill Poole. His dad encouraged him not to become a man who deserved to spend his life in prison. He told his son to put his faith in God instead.

Years later, DNA evidence in the case was examined using technology that didn't exist at the time of the original trial. It proved that the real rapist was Bobby Poole and not Robert Cotton. Cotton was released from jail after serving 11 years, and that's when the story gets really interesting.

Jennifer Thompson was in anguish over her own crime. Unintentionally she had stolen 11 years of an innocent man's life. She knew there was no way to give back those years, but she wanted to do what she could, so she arranged to meet Robert Cotton face to face.

They met in a church. She apologized and he forgave. They talked for hours about what had gone wrong. They talked about DNA and faith. Miraculously, they actually became friends. The man whose face had haunted Jennifer Thompson's nightmares for years, became her role model of forgiveness. She determined to forgive her real attacker.


15 more years have passed and Cotton and Thompson remain friends.

 "Ron just calls to make sure I'm doing OK," Thompson says.
 "He is an amazing human being. He has been a real good teacher for me."

Together they have written a book entitled,  Picking Cotton and they work together for reforms of eyewitness identification procedures.

It is a story that is just worth thinking about.

Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just...think about these things. Philippians 4: 8

I gathered information for this post from the following web sites.
http://truthinjustice.org/positive_id.htm
http://nersp.osg.ufl.edu/~malavet/evidence/notes/thompson_cotton.htm

Only Once in Forever

Halloween night, right at sunset, we were grilling brats for dinner. The kids were impatient to get outside to trick-or-treat; every 10 seconds they were demanding help for with this or that. The table needed to be set, I'm pretty sure that the phone rang too... But for just a few minutes my husband and I chose to be deaf to it all.

We ignored the kids, (I confess, I ignored them much more stubbornly than he did), the table, and the brats got a bit blackened. We were transfixed, frozen in place, watching the astounding art being painted in the sky. Unique curls of cloud caught fire ever so briefly. By the time I snatched my camera, they were mostly gone.  Fortunately, my husband was a faster snatcher than I was.

"I think life is staggering and we're just used to it. We all are like children no longer impressed with the gifts we're given - it's just another sunset, just another rainstorm moving in over the mountain, just another child being born, just another funeral."       Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, p. 58

I don't want to be so spoiled by the remarkable gifts God gives everyday that I become ungrateful. That sunset, with those clouds and those colors won't happen again, no matter how long this earth lasts. God unveiled that masterpiece only once, for a brief moment. I don't want to ever become so responsible, or important, or busy, that I forget what it is to be alive in this world.

The Twilight Zone: The Obsolete Man

Our local PBS station had a Twilight Zone marathon last weekend, in honor of Halloween.

I remember watching reruns back when I was a teenager, even back then the technology and effects were outdated, but the story lines were intriguing.

My family and I snuggled in to watch a few episodes of marathon Saturday evening. One episode gave me an especially creepy feeling. Listen with me to the narrator introducing the show.

You walk into this room at your own risk, because it leads to the future; not a future that will be, but one that might be.

This is not a new world: It is simply an extension of what began in the old one. It has patterned itself after every dictator who has ever planted the ripping imprint of a boot on the pages of history since the beginning of time. It has refinements, technological advancements, and a more sophisticated approach to the destruction of human freedom. But like every one of the super states that preceded it, it has one iron rule: Logic is an enemy, and truth is a menace.

(Camera switches to the convicted man) This is Mr. Romney Wordsworth, in his last forty-eight hours on Earth. He's a citizen of the State, but will soon have to be eliminated, because he's built out of flesh and because he has a mind. Mr. Romney Wordsworth, who will draw his last breaths in the Twilight Zone. 

Mr. Wordsworth, a librarian, is tried and convicted by the "state" of being obsolete. He is obsolete because the society no longer has books. The state official conducting the trial explains that librarians are obsolete, just as ministers of the church are obsolete because God does not exist.  The librarian resolutely insists that God does exist and that thinking is important. He is sentenced to die within 48 hours, but is given the choice of where, how, and when he would like to die.

Mr. Wordsworth chooses to die in his own room by a bomb blast at midnight. He asks for the state official to visit him in his room and for the execution to be broadcast. His requests are granted. The scene shifts to the librarian's room just before midnight. The room is cluttered with books. He has arranged for the door to lock trapping the state official in the doomed room with him.

As the librarian calmly prepares for death by reading a cherished Bible he has kept secret for many years, the state official grows increasingly agitated and fearful. Psalm 23 is read - the official sweats. The proverb "A fool says in his heart there is no God" is read - the official, wrings his hands. Finally, the official screams, "in the name of God let me out!" The librarian calmly says "In the name of God, I will let you out." The official runs out, the bomb explodes, and the point is made.

I watched with the uncomfortable feeling that now, about 50 years after the story first aired, we live in Rod Serling's future. I am afraid that we are increasingly becoming a society eerily similar to the "state". I pray that we will be able to maintain our minds and a grip on truth.

Favorite Funny Signs III

Translation: Don't let your child run into the street. Right? So...

This one says...Don't hold hands. You must let your child run into the street.

These photos courtesy of my daughter. Thanks, sweetie!

My Happiness Habit: The Truly Happy Life

"The truly happy life consists of looking to you (God) for happiness, seeking it from you and through you. This is the only path to true joy. Those who think happiness is to be found in some other way are pursuing a different false version of it, but in their minds they still retain some image of the true joy...The happy life is joy based on truth...Why then are they not happy? Perhaps it is because they are engrossed in things that make them wretched and only have a dim memory of that which would give them joy." -The Confessions of St. Augustine

Anything I might add would only dilute the words of this great old saint. Savor them slowly and enjoy.

Soul Needs and Strip Mall Stuff

I have a funny habit. I like to sit down like a toddler with a pair of scissors and a pile of magazines and cut them up. I cut out pretty pictures I like and any words or phrases that capture my fancy. I don't pause to analyze my reasons for liking them or how they could be used. I put my scraps away for a few days or a few weeks. Some day when I have the time I pull them back out, arrange the clippings into a collage, and stick them in my journal. It is fun for me to see how the pictures and words can be scattered across a page to express the current state of my heart and spirit.

Cutting and pasting is slower than scribbling a few sentences in my journal, so I always wind up feeling like I have spent an hour playing. I think the leisurely pace of this activity is one of the things that draws me back to it. Like most Americans my life often flies too fast.

Epiphany
Today as I indulged in this guilty pleasure I was struck by something. I finished taping down "start your journey" and "discover strength", and was looking for places to put "bountiful" and "inspired" when I had my little epiphany. The words and phrases were cut out from ads peddling everything from menopause medication to rental car agencies. But, the longings they were promising to fill were much more significant.


The ads were promising to fill soul needs with strip mall stuff. In a way it makes sense. We people are remarkably persistent. Like too-small fish, we continue to bite the hooks, hoping that this time we will swim away satisfied instead of being reeled in again. 

It will never work. Soul needs can only be satisfied by soul food.

Anxious Politicians and Happy Beggars

"I was preparing to deliver a speech in praise of  ___ . I was to tell many lies that would be enjoyed by people who would know full well that they were not the truth. My heart pounded with anxiety..."

Is it quote from a interview conducted on this morning's news? Was he about to speak at a fundraising dinner for a candidate for running for office in the upcoming election? Actually, it is a bit older than that. The speaker was about to make a speech about the Emperor of Rome, in the fourth century. 

All of our technology notwithstanding, not much has changed.

Augustine continued his story.

I noticed a destitute beggar who, I think, was already drunk, because he was joking and laughing...All our efforts...were directed at nothing more than the attainment of a state of carefree pleasure. But the beggar got there first... For what he had gained with a few coins got by begging - namely, the pleasure of temporary happiness - I was striving to find in such distressingly twisted and roundabout ways.

Not that the beggar possessed true joy; but my method of seeking fulfillment through corrupt practices was far more false. Certainly he was cheerful while I was anxious; he was carefree while I was filled with apprehension. If anyone were to ask me whether I would prefer to be cheerful or afraid, I would answer, 'to be cheerful'. But if I were then asked whether I would prefer to be like the beggar or like myself, as I was at the time, I would choose to be myself, though consumed by anxieties and fears. (The Confessions of St. Augustine,"A Beggar's Happiness")

The more things change, the more they stay the same.  Beggars and politicians alike, we are still striving after the wrong thing, and looking for it in all the wrong places.

Risk Assessment

When I was growing up we raised Arabian horses and broke them for riding. Actually, I use "we" very loosely. My dad did all the work.

When I was little he would sometimes set me on the back of a young horse before it was ready to bear the weight of an adult. The colts and fillies had to gradually adjust to having something on their back. First a blanket, then a saddle, then me. Some horses were scared by the feeling of having something on their back. Some of them were just plain angry.

I vividly remember one horse. Her name was "Lacey". She was skittish. Daddy worked for weeks just to get her to accept the blanket on her back. Finally the day came that he judged her to be ready for me. He gingerly put me on her back. He had one hand on Lacey's halter and the other on me. The horse startled and took one long sideways leap about 10 feet across the corral, taking both me and my dad with her. A moment later, as we blinked in stunned surprise at suddenly finding ourselves on the opposite side of the enclosure, we both burst out laughing.

I wasn't really scared, even though we really could have been badly injured by that crazy horse. I think the reason was that my dad had a tight grip on me throughout the entire flight.

Choosing to love is like riding on the back of that horse. I might get thrown off. I could even get seriously injured. However, I believe that Jesus was the one who put me here and he still has a tight hold on me. Wherever I go, He will still be right there with me.

Jesus never sat down with his disciples and said, "Now listen, you guys be careful out there. Otherwise you could get hurt..." Actually He did the very opposite. He promised them that if they were following Him, they would get hurt. And, He promised them that He would be with them in it.

Loving deeply is a very dangerous thing to do. It is going to hurt. Sometimes it is going to hurt a lot.
We should be wise and thoughtful about our choices; what we choose to do, who we choose to love. Goggles and safety helmets definitely have their place. I think a person should pray constantly and be sure of what God is calling them to do.

After that, it is time to let Him lift you onto the back of that horse and hold on.

This post will also be published on http://doorinthewilderness.blogspot.com/

My Happiness Habit: Something Honorable

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable...think about these things. Philippians 4:8

I have been searching the news for things that are worth thinking about.

While still trapped far underground, Lois Urzua, the 54 year old shift foreman of the San Jose Mine in Copiapa Chile, described the collapse that trapped him and his crew in the mine.

"It was frightening. We felt like the mountain was coming down on us, without knowing what happened. Thanks to God, we still hadn't gathered together to go out to have lunch. ... At 20 minutes before 2 (their usual lunch hour), the mountain came down on top of us."

Before the dust had even settled Urzua directed most of the men to huddle while he and three others scouted.
"For about four or five hours, we couldn't see a thing. After that we saw that we were trapped by an enormous rock that filled the entire passage of the tunnel."

After ascertaining the gravity of their situation, he began the difficult task of keeping his men alive. For the next 17 days, he limited each man to 2 spoonfuls of tuna fish and a half a glass of milk every 48 hours.

Luiz drew detailed maps, divided work, sleep and sanitary areas, and used the headlights of mining trucks to simulate sunlight. After a 6 inch hole was finally bored from the surface, he worked with experts outside the mine to keep his men healthy physically, and mentally. He kept the miners on their 12 hour shifts in order to do what they could from below to prepare for their rescue. More than 2 months after the collapse all 33 men were finally brought to the surface, alive. Luiz came up last. 

In my opinion the leadership this man showed in an apparently hopeless situation is worth thinking about.

(Information from guardian.co.uk, www.livescience.com, and the Associated Press.)

My Happiness Habit: What in the World is Truth?

Whatever is true...think on these things." Phil 4:8
I have been pursuing developing a habit of happiness.

Today I am planning to think more about Paul's assertion that our thought life makes a difference. He says we should choose to think about "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just..."

That got me thinking, if I am going to thing about things that are true, I need to be able to tell the difference between truth and lies.

Truth in Political Ads?
This morning I turned on the TV. I was immediately barraged by ads bashing the candidates running for office. The first ad was so damming that it made me wonder why this guy is running for congress instead of sitting in jail.  The next ad was praising the same guy, making him sound like he should be sainted next week. What is a voter to do? How am I supposed to know what is true?

Truth from the Mexican Police
The news story that came up next was related to the couple who was jet skiing on a lake on the Texas/Mexico border a couple of weeks ago. The husband was shot and killed. A few days ago the lead Mexican investigator announced that they had a couple of suspects, leaders of a drug cartel. The day after that, his bosses announced that contrary to the earlier announcement, there were no suspects. the leaders of the drug cartel had been cleared. A few days later that investigator showed up at an army base, at least his head did.  It was in a suitcase.  Suspicious.  What is the truth?

What is truth?
Philosophers debate truth.
Some people don't believe that anything is ultimately true.
How can I know what is true? 

In the middle of a different type of terrible situation, Jesus was being interrogated by a corrupt, self-serving, high government official. (Hmmm thousands of years pass, yet this seems as familiar as today's news.)

Jesus said, "For this purpose I have come into the world - to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice." (John 18:37)

Truth was pretty hard to find on the TV this morning.
If I want to think about the truth, I won't really find it on major news outlets. Once again everything comes around to Jesus. The only place I can find reliable truth is by listening to him.

Hindu Gongs and Christian Prayer Chains

The gate
I vividly remember my first visit to a Hindu temple in India.  Outside, we made our way past the crowds of desperate humanity at the gate; the pleading mothers holding naked infants, the horribly misshapen children, the weary old men.  Each one broke my heart; I felt totally helpless in the face of such need. I couldn't even hand them a rupee or two. We had been instructed not to give them money because their activities are controlled by pimps who take the money they are given and pocket it themselves.

Getting the gods' attention
The first thing we encountered inside was a large gong. Our guide explained that worshipers sound the gong when they enter in order to attract the attention of the gods.  If the worshiper didn't ring the gong, the gods might overlook him or her.  Worshipers have to go to great lengths to get the attention of their indifferent gods.

Are Christians so different?
We Christians have a practice that reminds me a bit of the Hindu gong. We handle small problems in private prayer but, when a big problem arises we try to get as many people to pray as possible.  We put the request out on prayer chains and make phone calls and write emails and put it on our status update on Facebook. Then we reassure the person who is suffering that there are a lot of people praying.

Is God reluctant to care for us?
Why do we do this?  Is it because God might ignore a request if I ask for something for myself, but if there are a lot of people asking him for something he will sigh deeply and reluctantly intervene on my behalf? Is His love for me a reluctant love? Does He keep a count and say, "If there were only 10 people praying I would say no, but because there are a hundred people praying I will do what you ask?" Is God, like the Hindu gods, easily distracted, but if we get a lot of people to pray it will be like a gong in His ears and He will rouse Himself and look around and see who is making so much noise?

Fortunately,  the one true God is nothing like that. I am so grateful that my God promises to be with me all the time. He loves me. He even knows the number of hairs on my head.  I definitely don't have to ring a gong to get his attention.

So why do I ask people to pray?

The followers of Christ have always asked for prayer.  When the apostle Paul was suffering he asked people to pray, "You also must help us by prayer..." We ask people to pray because through prayer we stand together against the darkness. It is a way of helping each other.  Humans are not meant to be alone.  We need people to help us bear our burdens. After all, we are all part of one body.  An individual cell can't survive alone.

Another reason
Paul also had another reason for asking for prayer. "so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many." (2 Cor. 1:11)

We also ask others to pray because we are absolutely confident that God is going to be good to us. We pray because when we do the work of prayer together we get to marvel at God's faithfulness to us together.  We get to share each other's blessings.

So, no gongs are needed, but we are very necessary to each other. By asking people to bear our burdens with us, we give them a great gift, sharing in the joy of God's fathomless love for us.

The Care and Feeding of Teenage Boys: Final Installment

Here is the final installment of the conversation between my sisters and me about raising teenagers, especially boys. See the Care and Feeding...: Part 1 for the email that started us off.

Brain Damage
The comment that may prove to be the most helpful actually came from my daughter, an older and wiser teen of 18.
"My science teacher told us that all teenagers have brain damage.  The part of the brain that registers pleasure is disconnected from the part of the brain that thinks logically."

That explains a lot.


Advice from Sister #3  
Dear Nae,

I agree with our sisters. You have me laughing. The things you describe sound just like what happened at my house a few years ago.  I think you are doing great.  I wish I had the magic "this will set the world right" piece of advice, but I don't. 

I feel like saying of Cal's teen years ..."It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."  Those were originally Charles Dickens' words.  He was talking about the French revolution.  Teen years with the male of the species are like a revolution I guess.  They go from being dependent little boys to being men strong enough to take on the world, all in the space of a few short years.  No wonder it gets bloody at times. 

I think my advice is:

•   Love him, but don't feel guilty if you don't always like him. 

• Take advantage of the good times and enjoy him when you can.  There are delightful things about boys that age, some days.  

• Choose your battles.  If it isn't going to do permanent harm to him or someone else, it might not be worth the fight.  

• Offer him all the food, water and exercise he needs. 

• Take care of yourself too. You will probably be able to handle the music, and chaos, and attitude, and nonsense better if you are well rested, well fed, and laugh often.  I highly recommend date nights or escaping with your big sister.

I love you, Nae.

Disclaimer:  These notes were written to be read only by my sisters and myself.  If we sound advice-y, it is because we are big sisters talking to a little sister, and we can't help it. Besides, she asked for it. In contrast to the way we might sound, we are all mature enough to know that we don't really know anything anymore. 

The Care and Feeding of Teenage Boys Part 3

Last Friday I posted one of the responses my sisters and I sent after our youngest sister asked for advice about raising teenage boys (See Care and Feeding Part 1).  Here is the second response. 

Dear Nae,

I am laughing!

I am not sure what the problem is that you what advice on.
It all sounds pretty normal.

I would say is pick your battles. And in my opinion, clean rooms, texting etc aren’t worth the fight.  I am guessing there will big bigger battles later. But I was pretty lax and later thought I should have been stricter. Others may have different protocols they want to want to maintain.

Moods are normal. He is loved no matter how he feels about it .

My experiences is that kids will tell you want to do the rest of your life. Get used to it but with no obligation to actually show up and pay for everything.

You are doing a great job! Just buy more peanut butter.

I am looking forward to what my sisters say.

Thanks for the email. I had a friend tell me that when we are raising teenagers it is the hardest time to maintain honest friendships because we are all so embarrassed by how our kids are acting. But it sounds like to me your kid is doing great!

Disclaimer:  These notes were written to be read only by my sisters and myself.  If we sound advice-y, it is because we are big sisters talking to a little sister, and we can't help it. Besides, she asked for it. In contrast to the way we might sound, we are all mature enough to know that we don't really know anything anymore.

A Conversation Between Sisters About Parenting: The Care and Feeding of Teenage Boys part II

I have 3 sisters.

Recently the four of us had a conversation over email about parenting teenage boys.  I shared the note that started this conversation with you last week (See The Care and Feeding of Teenage Boys Part 1).  Over the next several blog posts I plan to show you the rest of the conversation.

Disclaimer:  These notes were written to be read only by my sisters and myself.  If we sound advice-y, it is because we are big sisters talking to a little sister, and we can't help it. Besides, she asked for it. In contrast to the way we might sound, we are all mature enough to know that we don't really know anything anymore.

Dear Nae,

I had it explained to me once that children are like dogs when they are young, they run to you with bundles of joy when you enter a room, love to spend time with you and go into clouds of joy when you treat them with something as simple as an ice cream cone.  Then, around age 12 or 13 they turn to be more like cats, aloof, they will come if you put out food, and it takes a small loan to buy a gift that really thrills them.  However, if you can make it through the "cat years"  they come back as loyal, grown children who respect and appreciate their parents.

The teenage years are hard.  We had many a "discussion", many worried prayers going up for those years.  Now, our sons are our friends.

You have done an excellent job.  Your son has a good foundation.  As he figures life out, he will have his ups and downs, but the superb parenting you have given will pay off.

During the teen years, a boy is trying to become a man.  He naturally looks to his Dad as to how to do that.  Both our boys pushed away from me and sought male leadership.  A friend of mine told me that they had to push their Mom away for a time to establish their own independence.  Know in your heart that you will always have (your son's) love, he is just trying to figure life out and it isn't easy.

I so respect you as a Mother.  You do a really awesome job!

Hang in there, little sis!  Maybe in years to come you can buy an RV and run away, visit when you want to! All kidding aside.  I will be praying for you.  It can be pretty tough on a Mom's heart for a while. 

I love you.

Overpowering Winds vs. Deep Roots

Trees at Timberline

 At timberline on the high mountain peaks near my home there are beautiful trees. These trees are survivors.  They grow high on rocky slopes where hurricane force winds, vicious cold, and ferocious blizzards threaten them routinely.  Their trunks are twisted and their growth stunted by the difficult growing conditions, but they survive because they have roots that are deep and strong, sheltered by rocks.  Many of these trees are hundreds or even thousands of years old.  They live longer than trees growing in much more hospitable conditions.  

From Henry Photos http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/view?q=Bristlecone%20Pine&psc=G&filter=1#5369309897803670802

Storms Near and Far
It has been a terribly stormy week for many of my dear friends and family.  Within the space of a couple of days I have been told about numerous overpowering sorrows.

There is a newborn baby who spent his first several days outside the womb fighting for his life.
There are teenagers scattered near and far, determined to be stupid.  They are climbing over and digging under all of the boundaries that were erected to keep them alive.
There are older people suffering from debilitating or life-threatening illnesses.
There are family relationships strained by selfishness and addiction.
Many of the people I love are dealing with more than one of these problems at the same time.  It seems too much to bear.  It is crushing.

More Than We Can Bear
I have heard well meaning Christians, trying to be helpful, say "God won't give us more than we can bear. So He must think you are pretty strong."  Actually, not to be dismal here, but God never promises that he won't give us bigger problems than we can bear.  He promises not to allow us to be tempted beyond what we are able to bear, but that is not the same thing.

Judging by 2 Corinthians 1:3-10, people are often burdened with problems too big for them. If there has ever been a human who should have been able to handle all the problems that were thrown at him, you would think that the apostle Paul would be that man. But he said, "We were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself..." Paul's problems were so terrible that even he "despaired of life".

Hope
Fortunately, for us, Paul did not stop there.  He contrasted his own despair with God's power over death and revealed one reason that God sometimes does allow us to suffer beyond what we are able to bear.
  

"...But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope that He will deliver us again." 

My Prayer
So, for every one of those I love, who are utterly burdened beyond their strength, here is the prayer I am praying for you.

My Father of Mercies, My God of all comfort,
These problems are too much for us, they are crushing us. We can't fix them, and we don't know how to escape from them.  But You are the God who raises the dead.  Even if our problems are so crushing that we despair of life itself, you are more than strong enough.  We choose to put our roots down deep into you. Thank you that you are near to us. These problems will cause us to rely on you and not on ourselves.  You have delivered us before.  Help us again.  Have mercy, Father of Mercies. Comfort us, God of all comfort.  Our roots are driving deeper into you.  Our hope is in you and only in you.
Amen

"The tree on the mountain takes whatever the weather brings.  If it has any choice at all it is in putting down roots as deeply as possible."  Corrie Ten Boom

My Happiness Habit: Uncensored

This happiness habit thing has not been as easy for me as I expected it to be. I characterize myself as a person who is generally happy. But as soon as I started to be intentional about developing a consistent habit of happiness, it seemed to elude my grasp, like trying to capture a bubble in my hand. 

Every time I get close to capturing happiness, some difficulty arises in my life and my fragile soap bubble seems to pop.  I am not giving up though.  Some habits are tougher to develop than others, I guess.

So far, I have thought about intentionally rejoicing in the Lord, recognizing that He is near, not allowing myself to be anxious, but praying about my fears instead.  These are all good things and I stand by them.

I am going to keep practicing until I get things right, but I have not arrived.   I am finding that most of the paths I trudge are simple to communicate, and much more difficult to walk.

Life is messy.  Even good seasons in life are messy.  During other seasons, the word painful doesn't even begin to cover it.  I don't want to sound like true Christians will never feel sad, discouraged or clinically depressed.  Actually, God acknowledges that at times we are going to feel crushed.  He promises to come live with us and bring us back to life (more on this in the next few days on my other blog, http://blogspot.doorinthewilderness.com ).  

During those times when happiness doesn't come easily, one more little key seems to be fighting to maintain perspective.

I tend to lose perspective.  When I am struggling I see only the trouble. I don't seem to be able to contain the joys and the sorrows at the same time.

The Psalms are good guides in this.  David repeatedly rails at his enemies, describes his desperate situation, and asks God to come to his defense.  He even prays that God will "break the teeth in their mouths" and "let them be like the snail that dissolves into slime" (Psalm 58).  And those are mild calls for vengeance! Some Psalms get much bloodier.  I find all the calls for divine violence oddly comforting.  Praying for God dissolve my enemies into slime is further than I am willing to go most of the time, except when I am really angry. I figure the fact that such talk is in holy scripture gives me permission to be real in my own prayers. I can honestly pour out my feelings to God uncensored. 

In almost every one of these Psalms, two other things happen also.  The writer remembers specific aspects of God's character and times that God has been faithful in the past.  He prays honest, emotion filled "dissolve into slime" prayers and then a few breaths later he brings himself back around to the things he knows to be true, and the faithfulness he has experienced in the past.

I love how realistic God is about us.  He knows that to 'rejoice always' is not easy.  He knows that we need to both lay everything out before Him, and force ourselves to remember who He is and what He has done for us. Maybe that is why Philippians 4:6 says that while we are passionately pouring out every anxiety to the Lord in prayer, we are to be mixing the requests with thanksgiving.

"prayer and supplication with thanksgiving"(Philippians 4:6)

"Casting the whole of your care [all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all] on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully." (1 Peter 5:7, AMP)

Favorite Funny Signs II

The Care and Feeding of Teenage Boys

Last week I received an email from my youngest sister about the perils of raising a teenage boy.  I think she is insightful, and so far she has held onto her sense of humor.  I asked her if I could post it for you to read.

Dear Sisters,

I am aware that being the youngest came with certain perks. One is that I could learn from your lives, without having to actually do things myself.... Which brings me to the purpose for this letter.

Between you, you have successfully raised 6 boys.  They are wonderful young men that I am proud to call my nephews.  You have beyond succeeded in raising them.   I believe it was Connie who said, "successful parenting is when your children can pay for their own therapy".  I am now wondering who will pay for mine.

My dear baby boy has disappeared.  He does occasionally re-appear, but I do wonder if he is suddenly schizophrenic.  We have days of wonderful smiles and life is good, and then days where I am the enemy and I was wrong for getting out of bed in the morning.  

Lately things have been good. As I write, the music coming from his room is so loud that it rattles the air vents. Thankfully, it is a good song and he is playing his guitar, with it. This is how I justify both the loud music and the guitar lessons. The smell coming from his room is another story.

Today I went to Costco and loaded up on food. All of which I expect to either be in his room or in his stomach before the end of the week. Literally he needs to eat every 2-3 hours or we have blood sugar crashes that bring us right back to the part where I should stay in bed, unless I'd like to get up to feed him or take him somewhere. 

Please don't get me wrong. I love him dearly. I am proud of him. He gets good grades, tells us where he is and adores his dad, (Who unlike our Dad is not one to talk about things that are not tangible.  If it is a feeling, emotion of any sort, or a plan to be made, it is my department.) He doesn't lie to us (about important things)... I don't think.  All of these things are good, and normal.  I am hoping you can give me some advice on raising boys.  Since I am the youngest of 4 girls, I think I am out of my element with a teenage boy. 

Watching You Tube videos and texting are a part of his life that he believes is a part of  'doing homework'.    Maybe it is the homeschooler in me, but I just don't see how his grades stay high when he studies like that.   I am finding that he has very nice friends. I like them as much as one likes 13 and 14 year old boys. He is outside a lot, riding his bike.... without a seat... or a helmet...usually on one wheel. He doesn't believe shoe laces are to be tied, they are a fashion statement. He does have a hilarious sense of humor and often has us all rolling.  He goes to youth group, which can be good or bad. After all, they are all 13 year olds. I trust the leaders and like them, as does he. 

He loves a schedule and does well if we make sure he knows what is happening in his future. This is only fair, I understand. This need to schedule, however has translated lately into him telling me where I will be at what time and with what amount of money to give him. Is this a leadership skill?  Did I need to be led?  Should I clean his room for him? Do I REALLY want to know what is in there?

I do believe this will pass, and we will be fine. I also believe we are blessed and he will not be as difficult as many teens. Except with speed and engines he generally has good judgement. I'm learning to give him more space and less lecture. I am working to treat him with adult respect instead of the 'mom voice'.  I am always here for him to talk, but won't force him to.  Yet... he is 13, not 18 and not at all  as wise as he thinks he is. 

SO, I am hoping for the practical kind of advice, (feed him peanut butter and oatmeal 10 times a day)  or the encouraging kind of advice (.... I got nothin' that is why I am writing you) rather than the old lady helping advice ( oh dear, they grow up so fast, enjoy these days... Bleck )

I love you and cherish your advice and the encouragement in knowing you are all still sane, and have relationships with your grown boys.    Maybe you have ways to keep him from eating all the ice cream as well... Thank you!  

Love,

Nae

I think my sister is doing great in the tricky job of parenting a teenage boy. This letter brought back memories.  Thinking back, the memories fill my heart with warmth.  I think it is the same syndrome that causes mothers to relate horror stories of labor and delivery to pregnant women.  Somehow, looking back at it, the memories make you feel good even though at the time the pain made you want to die.

When my kids were newborns and couldn't do anything but eat and sleep and poop,  I knew all about how to parent well. I freely dispensed advice. Over the years, I broke all of my own rules and today I know much, much less about what works in parenting than I did before I tried it for myself. Since I was blessed by easy kids to raise, I still have a couple of little pieces of advice left to give.  If I work up the courage to post that advice I will have to do it very soon because because I have two step-kids approaching teen years and by the time they reach their 18th birthdays my last few little things I think I know about parenting will have evaporated too. 

If you, dear reader, still have advice to give or would like to commiserate feel free to comment!

 

Attacked by the Fearings

The main character in Hannah Hurnard's classic allegory Hinds Feet on High Places is a little cripple named Much Afraid.   She is held captive by her relatives, the Fearings, and engaged to be married to Craven Fear against her will.  I relate to Much Afraid.  On her own, she is weak and vulnerable and always at the mercy of her fears.  Through the course of a long journey with Sorrow and Suffering for companions, she learns to trust the Shepherd.  He leads her away from the Fearings and toward the high places.

I think that those of us who are prone to fear tend to have a certain member of the Fearing family assigned to us.  The theme of my fears is usually the breaking of relationships.  According to Readers Digest I am in good company.  People in many parts of the world fear loneliness more than anything else.  Other people are plagued by different fears.  Some people fear that they are not good enough.  Other people fear poverty.  The Fearing family is very large.

It usually happens like this; I am working away in my own little world, happy and at peace.  Then, some discord happens.  It could be a disagreement with my husband or a feeling of distance between me and one of my children.  Somewhere at the other end of the house Craven Fear has climbed through a window and is creeping up behind me.  Suddenly I feel his icy fingers around my neck, choking me.  I can't breathe.  His gravelly voice growls threateningly in my ear.  "You are alone, and you are mine."

There it is.  That is the lie that gives Fear his power.  The second I choose to believe the lies that I am alone and at the mercy of Fear, I am lost.

But the truth is, I am not alone.  My Shepherd is with me, right beside me. "The Lord is at hand." Philippians 4:5. The truth is, I do not belong to fear. I have been purchased at a very high price by my Shepherd.  I belong to Him.

Sometimes when I first feel the icy breath of Fear on my neck, I close my ears to the lie in time.  I turn to my Shepherd and grab His hand.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God, and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  Philippians 4:6-7
   

What Do You Fear?

People around the world were polled about their greatest fear.  They were asked if they were more afraid of being alone, going broke, losing their looks, or speaking in public. This month's Readers Digest summarized the results.  People in nine out of the sixteen countries polled chose loneliness as their greatest fear.  More people in the U.S. and six other countries chose going broke as their greatest fear. 

Maybe the fact that Americans fear going without money more than we fear going without other humans exposes us.  Six of the seven countries that listed going broke as their greatest fear are "highly industrialized".  Isn't that interesting?  Those of us who have money are most fearful of losing it.  Maybe people who don't have any money anyway are wiser; they know that being penniless isn't the worst thing that could happen.

The poll did not ask people if they ever feel fearful.  It assumed that they do.  I suppose that the experience of fear is universal.  Only the degree of fear or what triggers our fear varies.

I'm curious.  How about you?  What are you afraid of? 

My Happiness Habit: How to Avoid Being an Extreme, Raving, Self-centered Lunatic.

I have been thinking about developing a new habit lately.  Admittedly, most of my habits are accidental bad habits.  But, this time I am trying to grow a new, good habit.  I want to be a person who is deep down, on the inside, content.  I want to be someone whose joy can coexist with pain.

My guide is the apostle Paul.  In Philippians 4:4-8 he is closing his letter from a Roman prison with some quick advice.  The fact that Paul wrote this advice while sitting in a damp, stinky prison with rats for company makes me want to listen.  If Paul could be content there, surely I can be content in the midst of my everyday hassles.  Towards the beginning there is a sentence that seems out of place to me.  In my English Standard Version Bible it says, "Let your reasonableness be known to everyone." It is sandwiched between "Rejoice" and "the Lord is at hand; do not be anxious..."  If I was helping Paul edit his letter I would have suggested moving that phrase somewhere else.  What does reasonableness have to do with either rejoicing or anxiety? There must be some reason that it is stuck in this incongruous place.

What is "reasonableness" anyway? I am no Greek scholar, but I can navigate references so I looked it up.  The same word is translated, gentleness, unselfishness, and moderation.  Strong's Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible, (in my mind I always think Strong's Exhausting Concordance...) says it means appropriate, and by implication, gentle, moderation and patient.  This is starting to make more sense.  Paul is saying don't be unreasonable, harsh, extreme, and impatient.   

I think another key is in the next phrase, "the Lord is at hand." 

The Message says, "Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you're on their side, working with them and not against them. Help them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any minute!"

I am picturing the frightened cry of a small child who has had a bad dream.  The mother dashes in to soothe the child.  She wraps her arms around her.  "Don't worry, Mommy is right here."  Her presence soothes, comforts.  Nothing can frighten the child now.  She can be reasonable instead of afraid because she knows that her Mommy is able to vanquish all the monsters under the bed.

So, like that fearful child I can rejoice.  I can be reasonable and gentle and unselfish.  I can keep from overreacting.  The Lord is at hand.

My Happiness Habit

I want to grow into a person who is characterized by deep contentment, the habit of happiness.

I started last weekend by thinking through the command to "Rejoice ... always"  I decided to focus on the sunny side of things.  About 10 minutes into Friday evening I discovered that rejoicing always was not as easy for me as I thought it would be.  There were little bumps.  It was nothing major.  The kids argued.  My husband and I had slightly different ideas about the best ways to respond to them.  We were all a bit on edge.  I realized that I was not rejoicing.  I hated the turmoil, even though it was minor turmoil.  Ripples in the household put me in turmoil.  I longed to hide for a long time, all weekend even, in a quiet place with a good book and a lot of chocolate.  Clearly, I still have much to learn about contentment.

I have had happiness on my mind for a while now.  I picked up the book The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.  The author decided that she wanted to be happier.  She studied research on what makes people happy and set herself ambitious goals to achieve happiness.  Each month she focused on a different aspect of happiness.  She rated her success and charted her progress.

I was intrigued, maybe she had discovered the keys to happiness.  Does having a clean closet really make a person happier?  I wouldn't know... A short way into the book I started to feel vaguely uncomfortable with its approach.  I realized that I could never follow Gretchen's lead.  For one thing I hate charts.  Her set-a-goal-and-measure-your-progress way of doing things simply doesn't fit me. Besides, being orderly and disciplined about happiness felt wrong somehow. Shouldn't happiness just bubble up from the inside? I knew there was more to my discomfort than personality differences between Gretchen Rubin and myself, but I wasn't sure what the problem was.  I picked up Walking with God by John Eldredge. Something John said triggered an "aha moment" for me.  I suddenly understood my discomfort with The Happiness Project .

You can't possibly master enough principles and disciplines to ensure that your life works out.  You weren't meant to, and God won't let you.  For he knows that if we succeed without him, we will be infinitely further from him.  We will come to believe terrible things about the universe--things like I can make it on my own and If only I try harder, I can succeed. That whole approach to life--trying to figure it out, beat the odds, get on top of your game--it is ...entirely without God.  He is nowhere in those considerations.  That sort of scrambling smacks more of the infamous folks who raised the tower of Babel than it does of those who walked with God in the garden in the cool of the day.  In the end, I'd much rather have God.

Gretchen tried to figure out how to make life work.  She came up with some useful tidbits. But no checklist, even a thoroughly researched checklist, could make a person content at the core.

However,  I don't want to give up.  I still want to be characterized by deep contentment, the habit of being happy.

I decided to go back to Philippians 4:4-9. 

One reason my "sunny side" approach didn't work was that I mentally deleted the key phrase from the passage.  "Rejoice in the Lord always." The fact that the waters of my life are not always as placid as I would like them to be is a gift.  That way I remember that, at root, I am rejoicing in the Lord, and not merely in the gifts he gives me, not even the tremendous gift of a beautiful family.  Sometimes I get things twisted around and I act like God's job is to make me happy. He wants me to be happy, but more than that He knows that what I really long for is love.  I long to experience God's love for me and love him back.  Nothing less than that will be a stable enough foundation.  Nothing less lasts.   

Peaches and Tea

I am sitting in my kitchen with the door open to the fresh morning air and perfect clear blue sky.  The aroma of freshly baked peach crisp is filling the house.  I am full of anticipation for this afternoon when my sister and niece will join my daughter and me for tea. Not tea as in a mug of Lipton, TEA as in small sandwiches and sweets and pot after pot of darjeeling served in china cups.

Years ago a woman told me that one thing she loved about her husband was that he had the "habit of happiness".  That phrase is etched in my brain forever.  I want to be a habitually happy person. I am going to have to be intentional about this.  Being happy is not always easy. 

Instead of thinking about the good and beautiful things, many times I focus on the difficult things.  Today, I could focus  on ongoing frustrations that soiled the atmosphere in our house for a time last evening.  I could focus the anger I felt after my naughty dog escaped out an open gate, and rebelliously looked me straight in the eye, while she ignored my demand that she come.  Many times there are much more significant heartaches robbing me of joy.

Today happens to be a good day to start developing the habit.  It is an ordinary day, a muddle of the wonderful, the awful, and lots of stuff that is neither.  A good starting point is reading Philippians 4:4-8.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.  Let your reasonableness be known to everyone.  The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

How will I start?  The same way I develop any good habit.  The process is pretty much the same each time.  At first, I try something deliberately, consciously.  It feels strange and awkward and uncomfortable.  If I keep at it, practicing at absolutely every opportunity, feeling ridiculous, the action gradually feels more comfortable.  Eventually, one day, I catch myself doing what used to seem so unnatural without even realizing it.  It has become a habit. 

I'm going to give developing the habit of happiness a shot. To begin, I am going to consciously choose to rejoice.  I'll let you know how it goes.

20-20 Vision

I see what I expect to see.  It happens in my writing all the time.  I try to edit and revise. I read things over a zillion times, and still I completely miss glaring errors right in front of my nose.

Research confirms that the see-what-you-expect-to-see phenomenon occurs in medical labs too.  People examining slides of tissue from biopsies see many more samples of healthy tissue than of diseased tissue.  After a while they tend to see only healthy tissue, even when the slide contains some cancer cells.

The same thing happens in my relationship with God.  

I pray and people I love continue to suffer.  I get tired of waiting for God to act.  Secretly I doubt.  I wonder if He has abandoned us. Sometimes I even wonder if He is there at all. I see only what I expect to see.

This kind of blindness occurs frequently to people in the Bible.  I love the story of bad eyesight found in 2 Kings 6.  Elisha the prophet, seems to enjoy interfering with Syria's plans to to wipe out Israel.  Elisha always knows what Ben-hadad, king of Syria is doing before he does it.  He is in the habit of letting the king of Israel know when and where Ben-hadad is going to launch his next 'surprise' attack.  Repeatedly the Syrian army charges onto a battle field, only to discover that Israel's army has moved on.  Tired of looking stupid, he assembles his officers, and demands to know which of them is a spy.  Fearing for their lives, they plead innocence and redirect the king's anger toward Elisha. 

The scene now changes to Elisha's home in the village of Dothan.  As the sun is just coming up over the horizon in the east, Elisha's servant Gehazi, heads outside and stops dead in his tracks. An entire army surrounds their little hillside village.  
He dashes to Elisha in panic, and pleads, "What are we going to do?" 
I imagine Elisha calmly taking another bite of his bacon and eggs before he answers. 
"Do not be afraid, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them." 
Before Gehazi can respectfully suggest that his master has lost his mind, Elisha asks God to open the servant's eyes.  For Gehazi peeking cautiously out from behind the curtain, the situation now appears to be entirely reversed. Elisha's home is surrounded by a second army.  It is comprised of intimidating chariots of fire facing down the Syrians. They seem far less frightening by contrast.

Elisha calmly takes one last sip of coffee, and prays for his enemies to be struck with blindness.  Then he goes out and informs the commanders of the Syrian army that they are lost.  He offers to take them to "the man you seek", and leads them all the way to Samaria.  The Syrians never dared to raid Israel again.

Wouldn't it be great if we could pray and suddenly be able to see the forces of good fighting for us the way Elisha could?  Maybe we can.  We can pray for 20-20 spiritual vision, and ears to hear, "Do not be afraid, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them."

Kisses from God

A twelfth century monk is an unlikely choice for a tutor on kisses.  This morning I sat down with Bernard of Clairvaux, and he taught me about kisses. 

"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!"

Is it a quote from a romance novel or a steamy chick flick?  It definitely doesn't seem like what it is, a Bible verse.  

I do love kisses.  My favorite thing in the whole world is for my husband to hold me tight and kiss me tenderly, passionately, intimately.  During my many years as a single mom I wanted so much to be loved, to be kissed by a man, that I ached, literally, physically.

So, when Bernard talks about longing for kisses from God, he definitely has my attention.   I know all about longing for kisses.  But, do I ache for kisses from God?  Maybe part of the problem is that I can't quite imagine God desiring me.  I can imagine "Jesus loves me"  in a Sunday-school-sing-songy kind of way.  But, God wanting to kiss me?  That sounds too intimate.  Can I imagine God himself bending down, filled with love for little Beth, wanting to kiss me?  It feels wrong, like blasphemy somehow.  But if it is in the Bible, and saints from millennia past thought of relationship with God in terms of kisses,  maybe it is OK.  Maybe more than that, maybe I am missing out on something really good.  

His living and effective word is a kiss; not a meeting of the lips, which can sometimes be deceptive about the state of the heart but a full infusion of joys, a revelation of secrets, a wonderful and inseparable mingling of the light from above and the mind on which it is shed, which, when it is joined with God, is one spirit with him.   -Bernard of Clairvaux

That is a kiss I want to experience, over and over forever!
During those years when I wanted so much to be loved, I felt bad about it, like there was something wrong with me.  I wondered why I couldn't be content.   Now, I don't think I wanted too much.  Actually, I think I settle for too little.

Listen to what else Bernard told me this morning, "I can scarcely contain my tears, so ashamed am I of the lukewarmness and lethargy of the present times."  I don't know too much about Bernard's times, but I can hardly imagine that they could possibly have been more lukewarm and lethargic than we are in our times. 

So, I feel a free and powerful longing to be kissed by God welling up inside me.    Bernard takes things a step further even, getting almost sexual in his description,

O happy kiss...which is not a mere meeting of lips, but the union of God with man.  The touch of lips signifies the bringing together of souls.  But this conjoining of natures unites the human with the divine and makes peace between earth and heaven. 'For he himself is our peace, who made the two one' (Eph. 2:14)  This was the kiss for which the holy men of old longed, the more so because they foresaw the joy and exultation of finding their treasure in him and discovering all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge in him, and they longed to receive of his fullness.

I want to know God that way, tenderly, intimately, passionately.  I say with the Song of Songs "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!"    I want my human soul to be united with God; I want to find my treasure in him. I want to receive his fullness.

 

Favorite Funny Signs Part 1

Good to know.  In Juneau the bear always has the right-of-way!

Of Slaves, Mercenaries, and Daughters

There are some who praise God for his power, some who praise him for his goodness to them, and some who praise him simply because he is good.  The first is a slave, fearful on his own account.  The second is a mercenary and desires profit for himself.  The third is a son who honors his father.  Both he who is fearful and he who is greedy act for themselves.  Only he who loves like a son does not seek his own.   -Bernard of Clairvaux 

We modern people assume that we have come far.  We can access the internet on our cell phones.  Isn't that proof enough that we are an advanced civilization?  But Bernard's words centuries ago describe my prayers pretty well.  Sometimes I am self centered.  I act like a fearful slave who loves God for his power, or a mercenary who loves God because of what I want Him to do for me. I don't want to be that way though.  I want to love God like a daughter, just because He is my father.    

I am so glad that He is a gentle father.  Each day he is uses joy and pain and His words and my sisters and brothers and the sunset and the taste of fresh peaches to show me who he is.  And when I see, really see, I can't help but love Him just for Him.  In those times, my prayers are not full of fear and greed.  I forget myself for a moment, curl up close to him, throw my little arms around his neck, and exclaim "Abba!  I love you!"  In those times, I only want to stay there, close to Him.