There are many aspects of the crucifixion of Jesus that are haunting, too many even to list. Despite the beauty of God's ultimate sacrifice on our behalf, the event itself is eerie, disturbing and viscerally painful, as it should be. Such a monumental sacrifice, the ultimate act upon which our redemption is born, cannot by its very nature be palatable. Sin is ugly, and the culmination of the sin of humanity in its entirety goes beyond anything that ugliness could suggest.
For me, the most haunting aspect of the crucifixion has always been Jesus' question to God, "Why have you forsaken me?" When you momentarily disregard the visceral aspects of the crucifixion (if such a thing is possible), the question is perplexing from a logical standpoint. Jesus knew what He would face on the cross long before He arrived there. He knew how awful it would be, yet He also understood both the importance and the ultimate benefit of it. Did He truly feel abandoned by God, even though He knew that He would soon be reunited with His Father? If so, what does that mean?
I had always reasoned this to mean that God cannot be in the presence of sin, therefore He could not be present with Jesus while He was bodily taking upon Himself the sins of the world. But Jesus understood this, so it still does not explain His question. Perhaps there is another explanation that beautifully clarifies Jesus' question, yet makes it no less haunting.
The explanation? God purposefully allowed Jesus to truly feel forsaken because we know what that feels like. After all, Jesus was sent to earth in human form not just to minister to the sinful and broken, not just to preach the news of God's kingdom with His own lips, but also to experience the human condition. God wants us to know that He gets what it's like to be us. He wants us to know that He understands what we face - the good, the bad and the truly awful. He wants us to know that He gets it, and He has a way for us to overcome it.
Who among us has not felt forsaken by God at one point or another? I know I have. What would Jesus' "human-ness" mean if He had not also felt forsaken, as we do? How would He fully understand the human condition if He did not also feel abandoned by God? Physical pain can be horrific - the word "excruciating" clearly indicates Jesus' understanding of that - but there is perhaps no pain worse than feeling abandoned by God when you need Him most. I have known that feeling, and it is equally heart-breaking and reassuring to accept that Jesus knows it, too. He felt it because I do, because you do.
In our darkest times, when it feels as though God is unreachable, as though He could not possibly know or want to know what we are suffering through, we need only remember that He knows all too well. Jesus was sacrificed for our redemption, but that was not all He did for us in His life on earth and in His crucifixion. He felt everything that we feel, no matter how hard or unspeakable, so that we may know one important truth: God gets it and He wants to heal it. He cares so much for us that He not only allowed His beloved Son to be sacrificed on the cross, but He also allowed Jesus to feel abandoned in the midst of that sacrifice. If that does not speak to the depth of God's love for us, nothing can. In the end, we can trust that just like Jesus, we will one day be delivered into our Father's hands and any feelings of abandonment will be replaced by unspeakable joy. Amen!
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
The Blessing of Silence
"I'm finding myself at a loss for words, and the funny thing is it's okay. The last thing I need is to be heard, but to hear what You would say." ~ from "Word of God Speak" by MercyMe
If there's one thing that could be said with assurance about me, it's that I am a woman of words. I write for my job, I write here, and by simple virtue that I'm a woman who enjoys people, I love to talk. I'd rather communicate with someone than almost anything. So it goes without saying that for me to have a head cold that provides me with intermittent bouts of laryngitis and unending coughing is, well, annoying to say the least. There are self-deemed brilliant things that I long to add to conversation and can't. There are song lyrics I want to sing spontaneously and at prescribed times (such as at Christmas cantata practice) and I can't. I want to read to and with my daughter, an activity we both greatly enjoy, but I can't.
This is hardly the end of the world, I realize. Some might even call it a blessed time! When I take a step back to appreciate the virtues of voicelessness, I would tend to agree. In the past couple of days, I have discovered that there's a lot that I miss out on when I'm either talking or thinking about what I'm going to say next. The fact that my husband and I tend to laugh at exactly the same things at exactly the same time is one of those little jewels I miss when my laughter (which is louder than his) is all I hear. It reminds me that we are the perfect match for each other, as God intended all along. When I come home from being out, our dog - a truly delightful laborador/golden retriever mix - regales me with a chorus of happy howls. Normally, I howl right back at her. When I was unable to do this Friday afternoon, she howled a second and third time, a priceless canine cantata I would have missed otherwise.
Perhaps the sweetest lesson I've learned in all this came from our 6 year-old daughter, Sarah. Each night at bedtime, we read from her children's Bible. We recently finished the third time through it, so Friday night, we started again at Genesis. I told her she needed to read it, since my voice would not cooperate. When she read, "Let us make people in our likeness," I stopped her and pointed to the words "us" and "our." I had spoken about the importance of these words before and wanted to see if she remembered, but my voice gave out before I could finish asking the question. She said, "I know, Mommy. It's talking about God and Jesus together. Pretty cool, huh?" I was deeply touched by her steel trap of a mind, and by the delight she found in demonstrating her knowledge of God's Word. Had I been able to speak, I probably would have interrupted such a special moment.
The world is full of a lot of noise, isn't it? I was reminded this week of just how much needless noise I create. Sometimes we need a dose of silence so we can hear the sounds we've been missing. It can be simple, like your spouse's laughter, or it can be profound, like the blossoming of God's Word in a child. Keep watch over my tongue, Lord, not just to keep from saying something I shouldn't, but to keep me from missing something I should be hearing...like Your voice, alive and well in my little corner of the world.
If there's one thing that could be said with assurance about me, it's that I am a woman of words. I write for my job, I write here, and by simple virtue that I'm a woman who enjoys people, I love to talk. I'd rather communicate with someone than almost anything. So it goes without saying that for me to have a head cold that provides me with intermittent bouts of laryngitis and unending coughing is, well, annoying to say the least. There are self-deemed brilliant things that I long to add to conversation and can't. There are song lyrics I want to sing spontaneously and at prescribed times (such as at Christmas cantata practice) and I can't. I want to read to and with my daughter, an activity we both greatly enjoy, but I can't.
This is hardly the end of the world, I realize. Some might even call it a blessed time! When I take a step back to appreciate the virtues of voicelessness, I would tend to agree. In the past couple of days, I have discovered that there's a lot that I miss out on when I'm either talking or thinking about what I'm going to say next. The fact that my husband and I tend to laugh at exactly the same things at exactly the same time is one of those little jewels I miss when my laughter (which is louder than his) is all I hear. It reminds me that we are the perfect match for each other, as God intended all along. When I come home from being out, our dog - a truly delightful laborador/golden retriever mix - regales me with a chorus of happy howls. Normally, I howl right back at her. When I was unable to do this Friday afternoon, she howled a second and third time, a priceless canine cantata I would have missed otherwise.
Perhaps the sweetest lesson I've learned in all this came from our 6 year-old daughter, Sarah. Each night at bedtime, we read from her children's Bible. We recently finished the third time through it, so Friday night, we started again at Genesis. I told her she needed to read it, since my voice would not cooperate. When she read, "Let us make people in our likeness," I stopped her and pointed to the words "us" and "our." I had spoken about the importance of these words before and wanted to see if she remembered, but my voice gave out before I could finish asking the question. She said, "I know, Mommy. It's talking about God and Jesus together. Pretty cool, huh?" I was deeply touched by her steel trap of a mind, and by the delight she found in demonstrating her knowledge of God's Word. Had I been able to speak, I probably would have interrupted such a special moment.
The world is full of a lot of noise, isn't it? I was reminded this week of just how much needless noise I create. Sometimes we need a dose of silence so we can hear the sounds we've been missing. It can be simple, like your spouse's laughter, or it can be profound, like the blossoming of God's Word in a child. Keep watch over my tongue, Lord, not just to keep from saying something I shouldn't, but to keep me from missing something I should be hearing...like Your voice, alive and well in my little corner of the world.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Every Hour Since
You have never seen Him but you love Him. You cannot see Him now but you are putting your trust in Him. And you have joy so great that words cannot tell about it. (1 Peter 1:8)
Do you remember when you accepted Christ as the one and only Lord and Savior? Where were you in your life? What were the circumstances? Was it a small, still voice that spoke the truth to your heart? Or was it a significant event in your life - good or bad - that convinced you of the truth of Jesus? When you look back on that time, what feeling does it spark within you?
I love to hear the testimony of fellow Christians, don't you? I love hearing how the Holy Spirit infected the soul of an ordinary person and transformed him/her from the inside out. One need only encounter a committed Christian to be convinced of the presence and power of God in our world. We are all little miracles in God's kingdom, a direct reflection of His light. How amazing is that?
For me, Jesus became a part of my life on a June night as a young adult. A devastating event in my youth had sent me running from God, and I had all but collapsed under the weight of the godless life I had created for myself. I was tired of running, and so for the first time in over a decade, I spoke to God. I confessed, I screamed, I cried...Have you ever had a talk like that with God? I begged Him to take me back, to heal me and love me. I fell asleep in a pool of my own tears, soul-weary. I awoke to a violent thunderstorm in the night, followed by a morning so glorious, only a fellow Christian could understand without further explanation. Life has been, and always will be, a roller coaster ride, but that night, Jesus set up camp in me and He's never left. His tent was always ready to be pitched - I was just too afraid to open camp.
The disadvantage of finally accepting Jesus as a young adult is that I missed out on His abundance as a teenager. The advantage is that even now, I am finding riches within God's Word that I never knew before. As an adult who can perhaps appreciate it more than a youngster, I absolutely delight in discovering and pondering the unending supply of those riches. What a marvelous thing to hunger for God, and to be both filled by Him and made hungrier at the same time!
When I think back upon that June night, and when I hear the testimony of other believers, I am always reminded of the part of "Amazing Grace" that says, "How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed." How precious indeed! But my brother, a wonderful man and committed Christian, likes to add to that verse by saying, "And every hour since."
Indeed, accepting Jesus into your life is precious and indescribable. But for those who remain hungry for God, every hour since is just as precious. Praise God!
Do you remember when you accepted Christ as the one and only Lord and Savior? Where were you in your life? What were the circumstances? Was it a small, still voice that spoke the truth to your heart? Or was it a significant event in your life - good or bad - that convinced you of the truth of Jesus? When you look back on that time, what feeling does it spark within you?
I love to hear the testimony of fellow Christians, don't you? I love hearing how the Holy Spirit infected the soul of an ordinary person and transformed him/her from the inside out. One need only encounter a committed Christian to be convinced of the presence and power of God in our world. We are all little miracles in God's kingdom, a direct reflection of His light. How amazing is that?
For me, Jesus became a part of my life on a June night as a young adult. A devastating event in my youth had sent me running from God, and I had all but collapsed under the weight of the godless life I had created for myself. I was tired of running, and so for the first time in over a decade, I spoke to God. I confessed, I screamed, I cried...Have you ever had a talk like that with God? I begged Him to take me back, to heal me and love me. I fell asleep in a pool of my own tears, soul-weary. I awoke to a violent thunderstorm in the night, followed by a morning so glorious, only a fellow Christian could understand without further explanation. Life has been, and always will be, a roller coaster ride, but that night, Jesus set up camp in me and He's never left. His tent was always ready to be pitched - I was just too afraid to open camp.
The disadvantage of finally accepting Jesus as a young adult is that I missed out on His abundance as a teenager. The advantage is that even now, I am finding riches within God's Word that I never knew before. As an adult who can perhaps appreciate it more than a youngster, I absolutely delight in discovering and pondering the unending supply of those riches. What a marvelous thing to hunger for God, and to be both filled by Him and made hungrier at the same time!
When I think back upon that June night, and when I hear the testimony of other believers, I am always reminded of the part of "Amazing Grace" that says, "How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed." How precious indeed! But my brother, a wonderful man and committed Christian, likes to add to that verse by saying, "And every hour since."
Indeed, accepting Jesus into your life is precious and indescribable. But for those who remain hungry for God, every hour since is just as precious. Praise God!
Monday, October 24, 2011
Redefining Random
Each of us should live to please his neighbor. This will help him grow in faith. (Romans 15:2)
The term "random act of kindness" has become so commonplace in today's world, it ranks right up there with "there's an app for that." We all know what it means: doing something kind and generous - however large or small - for anyone, whether a perfect stranger or someone we know, with positively no expectation of or need for reward or recognition. Such acts make the giver and receiver feel happy, and they restore a sense of goodness and wholeness to humanity. For us chuch folk, they are done as a way of witnessing for Christ, and to make the receivers of our acts wonder (and hopefully ask) from where our generosity comes. Upon thinking about all this, it occurs to me...why are such things "random"?
The Merriam Webster dictionary defines the word random as "without definite aim, direction, rule, or method." So, a random act of kindness is something done spontaneously, out of the joy of one's heart, with no thought to exactly how, when or where it should be directed? That's one way of looking at it, but there are also well-planned acts of kindness, such as Pastor Norm's example of buying a box-full of hot chocolates for fans at the Middies football game. The end result is the same - joy unexpected.
Therein lies the sad part of this discussion: We've come to a point in our society where we don't expect people to be nice. We implore each other to set aside time to be kind to another person, as though it is a chore to be checked off a to-do list. I suspect much of this is because we are afraid...afraid of getting into someone's space, or them getting into ours...fear of making a fool of ourselves...fear of cynicism from those who wonder what we're trying to buy with our good deeds. Or perhaps it's apathy, fueled by an "it's all about me" culture. Whatever the reason, we have found ourselves so disconnected from loving-kindness that we have to be reminded that it's not just our duty, but our joy.
It reminds me of the recent "Play 60" campaign by the NFL. Kids are encouraged to turn off the video games and to "get up and play 60 minutes every day" primarily as a means of reducing obesity and promoting overall health and wellness. I don't know about you, but I never thought we'd get to the point where kids had to be told to play. But I'm also reminded of simpler things, such as women who tell me that my husband is "so wonderful" for spending time playing with and taking care of our daughter. My response: "Why shouldn't he? He's her father."
In the end, it's all about expectations. The gap between what our society does to and for each other, and what God expects of us, seems to widen with each generation. I am as guilty as anyone of too often hiding behind fear or apathy. But God's Word makes it clear how we should treat one another every day. In God's kingdom, acts of kindness are not bullet points on a flow chart. They are a way of life. There's nothing random about that.
The term "random act of kindness" has become so commonplace in today's world, it ranks right up there with "there's an app for that." We all know what it means: doing something kind and generous - however large or small - for anyone, whether a perfect stranger or someone we know, with positively no expectation of or need for reward or recognition. Such acts make the giver and receiver feel happy, and they restore a sense of goodness and wholeness to humanity. For us chuch folk, they are done as a way of witnessing for Christ, and to make the receivers of our acts wonder (and hopefully ask) from where our generosity comes. Upon thinking about all this, it occurs to me...why are such things "random"?
The Merriam Webster dictionary defines the word random as "without definite aim, direction, rule, or method." So, a random act of kindness is something done spontaneously, out of the joy of one's heart, with no thought to exactly how, when or where it should be directed? That's one way of looking at it, but there are also well-planned acts of kindness, such as Pastor Norm's example of buying a box-full of hot chocolates for fans at the Middies football game. The end result is the same - joy unexpected.
Therein lies the sad part of this discussion: We've come to a point in our society where we don't expect people to be nice. We implore each other to set aside time to be kind to another person, as though it is a chore to be checked off a to-do list. I suspect much of this is because we are afraid...afraid of getting into someone's space, or them getting into ours...fear of making a fool of ourselves...fear of cynicism from those who wonder what we're trying to buy with our good deeds. Or perhaps it's apathy, fueled by an "it's all about me" culture. Whatever the reason, we have found ourselves so disconnected from loving-kindness that we have to be reminded that it's not just our duty, but our joy.
It reminds me of the recent "Play 60" campaign by the NFL. Kids are encouraged to turn off the video games and to "get up and play 60 minutes every day" primarily as a means of reducing obesity and promoting overall health and wellness. I don't know about you, but I never thought we'd get to the point where kids had to be told to play. But I'm also reminded of simpler things, such as women who tell me that my husband is "so wonderful" for spending time playing with and taking care of our daughter. My response: "Why shouldn't he? He's her father."
In the end, it's all about expectations. The gap between what our society does to and for each other, and what God expects of us, seems to widen with each generation. I am as guilty as anyone of too often hiding behind fear or apathy. But God's Word makes it clear how we should treat one another every day. In God's kingdom, acts of kindness are not bullet points on a flow chart. They are a way of life. There's nothing random about that.
Friday, October 21, 2011
The Perfect Partner
Let us hold on to the hope we say we have and not be changed. We can trust God that He will do what He promised. (Hebrews 10:23)
I heard the most beautiful story on the radio yesterday. A couple in their nineties had been married for over seventy years. They were so enamored with each other that they became engaged after just twelve hours of courtship. They married and built a wonderful life around their love and that of their children. They never left each other's side. Recently, they were involved in a serious car accident. When the hospital called in the couple's son, he found his parents barely clinging to life. It was apparent that they would not survive, so the son had the couple placed in beds side-by-side in the same room. The couple held hands, and the man soon died. The hospital staff did not realize at first that he had passed, because his wife's pulse penetrated the skin on his hand and the monitor that had been attached to him. She died a short time later. In preparation for the burial, the son purchased a specially-made casket that allowed his parents to be buried together, side-by-side.
I'm not one to be overcome by emotion at the telling of such a story, but this one brought tears to my eyes. My husband and I have been a couple for nearly half our lives. It's hard to imagine life without him, and yet our longevity thus far pales in comparison to this couple. As tragic as the end of this couple's life was, it speaks a beautiful story of love and commitment, especially in an era where true commitment is hard to find. I can only hope that my husband and I will leave a similar legacy.
What got to me the most about this story, however, was not the lesson it teaches us about the commitment we have to each other, but rather the commitment we have to God. Human relationships are so important, but they are also so frail. They take a lot of work to keep them healthy and thriving, but sometimes our best efforts are not enough. We make a lot of promises to each other, whether it's on the altar, the death bed, or places in between. Sometimes we keep those promises, other times not.
Despite the imperfection of our human relationships, we can rest assured that God will always keep His promise to love us. He will never turn away from us if we accept Him as part of our lives. He will not forsake us on the altar, on our death beds, or any place in-between, if we invite Him into those places. A relationship with Jesus takes effort on our end, like any other relationship. But unlike ourselves, Jesus won't divorce us due to our imperfections. He is not interested in the fruitless pursuit of worldly perfection. He wants our love, our devotion, and our obedience to Him by faith. He wants us just as we are - imperfections and all.
In life and in death, I hope to always be holding my husband's hand. Regardless, my other hand is always free to hold onto the mighty hand of Jesus. His grip is warm, loving and tireless. He will pull me through whatever I encounter on earth, and ultimately, He will escort me to His very side in heaven. That's a promise I can count on, praise God.
I heard the most beautiful story on the radio yesterday. A couple in their nineties had been married for over seventy years. They were so enamored with each other that they became engaged after just twelve hours of courtship. They married and built a wonderful life around their love and that of their children. They never left each other's side. Recently, they were involved in a serious car accident. When the hospital called in the couple's son, he found his parents barely clinging to life. It was apparent that they would not survive, so the son had the couple placed in beds side-by-side in the same room. The couple held hands, and the man soon died. The hospital staff did not realize at first that he had passed, because his wife's pulse penetrated the skin on his hand and the monitor that had been attached to him. She died a short time later. In preparation for the burial, the son purchased a specially-made casket that allowed his parents to be buried together, side-by-side.
I'm not one to be overcome by emotion at the telling of such a story, but this one brought tears to my eyes. My husband and I have been a couple for nearly half our lives. It's hard to imagine life without him, and yet our longevity thus far pales in comparison to this couple. As tragic as the end of this couple's life was, it speaks a beautiful story of love and commitment, especially in an era where true commitment is hard to find. I can only hope that my husband and I will leave a similar legacy.
What got to me the most about this story, however, was not the lesson it teaches us about the commitment we have to each other, but rather the commitment we have to God. Human relationships are so important, but they are also so frail. They take a lot of work to keep them healthy and thriving, but sometimes our best efforts are not enough. We make a lot of promises to each other, whether it's on the altar, the death bed, or places in between. Sometimes we keep those promises, other times not.
Despite the imperfection of our human relationships, we can rest assured that God will always keep His promise to love us. He will never turn away from us if we accept Him as part of our lives. He will not forsake us on the altar, on our death beds, or any place in-between, if we invite Him into those places. A relationship with Jesus takes effort on our end, like any other relationship. But unlike ourselves, Jesus won't divorce us due to our imperfections. He is not interested in the fruitless pursuit of worldly perfection. He wants our love, our devotion, and our obedience to Him by faith. He wants us just as we are - imperfections and all.
In life and in death, I hope to always be holding my husband's hand. Regardless, my other hand is always free to hold onto the mighty hand of Jesus. His grip is warm, loving and tireless. He will pull me through whatever I encounter on earth, and ultimately, He will escort me to His very side in heaven. That's a promise I can count on, praise God.
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Sweetness of Doing Nothing
This week, Pastor Norm's first sermon in the "Strong Challenge" was about the importance of play and rest. As I listened to his message, I was reminded of a scene in a movie that addresses this very issue. The movie is "Eat Pray Love," starring Julia Roberts as real-life divorcee Liz Gilbert, who finds healing and refreshment in a year-long journey in Italy, India and Bali. While in Italy, a native of that country discusses the abject failure of Americans to engage in - and actually enjoy - recreation and rest. Americans feel guilty for taking time off, he says, and when we do, it involves sitting in front of the TV in our pajamas. By contrast, "When an Italian sees a sign that says 'you deserve a break today,' he says, 'yeah, I know.'" Out of this discussion, Liz learns a time-honored Italian phrase: "il dolce far niente" - the sweetness of doing nothing.
I've been known to feel guilty about taking time off. When my work is done, I often actually feel restless and uncomfortable not having anything that "must" be done. I can't count how many times just today I've caught myself looking out the window at work with a frown on my face, deep in thought about the mental "to-do" list I've created. Suddenly, my brain processes the beauty of the leaves changing color and the frown vanishes. How did life get this way? Why do we do this to ourselves?
And then there's eating... What could be more pleasurable than eating good food? Yet, don't we also carry a tremendous amount of guilt about the number of calories or carbs we've consumed? Our afore-mentioned Liz, having learned her lesson on sweet nothingness, offers another nugget of wisdom on this topic. When consoling a friend who's hesitating to eat the fattening pizza in front of her, Liz declares that she's tired of getting on the scale each morning so she can determine how much self-loathing to take with her into the shower. She says, "I have no interest in being obese, I'm just done with the guilt."
But perhaps a friend and former coworker of mine said it best. I worked with Pascale, a massage therapist, in my previous job. She developed bone cancer, which eventually took her life. While dealing with her illness, she was in need of money. When I offered to give her some, she insisted that she earn it by giving me a massage. I'll never forget the uneasy feeling of getting a relaxing massage from someone battling cancer, but even more memorable was what she said to me when I lamented being seen without my clothes on. She said, "Becky, let me ask you something: When you walk up stairs, can you do it without getting out of breath? Can you take a deep breath anytime you want, without any effort?" When I answered both questions in the affirmative, she said, "Then what difference does a love handle make?"
Whether it's from a movie character, a woman battling disease, or our pastor, the message is the same: Life is too short to analyze how much rest and relaxation we deserve to enjoy. God did not make us robots to work incessantly with no sense of joy or refreshment. All work and no play doesn't just make Jack a dull boy, it makes us all ineffective and uninspired for the real work God has called us to do.
Have a wonderful week, and don't forget to engage in il dolce far niente!
I've been known to feel guilty about taking time off. When my work is done, I often actually feel restless and uncomfortable not having anything that "must" be done. I can't count how many times just today I've caught myself looking out the window at work with a frown on my face, deep in thought about the mental "to-do" list I've created. Suddenly, my brain processes the beauty of the leaves changing color and the frown vanishes. How did life get this way? Why do we do this to ourselves?
And then there's eating... What could be more pleasurable than eating good food? Yet, don't we also carry a tremendous amount of guilt about the number of calories or carbs we've consumed? Our afore-mentioned Liz, having learned her lesson on sweet nothingness, offers another nugget of wisdom on this topic. When consoling a friend who's hesitating to eat the fattening pizza in front of her, Liz declares that she's tired of getting on the scale each morning so she can determine how much self-loathing to take with her into the shower. She says, "I have no interest in being obese, I'm just done with the guilt."
But perhaps a friend and former coworker of mine said it best. I worked with Pascale, a massage therapist, in my previous job. She developed bone cancer, which eventually took her life. While dealing with her illness, she was in need of money. When I offered to give her some, she insisted that she earn it by giving me a massage. I'll never forget the uneasy feeling of getting a relaxing massage from someone battling cancer, but even more memorable was what she said to me when I lamented being seen without my clothes on. She said, "Becky, let me ask you something: When you walk up stairs, can you do it without getting out of breath? Can you take a deep breath anytime you want, without any effort?" When I answered both questions in the affirmative, she said, "Then what difference does a love handle make?"
Whether it's from a movie character, a woman battling disease, or our pastor, the message is the same: Life is too short to analyze how much rest and relaxation we deserve to enjoy. God did not make us robots to work incessantly with no sense of joy or refreshment. All work and no play doesn't just make Jack a dull boy, it makes us all ineffective and uninspired for the real work God has called us to do.
Have a wonderful week, and don't forget to engage in il dolce far niente!
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The Contagion of Joy
I will have much joy in the Lord. My soul will have joy in my God, for He has clothed me with the clothes of His saving power. He has put around me a coat of what is right and good, as a man at his own wedding wears something special on his head, and as a bride makes herself beautiful with stones of great worth. ~ Isaiah 61:10
Maybe you're like me and you've never been part of society's "in crowd." I've always been kind of in the middle of the popularity contiuum - neither the most popular, nor the least. I've been content to flourish among a handful of true and faithful friends, secure in a healthy sense of self and humanity that my parents instilled in me from the beginning. But I'd be lying if I denied a certain longing for popularity, particularly in my younger years.
In today's paper, Dear Abby's column addressed this very issue. A reader wrote in to praise Abby's past advice about how to become popular, advice that the reader had practiced and had found to be successful. In a nutshell, Abby's original advice was to pay as much attention to the expression you wear on your face as to the clothes you wear on your body. The more cheerful and pleasant your demeanor, the more others will gravitate toward you. Not bad advice, but it begs the question...what if the reader were asked why she is so cheerful? Is she to answer, "Because Abigail Van Buren told me to be"?
This week, I've had the pleasure of sharing two separate meals with two joyful individuals, one being a certain minister we know and love, and the other being a good friend and sister in Christ. These folks ooze cheerfulness, and not the pretentious kind. Their joy is genuine because it comes from the very source of joy itself. Their faith in Christ is so committed, so complete, that they simply can't hide their joy of being saved by the grace of Jesus. I don't know about you, but I find the Jesus Joy to be more contagious than the most virulent flu bug or YouTube video out there!
I am by nature a somewhat serious person. I laugh and joke a great deal, but typically only among those with whom I am very well acquainted and comfortable. Outside of that, I tend to be quiet and reserved. My sharing of the Gospel has mostly been with those who are heartbroken or suffering, with an appropriately serious demeanor. But my dining companions this week have reminded me that living my daily moments with the visible and audible joy of Christ is perhaps the most effective way of sharing the Good News.
How fun would it be to compel someone in the grocery store or the bank to ask me why in the world I'm so happy? And how marverlous would it be to answer, "Because Jesus has saved me and He is alive in me"? If I try it for the next few days (and beyond), will you join me? Maybe together we can start the "Jesus Joy Club," the best in-crowd around!
Maybe you're like me and you've never been part of society's "in crowd." I've always been kind of in the middle of the popularity contiuum - neither the most popular, nor the least. I've been content to flourish among a handful of true and faithful friends, secure in a healthy sense of self and humanity that my parents instilled in me from the beginning. But I'd be lying if I denied a certain longing for popularity, particularly in my younger years.
In today's paper, Dear Abby's column addressed this very issue. A reader wrote in to praise Abby's past advice about how to become popular, advice that the reader had practiced and had found to be successful. In a nutshell, Abby's original advice was to pay as much attention to the expression you wear on your face as to the clothes you wear on your body. The more cheerful and pleasant your demeanor, the more others will gravitate toward you. Not bad advice, but it begs the question...what if the reader were asked why she is so cheerful? Is she to answer, "Because Abigail Van Buren told me to be"?
This week, I've had the pleasure of sharing two separate meals with two joyful individuals, one being a certain minister we know and love, and the other being a good friend and sister in Christ. These folks ooze cheerfulness, and not the pretentious kind. Their joy is genuine because it comes from the very source of joy itself. Their faith in Christ is so committed, so complete, that they simply can't hide their joy of being saved by the grace of Jesus. I don't know about you, but I find the Jesus Joy to be more contagious than the most virulent flu bug or YouTube video out there!
I am by nature a somewhat serious person. I laugh and joke a great deal, but typically only among those with whom I am very well acquainted and comfortable. Outside of that, I tend to be quiet and reserved. My sharing of the Gospel has mostly been with those who are heartbroken or suffering, with an appropriately serious demeanor. But my dining companions this week have reminded me that living my daily moments with the visible and audible joy of Christ is perhaps the most effective way of sharing the Good News.
How fun would it be to compel someone in the grocery store or the bank to ask me why in the world I'm so happy? And how marverlous would it be to answer, "Because Jesus has saved me and He is alive in me"? If I try it for the next few days (and beyond), will you join me? Maybe together we can start the "Jesus Joy Club," the best in-crowd around!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)