"And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience-- among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.
But G, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together in Chr-- by grace you are saved-- and raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Chr J, so that in the coming ages He might show the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Chr J."
Eph. 2:1-7
Thursday, April 09, 2009
The Inner Eeyore
The weather is amazingly warm, blessings pour down upon me daily, I'm surrounded by eager students and encouraging friends, but none of it matters because I have a cold. Again.
I have to laugh at myself. Really, I'm not a wimp. In fact, were you to plan a tragedy or horrifically tense crisis, you'd probably want me there. When conflict or chaos is occurring, I can be as cool as a cucumber, very helpful, organized, and creative. Every ounce of positivity that I possess comes to the forefront.
And then, there are those small things that tend to turn me from Miss Optimism into Eeyore herself. Things like the minor inconvenience of having a cold. (Or that last few minutes before a bunch of guests arrive for dinner when I tend to flip out.) Seriously, the stuffy nose, fever, headache thing turns me into a depressed person. I go from praising to planning my funeral. It's wrong, it's frustrating, and it's actually quite funny. At least, I can entertain myself with my over-the-top pessimism while I blow my nose and sneeze.
I passed a friend today on the sidewalk as I returned from lunch. I'd been at my favorite restaurant, eating some of my favorite food, all alone studying for my Chinese lesson. It was peaceful and happy. I walked home in the warm wind, listening to my favorite depressing day music. Life was great, except for the cold. And my friend, passing by, says "How's it going?" "Fine," I chirped, practically hopping with fake cheerfulness. I actually did start laughing after I passed him, laughing at the monologue in my head.
"Fine? FINE? You're dying here. You can hardly breathe, you keep sneezing, and you're head's falling off. You should have said a few last words since you're not even going make it through your Chinese lesson or up to the 4th floor ever again."
It's funnier when you can hear the melodramatic, Eeyore voice in my head.
"Why does he even ask such a dumb question? 'How's it going?' Good grief. He should have asked something more helpful, like, 'Can I mail a letter for you to your family once you've passed away from this cold?' or perhaps, 'Would you like some chocolate that I happen to have right here in my briefcase?'"
Courage. I respect courage. The courage to storm the enemy positions in wartime, the courage to obey or to speak the truth. Most of all, I respect the courage of people who are actually unselfish, un-whiny, and un-pitiful while having a cold. They are my heroes.
I have to laugh at myself. Really, I'm not a wimp. In fact, were you to plan a tragedy or horrifically tense crisis, you'd probably want me there. When conflict or chaos is occurring, I can be as cool as a cucumber, very helpful, organized, and creative. Every ounce of positivity that I possess comes to the forefront.
And then, there are those small things that tend to turn me from Miss Optimism into Eeyore herself. Things like the minor inconvenience of having a cold. (Or that last few minutes before a bunch of guests arrive for dinner when I tend to flip out.) Seriously, the stuffy nose, fever, headache thing turns me into a depressed person. I go from praising to planning my funeral. It's wrong, it's frustrating, and it's actually quite funny. At least, I can entertain myself with my over-the-top pessimism while I blow my nose and sneeze.
I passed a friend today on the sidewalk as I returned from lunch. I'd been at my favorite restaurant, eating some of my favorite food, all alone studying for my Chinese lesson. It was peaceful and happy. I walked home in the warm wind, listening to my favorite depressing day music. Life was great, except for the cold. And my friend, passing by, says "How's it going?" "Fine," I chirped, practically hopping with fake cheerfulness. I actually did start laughing after I passed him, laughing at the monologue in my head.
"Fine? FINE? You're dying here. You can hardly breathe, you keep sneezing, and you're head's falling off. You should have said a few last words since you're not even going make it through your Chinese lesson or up to the 4th floor ever again."
It's funnier when you can hear the melodramatic, Eeyore voice in my head.
"Why does he even ask such a dumb question? 'How's it going?' Good grief. He should have asked something more helpful, like, 'Can I mail a letter for you to your family once you've passed away from this cold?' or perhaps, 'Would you like some chocolate that I happen to have right here in my briefcase?'"
Courage. I respect courage. The courage to storm the enemy positions in wartime, the courage to obey or to speak the truth. Most of all, I respect the courage of people who are actually unselfish, un-whiny, and un-pitiful while having a cold. They are my heroes.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Tonight as I drift to sleep...
I'm going to try to remember these thoughts.
"G's gifts put man's best dreams to shame."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sonnets from the Portuguese- XXVI
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, But desire fulfilled is a tree of life."
Prov. 13:12
I have calm confidence that He will continue to bless me with amazingly good gifts that far exceed my wishes or expectations. While this confidence may only last a minute at a time in its fullest strength, it continues to grow a teeny bit each day.
"G's gifts put man's best dreams to shame."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sonnets from the Portuguese- XXVI
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, But desire fulfilled is a tree of life."
Prov. 13:12
I have calm confidence that He will continue to bless me with amazingly good gifts that far exceed my wishes or expectations. While this confidence may only last a minute at a time in its fullest strength, it continues to grow a teeny bit each day.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Learning to Live Without
"And shall I pr Thee change Thy will, my Father,
Until it be according unto mine?
But, no, L, no, that never shall be, rather
I pr Thee blend my human will with Thine.
I pr Thee hush the hurrying, eager longing,
I pr Thee soothe the pangs of keen desire--
See in my quiet places, wishes thronging--
Forbid them, L, purge, though it be with fire.
And work in me to will and do Thy pleasure
Let all within me, peaceful, reconciled,
Tarry content my Well-Beloved's leisure,
At last, at last, even as a weaned child."
For years, in times of deepest soul-searching, this poem by Amy Carmichael has expressed and focused my prys. Those times when I want something so desperately, realizing that it's not His will for me or not His will for me YET.
A weaned child has learned to live without it's accustomed, constant source of nourishment. It must wait for specific times to be fed. It must learn patience and submission and a new realm of dependence. Sometimes we have to come to think we cannot live without something and then be pulled away from it, in order to find our true strength and mature source of delight. It hurts to grow. We think we may not survive. But we will rejoice one day as we taste the wonders of His finished plan, just as the grown man forgets completely his pain of being weaned when he is feasting on steak and potatoes.
Until it be according unto mine?
But, no, L, no, that never shall be, rather
I pr Thee blend my human will with Thine.
I pr Thee hush the hurrying, eager longing,
I pr Thee soothe the pangs of keen desire--
See in my quiet places, wishes thronging--
Forbid them, L, purge, though it be with fire.
And work in me to will and do Thy pleasure
Let all within me, peaceful, reconciled,
Tarry content my Well-Beloved's leisure,
At last, at last, even as a weaned child."
For years, in times of deepest soul-searching, this poem by Amy Carmichael has expressed and focused my prys. Those times when I want something so desperately, realizing that it's not His will for me or not His will for me YET.
A weaned child has learned to live without it's accustomed, constant source of nourishment. It must wait for specific times to be fed. It must learn patience and submission and a new realm of dependence. Sometimes we have to come to think we cannot live without something and then be pulled away from it, in order to find our true strength and mature source of delight. It hurts to grow. We think we may not survive. But we will rejoice one day as we taste the wonders of His finished plan, just as the grown man forgets completely his pain of being weaned when he is feasting on steak and potatoes.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Not Good Enough
"Out of the depths I cry to you, O L! O L, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!
If you, O L, should mark iniquities, O L, who should stand? But with you there is forgiveness that you may be feared.
I wait for the L, my soul waits and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the L more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.
O Israel, hope in the L! for with the L there is steadfast love, and with him there is plentiful redemption. And he will redeem Israel from all his iniquities."
Ps. 130 is something I have to take on faith tonight. I struggle, like all humans, with coming for forgiveness when I have sinned. Even though my life is rooted in truth, I somehow believe the lie that I must find some kind of goodness on my own, that I must earn forgiveness, that I must meet some standard before my repentance is accepted.
I know I'm not good enough, and I tell myself that it's shame that keeps me from seeking His grace. But really it is pride. Frustration that once again I have failed to hit the mark. Inability to humbly hold up my hands and say, "more grace, please once again, give more grace." I claim these promises: "with him there is plentiful redemption" and "with you there is forgiveness that you may be feared." For this moment He died. His blood covers even this presumptive sin of someone who should be obeying out of love. I can rise from this moment clean and robed in His righteousness. I never need to be good enough to come to Him.
If you, O L, should mark iniquities, O L, who should stand? But with you there is forgiveness that you may be feared.
I wait for the L, my soul waits and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the L more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.
O Israel, hope in the L! for with the L there is steadfast love, and with him there is plentiful redemption. And he will redeem Israel from all his iniquities."
Ps. 130 is something I have to take on faith tonight. I struggle, like all humans, with coming for forgiveness when I have sinned. Even though my life is rooted in truth, I somehow believe the lie that I must find some kind of goodness on my own, that I must earn forgiveness, that I must meet some standard before my repentance is accepted.
I know I'm not good enough, and I tell myself that it's shame that keeps me from seeking His grace. But really it is pride. Frustration that once again I have failed to hit the mark. Inability to humbly hold up my hands and say, "more grace, please once again, give more grace." I claim these promises: "with him there is plentiful redemption" and "with you there is forgiveness that you may be feared." For this moment He died. His blood covers even this presumptive sin of someone who should be obeying out of love. I can rise from this moment clean and robed in His righteousness. I never need to be good enough to come to Him.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
April Fool's Day
Today is the first of April, a day for pranks, jokes, and hoaxes. I tried to pull one off by stealing Justin's turtle, but my hilarious lack of success decided me against trying anything else.
During part of my classes today when the students were watching a video, I've been memorizing and meditating upon Ps. 37. So many commands: fret not, trust in the L, do good, delight yourself in the L, commit your way to the L, be still before the L, wait patiently, FRET NOT. The passage also lists several rewards: he will give you the desires of your heart, he will act, he will bring forth your righteousness as the light and your justice as the noonday.
On April Fool's Day, I've been reminded that I'm often such a fool. I turn so easily to fretting, to not trusting, to delighting in other things, to refusing to wait patiently. Of all people who should be doing these things, it should be me, someone who sees His grace changing lives all around her, someone who watches Him provide for her tiniest need, someone who sees His faithful forgiveness to herself and others daily. I must learn to see consistently that His way is better than my own desires or plans. I must stop being a fool.
During part of my classes today when the students were watching a video, I've been memorizing and meditating upon Ps. 37. So many commands: fret not, trust in the L, do good, delight yourself in the L, commit your way to the L, be still before the L, wait patiently, FRET NOT. The passage also lists several rewards: he will give you the desires of your heart, he will act, he will bring forth your righteousness as the light and your justice as the noonday.
On April Fool's Day, I've been reminded that I'm often such a fool. I turn so easily to fretting, to not trusting, to delighting in other things, to refusing to wait patiently. Of all people who should be doing these things, it should be me, someone who sees His grace changing lives all around her, someone who watches Him provide for her tiniest need, someone who sees His faithful forgiveness to herself and others daily. I must learn to see consistently that His way is better than my own desires or plans. I must stop being a fool.
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